Jamyang Norbu - The Mandala of Sherlock Holmes

When was this?'

'Just two days ago.'

'Then you can expect it anytime now, whatever it is that the Amban and his nocturnal guest have concocted. You did not consult the ah… Seer of Taklung, about this?'

'There was no time, Mr Holmes. It is a good five days' journey to the mountain of the Blue Crystal, where the Seer lives; and I cannot leave my master unattended, now that danger is imminent. Anyway, it is unnecessary. The Seer has spoken and you, Mr Holmes will surely triumph over our enemies. I have never known the Seer to make a wrong prediction.'

'There is always the first time,' Holmes sighed despondently and remained silent and deep in thought for a long time. Finally he leaned forward towards the Lama, and addressed him in a gentle tone. 'Excuse me, Reverend Sir. In no way do I wish to belittle your beliefs, but my entire career, indeed, my life has been based on logic and reason. Thus at the moment I really cannot see how I merit your assurances of my infallibility. The task that you wish me to undertake is too great, too complex, and too removed from the sphere of my experience, for me to accept with any hope of success. Indeed it appears that matters are now far beyond my control. You require the services of an army, Sir, not a consulting detective. I must regretfully decline the responsibility.'

The Lama Yonten looked dreadfully crestfallen with Sherlock Holmes's answer. I too, I must confess, was somewhat disappointed with my friend. I had become so accustomed to witnessing the fertility of his genius, and the awe-inspiring powers of observation and concentration that his great mind could bring to bear on any problem, that I had overlooked his inherent human limitations. Even the world's greatest detective could hardly be expected to challenge the ambitions of Imperial China, single-handedly.

The Lama rose, somewhat unsteadily, from his chair, and lifted his hands as if in a gesture of resignation. His eyes, through his thick spectacles, were sad and tired, though he tried not to betray in his voice the disappointment he must have felt.

'Well, Mr Holmes. I can see that your refusal is final. I know you are a brave and honourable man, and that you would not refuse to help us if you thought you could do so in any way.

Therefore I will not attempt anything so vulgar as offering you wealth for your services, or persist in wasting your time with an old man's pleas. Goodbye to both of you. May the Three Jewels protect you on your journey home. Now if you will excuse me, I have certain duties to attend to.' He rang a small handbell. 'Tsering will see you to your residence.'

We bade him goodbye. As that small, disappointed figure shuffled off to an adjoining room, I could not but help feel slightiy disappointed with my friend for giving up without even trying. He must have sensed my feelings, for as we descended the short flight of steps in front of the palace, Holmes turned to me and remarked: 'You disapprove of my want of enthusiasm in the matter, do you not?'

'Oh no, Mr Holmes,' I protested. 'I am sure that ex facto, your decision was one hundred percent correct. I just thought that with your great powers… and that scoundrel of an Amban and how they nearly cut off my head…'

At that moment Tsering came down the stairs to join us. He had just met the Lama Yonten, who had instructed him to let us know that preparations for our departure to India were being made, though they would take a few days to complete. In the meantime we were to remain in our quarters and refrain from going out into the streets.

Our ride back to the city was a melancholy one. Holmes rode slightiy ahead, puffing at his pipe, deep in contemplation. I rode beside Tsering and attempted to be convivial, but he either sensed that something was amiss, or the Lama Yonten had told him of Holmes's refusal, so the conversation did not exactly proceed smoothly.

Dinner too, was not a very cheerful event. The filet of yak and Chinese cabbage in cheese sauce was delicious, but Sherlock Holmes ate very littie, and conversed even less. After dinner I retired to my bed-chamber and spent an hour composing a report of the political situation in Lhassa for Colonel Creighton, which I would have to convey to a Newari merchant at the Barkhor market, in the centre of the city. He would take it to Darjeeling and deliver it to the Departmental agent there. I made no mention in the report of our meeting with the Lama Yonten.

I got into bed and tried to sleep. I heard Mr Holmes pacing up and down his room, which was next to mine. He walked exactly six steps, stopped, turned around (you heard a slight shuffle), then walked back six steps, turned around (you heard the shuffle again), and started again. Somewhere on the eleventh turn I drifted off to sleep.

A strong hand shook me by the shoulder, waking me from a deep sleep.

'Wha… who?'

I tried to blink away my drowsiness and noticed that it was still dark. The glow of a candle in his hand outiined the troubled face of Sherlock Holmes, and told me at a glance that something was amiss.

'Come, Hurree,' he cried, 'the game's afoot. Not a word! Into your clothes and come.'

'Why, Mr Holmes? What is the…' I began to ask, but he had already left the room. I did as I was ordered and was ready in a trice.

Tying the lappets of my old rabbit-skin cap under my chin, I ran out through the living room to the courtyard, where some of the servants were hurriedly saddling our ponies. In a very short time Mr Holmes, Tsering and I were on our steeds and out of the gates, Tsering leading the way through the dark, deserted streets.

For the bally life of me I could not comprehend what was going on. I attempted to ask Mr Holmes, but it was difficult to make enquiries when riding single file in narrow alleyways. I thought it indiscreet to shout. When we came to the outskirts of the city it was possible for the ponies to travel two abreast, and I thought that I would take this opportunity to ask Mr Holmes the reason for this nocturnal excursion. But no sooner had I begun to get my pony beside his, than we came to the Western Gate of the city, and were soon galloping furiously on the dirt road that led to the Jewel Park. No conversation was possible then.

A bright summer moon occasionally lit our way as it scudded through a cloud-patched sky.

A hard twenty-minute ride brought us before the main entrance of the Jewel Park.

Two soldiers, with rifles at the ready, ran out of a sentry box and challenged us. Tsering quickly dismounted and identified himself. He also made some enquiries, though I could not discern his exact words as he spoke softly.

'But it is very late,' one of the soldiers replied. 'He must have retired hours ago.'

'… and we cannot disturb him now,' said the other soldier. Sherlock Holmes dismounted and walked over to them. 'Even as I speak…'he said gravely,'… the life of the Grand Lama is threatened by a terrible danger. It is vital that we see the Lama Yonten.'

'But we have our orders,' one of the guards replied, slightiy shaken by Mr Holmes's portentous declaration. 'We cannot desert our post.'

'A most commendable course of conduct,' replied Holmes rather sardonically, 'but surely one of you can guard the gate while the other goes to fetch the Lama Yonten.'

'Well, I don't know, Sir,' the soldier scratched his head bemusedly.

'If anything happens to the Grand Lama, I shall personally hold the two of you responsible,' said Sherlock Holmes in that stern, masterful way of his, which rather rattled the two simple fellows. 'Get a move on, man,' he urged.

Bewildered and not quite sure of themselves, they reluctantly opened a small door set into the main gate. One of the soldiers went through it and disappeared into the darkness.