Using the base of the torch, the monk rapped twice on a door to the far side of the chamber. There was the sound of heavy metal runners being pulled back and, with a rush of air, the door creaked open on its hinges.
‘What’s in there?’ Luca whispered, feeling the pulse in his neck quicken. He threw a glance over his shoulder back the way they had come, wondering if he should make a break for it. Perhaps he had been foolish to have trusted the guides this far.
A young face appeared at the door and a figure stepped out towards them. It was a boy – about fourteen years old, but tall for his age. He moved awkwardly, with a hesitant shuffling of his feet. As he came closer, Luca realised there was nothing to fear from him. His brown eyes were timid and gentle, and he was smiling apprehensively.
‘Please,’ he said in a thick accent, sweeping his hand low and gesturing Luca inside.
‘What’s in there?’ Luca asked. He could see light glimmering beyond the door.
‘Please,’ the boy repeated, his English clearly limited to no more than a few words.
Retreating inside, he gestured for Luca to follow once again. Luca hesitated for a moment longer, fighting his natural instinct to flee, then ducked his head under the low doorway.
It was a large room, bright with colour and heat, and dazzling to the senses. Hundreds of miniature candles had been placed in long lines in alcoves along the walls. Wax welled from their sides, dripping on to the floor with an irregular beat.
Along the uninterrupted back wall, huge golden prayer wheels were lined up like sentinels. The cylinders towered towards the ceiling, the gold looking old and battered from use, while the sacred words etched into their sides were rubbed almost clean. On the far side of the room a large recess had been carved into the wall and was covered by a wide, translucent screen. At the centre of this was an enormous picture of the Buddha with piercing blue eyes. Despite the serene countenance of the face, there was something about those eyes that Luca found unnerving. They seemed to stare down at him wherever he positioned himself in the room.
Dorje stood to one side of the screen, his hands clasped behind his back.
‘You are in the presence of His Holiness the seventh Abbot of Geltang Monastery and High Lama of the Blue Order,’ Dorje intoned. His expression was deadly serious as he raised a finger towards Luca. ‘Do not presume to speak unless spoken to.’
Luca turned as the door behind him was slammed shut, the metal runners scraping noisily across the wood. He looked back towards the screen and could just pick out the outline of a figure seated on the ground behind. It was leaning forward, whispering to Dorje.
‘What were you searching for last night?’ he passed on, turning towards Luca.
‘Hey, wait a second! I saw stuff last night that . . .’
‘What were you searching for?’ Dorje repeated, his voice firmer.
Luca stared back for a moment, eyes boring into the monk.
‘I was looking for Bill. You satisfied?’
Luca took a step closer to the screen and suddenly registered movement, a shifting of the shadows just visible under the doors at the far end of the room. There were other people there, watching him. The Abbot’s guards?
He stopped about ten feet away from the screen.
‘Look, you haven’t allowed me to see him in all this time. And since he was barely breathing by the time we got here, I broke out last night to check whether he was all right.’
‘That is all you were looking for?’ Dorje asked.
‘What? That’s not enough for you?’ Luca snapped. ‘I don’t give a damn what’s going on at this monastery. I’ve got a right to see Bill.’
Whispering came from behind the screen and Dorje angled his head to listen then straightened up once again.
‘His Holiness understands your concern for your companion’s welfare and, once this meeting is concluded, has instructed me to take you to see him directly.’
‘Finally. Thank you,’ Luca said, hiding his surprise.
‘His Holiness also said that he is most relieved to hear your reason for venturing into the monastery alone. But again he asks – is this all you were searching for?’
Luca put his hands in his pockets, his fingers curling round the small lead seal he had taken. He inhaled deeply, the heat and billowing smoke from the candles searing his lungs.
‘Let’s stop these games, Dorje. I know that this is one of the sacred beyuls. And last night I saw the treasure that you guys have been keeping secret. I know all about it.’
Dorje remained very still, listening to every word he said.
