A Woman of Angkor

by John Burgess

  The woman was perhaps fifty, gap-toothed and wearing a torn sampot. She knelt before Nol’s palanquin.

  ‘Sir, it is like this. Some years ago I was travelling on my own to my home village when I fell sick with mosquito fever. I lay down in some shade by the road to rest, but the fever tightened its grip. I fell into a sleep that was filled with demons. Then I awoke to find a Brahmin physician at my side. Under that tree he gave me prayers, he gave me draughts, he placed a cover over me and helped me turn and stretch until I found a less painful position. He stayed with me until my husband arrived to tend to me and take me home.

  ‘It was only then that I thought to ask how all of this had happened. I learned from my husband that a Lady had been passing by in a covered oxcart. She had seen me lying under that tree and taken pity. She judged me too ill to be moved, so she left a servant to tend to me and went ahead to a hospital that lay down the road. She brought back the physician, then gently questioned me, though I have no memory of this, to find out my home village. Next she went there to alert my husband that I had fallen ill and needed help. And then she went on her way. She asked for nothing in return and I felt dismayed that she had done so much for me and received not even a thanks or a prayer. Later I asked my husband, “Who was this Lady?” He replied: “Why, she was the Lady Sray, benefactor of many places across the Empire. The Brahmin told me of her good works.”’

  I do remember that woman, her form lying crumpled by the roadside. But it was a simple thing to alert the physician. A hospital lay directly down the road in the direction that I was going anyway.

  Her story was done. The priest turned to Nol with a look that said, whatever you did not understand, sir, you now do. ‘There are many people like her in this group. Not all have been honoured with the Lady’s personal ministrations, but all know of her benevolence. We are doing our best to assemble ransom, though what we do cannot match the sacrifices that you are making to bring the Lady Sray home.’

  That brought murmurs of agreement from the crowd. As one, people began to sink to their knees to praise my husband.

  ‘No! No!’ cried Nol, waving his hands. ‘Stay on your feet!’

  But people ignored the plea and put heads to the soil. A silence fell over them. Nol remained suspended in the litter, at a loss. Then he let out a deep breath and told the slaves: ‘Take me home.’

  Those slaves shouldered a burden that day, but not as heavy, I think, as a different kind that my husband had carried for so many years. By the time he reached home, it had lifted entirely. He called for his scribe.

  63: The King’s decision

  Early the following morning, court runners sought out Nol, Sovan and Bopa at their separate places and delivered an order to attend to the King in three hours’ time. But not at the palace. They were to await His Majesty at the mountain-temple’s entrance bridge. So they bathed and dressed and made themselves as presentable as they could, given that in previous days they’d hardly slept. Little communication had been allowed between them. Now, at the bridge, each was buoyed to see the other two alive and free, for at least another day. Tears flowed from the eyes of Bopa and Sovan, and I believe that even Nol let down his guard in this way. But overall their mood was of course quite grim. Not one of them had any idea what this summons meant.

  Soon the King arrived in full procession, parasols fluttering overhead. Prepared for the worst, my family knelt and made obeisance as they had a thousand times before. The King gave no acknowledgment. His train simply continued across the bridge and through the western gate. The Brahmin Subhadra was with it, and he nodded in my family’s direction, but it was unclear if he was conveying regret or reassurance about what was to come. All they could do was fall in behind. Sovan extended an arm to help his father keep up.

  In the temple, the King led the way up to the second level, still giving no sign of the purpose at hand. At the Heaven-steep steps to the summit, Subhadra chanted an invocation. His Majesty moved toward the steps, alone, to climb to the summit. Nol and Sovan pressed forward to put up some kind of challenge – I doubt they knew what. But Subhadra whispered to them that it was all right. You will follow, right now, he said. Slaves with boards stepped forward to lift them.

  What of me, then? From my place atop the temple, I had watched the procession advance down the western causeway. All I knew, from the sight of the royal parasols, was that His Majesty was coming. Whatever the purpose of this visit, it would also be the time for my confession.

