by John Burgess
The guards, the priests, the magistrate even Pin tensed at such a shocking claim. But the King did not. ‘How can you say that?’
Sovan’s head went back to the mat. ‘Because I am foolish,’ he mumbled to the floor. ‘Majesty. It has no value, this view of mine.’
‘I’ll decide that. Go on.’
‘What we are building now has straight lines and sharp corners and it bursts up from the horizon. It announces that it is different from this earth.’
‘But it’s a template of Heaven. Of course it’s different.’
‘Yes, Majesty. But is Heaven really so different? Did not the lords create the earth that we walk in an image of their own? Do not the holy mountains, the Himalayas, which our texts describe, have gentle foothills? They demand a long journey of any being who wants to ascend, even a god. It’s only toward the summits that they become great towers with shear sides.’
The King was trying to picture this, Sovan could see.
‘There is another problem, Majesty, with the current design. The scale, Majesty. The temple as it’s now being built is too small.’
‘But it will be larger than any we have,’ the King countered. ‘The Architect showed me that.’
‘It will be larger, but not as large as Heaven wishes. Majesty, the base of your temple should fill the space that is now designated as the total grounds of the temple, marked by the outer wall. We would need to build a new outer wall far out on all four sides.
‘So the land it covered would be what? Four times bigger?’
‘It would be at least twenty times more. But Majesty, I am telling you only what I saw when I was young. I am sure that my vision had no value.’
‘Go on.’
‘Majesty, when I was young, I saw this temple from a great distance. There was an avenue leading all the way from where I stood, in the secular realm, to the holy realm of the temple. The distance between earth and Heaven is great, but in temples of past reigns, this distance has been expressed in symbolic terms only – from the gate to the temple itself is in fact only a few steps. I believe it should be a long one, so that as His Majesty processes toward it he will experience the journey of life. There would be a grand gate at the entrance. Other temples have what is essentially a ditch to symbolize the seas of creation. The moat circling this temple would seem as wide as a real sea, with a glorious bridge to carry your blessed feet across to the gate. Majesty, on the scale in which this temple appeared in my consciousness, it would take you close to two hours to process the full distance around the moat.
‘And inside this temple, Majesty, there would be three levels, each representing a higher level of divinity. There would be long, long galleries sheltering bas reliefs of Heaven and hell, of the epics, of the deities. And, Majesty, many many apsaras, the Heavenly nymphs, would greet you there as well.’
‘How many?’
‘Majesty, mountain-temples your predecessors built might have ten or twenty. This temple, this greatest temple, would have – it would have close to eighteen hundred.’
The King gave off a small gasp, and Sovan began to feel some hope.
‘They would gaze out from pillars, from walls, from hidden alcoves. Your Majesty, walking the temple corridors, might have difficulty becoming familiar with all of them. You would come across a new apsara and be startled with delight of unknown beauty.’
Sovan let that sink in a moment. Then he put his face down again: ‘Majesty,’ he said, ‘That is my vision. I feel that only a King as great as you could warrant such a place, or cause it to be built in this way.’
There was silence, then the King broke it.
‘Years ago your former father had a vision about the temple. Is your vision related to his?’
‘Majesty, I never told my former father what I saw.’
‘Then tell me. The temple as you have seen it – it faces west, does it not?’
Sovan knew how important this question was, to the King and to himself. He closed his eyes and pictured the great edifice one more time. Yes, all was as he had remembered – it faced toward the direction in which the sun departs. It always had. That day when he had first met the Architect, during the scouting of the construction site, and again at the ceremony of the royal cubit.
When his former father caused the reorientation of the temple, Sovan had seen this as confirmation of his vision. But I hadn’t told Sovan that his former father’s vision was faked, and I never did. Yet when I learned of my son’s interrogation in the court, and his steadfast description of the temple he had seen, I became convinced of something of which I had formerly only hoped. It was that when Heaven sets events in motion, the purpose might become clear only many years later. Nol had become wealthy through his cynical machinations, but that result was insignificant in comparison to the other – the primary – effect of his action, that the orientation of the greatest holy edifice of the world had been set right. The Empire had been saved from the immeasurable harm of building it in a way that would resist and obstruct the energy of the cosmos for all eternity.