‘I saw the statues, the gems . . . everything,’ Luca continued. ‘I know people have been trying to find this treasure for years, but you guys have got to understand something – we’re not here for any of that. We came to Tibet to climb the pyramid mountain. That’s all we were ever interested in and all we came to do. The only reason we’re even here now is because Bill got injured.’
He shrugged his shoulders.
‘If you are hiding treasure from the Chinese, then that’s your business. We’re climbers, Dorje. We like mountains. It’s that simple – snow and ice.’
Dorje nodded slowly, then added, ‘And how could you guarantee that you will not tell others the secret of this monastery, when you return to the outside world?’
Luca hesitated a moment. ‘I guess you would just have to trust us,’ he said finally.
Dorje nodded again. ‘Trust,’ he repeated, drawing the word out. ‘That is indeed a lot to ask. Especially when we have already seen what you do with our trust. Can we really allow you to leave, trusting to your word alone?’
‘Allow me to leave?’ Luca repeated in surprise.
He saw movement again behind the doors. It was slight, a person shifting from one foot to the other, but it was definitely there. He tried to see more clearly, but the flames of the candles were too bright. There was a sense of menace to those shadows under the door, as if they were poised to leap out at him.
For a moment Luca just stared at Dorje in silence, then he reached into his trouser pocket and pulled out the seal.
‘Perhaps this will help,’ he said, offering it on the palm of his hand. ‘I took this last night. I’m sorry, but there were hundreds of them and I thought you wouldn’t notice.’
As Dorje craned his neck to see more clearly, a faint smile passed across his lips.
‘Perhaps we can learn to trust you, Mr Matthews,’ he said, the smile widening a little further. ‘Perhaps we can.’
He made a subtle movement with his right hand and a moment later the silhouettes lurking behind the far doors seemed to melt away completely. Luca felt the tension in the room lift, but his own expression remained unchanged. He had seen so much last night and they still had not answered a single one of his questions.
‘You talk about trust,’ he said, raising his chin defiantly, ‘yet you’ve got people tied up in the darkness. What the hell kind of a monastery is this?’
‘A very special one,’ Dorje replied evenly. ‘I am sure what you saw last night was indeed frightening, but I can assure you that you have nothing to fear from us. The devotees you saw form an extreme part of our sect that we call the “Perfect Life”.’
‘The Perfect Life? Dorje, they were bound up like criminals!’
Dorje shifted out of his formal stance, his features relaxing.
‘Please, Mr Matthews, allow me to explain. As you may be aware, in our belief when a person dies they move round the Wheel of Life. If it has been good life, they move a step closer to the state of total enlightenment or what we call Nirvana. Ultimately this is what we all hope to attain, but for many it can takes tens, hundreds, even thousands of lifetimes. The devotees you witnessed last night have chosen the hard and lonely path. They have decided to dedicate every hour of every day in this existence to meditation, in the hope that they will move directly into Nirvana and achieve enlightenment in a single lifetime.’
‘But why are they b
ound in leather straps?’
‘So that even in sleep they may maintain the perfect state of meditation. No one forces them to be there. They choose this path freely.’
Luca remained silent, amazed that a person would actually choose to endure such endless years of suffering.
‘Incredible to you, I know,’ Dorje said, catching the look in his eye. ‘But to us belief is everything. Our religion permeates every facet of our lives. And we will do anything to safeguard it.’
He walked forward, stopping just in front of Luca.
‘I must apologise if you feel us to be excessively secretive, but we are only cautious because so much of what we once had has been destroyed. When the Chinese came, almost everything was taken from us during the Cultural Revolution – monastery after monastery was simply burned to the ground. Even the Jokhang, our most holy temple, was turned into a pigsty, while the sacred Mani stones were used to build a soldiers’ latrine. Thousands upon thousands of our brothers were imprisoned, and many of them died for refusing to recant their belief.’
A deep frown had appeared across Dorje’s forehead and his eyes were clouded by bitter memories.