  Soon the priest’s invocation carried up. I went to my mat, put head down with eyes closed, and tried to prepare myself.

  Presently I sensed a pair of feet before me. I found courage to peer up.

  ‘Majesty, at this time I must…’

  But the King put out a palm to silence me. He had always been gentle in those few times we came together. I sensed the same quality in him now – his hand almost floated on the air as it bade me be silent. But there was some unfamiliar property in him too, an indefinable sadness in his eyes. What was its cause? Perhaps resignation over conclusions and actions that could not be avoided.

  Before I could think further, there came a surprise – my family members, all of them, joining me one after the other on the mat. Each greeted me silently.

  Then came the priest. Whatever was to come would now begin. My confession would again wait.

  ‘Lady Sray,’ said the King, ‘we have come to inform you that you will be freed. You will pass down from here, then…then you will leave the Capital, for a place very far away, a place that you will choose. You will be free in all respects, except that you will never return to the city in this life.’

  ‘Your Majesty is merciful.’ I was trembling.

  ‘It is not to do with mercy. We know now that you had no role in the rebellion. Prayer helped me reach that conclusion. But also the number of people who turned out in your favour. Villagers, priests, even children. And, of course, these three members of your family. We believe that only innocence and virtue in my…my Heavenly Sister could prompt such actions. And we are sorry to say it was necessary, this taking of grave personal risk by so many people.’

  The Brahmin looked on proudly. These were not words he had composed. His Majesty was on his own, speaking his heart.

  ‘Parasol master, you have served me more than thirty years. Last night you came to court with deeds to all your property. You also submitted a petition requesting release from royal service and permission to take your wife to some distant place. We grant your petition. Your service will end as of today and you will depart with your wife. Your property will serve a noble cause. It will help finance the war that we must pursue to restore tranquillity and order for the Empire’s people. But the palace will provide a stipend so that you and she may live in comfort, but away from the Capital, for the rest of your days.’

  I could not, but how I would have liked just then to lean into Nol, to feel his protective arm around me. How had I ever questioned that he valued his property more than he valued me?

  Now it was Sovan’s turn. ‘Architect, you will now recreate the temple plans precisely as you saw them in your vision. You will recall all the labourers and work will resume as quickly as possible. Sculptors will proceed with the bas reliefs, including sections that will depict the current reign and its major personalities.’

  ‘It will be done, Majesty.’

  ‘Bopa, you will become chief concubine.’

  ‘Majesty!’ There was nothing more to say to that.

  Now the Brahmin took a step forward. ‘I will say a prayer to seal this accord in Heaven’s eyes.’

  But the King raised a hand to signal ‘not yet.’

  ‘We have one more thing to say. It is a small thing, and we trust that the Council of Brahmins will find it theologically acceptable.’

  I noticed now that the chief sculptor had joined the group.

  ‘The Lady Sray,’ the King said, ‘has performed admirable works for more than a generation, building shrines and
hospitals, repairing hostels, caring for the sick and needy. It is fitting that her image will be found here, in this place that will endure for eternity. Her daughter, the new chief concubine, will be at her side. Sculptor, come forward. You will sketch these two, right now, precisely as they are. Then you will carve them on the temple’s wall.’

  The King fixed his gaze on me. I dared look back to him, and again I saw sadness and resignation in his eyes.

  With a charcoal stylus and drawing board, the sculptor began to sketch.

  And just then I broke down, fully, in tears and frightful shudders. What a mix of emotions suddenly battered at me, with all the strength of a monsoon lightning storm – love for my husband and children, the pain of a still-concealed secret, gratitude for my freedom, and, I will admit it, regret that I would never again be in the presence of His Majesty. The sculptor paused, to give me time to collect myself, and I did, but only partly, and his sketch surely reflected that. Presently my first feelings were overtaken by shame at allowing the display of such unseemly emotions in so holy a place. I stood with my left arm folded tightly over my breasts, my right pressed against my side. I was trying to hide myself, I think. My eyes settled on the stone at my feet. But my daughter’s stance was a pleasure to the eye. She beamed, she faced the sculptor full-on, displaying body and spirit with the most striking kind of confidence. She whispered to me. ‘It’s all right now, mother.’ She laid a hand on my shoulder, and held it there.