Sovan opened his eyes. ‘It faces west, Majesty.’
‘Then you may raise your head. Your master stated to me before his death that he wished you to be his successor, and you will be. As chief builder of the Empire, you will build this temple in the way you have seen. You will be provided all the materials and workers that you require.’
Sovan’s strength fled straight out of him at this point, both from relief and elation. He collapsed flat onto the mat. Two retainers helped him from the throne room.
My husband was furious when he heard – furious that his former son had received such an honour, that the villa Nol had ordered built two hundred paces from the future mountain-temple’s gate would now have to be dismantled and moved back a thousand paces, to make way for enlargement of the grounds. But then he realized that all his tenants would have to do the same, and that he could rent them the carts and hire out the slaves they would need for the move. At the new place, they would squabble among themselves for the better locations and drive rents up.
Sovan never saw Pin again. The assistant was also escorted from the audience chamber, but by two guards. At his sleeping hut he packed up his things in a hurry and was put on the road. Two months later, word came that he’d begun work as an assistant at fortifications being constructed at the Cham border. The previous assistant there had died of mosquito fever.
45: Its own kind of land
When our embassy’s ships went free from the Chams, Mr Chen declared that no more chances would be taken by sailing close to shore. So a course was set to open sea. Land receded behind the vessels, until sky and water squeezed it to nothingness. At day’s end, Da and I watched the sun set in land’s former place and begin slipping below the water. It would be all right there, Mr Chen assured us. The divine energy with which it burned was so intense that no amount of water could quench it.
Soon the ships were pressing through misty blackness, leaving luminescent ribbons in their wake. I grew anxious again, over so many strange sights and sounds, and fears of what kind of spirits might inhabit these waters. Da seemed unsettled too, and even Sergeant Sen, standing a respectful distance behind us, seemed out of sorts. So I suggested that we all say prayers at the portable shrine.
‘Would it be all right, Lady,’ asked Da, ‘if we prayed that the gods create some land in the ship’s path? Not much, just enough to be a place to stop and let us get off for a while.’
‘Yes, we can pray for that,’ I replied, though I felt that was asking too much. The more realistic thing to request, something Heaven might actually provide, would be a safe passage to the foreign country.
Still, on the following morning I went up on deck to look, just in case Heaven had shown special generosity. I saw no land, but Mr Chen was up and about in the day’s first sunlight, his former cheerfulness restored. From the railing, he pointed out a group of fish skimming just below the surface a ways off the bow, each as long as a man. T
hey breathed air like animals of the land, he said. Just then, one leapt from the water, and I tell you, it smiled at us! By midday, my worries had faded. The rise and fall of the ship, the wind that put the smell of salt in my hair, had begun to be comforting. I sat on deck most of the day with Da, reading texts, and I came to think of the ship as its own kind of land, safer in some ways than the kind I knew, because it could not flood. It was as Mr Chen had said. No matter how high the salt water rose, the ship rose higher, keeping us safe. Our prayer had been answered.
That evening, we ate fresh meat and vegetables with our rice, and the next day too. But in days that followed, those foods began to run out or go bad. The sailors put nets overboard for fish, and if that brought up nothing, the cook served up strange types of preserved meats and greens taken from barrels. Da and I exchanged sceptical glances, then ate. But it was not so bad as that and in any case the rice was always good, cooked in a pot above deck.
Later the fresh water in the ship’s jars ran low. The men began to bathe in water raised in buckets from the sea, with Mr Chen insisting that Da and I use what fresh water remained.
