“I’ll stay for the time being. But this road will take many years, and I can’t promise I’ll be here until the end,” said Henry.
“I can’t blame you for having other plans,” said Brooks. “Building a road through the jungle in this climate pushes us all to our limits. None of us can say how long we’ll hold out.”
“As long as I’m the site doctor, I’d like to take care of everyone working here,” said Henry. “Whether they’re British, Indian, or Sinhalese. More than that, the workers need plenty of nourishing food and some decent accommodations if we expect them to perform such hard labor.”
“I share your opinion one hundred percent,” said Brooks.
Encouraged by this, Henry went on. “What would you say to paying the workers?”
The engineer scratched his head. “You’re asking a lot, Odell.”
“I don’t think so,” countered Henry. “There are rumblings in London about slavery in the colonies having to stop. An upstanding man like you must agree everyone should be paid for their labor. Further, it contributes to people’s willingness to do the job and to the quality of their work.”
Brooks laughed and held up a hand. “Very well. I can’t disagree with you, Odell, but at the moment I don’t even have any workers to pay.”
“If word gets around that we’re going to give them better working conditions, a lot of the men will come back of their own accord. Of course, you will have to guarantee no punishment for their disappearance.”
“I’ll do that provided we can resume construction immediately.”
“I’ll make all efforts to get the men back, if you guarantee payment, food, and accommodations.” Henry extended his right hand to Brooks.
After a moment of hesitation, the engineer accepted the handshake. “I shall write to the governor today, asking him to officially name me as site manager. And I’ll commission new coolies from India. But I don’t yet know how I’ll explain to Paget why we need more. It wouldn’t be very clever to tell him all the workers absconded.”
“Tell him people died of typhus, fever, and malaria,” Henry advised. “In this climate that’s not unusual at all.”
“Good idea.” Brooks was toying with his teaspoon. “Incidentally, I’m giving some thought to resuming the original route. It would save us a detour of many miles—and time and money, to boot. My colleagues in the Royal Engineers never understood why your brother altered the course. Yes, the subsoil is stony, but that’s why we’ve got explosives.”
To make sure his pleasure wasn’t too obvious, Henry asked, “Are there any other alternatives to the old route?”
Brooks shook his head. “We have to build it in sweeping curves. Otherwise, our beauty of a road will slip down the mountain with the first monsoon rain. The old route or the stretch toward Mapitigama offer the best conditions for this. To be honest, I expected to see you rather delighted by my proposal. It’ll allow your Sinhalese friends to stay in their village.”
Henry held out his cup toward the boy with the teapot, waited until he had poured, then said, “The final stretch of the old route belonged to my brother. He bought it from Paget.”
“Good Lord!” exclaimed Brooks in amazement. “What did he want with that land?”
Henry took a mouthful of tea. “He said he’d grow coffee.”
“Forgive me, Odell, but I’d never have thought your brother harbored the desire to be a farmer!”
“Nor would I,” remarked Henry.
Brooks rubbed his chin, taking all this in. “That makes you the heir. Why are you not in agreement? Or do you want to grow coffee, too?”
Henry made a dismissive gesture. “I wouldn’t want the land. And I’m not the heir. My brother leaves a young son.” Phera had told him about Thambo. She had made it clear the family was united in the belief that the child must never know the tragic circumstances of his conception.
Brooks whistled through his teeth. “That makes it complicated.”
Henry drained his cup and got to his feet. “I have in mind a solution whereby nobody loses out—neither the British government, nor the people of Mapitigama, nor my brother’s child. But please give me a day to work things out.”
When Henry rode into the village early that afternoon, he saw Phera and Siddhi first. The elephant was standing under the Bodhi tree. Phera was on her back, closing up with beeswax the wounds Charles had inflicted on the tree.
Although Henry had seen her just that morning, the sight made his heart beat faster. He stopped his horse so as to watch her as she tended to the injured tree, enjoying the uplifting feeling of being completely and utterly in love.
