Complete Works of Talbot Mundy

by Talbot Mundy

  “My son, you know the saddhu is a false philosopher. You like to see him ridiculed by San-fun-ho. And that shows wisdom. There is merit in appreciation. But it is not good to forget that you are the saddhu. Those who listen must not be aware that you expect to be worsted in argument. Now speak the lines again.”

  Ommony complied, and did his best, for he was enjoying the game hugely; and that put Maitraya in a somewhat similar frame of mind; Maitraya imitated anything, including mental attitudes, and the rest of the troupe took example from him. When the East sets forth to play a part in earnest, it becomes audience as well as actor, and accepts the drama for reality. Even the Lama was pleased. He praised them after a fashion of his own.

  “Because you are doing well, it would not be good to believe you cannot do better. Even the sun and stars are constantly improving. Let vanity not slay humility, which is the spirit reaching upward.”

  Then, as if that perhaps were too great praise, which might deceive them, he picked out an actor here and there for comforting rebuke:

  “You must remember that to play the part of a stupid character requires intelligence. You will grow more intelligent as you endeavor. Now let us begin again at the beginning, trying to forget how stupid we have consented to be hitherto. Let us consent to be intelligent.”

  He did not once betray impatience. When he needed an example he commanded Samding, and the chela spoke at once from memory, occasionally descending to the floor to act as well as speak the lines. Once the chela acted the same part in the same way twice in succession, and then he came in for reprimand:

  “Samding, no two atoms in all nature are alike. No day is twice repeated. No second breath is like the first. Do that a third time. Do it differently.”

  Tyrant, however, was no right name for the Lama. There was no sense of oppression, even at the end of a long afternoon, when every faculty, Samding’s apparently included, ached from exercise. Samding worked harder than them all together, because all through the second act, in the role of a goddess, he had to come and go and speak the all-important lines on which the action hinged. But when darkness came, and tall monk-like Tibetans, armed with tapers, lit the hanging lights and set candles in the wall-sconces, the chela was as self-possessed and full of life as ever, which he hardly would have been if he had felt imposed on.

  At last the Lama dismissed the troupe to the far end of the hall, where they sprawled wearily on the floor and awaited supper. Not moving from the mat, he beckoned Ommony and Dawa Tsering to come and squat on the floor in front of him, not on the platform. They had to look up.

  “Now for the show-down! Good!” thought Ommony, stroking Diana’s head as she crouched on the floor beside him. But the Lama spoke to Dawa Tsering, using the northern dialect:

  “Why did you say to Samding that I owe you two months’ pay?” he asked, not offended, curious.

  “Oh, I had to say something. I had to have an excuse for seeing you. I had a letter to deliver.”

  The Lama nodded, but his voice became a half-note sterner: “Why did you use violence to Samding?”

  “I am a violent man, and the chela offended me.”

  “What offense did the chela commit?”

  “Oh, he looked too satisfied. He was a fool to stir the devil in me. Also I was disgusted.”

  “Why?”

  “Because he did not look afraid. And I knew he was afraid — of me! Therefore he was a liar. Therefore I smote him with the letter, and hustled him a time or two. He was afraid to hit back. Let him hit me now, if he is not afraid to!”

  The Lama meditated for a moment — seemed to fall asleep — and then to come out of a dream as if emerging from another universe.

  “There is a certain merit in you,” he said quietly. “Are you now the servant of this Brahmin?”

  “I am keeper of the dog. I pick the fleas from her. She is a very wise and unusual devil.”

  Dawa Tsering glanced at Ommony, who rather hoped he would say something to the Lama about the Bhat-disguise and thus bring that subject to a head; but he was disappointed. Nothing was farther from Dawa Tsering’s intention; he was thoroughly enjoying what he thought was a perfect imposition on the Lama.

  “This Gupta Rao,” he went on, “is a devil even greater than the dog. I like him. He and I are friends.”