  The sketch was done. The Brahmin chanted his closing prayer, then announced: ‘His Majesty will now say prayers of his own.’ That was it. We were free to go in peace, to climb down and leave this place for good.

  Nol took me by the hand. I leaned into him, trembling again. Son and daughter pressed close from either side; we walked as a family toward the steps.

  ‘Majesty!’

  We froze. It was a female shriek, coming from below.

  ‘Majesty!’

  Nol’s grip on my hand tightened.

  ‘She killed your brother!’

  It was Rom.

  From behind us, I heard the Brahmin saying, as calmly as he could: ‘Majesty, it is best to pay no attention. This woman creates discord in everything she does.’

  From below, the same words: ‘She killed your brother!’ Then, after a catching of breath: ‘I have a witness here who will tell you!’

  How long we all stood, paralyzed, I don’t know. But then His Majesty was almost flying past us. From the top of the steps, he peered down. How could it happen so quickly, but his serenity had completely vanished. His stance was now like something from a battlefield, his face contorted.

  ‘Send her up! And the witness too.’

  ‘Majesty, I don’t think we ought to allow...’ That was the Brahmin, who had now caught up.

  Never mind – Rom was already springing up those steep steps, sashes of her sampot fluttering behind her. She reached the top, then turned to watch two men raise on a board the witness, a very aged man.

  At the top, he collapsed to the stones.

  ‘Don’t die on me, old man!’ Rom shouted, a finger slicing the air. ‘Tell your King!’

  He said nothing. The King stepped close. ‘Tell me what? Who are you?’

  ‘There is no reason Your Majesty would remember.’

  ‘Say your name.’

  ‘I am…I am Sao, the cart driver, old and withered. From the estate where Your Majesty was born.’

  The King peered down on him, trying to remember. ‘What do you have to say?’

  ‘Nothing, Majesty. I wish only to stop offending you with my presence.’

  ‘Tell your King! Tell him that the girl who came to the estate that day – that girl was this woman right here!’

  ‘Old man, what does this mean?’

  His eyes turned sorrowfully in my direction. ‘I cannot deny it, Majesty. This Lady here, many years ago, when Your Majesty was a small boy, is the girl who came to marry the apprentice blacksmith.’

  ‘You mean the girl who disappeared the day my brother was killed...’

  ‘Please, Majesty! She was pure-hearted, not someone to be involved in murder. All of us could see that! I drove her in my cart to the estate. I can vouch for her.’

  ‘I can too, Majesty.’ It was Nol speaking now. He stood calmly, an arm enclosing me.

  The King’s eyes clouded for a moment. Then he bellowed to the guards: ‘I will be alone with these two! Move everyone else below!’

  Sovan sprang toward me, but guards’ hands were quickly on him, pressing him hard to the stones.

  Subhadra said: ‘Majesty, I don’t think...’

  The King put the heel of his hand to the old priest’s chest and shoved him back! The Brahmin staggered, gasping for breath.

  ‘Keep quiet, will you? You’ve made trouble for me for too many years!’

  The guards, frightened now as well, quickly removed all but Nol and me.

  We knelt, waiting while His Majesty paced up and down, now seeming almost disoriented. How could this end? But I knew Nol would not abandon me. On that mat, our folded legs touched.

  Finally the pacing stopped. He stood over us. ‘So the Lady Sray is the girl who came to my family’s estate?’

  ‘It is true, Majesty. I was that girl.’

  Nol broke in: ‘Whatever was done, Majesty, was done by me alone.’

  ‘By you?’

  ‘Yes, Majesty. I was there, and it was I who killed your brother. My wife is not capable of violence. She is a person who is rare on this earth, a person who proceeds through life with a full purse of merit, without sin. I have known this from the moment I first saw her.’