But Siddhi had already spotted him, greeting him like an old friend by lifting her trunk. Phera turned, too. When she realized it was Henry, she slid off Siddhi’s back and ran toward him. She looked so fresh, so enchanting, all he wanted was to lift her onto his horse, ride together to the hidden waterfall, and make love with passion and tenderness. But right now there was important business to attend to.
He slid down from his horse in time to hold out his arms just as she flung hers around his neck. She was beaming with happiness.
“I’m so pleased you’re here! Do you have good news for us?”
“I hope so.” He played gently with the yellow ruk attana bloom in her hair. “I have a plan, at least. But its success depends on all of you.”
A little later the whole village stood beneath the Bodhi tree and looked expectantly at Henry, who was standing before the shrine of the Enlightened One. Phera stood close to him on one side, and on the other were Samitha, Thambo, and Anshu. One of Anshu’s arms was heavily bandaged, the other was in a sling, and on one temple was a large bruise. Anshu was in pain, and yet she felt good. Henry had assured her the wounds would heal fully. More than that, she would never again live in fear of Charles Odell, a blessing that made all discomfort pale in significance.
“The new site manager respects your wishes,” Henry announced. “He wants to take the road not through your village, but along the original route.”
Cheering broke out. The villagers were laughing and hugging one another.
Then Henry raised his right hand. “I bring yet more news.” When the noise had died down, he told them how the new chief engineer had promised not only better accommodations and food but also payment for the workers.
“I know money hasn’t been familiar to you before,” he said. “But things are going to change. Very soon you won’t be able to exchange rice and spices for other goods in Colombo. You’ll have to sell your wares, and the Moorish merchants will only part with their goods for money. The chief engineer has agreed to pay road workers a wage now, which you can treat as an investment for the future. You could build a hospital for the village, or a school.” His eyes ranged over the assembled villagers, who had been listening intently. “Will you accept?”
They all looked at him uncertainly. Eventually, some of the men gave hesitant nods of assent. But others loudly declared they would never work for the British again.
Henry nodded. “I can understand your reservations. Think it over, and tell me when you have decided.” His eyes sought out Samitha. “As it is, the site manager needs your agreement in order to build on the original route.”
When she looked back at him blankly, he explained. “Charles had purchased the abandoned section of road, which now belongs to him, and Thambo is Charles’s heir. As his mother, you have to decide for him whether he accepts the inheritance. But know that, on that land, there’s a sapphire deposit that would make Thambo a rich man.”
Samitha shook her head in confusion. More than anything, she wished for a happy and carefree life for her son. She feared his father’s legacy could bring Thambo more trouble than joy.
Henry cleared his throat. “Apart from us, nobody knows about this sapphire deposit. However, if the governor were to find out, he would claim that land for the Crown. Then Thambo would lose his inheritance.”
“Can they so easily take
what doesn’t belong to them?” asked Phera.
“In theory, no,” Henry conceded. “But I fear they would find a way, given the scale of riches. If that happened, the only route for the road would be straight through Mapitigama.”
Samitha put her arm around her son. “Those precious stones have already brought enough misery. That’s why I’m refusing it on behalf of Thambo. I know he’ll understand my decision when he’s old enough. What do you think, venerable hamudru?” She looked at Mahinda, who gave a deliberate, considered nod.
“A wise decision, and one which will be of great benefit to your son.”
“Thank you.” Samitha smiled with relief and bent to kiss her child’s head.
“So is it decided, then?” asked Anshu, taking in the circle of village residents. “The sapphire deposit will remain our secret so that we might preserve our village?”
They all nodded solemnly and murmured agreement.
The elder directed his comments to Samitha. “We thank you for the gift of peace to this village. You and your son will have a home here forever.”
“But how can we stop the British finding out about the sapphire vein?” she asked.
Henry had already thought of this. “We could meet tonight at the abandoned stretch and fill in the hole,” he suggested. “But all the men must help, so that it’s quick.”
