“Time to see if those skills you had are still there. You and Prem lead us and track them. We need to know where they’re going.”
They walked on, initially climbing up onto the glacier itself to get through the narrow gorge created by the ridge. It was only for a few hundred yards but Philip didn’t like it at all. It had a claustrophobic feel, with the rock walls seeming to hang in over you. Beneath his feet the ice groaned and creaked as it was forced through the narrow opening. It was with some relief that the valley opened up once more and they climbed back down onto the rocky valley floor, picking up the snaking path that dropped away in front of them.
As they descended, Philip could hear the roar of a river getting louder and louder and suddenly, without warning, the glacier ended. From its snout rushed a torrent of water, spewing from its bowels. It cascaded off down the valley, surrounded by wide boulder fields and the occasional patch of brown, crisp grass.
Dawn rose about them, the eastern skyline with a deep blue that highlighted every gulley and ridge on a towering mountain in crystal detail. Philip watched in wonder, for a few minutes forgetting the aching in his legs and throbbing feet. It was Everest. Somewhere high up there were the men he’d met only a few days before. James was there, perhaps at that very moment eating eggs and bread and drinking tea. It already felt like another world. The skies colour changed to a deep orange, slowly lightened to a yellow from which burst the first rays of the sun, cutting across the valley to light the tips of the western peaks. Slowly it crept down, shadows shortening, until at last it kissed the men’s heads with its warmth.
The whole atmosphere changed. There was laughing as thick scarves and hoods were pulled off freezing faces. Philip spotted a small area of ground bathed in the sun and dropped his bag, indicating for the others to do the same. Tea was brewed, food shared out and feet exposed and massaged around a fire that had been lit. Prem and Tarun set off again as soon as they’d finished their breakfast to pick up the trail of the soldiers but after only twenty minutes they were back.
“Anyone could follow them,” Tarun said dismissively. “They left a trail like a herd of yaks. They turn east where the valley splits rather than continuing north.”
Prem looked at Lhamu. “I think they’re exhausted and need somewhere to rest up for a while. What is the nearest village they could head for?”
“It is not a village,” Lhamu replied. “It is the monastery at Rombuk. It is an easy trail used by the Thangboche monks when they visit. They will be there by nightfall.”
“Can we catch them?” Philip asked.
Lhamu shook her head. “There are no faster ways I know of, and if they left early I doubt they will stop until they get there.”
“Damn it,” said Philip. “Now they’ll be able to rest and eat while we’re the ones who’ll be cold and exhausted.” He rubbed at his stubble which was itching now that the ice had melted. “What will the monks do when they turn up?”
Lhamu shrugged. “They will not be happy. The Chinese army has destroyed many monasteries in Tibet. But what can they do if the soldiers are armed?”
“What about the Rinpoche. Won’t they recognise him?” Philip asked.
“Maybe. They will have seen photos of him but I think the Chinese will keep him disguised or hidden.”
There was silence, except for the roaring of the river and the occasional calls high above from a flock of chuffs, soaring in the morning sun.
Finally Philip spoke. “Right, we need to get there and layup. If we can get a message to the Head Lama explaining the situation then I’m sure the monks will help. Let’s head off once we’ve all thawed out a bit. We can make the monastery by nightfall and then try to make contact with the monks under cover of darkness.”
Philip stood up and wandered around the rest of the men, most of whom were lying on the ground, heads resting on their packs and dozing in the warm sun. He could see the exhaustion in their faces. They all had cracked lips, many with blood oozing from between the dried, damaged skin. Their faces were burnt and blistered from the snow-reflected sun, with panda eyes from where their goggles had protected the surrounding skin. Their hair was dishevelled and rigid, caked to their heads and running into the beginnings of wispy beards. A couple of the men started to get up as he passed but he put his hand on their shoulders to keep them from doing so, smiling at them as he moved on.
His own feet were in a bad way. The tips of his toes, especially the smaller ones, were a deathly white which no amount of massage seemed to change. He returned to his bag and after a quick rummage around pulled out a pair of dry socks. As soon as they were on he felt better, sitting down and toasting them by the flames until he could feel the painful prickling as blood fought its way back in. He felt his eyes close as the heat rippled through him, relaxing knotted muscles. He was just starting to doze when he felt somebody gently lift his foot and start massaging it. Opening his eyes he saw Lhamu concentrating on his foot as she firmly squeezed and stretched his toes.
She looked up at him and smiled. “I think a rub now will be painful but for the best. My father lost two toes when he was on Everest.” She raised her eyebrows. “I am sure that would hurt more.”
Philip winced as one of the toes gave a sharp crack but she continued undeterred. He thought of something to say to distract himself. “So what’s Rombuk like?”
“It is a hard place to live,” she replied. “The winters are dark and cold, and the summers are hard and long as they try to gather food for themselves and their animals.”
“Is it a large monastery?”
“Yes,” she nodded. “When I was last there they had over 500 monks living there, as well as a good number of traders passing through and many, many pilgrims who’d come for blessings and the festivals. I remember the men in the caves most.” She smiled. “They frightened me when I was young. I do not know the word for them in your language.”
