by Di Morrissey
Mr P squatted on his heels, and Natalie and Aye Aye sat on low stools as mugs of tea were passed around.
Natalie was munching her third small pancake when a young monk emerged from the monastery and told Aye Aye that the abbot was ready to receive them.
‘We should all pay our respects,’ said Mr P. ‘Then it is up to Aye Aye to ask about the kammavaca.’
The wooden floorboards were worn silky smooth. Natalie sat with the others as the abbot and the senior monks chanted their prayers. She glanced to where the wooden pillars, as solid as tree trunks, soared into the dimness above. The musky incense, the flickering candles and the scent of flowers at the base of the Buddha shrine were calming. Aye Aye had handed the kammavaca to the abbot and it sat on the floor in front of him as he continued his prayers.
Natalie felt at peace. Whatever was to come now was nothing to do with her. Her role in this strange pageant was finished. She was comfortable as if she were in familiar surroundings.
When the abbot finished praying and gathered his robes and rose, gesturing them all to follow, Natalie walked with Aye Aye along the carved wooden corridor followed by Mr P.
They moved into a small space cluttered with two very old chests and a dusty glass-doored cabinet with shallow shelves stacked with palm-leaf manuscripts. On the walls were several hangings and paintings that seemed to Natalie to be very old. A thick red mattress and cushions were stacked around a woven floor mat, which clearly served as a table.
The abbot spread the kammavaca before him and spoke to Aye Aye, pointing to illustrations and then the script. He called for a young monk to fetch something for him. When the young monk returned, he placed a bulky parcel wrapped in an old musty carpet in front of the abbot. When the abbot unwrapped it, Natalie caught her breath. Folded neatly inside was a length of deep rusty-red cloth. Natalie guessed that this was probably the same material that had been used to make the pages of the kammavaca.
After intense conversation between Aye Aye and the abbot, Aye Aye bowed. They watched the young monk rewrap the material. The abbot rose and, carrying the kammavaca, his robe folded over his arm, left the room.
Aye Aye turned to Natalie. ‘He says it will take some time to find the meaning of the kammavaca. He will see us again in the morning.’
‘So we’re staying here?’
‘Yes. The men will sleep in the guesthouse; we can sleep here in the monastery. The village women or the young monks will bring food for us.’
Later the atmosphere was subdued, voices lowered as two women from the village brought them supper, which they ate by the cooking fire.
‘You’ll be fine sleeping in the monastery,’ Aye Aye assured Natalie. ‘The village women will loan you two longyis, one for bathing and one for sleeping.’
‘Thank you,’ said Natalie. ‘I’m not at all concerned. I slept in a nunnery the night before last.’
The sun had set but a gold and pewter light still shone across the surface of the river as Aye Aye led Natalie down to the river’s edge to wash. Natalie copied Aye Aye and tied the longyi over her breasts like a sarong as she dipped into the river water. Aye Aye handed her a creamy smear of soap that smelled of thanaka and Natalie washed her face and dunked her head in the refreshing water. She put on the dry longyi and returned to their little room in the monastery where she hung the wet longyi to dry on a window sill. As the sky darkened and the stars appeared, she lay on the thin padded mat on the rush matting floor. Her rolled neck pillow was surprisingly comfortable and her lotus shawl gave her enough warmth. She looked at her watch and saw that it was barely 8 p.m.
She whispered softly to Aye Aye, who lay only a few feet away, ‘I hope the abbot can tell you what is in the kammavaca and that it’s good news.’
‘I’ve been thinking about my grandfather, his wives and daughters, the concubines he was fond of and his half sisters, and wondering if this is what was supposed to happen. I suppose you can’t blame Tipi Si for selling it.’
‘But she was very regretful after she’d sold it to Ferguson. Her regret had such a strong impact on Uncle Andrew. He made such an effort to retrieve it for her,’ mused Natalie.
‘Yes, that is true, but it’s a long time ago now. We may have some answers in the morning,’ sighed Aye Aye. Then she added, ‘Do you think they are watching us, curious, but glad we’re here?’
‘Who do you mean?’ asked Natalie.
‘Tipi Si, the king, your uncle?’ said Aye Aye quietly.