‘One by one the twenty-one beyuls across our land were discovered and lost to the horror. All of them were lost. All except this single monastery in which you now stand. Our High Lamas then made the decision to bring everything precious that remained to Geltang for safe-keeping, including the treasure that you saw last night. Our blue order was thus created, with the express purpose of preserving our heritage. Now, after so many years of retreat from the world, we are all but forgotten – and happy for this to be so. The only sign that we even exist is the blue in the prayer flags you see over the busy streets of Lhasa.
So, Mr Matthews, if you find us secretive it is because we have been hunted to the very brink of extinction. Geltang is the last beyul we have. The very last. Should the Chinese ever discover the route to our gates, we would have nowhere left to hide.’
He placed a hand on Luca’s shoulder, staring directly into his eyes.
‘I hope you can forgive us now for questioning your motives.’
Luca’s shoulders slumped and he nodded slowly.
‘There’s nothing to forgive. I’m sorry I said what I said, but I just saw those things and presumed . . .’ He paused. ‘Thank you for taking us in, when you had so much to risk.’
As Dorje smiled warmly, Luca turned to address the screen in front of him.
‘You’ve got nothing to fear from us,’ he said, seeing the silhouette bend forward attentively. ‘We won’t tell anyone about this place. No matter what happens, I give you my word.’
Dorje moved closer to the screen, and Luca waited patiently as he whispered to the Abbot beyond.
‘His Holiness is most pleased that we have reached such an agreement. He thanks you for your trust.’
Dorje bowed, then signalled towards the door by which Luca had arrived. The young aide drew back the bolts.
‘Young Norbu will return you to your quarters, and later this evening I shall take you to visit Mr Taylor.’
‘Thank you, Dorje,’ Luca said, and with a nod towards the screen, followed Norbu out of the room. Dorje waited until the door had closed once again before turning back to the hidden figure.
‘Do you think he suspects the truth?’ he asked.
The outline behind the screen leaned forward. When he spoke, his voice was slow and deliberate.
‘I believe not.’
‘So, do you wish that we now let them leave?’
The figure slowly got to his feet, gathering his robes closer to his body.
‘I do not yet understand why they are here, but I know that they have been sent for a reason. Until such time as this becomes clear to me, they will remain within our walls.’
Dorje bowed low as the figure withdrew into an unseen annexe behind the screen. Then he walked towards the door of the chamber, his brow furrowed with concern once more. The Abbot was taking a terrible risk. It could only be a matter of time before the Westerners discovered the truth.
Chapter 42
Shara swept down the corridor, the boy clasped in her arms. Every so often she paused to shift his weight from one arm to the other causing his head to loll against her chest. At the movement, a soft murmur escaped his lips and his eyes shut tight from pain.
A wide cut ran over the top of the boy’s knee. With her spare hand, Shara pressed down against it causing a thin trickle of blood to fan out over her fingers and down the length of his calf.
‘We’re nearly there, Babu,’ she breathed into the mop of tousled hair. ‘It was just an accident. That’s all. Remember, we’ve got to stay as quiet as a mouse, OK?’
At the entrance to the medical quarter she stopped, craning her neck to see beyond the open door. It looked empty. Then, just as she was about to enter, she caught sight of one of Rega’s aides in the far end of the room, half hidden by the lines of shelving. He held a vial of clear liquid up to the light, his face so close as to almost be touching the glass. As Shara quickly swivelled away and back into the shadow of the corridor, his eyes instinctively flicked towards the door to where she had been.
Shara hurried back, passed the lines of doors studded into either side of the corridor. Behind her, there was the soft chink of glass being set down, then footsteps. With a quick glance over her shoulder, she drew back the bolt of the door nearest to her and quickly eased herself inside, Babu still hugged to her chest. The room was small with two beds neatly arranged a few feet apart. One of them was covered in a mound of sheets. The top half of Bill’s body poked out from the folds.
Shara stayed by the door for several seconds, eyes fixed on Bill. His head was turned away from them and one arm hung limply over the edge of the bed. The sheets moved up and down in a constant rhythm. He was either asleep, or more likely, unconscious.