“Men in caves?” Philip asked. “You mean hermits? Monks who live by themselves?”
Lhamu nodded. “That’s right. They are considered very holy because their life is so harsh but still they meditate for inner peace. It is the most isolated and highest of all monasteries so they are much respected.”
“Is there a big central building like at Thangboche?” Philip tensed as searing pain sliced through his foot.
“Not really,” Lhamu replied, switching her attention to his other foot. “It is too cold for big rooms. Mostly the monks live in small dormitories or the caves. The central shrine is the largest building, set high above the others.”
They chatted on about her memories, of the floors being so slippery from butter spilt from the lamps she could hardly stand, of breaking the ice from the storage barrels of water in the mornings to boil. The time passed quickly and nearly an hour had gone when he saw Prem get up and nod towards him.
He started putting his boots on, trying not to show Lhamu how painful his feet now were. “Thank you,” he said with a rather forced smile. “That’s feels much better.”
She laughed. “You are a very bad liar,” she replied, “but they will be fine in a day or two.”
They all stood and having pulled on their packs, fell into line and head off stiffly down the trail. They soon came to the fork in the valley and struck off east, following a path that meandered its way along beside a small stream. After the terrain of the last few days it was easy going. There was no ice or glaciers to traverse or climb, occasional snow patches were compacted and easy to cross and as they descended the oxygen returned and made their breathing less laboured.
They walked on for several hours, Philip dropping up and down the line to chat with several of his old platoon that he hadn’t had the opportunity to catch up with. He still found it hard to believe that they all here. It was mid-afternoon, just as the sun was dropping behind the mountains that he spotted a small light ahead of them down the valley. He hurried forward.
“Is that the monastery?” he asked when he caught them.
“Is it far?” he asked, scanning the horizon for any signs of habitation or people.
“No more than thirty minutes,” she replied.
They’d stopped walking and Philip scanned around. At some point the stream must have run close up against the valley wall as it had cut into it and formed a shallow cave facing back towards them.
“We’ll camp there,” Philip said, pointing at the overhang. “We’ll be shielded from view if anyone looks back up this way. We can light a fire.”
They crossed to the cave, keen to get set up before they lost the last of the light. He looked at Prem. “Let’s establish camp and some get some hot food cooked. Then get the men to rest for an hour or so. It’s going to be a long night.”
The corporal nodded and headed off.
Philip looked at Mingma and Lhamu. “We’ll need to do a reconnaissance, work out where the soldiers are and what the monks are doing. I’d like the three of us to go.” He looked at Lhamu. “You’re the only one who’s been before and has got any idea of where to go. I wouldn’t normally ask but …”
She shook her finger. “I am a Sherpani, not some fine English lady. Of course I will go.”
Mingma nodded. “There will be confusion there and we must take advantage of it before things quieten down. The monks have dogs to protect their sheep. If we go too late, it will be impossible to get past them without being detected.”
Philip nodded. “And the Chinese will post guards. We need to discover where the soldiers are sleeping and where they’ve put the Rinpoche.” He rubbed his aching eyes. “If we can convince the monks to help us it would certainly help even the numbers up as well.”
He glanced up as Prem returned and quickly outlined the plan to him. The Gurkha wasn’t happy.
“You should take us with you, you will not be protected,” he said, glaring at Philip. Philip shook his head. “We’re not there to fight, and having me there will add weight to Lhamu and Mingma when they talk to the monks. You’ll bring the men down at the same time but stay hidden until we send word. We need to know more about the monastery before we all go piling in.”
Prem nodded, his face serious. “We’ll leave Parul here. He can keep the fire going and the water hot. We may need it if we decide to delay any attack until morning”
“Good idea,” Philip said. “And we’ll leave Tashi as well. The man looks exhausted and he’ll be more of a hindrance than a help. He can help Parul here at the camp.”
He looked at Lhamu and Mingma. “While we wait for the food Lhamu can tell us what she remembers of the monastery layout.”
They rolled some boulders to one side of where the fire was now crackling into life and Lhamu, having levelled the dusty surface of the ground with her hand, took a thin stick from the pile of firewood.
“The monastery is different from Thangboche. It is harsher and colder here so it is made of many smaller buildings rather than the one big one. It is easier for the monks to keep warm.” She drew a rectangle in the dirt. “This is the main shrine. It contains a large statue of the Buddha and many other images and offerings. It is just one big room and the main entrance is here. It is built on the end of a,” she paused a moment, searching for the word, “a large rock that sits out into the middle of the valley. It is why it was selected many years ago as it has an unbroken view of Everest which is a sacred mountain.”
Quickly she added a line through one of the rectangles sides, then drew a series of smaller buildings and the shrine’s other end.
“Here there is the cook house and several store rooms, as well as some Stupas with prayer wheels the monks can use while doing their everyday jobs.”
She leant forward and drew a larger square with wavy edges on the far side of the shrine. “These are the animal enclosures. At night they put the herds in these to keep them safe from wolves and yetis. There is also a stone building here where they keep the guard dogs locked in during the day.”