Then one warm sunny afternoon, the captain ordered the bamboo sails to be pulled down. The ship slowed to a stop, and one by one, sailors launched themselves overboard. The brightest bubbling foam appeared wherever they struck the water. I watched. This was bathing, but it was also amusement, it seemed. The Khmer men looked on too, curious. Mr Chen assured them there were no crocodiles here to drag swimmers under, though at the same time it wouldn’t be wise to try to touch bottom. Sergeant Sen and two of his men went below and returned in old loincloths. They too threw themselves merrily over the side, making another round of large splashes. Da was too shy to join; I stayed put because I knew my presence in the water would change the tone of everything – Mr Chen would have a ladder put over the side, sailors would forget their antics and help me down and fuss over me in various ways, worrying that I found the sea water too warm or too cool. And of course I might be at quarters too close with the sergeant.
Ten days later, as I sat on deck reading a text in the afternoon’s final light, a sailor called out from the mast. Others hurried up from below, showing special energy, and crowded together at the bow to look. I joined them. There was the outline of something far ahead. Gradually it became clear. It was land, but like no land I had ever seen – a mountain that came right to the water, a mountain so tall its top was obscured by a cloud! I wondered if the gods that lived in that cloud would be friendly if the ship passed underneath.
After the evening meal, Mr Chen came to me on deck, carrying something wrapped in paper.
‘We are close to the first land of my country, Lady Sray. Tomorrow, we will call at a seaside village to take on provisions for more sailing. But our Capital is many days further sailing to the north.’
He paused, having something more to say. ‘I would ask, Lady Sray, that when you set foot in my country, you wear this on the top of your body. At all times in public.’ He unwrapped the paper. ‘We call it a blouse.’
It was a fine piece of silk, red and silver and blue, with embroidery and a series of loops on the front.
‘I don’t understand, Mr Chen.’
‘It’s simply the custom in my country, Lady Sray. My people will wonder and stare if you don’t wear it.’ He held up the garment, showing that it had holes. ‘Place your right hand, please, through here. See? Then the other.’
I followed his directions.
‘Now,’ said Mr Chen, ‘please close it up in the front. You can place these knots through these little loops to hold the fabric closed.’ He did not seem to want to help me with this.
‘Must I? It’s not so bad if the air can enter.’
He laughed kindly. ‘I’m afraid you must, Lady Sray. And this other blouse is for your maid. She must do the same. When we land, we’ll be able to give you many more, for wearing on different days.’
I remembered something. ‘It’s like on my old teapot.’
‘Pardon me?’
‘Before my husband was called to service with the King, Mr Chen, I owned a Chinese teapot, with four little cups. The set was blue and white, and one of the cups had a cracked rim. And on the pot was a picture of some Chinese people. They looked rather happy, and they were all covered top to bottom in garments, like these that you gave us. Well, all right. So it will be with us.’
And then I felt suddenly nostalgic, even resentful. ‘You know, Mr Chen, I liked that tea set so much. But I’m afraid it’s gone – my husband sold it to raise money to establish the parasol pavilion. I’ve always wondered what happened to it.’
‘Probably it is making some other family happy, Lady Sray. And I expect that you have many more now.’
‘Actually I don’t. Not like that one. But it’s nothing.’
Later Sergeant Sen happened by, and I showed him the blouse. ‘Strange,’ remarked the sergeant. ‘He’s said nothing to me about wearing one.’
We stepped to the railing for another look toward the land in the failing light. ‘Well,’ I said after a bit, ‘I never felt I’d feel attached to this ship, but now that we’ve reaching this strange place, I feel it will be hard to get off. It’s China that now seems the foreboding place.’
‘I will stay close.’
The lamps of a village burned in the blackness. I said: ‘It looks just like a settlement on the Freshwater Sea at night, doesn’t it? Maybe the people there are the same too, do you think?’
‘I think, Lady, I think that they are the same – some are kind, some are not, some can be trusted, some are thieves, some are strong, some are weak. It is the same, but it will take us a while to recognize that, because the people will look different, they will speak in strange words that have no meaning to us and their houses will resemble nothing we know. Even the smells in the air will be different.’