  “Well,” said the Lama, “that seems to be excellent, because friends must stand together. There is a devil needed in this play of mine, and you shall act the devil. You will like that. But remember: there must be no offense to Samding, or to anyone. You and Gupta Rao are together, being, as you say, friends. If I should need to dismiss you, because of wrong-doing, I will dismiss him also. Therefore his safety — do you hear me? — his safety will depend on you, and you must behave accordingly.”

  The word safety was plainly intended for Ommony’s ears and the chela glanced at him, but the Lama’s eyes did not move. After a slight pause he continued:

  “You and the dog will both receive instruction.” Then at last he looked at Ommony: “Will the dog open her mouth when she is told?” he asked.

  Ommony ordered Diana to sit upright. He did not need to speak. At a sign from him she opened her mouth wide and yawned.

  “That is good,” said the Lama. “That will do. Peace dwell with you, my son. Samding!”

  The chela helped him to his feet, rolled up the mat, and followed him to the door exactly as on the first occasion, leaving Ommony and Dawa Tsering looking at each other until the Hillman threw his shoulders back and laughed.

  “Now you see why I have served him all these months! I, who have a devil in me! I, who mean to slay a man in Spiti! I, who hate a long-faced monk as an ape hates the river!” Then another thought occurred to him. “You must pay me more money, Gupta Rao, else I will offend the old Bag of Wisdom and he will discharge the two of us!”

  But instead of answering Ommony got up and found his way to the little room reserved for him. Through the slats of the window he could hear Dawa Tsering, squatting beside Diana, taking her into confidence:

  “It would be amusing, thou, to betray this Ommonee and see what happens. But I am afraid that what would happen might be serious. I think I had better say nothing, because what may happen then will probably be amusing. Thou, I think a person who can teach thee such obedience might be a bad enemy and a good friend!”

  Tibetans brought the evening meal, with a huge bowl of rice and a bone for Diana, but Diana refused to touch the food although the man set the bowl down in front of her and Dawa Tsering urged. It was not until Ommony gave her permission that she fell to greedily.

  “Thou, Gupta Rao, put no such spell upon me!” Dawa Tsering urged solemnly. “I am used to eating when my belly yearns for it!”

  Ommony finished his meal and decided to find out whether or not he was under any personal restraint. He crossed the courtyard and approached the double gate through which the carriage had entered that morning. There was a Tibetan standing near, who bowed, saw his intention, and opened the gate civilly to let him through! Diana followed, but he sent her back, making her jump the gate, which she managed at the third attempt, and he could hear the Tibetan on the far side laughing good-humoredly. He knocked on the gate from outside and the Tibetan opened it. Plainly there was no restriction on his movements; so he whistled Diana and started strolling down the alley, considering Benjamin and wondering whether the old Jew had lied about the smuggled children — and if so, why? What did Benjamin stand to gain by telling such a tale if it were not true? “The more you know of India the less you know!” he muttered.

  It was Diana who transferred his thoughts to another angle of the problem. She had paused at the end of the alley and was signaling in the way she used to in jungle lanes when she detected a human who had no ostensible right to be there.

  Ommony stood still, which obliged her to glance around at him for orders. He signed to her to come to heel and then walked very quietly to the end of the alley, where the corner of a high wall intensified
the gathering darkness. No lamps were yet lighted, although there was one fixed on an iron upright at the angle of the masonry above him; it was almost pitch-dark where he sat down, with his back against the wall, giving no orders to Diana, simply watching her.

  The hair on the scruff of her neck began to rise; she could hear voices, and so could he presently. He pulled her closer against the wall where she crouched obediently, trembling because she added his alertness to her own. She was quite invisible in the depth of the shadow; Ommony was between her and the road into which the alley opened; but he knew his own figure could be seen, something like a wayside idol, by anyone with sharp eyes who should pass close to the corner.

  There were two men approaching very slowly, deep in conversation. One wore spurs. Unexplainably (without delving into such science as Chutter Chand expounds in his room behind the jewelry store) Ommony received an impression that they had been pacing to and fro for a considerable time. They came to a halt around the corner within three steps of where he sat, and when he held his breath he could hear their words distinctly:

  “You see, Chalmers, if we raid the place without being sure of our ground, all we’ll do is make trouble for ourselves and serve them notice to cover their tracks. We must have evidence that’ll make conviction certain, or they’ll hold us up as another horrid example of official tyranny.”