  A dagger was in the King’s hand, its point at my husband’s face.

  ‘You ate my rice for thirty years, you accepted land, wealth and authority from me. You did all these things and yet you killed my brother?’

  ‘I did not know it was your brother, Majesty. I did not know until just now.’

  The King shuddered. ‘Give me the truth! Are you ready to give me the truth?’

  ‘What I have said is the truth, Majesty,’ replied Nol, his voice steady. ‘I was passing along a road and I heard sounds of trouble from behind some trees. I went to look and came upon a girl, my wife today. She was being assaulted by a man whose garment was off. I saved her in the only way I could.’

  ‘My brother, committing rape? You’re making that charge against someone from a family that Heaven has chartered to rule!’

  ‘I make the charge, Majesty,’ replied Nol. ‘I make it on the witness of Heaven and my missing ear. It was your brother who cut it off.’

  ‘Was it?’

  ‘Yes, Majesty.’

  ‘He did it like this?’

  The blade flashed; my husband’s remaining ear leapt to the floor. Oh, how I screamed on seeing that. The King seized Nol and threw him down hard. His head stuck the stone floor in an awful way.

  I reached to him, horrified; he lay still. My touch lasted just an instant – the King seized me by the upper arm to break the contact.

  ‘Despicable,’ he declared, with a glance at the body. ‘I can’t stand to look at him anymore. You’ll come with me.’ He pulled me along a corridor, like a leopard dragging prey. I strained to look back to Nol, who remained still on the stone, eyes vacant.

  We rounded a corner, and the King forced me to the floor by a window. He began to shout. ‘All these years, posing as something sent from Heaven! Sita reborn, they said, so pure that even the King must stay away. And all the time a murderer! For so many years I’ve wanted to touch you. And now I find there’s never been a reason not to. You’ve been living with a monstrous lie every day of the year.’

  ‘I…confess to the falsehood, Majesty.’

  He knelt at my side and ran a finger down my neck, examining, me shrinking from this violent touch, which continued over my shoulder and breast, down to the waist of my garment. His hand went to its knot. ‘This is the body of a woman, not a god. She has a flawed characte
r, but not a flawed body, even with the passage of years.’

  Suddenly his hand left the knot. It seized my throat between thumb and forefinger.

  ‘Please, Majesty…I can’t breathe.’

  That appeal had effect; he released me. I fell back gasping.

  Now he was staring at my mouth. ‘What’s that?’

  ‘I don’t know what you mean, Majesty.’

  ‘Your body has a flaw. A missing tooth in the back of your mouth. I saw just now.’

  ‘I have never claimed flawless beauty, Majesty.’

  ‘I know – you’ve let others do it for you. How did you lose the tooth? Is there a story of deception behind that too?’

  I waited for my breathing to calm. ‘It came out at the place of your brother’s death, Majesty.’

  ‘How?’

  ‘Your brother, Majesty. He struck me and knocked it out.’

  ‘He was resisting the attack that you and your husband organized!’

  ‘No, Majesty. At the time, I was alone with your brother. He was trying to subdue me.’

  The King raised the back of his hand to strike me, but I stopped it with words that I suddenly found. Perhaps my husband was dead already, and his newly freed soul had come to me in this corridor to continue the many years of protection.

  ‘Majesty, it was not the way you say. Truly.’ I began the story of coming by oxcart to be married and how at the estate everything had unfolded with such promise, save for the powerlessness of my new friends to protect me from the attentions of the master’s elder son.

  ‘You enticed him! Like you did me!’

  ‘Never, Majesty. I tried only to stay away from him. As I have tried to stay away from you.’

  Then the wedding, the sounds of movement in the brush outside the nuptial house, Koy’s death on the road, the last encounter with the elder son in the forest clearing, the force with which he tore my garment away.

  I was about to say that I was the cause of everything, that I had allowed a confrontation to take shape, that I should have declared myself undeserving of the wedding and never gone to the estate. But I did not say any of that. I found I no longer believed it.