‘Oh – you’ve been to China before, sergeant?’
‘No, Lady. But I have been to foreign places. Champa. On campaign.’
‘Oh, yes. And the strange things that you encounter in a foreign place, they don’t frighten you?’
‘They do at first, Lady Sray. But then after some time you become accustomed to them, and to the ways of the people there. It’s an odd feeling – almost as if you are released from your contract with the gods. The gods, our gods, seem not to be present in a foreign place, and therefore the rules that they teach us seem not to apply either. At least there is no penalty.’
‘That could be harmful, I think.’
‘Yes, with some people, Lady. Sometimes men who at home seem to be normal and decent – well, in foreign places I have seen them do horrible things you would not care to know. And then somehow they become normal and decent again when they return home.’
‘Sergeant, you said some people. I’m glad it’s not everyone.’
He laughed. ‘Lady Sray, it’s not possible it would be that way with you.’
‘Nor with you, I think.’ I thought a moment, then said: ‘You say that sometimes men do terrible things in foreign places. But is it possible also that release from the rules of home can result in something good?’
I stopped, unsure what I meant by that. The sergeant did not answer. Then he excused himself, saying he had to return to his men.
46: The Chinese sleeping mat
Our ships made their way along the Chinese coast for almost a month. Then one morning, I stepped up to deck to find that our vessels had turned toward the land, and were on brown water. That colour was welcome, rich earthy tones so like what I knew from rivers and canals at home. Far ahead to either side were low hills, but they revealed no sign of habitation. By early afternoon, the land was closer, off both sides now, and offering hints of life – tiny houses, planted fields undulating up hillsides, a horse and rider, the smoke-haze of unseen cooking fires. The Chinese crewmen grew animated, pointing out things across the water to one another. The channel slowly became narrower; I now realized that it was in fact a river
. Hours later, around a bend, there came into view a most astonishing sight: a city, with tall white walls for protection and brightly coloured pennants flying from towers. At the waterfront were masted ships too many to count. I watched spellbound. In my imagination, China had always been a collection of villages along a winding clay road, different from home mainly in that the people had pale skin and spoke in the strange tones of Mr Chen.
Then he was right there alongside me. “It is Hangzhou, Lady Sray, seat of the Chinese monarch. We have reached our destination.”
Presently our ships drew near. On a wharf, soldiers dressed in bright red stood in formation, spears pointed to the sky. Before them was a man with long stringy white whiskers. Blue robes covered him head to foot, just like on the long-lost teapot. I felt warm in my silk blouse, but I wondered how this man could bear being entirely covered like a moth in a cocoon. Then, before I had time to gather my thoughts, the ship was making contact with the dock. Men threw looped ropes back and forth; the vessel shuddered as it came to rest against the piers – perhaps it was its spirit letting out that sound, its long labour of transporting us completed.
Strange sounds of gongs and chimes wafted to us from the wharf. From behind me, Mr Chen appeared one more time, dressed in the same bright and suffocating clothing that all his people wore. He greeted me. In just a few minutes, he pointed out, he would send a few men ashore, then I would step down a plank onto solid land. But Sergeant Sen, standing nearby in his own ceremonial garb, the blue sampot of the palace guard and bronze neckpiece, declared firmly but politely that he would go before me. Mr Chen came around to the idea. But you must not unsheathe your knife, he counselled, because people might think it unfriendly.
So the grey-haired soldier stepped down the plank before me that day, drawing the curious eyes of the Chinese guardsmen and the many townspeople they now held back. But, I must confess that attention left him when I stepped into view – perhaps this was Chinese custom, paying greater honours to women guests. I recall a great collective gasp; people jostled for a better view. I looked down, feeling unworthy as I always did in the face of such attention. I began to descend the plank, worried I’d tumble right into the water, but then Sergeant Sen stepped quickly back up and led me by my hand.