  “I tell you, sir, I know the women are in here.”

  “But do you know they are the women? We can’t interfere with religion. We’d be in a fine mess if we haled a bevy of legitimate nautch-girls into court. We’ve got to have proof.”

  “Pardon me, sir. Lamaism doesn’t run to nautch-girls. These people are Tibetans. They’ve no proper business in Delhi, and absolutely no excuse for lugging unexplainable women around the country. The Lama was seen to enter Vasantasena’s place, and I myself saw him come out and drive off with his chela and two other people. I had him followed, and I know he drove in here. He hasn’t come out since. You know what kind of a place Vasantasena keeps.”

  “Yes, but we also know every member of her household. And she’s another individual it’s deadly dangerous to monkey with unless we’re certain of our facts.”

  “We’ve got circumstantial evidence enough to hang a rajah, sir.”

  “Circumstantial won’t do, Chalmers. I spoke with McGregor about it today; he assured me there isn’t a thing on the Lama in the Secret archives. He admits there’s slavery on the Assam border,* and that slaves are sold into Nepal and Tibet. But that doesn’t justify us in raiding this place, warrant or no warrant. We’d be inviting a riot. The way things are at the moment, Moslems and Hindus ‘ud get together and make common cause even with Christians if they thought they could jump on us by doing it — and slit one another’s throats afterward! They’d call it another Amritsar. I’ll tell you what you may do if you like: surround this place and shadow every one who leaves it. That way we may get evidence.”

  There was silence while someone suppressed ill-temper. Then a voice:

  “Very well, sir.”

  A piece of mortar from the top of the wall fell to the ground beside Ommony. He glanced up. It was growing very dark, but he thought he saw the shadow of a man’s head, vague against the colored gloom of an overhanging tree. The men who were talking moved on, toward the alley-mouth — passed it — turned, and started back again.

  “Hullo!” said one of them, the taller, he with the spurs. “Do you notice the audience? Wait! Don’t go down there — that’s a nasty, damned dark alley — might be an accident. — Good evening!” he said, coming to a stand six feet away from Ommony. “I hope we haven’t disturbed your meditations.”

  Ommony’s hand closed on Diana’s muzzle. She crowded herself closer against the wall.

  “I say, I hope we haven’t disturbed your meditations!”

  Ommony did not move.

  “Maybe he doesn’t know English, sir.”

  “Dammit, I can’t see his caste-mark. He looks like a Hindu. Haven’t a flashlight, have you?”

  The younger of the two men struck a match; its yellow glare showed Ommony in high relief, but darkened the shadow behind him.

  “By gad, sir, that’s the Brahmin who came out of Vasantasena’s with the Lama!”

  The last thing Ommony wanted was police recognition; with the best will in the world the police may bungle any intricate investigation, through over- zeal, and because they must depend on under-qualified subordinates. He was satisfied to learn that McGregor had kept his promise not to unleash the Secret Service on the trail; disturbed to learn the police on the other hand were busy. During thirty seconds, until the match went out, he cultivated the insolent stare to which Brahmins treat “unclean” intruders.

  “Brahmin and a Lama keeping company? That’s strange.”

  “I’d call it suspicious, if you asked me, sir! What’s he doing here? He’s not even sitting on a mat. That corner’s ritually unclean — fouled by dogs and God knows what else.”

  “I’ll try him in the vernacular. — I’m curious to know why you are sitting here,” said the man with spurs. “Is there anything wrong? Are you ill? Can I help you in any way?”

  “Leave me to my meditation!” Ommony answered in a surly tone of voice.

  “Why meditate just here, O twice-born? This is a bad place — dangerous — thieves, you know. Don’t you think you’d better move on?”