Natalie nodded in agreement, rolled onto her side and stared through the tall open window at the night sky framed by the old carved woodwork shutters before she spoke. ‘I’d like to think so. In this land where people are so devoted to spirits, the afterlife, past lives, the next life and all manner of beliefs, I feel that it is quite possible.’
‘I hope you will be comfortable not sleeping in a bed,’ said Aye Aye.
‘Even though it’s early, I’m ready to sleep. And I’m sure we’ll be up early,’ said Natalie. ‘Good night, Aye Aye.’
‘Thank you again, Natalie. We wouldn’t be here without you.’
Natalie smiled and rolled over again. The spray of ginger flowers they’d picked near the monastery lay beside her on the floor, glimmering white in the moonlight. The flowers still looked fresh, and their delicate ginger perfume soothed her into a gentle sleep.
It was cool in the dawn light. A mist shivered as it rose from the river and dissolved in trees at the water’s edge. Natalie could hear the faint creak of teak floorboards beneath the bare feet of the monks as they prepared for their daily meditation. In the distance she heard the sound of a motor launch.
Aye Aye was already up and she smiled as Natalie opened her eyes. ‘You slept well,’ she said.
‘I did. Amazingly so. It’s so quiet and peaceful here.’
‘If you don’t want to go to the river again to wash, there is water that has been drawn from the well outside that you can use. It’s in an area that’s separate from the monks.’
‘I think that will do me,’ said Natalie.
She quickly splashed her face with the cool water and dressed before she and Aye Aye walked over to the kitchen where Mr P and Soe Soe joined them.
‘I wonder if the abbot was burning the midnight oil,’ said Natalie as she watched another two young women from the nearby village bring in their breakfast.
They ate their noodles and Mr P said, ‘The monks will be going out on their alms round soon.’
‘It’s barely 6 a.m.,’ said Natalie. ‘Will the abbot go too?’
‘No, he is too elderly. The younger monks will take care of him,’ said Mr P.
They watched the monks file out of the monastery and walk slowly towards the village.
‘There’s a small town, with just a few shops, nearby. Soe Soe tells me that there is a petrol station further on, so they’ll go there, too,’ said Mr P. ‘Would you like to walk to the river while we wait for the abbot? It will be very pretty at this time of the day.’
As they walked towards the river, Natalie could see the rest house where Mr P and Soe Soe had spent the night. It was a very simple building: a space divided into two rooms, with a small bamboo verandah on one side. From its rear a thin plume of smoke from a cooking fire curled upwards and a path wound towards the edge of the river. As they drew level with the little building, Natalie noticed a movement, and a man stepped from one of the rooms, hands clasped beneath his chin in greeting.
‘Moss,’ Natalie gasped.
Mr P and Aye Aye looked sharply at Natalie.
‘You know this person?’ whispered Mr P as Moss, dressed in a shirt and longyi, his hair tied back in a pony-tail, walked calmly towards them.
‘Yes, this is a friend of mine from my yoga class back home. What are you doing here, Moss?’
‘It’s a bit of a long story, Nat.’ He bowed to Aye Aye. ‘You must be Princess Aye Aye.’ He turned to Mr P. ‘I understand you have been shepherding Natalie safely on her quest to bring the kammavac
a to Aye Aye.’
Mr P gave a slight bow, and in his unfailingly polite way, said, ‘We have travelled successfully together, although it has not been without its small hindrances.’
‘I’m pleased that it has been successful. You’ve given the kammavaca to Aye Aye, have you, Nat?’
‘Yes she has, but I don’t know what your interest is. I think you owe us an explanation,’ said Aye Aye briskly.
‘Of course. I’m very happy to explain why I’m here,’ said Moss.
‘Well, I’m listening,’ said Natalie, still stunned.
‘Let’s go and sit on the verandah and I’ll explain.’
They removed their shoes and sat together in a semicircle on a bamboo mat on the floor.
‘You know, Moss, I think that something strange is going on,’ said Natalie indignantly. ‘I’m pretty sure I’ve been followed and also I’m pretty sure that at least twice, maybe more, there have been deliberate attempts to steal the kammavaca. And now you turn up. What’s going on?’