The men all agreed. Henry turned to Phera. “And we’ll need Siddhi to pull the boulder out of the crater.”
“Of course.”
“Won’t the site manager notice the hole’s been filled in?” asked Anshu.
“We’ll make it look like erosion after the monsoon,” said one of the men.
Henry took a deep breath. “Let’s get to work.”
He reached into his jacket pocket and brought out Charles’s sapphire. “Samitha, even without the sapphire mine, your son will never be poor.” He took her hand and placed the stone in her palm. She stared at it, lost for words. The sapphire had a breathtaking beauty and a pleasing smoothness. It glowed dark blue, like the night sky, and the fine, milky lines radiating out from its center resembled a star.
“This is the sapphire my brother found in the crater. Now it belongs to his son. Its value will ensure Thambo’s prosperity, and that of his descendants, for many years to come.”
Slowly, Samitha closed her fingers around the stone to make a fist. The gem was cool as a hillside stream and smooth as glass. She did not want to own anything that had once belonged to her torturer, but she knew she could not reject this legacy on her son’s behalf.
While she was still thinking, Henry took a second gemstone from his pocket and held it up between thumb and forefinger for all to see. “This is Eranga’s sapphire. Because he has no descendants, this now belongs to the whole village, and I’m handing it to your widan for safekeeping.” He went to Anshu and gave her the stone. “Nobody outside this village must know about this sapphire,” he warned her.
The village elder looked at everyone in the circle. “Do we really want the stone? Yes, it’s valuable, but it means danger, too. Why don’t we commit it to our river waters, give it to Nanu Oya?”
“We shouldn’t be too quick to reject such unexpected wealth,” reasoned Anshu. “Let’s bury the stone beneath our sacred tree, near our shrine to the Enlightened One. It’ll be safe there until we need it.”
“But if someone dug it up in secret and made off with it, that would be the end of peace in the village,” said the elder. “However, if the river takes the sapphire, nobody will ever be able to steal it.”
“I’ve got a better idea.” Phera placed her hand on the crusty bark of their ancient tree. “We’ll sell the stone and use the money to build our own temple here, next to the tree, in thanks for the salvation of our village.”
Everyone looked at her, filled with relief at finding such a good solution. Henry nodded in loving approval.
Tears stood in Anshu’s eyes. “My dear daughter,” she said softly. “Have you at last subdued all your thoughts of revenge?”
Phera looked to Mahinda. “It hasn’t been easy to trust in fate. But I’ve done it. And now everything’s as it should be.”
“Just as water can’t hold on to an upward slope, nor can revenge hold on to a generous heart,” responded Mahinda, brimming with pride.
“I could sell Eranga’s sapphire for you in Colombo,” Henry said. “I’ll be sure to negotiate a good price.”
After the villagers had accepted his offer, the gathering broke up, and they all dispersed. For the first time since Charles Odell had invaded their village and taken the men for forced labor, the people went off to work in their rice fields feeling calm and safe.
Anshu stayed back with her family, Mahinda, and Henry. “Do you have to return to the building site now, or would you like to stay a while with us?”
Since his courageous actions at the Bodhi tree, Anshu’s reservations about Henry’s relationship with Phera had eased. Most importantly, his brother no longer stood between him and her family.
While Thambo marveled at Henry’s horse, the grown-ups went to Anshu’s garden. They were greeted by Siddhi, who stood at the fence, helping herself to the tempting fruits of Anshu’s banana palm.
Samitha went into the hut to prepare some refreshments. Mahinda, Anshu, Phera, and Henry sat together in the shade of the overhanging roof.
“Venerable hamudru,” said Phera, “do you remember my birth horoscope and how you prophesied an extraordinary destiny for me?”
“I certainly do,” replied the monk. “I had never seen a horoscope like yours, with opposites so clearly defined. Cancer and Scorpio, the Moon and Mars, sensitivity and toughness mark your life. Your path has been determined by destiny to this very day, but when you renounced all thoughts of revenge, you became mistress of that destiny.”