  Ommony was in doubt whether or not to answer, but he was afraid Diana might betray her presence unless he could get rid of the inquisitors. He made up an answer on the spur of the moment and growled it indignantly:

  “A year ago my son died on this very spot, slain by a bullet from a soldier’s rifle. Therefore I choose this place to meditate. I abase myself in dirt before the gods who visited that evil on me.”

  “Damned unlikely story, sir, if you asked me!”

  “Everything in this damned country is unlikely! Have him watched. You’d better stand at that corner, and if he moves off, have one of the men follow him. I’ll go back and send you twenty or thirty men to surround the place. — Good night, O twice-born! Meditate in peace!” Ommony listened until their footsteps died away in the near distance. Then, taking very great care that Diana should understand she was still stalking danger, not defying it, he crept on tiptoe to the gate at the other end of the alley and drummed on it with his knuckles.

  There was no answer. He tried the gate, but it was fastened on the inside. So he made Diana jump it, and in less than a minute after that Dawa Tsering came and undid the bars.

  “O thou, Gupta Rao, there are happenings!” he said, showing white teeth that gleamed in the dark.

  CHAPTER XV. The Roll-Call by Night

  To him who truly seeks the Middle Way, the Middle Way will open. One step forward is enough.

  — from The Book of the Sayings of Tsiang Samdup

  WITHIN the courtyard there was not confusion but a silent flitting to and fro as purposeful and devoid of collision as the evening flight of bats. Tall, specter-like figures, on the run, were carrying out loads and arranging them in a long row under the cloister. There was no sign of the Lama, nor of Maitraya, and only one dim light was burning — a guttering candle set in a sconce under one of the arches.

  “They go!” said Dawa Tsering. “They go!” He was excited — thrilled by the atmosphere of mystery. “There was a fellow on the wall, along there at the corner of the garden, where the tree is. He came running; and another summoned the Lama; and there was an order given. May devils eat me if they weren’t quick! They are like ants when the hill is damaged!”

  Ommony approached the cloister where the candle-light threw dancing shadow, and the first thing he recognized was his own trunk, with the bags and bundles of the other actors laid alongside it, in a line with scores of other loads all roped in worn canvas covers. There was every indication of orderly but swift and sudden flight; and only one reasonable deduction possible. Dawa Tsering voiced it:

  “Women-trouble! Trou
ble-women! It is the same thing! They bring a man to ruin in the end!”

  Ommony sat down on the trunk, and suddenly jumped up again. A woman’s voice cried out of darkness from an upper story.

  “Did you hear that?”

  “So screams a woman when the knife goes in!” said Dawa Tsering pleasantly. He was having an entirely satisfying time. “Look to thyself! There is room to hide dead men in this place, and none the wiser!”

  But Ommony was not quite sure the woman’s cry did not hold a suggestion of laughter.

  A Tibetan unlocked the door of the great hall in which the rehearsals had taken place, and Maitraya emerged in a tantrum.

  “Krishna! This is too much!” he snorted. “Is that you, Gupta Rao? What do you think of it! To lock us in like criminals! To take our luggage — by the Many-armed Immaculate — what is happening?”

  The other actors trailed out after him, the women last, peering over the shoulders of the men in front. One of them was half-hysterical and, seeing nothing else to be afraid of, screamed at the dog. Ommony retreated into darkness. Dawa Tsering followed him, immensely free as to the shoulders, like an old-time mercenary fighting-man who foresaw trouble of the sort that was his meat and drink.

  “Have you a weapon, Gupta Rao? If you asked me, I should say you would need one presently!”

  Ommony dragged the Hillman down beside him and the three — he, Dawa Tsering and the dog — sat with their backs against the wall in impenetrable shadow, out of which they could watch what was passing in the ghostly candlelight.

  “How many women has the Lama with him?” asked Ommony.

  “Oh, lots! I never counted. There were one or two I had my eye on, but the crafty old Ringding looks after them more carefully than an Afghan watches a harem. He and the chela are the only ones who can get within talking distance. Never mind. We will have our opportunity now, unless I am much mistaken.”