Aye Aye looked alarmed. ‘I hope you weren’t in danger bringing this to me,’ she said.
Moss turned to Natalie. ‘You’re right. Something has been going on, but fortunately I had someone looking out for you.’
‘You did? Who?’ asked Natalie.
Moss pointed towards Soe Soe, who was sitting quietly in the shade of a tree looking on from a distance.
‘When you told me that you were going to Myan-mar, I thought, like your other friends in Australia, that it can be difficult for someone travelling on their own in a country where law and order is problematic. I’m sorry now I didn’t tell you. I didn’t want to frighten you or put you off travelling to Burma. I had no idea that all of this would happen. I thought it would be a good idea to have someone reliable discreetly keep an eye on things. So I managed to contact the owner of a tour office in Yan-gon, who is a friend of mine, and he made some enquiries about your movements.’
‘Did he go to Win and Connie’s gallery and ask questions about me?’ asked Natalie.
‘Probably. Anyway, once he knew where you were going he assigned his most reliable driver.’
‘So that’s why my usual driver was changed,’ said Mr P.
‘Yes,’ replied Moss. ‘Soe Soe quickly realised that you were carrying something important, and he watched you very carefully to make sure that you were safe.’
‘You organised Soe Soe to look after me?’ Natalie was trying to absorb all this. She felt conflicted. On one hand, Moss had overstepped his bounds. But on the other, it was just as well he had.
‘Soe Soe was just meant to be in the background but he took action when things began to get out of hand. He told me how your room had been searched, and he also told me that he interrupted someone trying to get into your room that night in Bagan.’
‘Someone was trying to get in! I thought so,’ said Natalie. ‘Good on Soe Soe for stopping it.’
‘Soe Soe also told me that you were held up on the road to Pyin Oo Lwin.’
‘So that’s why he was so quick to hide the kamma-vaca,’ said Natalie.
‘I’m pretty sure those soldiers were paid to waylay you. But they took what they thought was valuable, not really understanding what they were after.’
‘Who’d pay them to hold us up?’ asked Natalie.
‘The man who I think is behind this,’ replied Moss.
‘Who is it? Who wanted to stop Natalie from bringing me the kammavaca? Who wants it so badly?’ asked Aye Aye.
Moss spoke calmly. ‘I believe it is Michaelson. I can’t be totally sure, but it’s certainly his style.’
‘Who is Michaelson?’ asked Aye Aye.
Natalie quickly told her that he was a London dealer who had tried to buy the kammavaca from her.
‘Well, he’s too late,’ said the princess. ‘And I won’t be selling it to anyone, either. How do you know this Michaelson, Moss?’
‘I’ve had dealings with Michaelson. As Natalie knows, I teach Buddhist religion and Buddhist art, so I am often in Asia. Some years ago Michaelson approached me to help him illegally acquire a certain piece of Indian art.’
Seeing Natalie’s shocked reaction, Moss held up a hand.
‘I never did, but I realised that, although Michaelson is certainly a prestigious dealer, his methods of obtaining some artefacts could be unscrupulous. But I couldn’t prove anything. Michaelson persuades people that he is rescuing important pieces, sometimes all that survives from certain cultures, and taking it out of danger before they are gone forever. And people buy his argument, and so he obtains many such pieces illegally.’
‘But Moss, that does not explain why he was so interested in the kammavaca. There was nothing illegal going on there,’ said Natalie.
‘Well, that is why, when you told me about Michael-son’s interest in it, I said nothing, because he was making you a legitimate offer on something that you were legally entitled to sell. But now I know that his interest in the kammavaca was not just because of its interesting provenance. I think it was for another reason entirely.’
‘What’s that?’ asked Natalie. It all seemed surreal. Meeting Moss in the middle of nowhere in Myanmar, hearing about an artefact-smuggling operation and finding out that Michaelson was probably behind the attempts to steal the kammavaca.
‘Do you remember that I told you that I had begun to research the antique dealer Ferguson?’
Natalie explained who Ferguson was to Mr P, who was starting to look a bit bewildered by the turn of events.