“But in this world, isn’t it better to be able to defend myself like a Scorpio than to be a sensitive Cancer?” she asked.
“Cancers have a tough shell to protect them. And, true, if that isn’t enough, you can use the scorpion’s poison—but use it wisely. Remember, child, you must always strive to follow the path of the eight virtues. Seek out knowledge and righteous thinking. Do no harm to your fellow creatures, and take care of the body given you. Make honest efforts to avoid all evil, and meditate daily.”
“That sounds hard.” Phera sighed.
Henry put his arm around her. “Don’t be discouraged. You’ll have plenty of lives where you can learn all that,” he said solemnly.
“Are you making fun of me?”
“Heavens, no! I’m quoting the Buddha,” protested Henry, a mischievous twinkle in his eye.
Even Mahinda gave a big smile. “My friend, I think you’re right. While I urge Phera to pursue the noble path to enlightenment, it should not make her forget the joys of life.”
Just then Samitha came back with a tray of coconut water, and everyone reached for a bowl, most drinking appreciatively.
But Anshu sat, looking at hers. “I’m going to step down as widan,” she said.
Everyone looked at her in amazement. Phera spoke first. “But why, Mother? You’re a wonderful widan. The people love and respect you.”
Anshu shook her head. “There are others here equally able to take on the office. Since we had to flee Senkadagala, I’ve been so homesick for the place where I spent the happiest years of my life. I miss it and want to see it again. And now that Charles Odell is dead, we don’t have to hide anymore.”
“But where will you live? We have nothing there now!” asked Samitha.
“I know,” conceded Anshu. “But my roots are in Senkadagala. That’s where I belong. I’d love to know whether our house is still standing.”
“If it’s still there, other people will have been living in it for years,” said Phera. “Have you forgotten we were completely dispossessed?”
Henry stroked her arm. “I could ride to Kandy and gather information. If we’re in luck, the house could even be for sale.”<
br />
“We’d have to buy back our own house?” Phera was outraged.
“We can’t, in any case. We have no money,” said Anshu sadly.
Henry cleared his throat and turned to Phera. “I’ve been giving thought to the future, too. I’ve saved some money, maybe enough to buy your father’s house so that we could all make it our new home—your mother, your sister, Thambo, you, and I. And Siddhi will have a stall in the garden. Phera”—he was looking straight at her—“can you see yourself living in Kandy? As a doctor’s wife?”
Mahinda, Anshu, and Samitha gave encouraging smiles, but Phera did not notice. She lowered her head, clasped her hands, and did not say a word. Cautiously, Henry lifted her chin.
“What do you think?” he asked softly.
She shook her head, and he felt all his courage drain away. He must have been out of his mind to think she would ever marry an Englishman.
But then she spoke. “My heart’s pounding so hard, it feels like thunder in the monsoon! That’s probably because I’m the happiest person in the world.”
He beamed at her. “No, I’m the happiest person in the world! But only if”—he turned to Anshu and Samitha—“only if everyone accepts my proposal.”
Anshu nodded enthusiastically. “Thank you. Through you, I have been able to see that amongst all the British, there are some good people.”
“I want to thank you, too,” said Samitha. “And I have one request. Take your brother’s sapphire and use it to buy us our house, or any other, in Kandy.” She tried to press the stone into Henry’s hand, but he shook his head.
“Keep it for your son. When he’s old enough, he can decide for himself whether he wants it. I shall buy us a home with my own savings.”
“Wise counsel,” said Mahinda.
“And you, dear friend, will you come to Kandy with us?” asked Henry.
The monk shook his head. “Our paths crossed, and for a short time we walked together. Now I shall return to my monastery in Colombo.” He looked at Henry, and the two men exchanged a smile. Mahinda added, “Meditate every day so the vice in your soul can never stir again. You now have a family to think of.”
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