Tipping Babu onto the empty bed, she motioned for him to be silent, then started hunting through the wooden cupboard to the right of the door. Medical supplies were carefully stacked within.
A moment later, she turned back with a roll of gauze tucked under her arm, a needle and thread and a small, half-full bottle of clear liquid. Sloshing the liquid onto the gauze, she raised it towards the open cut on Babu’s knee.
‘This is going to sting,’ she whispered. ‘But don’t make a sound.’
Reaching up to his neck, she slipped the string of jade prayer beads over his head and pressed them into his hand.
‘Squeeze on these when it hurts.’
Babu inhaled deeply, his fist tightening round the beads as she carefully stroked the gauze over his knee, cleaning away the blood.
‘Brave boy,’ Shara breathed. ‘I’m going to have to put a couple of stitches in. It will hurt but not for long. Do you think you can keep silent for a while longer?’
Babu nodded, but his brown eyes widened as he saw Shara hold the needle up to the light and thread the cotton through. He gripped the beads in his hands tighter.
With an encouraging squeeze on his shoulder, Shara bent forward, her hair spilling across her face. As the tip of the needle pierced the skin, Babu’s whole leg stiffened and he let out a yell, before quickly clapping his hand across his mouth. Shara shot a nervous glance at the door, before continuing to sew, her mouth pursed in concentration.
The thread was just being tugged through a second time, when there was a rustling from the opposite bed. She turned to see Bill staring straight at her, his face pale with dark lines of bruising running over the bridge of his nose.
‘Shara?’ he said, his voice husky. ‘What are you doing here?’
‘This little boy hurt his leg,’ she said, biting through the last bit of thread. ‘He fell down some stairs and cut himself. It’s nothing. Why don’t you just go back to sleep?’
Bill pulled himself up onto the pillows, grimacing as his legs dragged over the sheets. Thick belts of gauze had been wound around his calves and the lower part of his thighs.
&
nbsp; ‘Sleep?’ he asked, his expression hardening. ‘What the hell do you mean “sleep”? Why hasn’t anyone come and seen me? There’s just been these two monks, and neither of them speak a word of English. What’s going on?’
Shara sighed and, gently patting Babu’s shoulder, stood up. Her eyes traced over Bill’s face, at the line of swollen black where he had fallen on to the stone step. His right eye was almost entirely closed, blotched yellow and mauve in ugly bruising, whilst across his thickset jaw, a few days’ worth of stubble had developed into a full beard.
‘I’m sorry, Bill. I know you’ve been left in the dark. But I’ve got to get Babu back to the Abbot’s quarters. He really shouldn’t be here at all. I’ll come back and explain everything . . .’
‘No, Shara,’ Bill said, his voice rising to almost a shout. Shara raised her hands, palms upwards, pleading for him to calm down. The frown on Bill’s face deepened and, as he leant forward to speak, a wave of pain shot up from his injured legs. His jaw clenched and he shut his eyes, fighting back the pain. Eventually he opened his eyes again.
‘We saved your life out there in the storm. The least you could do is give me an explanation.’
Shara remained still for a moment, lost in thought. Then she nodded slowly. ‘OK. You’re right. But I can only tell you a few things – as much as I’m allowed.’
‘You were planning on ditching us all along, weren’t you? Right from the very beginning.’
‘I’m sorry, Bill. Really I am. But you and Luca were my only chance of getting up the cliff-face. With the guide ill in Menkom, I didn’t have any choice.’
She reached across, resting her hand on Bill’s forearm. ‘I am sorry for getting you involved in all this. It was never supposed to happen this way.’
He stared down at her hand for a moment, then moved his arm away.
‘And where the hell is Luca? When can I see him?’
‘Soon, I hope.’
‘Soon? What does that mean?’
Shara looked back towards the door, as if expecting it to open at any moment.
The Cloud Maker (2010) Page 24