‘He became quite a notorious character in his old age,’ continued Moss. ‘Back in Britain, he began to tell anyone who would listen about "the piece that got away". Then, quite recently, I discovered there was an actual reference to it.’
‘Really?’ said Natalie. ‘Go on.’
‘Ferguson left a lot of papers as well as an unfinished memoir. Evidently, quite some time after he’d sold the kammavaca to your uncle Andrew, he actually came to this monastery by chance. Among the monks he spoke to was an elderly monk who told him about a kammavaca that he had illustrated as a gift for King Thibaw.’
‘He met the monk who had done the beautiful paintings?’ said Natalie in amazement.
‘Yes. When the kammavaca was made the abbot wanted the king to know its origin. So, rather than religious or mythical illustrations, the monk painted specific scenes, including the monastery and the river. But then, Ferguson recounts, the artist-monk dropped a bombshell. He told Ferguson that different monks were given different pieces of the kammavaca to transcribe so that no one monk except the abbot knew what the full content of the kammavaca was. He said that the abbot had planted a secret in it.’
‘Why would the abbot do that?’ asked Natalie
‘In the hope that the king would have it deciphered when he needed to. Ferguson was convinced that the last gift given to King Thibaw contained, written into it, the whereabouts of something valuable, like a treasure. Of course, when he tried to find Andrew to buy it back, he had already been killed by tribesmen, as we know, and the kammavaca shipped to Australia.’
‘But the story of the secret message persisted?’ said Natalie.
‘In the world of collectors and dealers, it did. Michaelson must have thought that your kammavaca might be the one Ferguson had talked about.’
‘Yes, I had lots of good offers for it, but Michaelson always outbid the others,’ said Natalie.
‘Anyway, that didn’t matter since you came to the conclusion that you were going to return it to its rightful owner,’ said Moss.
‘Do you believe the kammavaca holds the secret about where some treasure could be found?’ asked Mr P.
‘Ferguson thought it was gold or jewels but I’ve come to a different conclusion. I think it’s something else,’ said Moss.
Mr P nodded. ‘In Buddhist thought treasure could be nirvana,’ he suggested.
‘Yes, perhaps. In my family there was always the story that this particular kammavaca held a very important secret
, but I have no idea what it is,’ said Aye Aye.
‘But Moss, if you thought Michaelson was going to try and steal it from me, why didn’t you say something?’ Natalie asked.
‘It didn’t occur to me that he would, but when I heard that you had run into trouble I guessed that Michaelson was the cause. But I don’t know how Michaelson knew you were in Myanmar. How did he find out?’
Natalie thought a moment. ‘Mark told him. Michaelson sent an email offering more money and Mark emailed him back saying it was too late as I was already in Burma returning the kammavaca to Princess Aye Aye.’
‘So that is when he decided to take action. Michaelson must have thought that in Myanmar, where he has lots of contacts, stealing the kammavaca from you would be easy. Luckily Soe Soe and Mr P proved to be very adept at protecting both you and the manuscript.’
‘But Moss, if you knew the kammavaca was safe, why have you come?’ asked Natalie.
‘When I learned via my friend in Yangon whom Soe Soe contacted that you were driving to the monastery to have the kammavaca translated, I just had to come and find out what it said. I also wanted to explain to you in person everything that had happened. I hope you don’t mind,’ replied Moss.
‘I suppose not, if it’s all right with Aye Aye. It’s her kammavaca now,’ said Natalie.
Aye Aye straightened up. ‘I have my grandfather’s kammavaca, thanks to you all, including you, Moss. I can hardly object to you finding out what it says. Now we have to wait for the abbot and hope that he might be the one to decipher the old Pali script. Since this is where my kammavaca was created, this monastery holds the key to its meaning.’
They walked back to the monastery, hoping to find the abbot. On the way, Natalie turned to Moss. ‘How did you get here so quickly?’
‘Speed boat from Mandalay. I started travelling as soon as Soe Soe told my friend that you were coming here. I was in India, near Kolkata, a relatively short hop away. I was able to get here in little more than a day. I hope you weren’t too surprised.’
‘I have to say, when I first saw you walk out of that building a thousand suspicions flashed through my mind.’