Finally she drew some large blocks opposite the shrine entrance. “There is a large courtyard in front of the shrine that is used for dancing during the festivals. On the far side of this are the dormitories where the monks sleep.”
Philip nodded, staring down at the rudimentary plan and trying to fix it in his mind. “So from which direction will we be coming from?” he asked at last.
Lhamu drew an arrow. “We will be coming from the south, here. There will be no cover between us and the main shrine as this is the direction of Everest.”
The food arrived, brought over by Lalit and they ate hungrily, plain rice washed down with sweet tea. Philip rummaged in his bag and produced a battered bar of Mint cake he’d been saving since leaving London. “Seems like a good moment to share this,” he announced with a smile, carefully dividing the crushed pieces and crumbs into three small piles. It tasted divine. The sugar bringing an instant hit of energy that brought strength flooding back into Philip and with it an optimism he’d been lacking.
It all seemed so horribly familiar. An attack on a settlement to free a prisoner. An unknown enemy, miles from safety in a hostile environment. He glanced at Lhamu. She looked so beautiful, her face glowing with excitement and the absolute belief that what they were doing was right. God, he wished he still had such strength. He felt a sharp twinge from his old wounded shoulder and reached up to massage it through his clothing.
Whatever happened tonight, the life he’d lived for the last decade was over. So many people had died because of and instead of him, it was time he started to make retribution for all that had transpired. He’d somehow lived to get home, to see his mother rush down the long, gravel drive to meet him, engulfing him in an embrace he’d never expected to feel. He’d finished his studies and moved to London, drinking in pubs with friends, dancing at balls and dining at fine restaurants. He’d even got to go to the chiropodists, whose look of horror as he’d revealed his scarred, nail less feet had made him almost collapse with laughter. If he was to die it was at the end of time given, not cut short. He looked at Lhamu again whose eyes met his and smiled, glowing in their shared, private moment. For the first time in many years he realised he wanted to truly live.
It had now grown dark, the clear sky dropping the temperature quickly. He could feel his back chilling despite the fact that his face and chest were warm in the heat of the fire. Glancing up he saw that the moon had yet to rise. It was going to be tricky to get to the monastery but at least without it there was less chance of being seen.
Prem appeared, swathed in a thick blanket in preparation for a cold vigil. Philip slapped him on the shoulder and offered him his last piece of mint cake.
“Go on, take it,” he said. “It’ll help keep you warm.”
The Gurkha suspiciously took it and popped it into his mouth, before smiling and sucking at the same time. The rest of the men appeared, all suitably wrapped, and glancing at his watch Philip saw it was time to go. He looked around and saw Tashi huddled up on the far side of the campfire. He walked round to him and the Indian nodded his head in greeting.
“Keep the fire going and the water hot. I’m not sure how long we’ll be but we may be back at any time and we’ll be cold. If things go well I’ll send somebody back to get you and Parul.” He paused, glancing out into the dark night. “If you hear shooting and we haven’t returned by first light then pack up and head back over the pass. Parul can use the radio, so keep trying until you get a message through to Namche or anywhere in Nepal requesting assistance.”
Tashi shrugged. “I understand,” he replied, glancing up at Philip. “But I think you should wait for the morning or it could be one mighty screw up. The men are exhausted and you’ll be blundering into a place you know nothing about. What’s the hurry? They won’t be going anywhere, not now they’ve found food and somewhere warm. No one’s going to rescue
them.”
Philip looked at the Indian and could see the exhaustion etched on his face. “You might be right, but I just think we need to get it done while they’re still exhausted from the journey. Hopefully the heat and food will make them sleepy and we can surprise them.”
The Indian shook his head, ignoring Philip by staring into the flames. Philip returned to where the men were waiting. He drew the revolver from its holster, checking it was loaded and shoved his hand into a pocket to feel for the spare ammo. Reaching into his pack he took the hand grenade they’d found on the pass and clipped it onto his belt. The weight of it on his hip made him feel nauseous.
“Ready?” he asked, smiling weakly at Mingma and Lhamu. They both nodded back.
Chapter 16
They started off down the trail, walking in silence. Stars filled the sky, more than Philip had ever imagined, and the thick belt of the Milky Way glowed overhead and gave them enough light to find their way. Lhamu led, halting every now and again to look around and check her position. They reached the point that the valleys merged and she stopped. They huddled in close, aware that on such a still night any noise would carry a long way.
“That is the main monastery,” she whispered, pointing to a tall, square building whose outline was just visible about 400 yards down the valley. It sat on the top of a rocky knoll, its walls seeming to merge with the rock and give the impression of an impenetrable fortress. Faint light came from cracks around wooden shutters that covered a small window in its side.
She pointed towards a maze of low buildings slightly to the east. “And those are the houses for the monks, and behind are the pens where the sheep are kept. Hopefully the buildings will shield us from the dogs that guard them or they will give us away with their barking if they hear or smell us.”
Philip nodded and turned to Prem. “You remain here with the men. We’ll return or send for you when we’ve made contact with the monks and discovered where the soldiers are.”
Sacred Mountain Page 21