Andy McDermott - The Midas Legacy

‘Someone watching from the wall,’ said Jayesh, as much in warning as observation.

Nina spotted a figure atop a small tower near the gate. The man gave scale to his surroundings, the wall over twenty feet high. It was clearly defensive, dotted with windows that were too small for anybody to get in, but large enough for those inside to aim weapons out. It would be almost impossible for anyone to gain access without the monks allowing it.

The monastery’s residents also controlled access to higher parts of the mountain. Beyond the tower, she picked out some kind of pathway ascending across the cliff face. The only way to reach it seemed to be from the tower’s top. Was it the route Tobias Garde and his companions had taken to the Midas Cave?

The trio set off again, their yaks shuffling through the snow towards the gate. As they got closer, Nina picked out details that deepened her suspicions about the monastery having been moved to protect the cave. Her archaeological training had familiarised her with architectural styles and techniques of the past, and it seemed that the higher, most ornate parts of the buildings dated from an earlier period than the lower levels on which they stood. It was possible that the monks had raised the top floors and built new ones underneath them… but more likely that they had reconstructed parts of the original monastery in their new home on the mountain.

They soon reached the gate. Jayesh called out to the man on the wall, who bowed his head before replying, then disappeared from view. A short wait, then the wooden blockade slowly swung open.

A reception committee waited in the narrow courtyard within. ‘Hello?’ said Nina as she dismounted with relief and approached a pair of orange-robed monks. ‘I’m Nina Wilde — this is my husband Eddie Chase, and our guide Jayesh Rai.’ She regarded the older of the two bald-headed men. ‘Are you Amaanat?’

‘I am he,’ he replied, placing his palms together before bowing deeply. The younger man beside him did the same. ‘I am the abbot of this monastery. This is Rudra.’ Amaanat indicated his companion.

The abbot matched Nina’s earlier mental picture, but with one major exception: he had a deep crooked scar running down the left side of his face from the crown of his forehead all the way to his jawline. He was also much more solidly built than she had imagined, still muscular despite his age. His eyes were gentle, but she couldn’t help but feel that before becoming a monk, he had lived a hard and violent life.

‘I’m honoured to meet you,’ she said. ‘ Namaste .’

‘Hi,’ said Eddie, offering his hand. Rudra regarded him with barely concealed disapproval, but Amaanat smiled and shook it.

‘Welcome to Detsen,’ he said. ‘Was your journey pleasant?’

‘I’ve had more comfortable ones,’ said Nina, glancing back at the yaks as another monk gathered their reins.

‘Yes. They are the only way to reach us. In summer, a yak train brings supplies every two weeks and takes back our goods to sell, but in winter the weather is too bad even for them. Had you wanted to visit a few weeks sooner, it would have been impossible.’

‘So you’re trapped here over the winter?’ Eddie asked.

Amaanat shook his head — a motion that in Nepal meant yes rather than the Western opposite. ‘We have everything we need. If there is an emergency, we have a satellite telephone. As you already know, Dr Wilde.’

‘I’m glad you do,’ she said. ‘Communicating by letter would have been a lot more laborious!’ The thought occurred that her mother hadn’t necessarily written to the monastery after meeting her father; with the monks being cut off for part of the year, her questions may simply have taken a long time to reach them, and longer to be returned.

The abbot smiled politely. ‘You have had a long trip. Please, let us offer you our hospitality.’

He led them into a large building nearby. ‘Our debate house,’ said Amaanat. The interior was dark, lit only by candles, but the square room was surprisingly warm considering the temperature outside. A statue of the Buddha dominated the wood-panelled space, the larger-than-life figure sitting cross-legged beyond the doorway. There was another door opposite the entrance, but the monk took them around the statue and through a side exit into a system of tunnel-like chambers carved from the rock. More candles lit the way, with an occasional electric light providing greater illumination. Other monks watched them curiously, moving respectfully aside to give them room to pass.

Amaanat and Rudra brought them to an egg-like space with a low table at its centre, plain plates already set upon it. ‘Please, sit,’ the abbot said, gesturing towards cushions on the floor. ‘We will bring food, and tea.’ His eyes met Nina’s. ‘Then I imagine you are impatient to see what has brought you here.’

Rudra spoke for the first time, his English more clumsy. ‘You have already broken promise,’ he said. He was calm on the surface, but obviously holding in anger. ‘You promise not to tell anyone you come here. But you bring others with you!’

‘Eddie’s my husband,’ Nina replied. ‘What I know, he knows.’

‘Plus there was no way I was letting her come here by herself,’ Eddie added, giving the younger man a steely glare. ‘Anything could’ve happened to her. Which is why I asked Jayesh to come along too.’ He nodded at his stone-faced friend. ‘He speaks the language, so if anything funny goes on, he’ll let us know.’

Rudra frowned, about to say more, but Amaanat waved him to silence and smiled. ‘There is no need to worry, Mr Chase. Or you, Dr Wilde. I believe you will honour your promise of secrecy. You will understand why the Midas Cave is best kept from the rest of the world. It was a mistake for our order to have shown it to outsiders at all, but at the time they believed it justified.’

‘Why?’ Nina asked.

Rather than reply, he rang a small bell. Two more monks entered, one bearing a tray of fruits and vegetables, the other an ornately decorated teapot and five cups. ‘Please, eat and drink,’ said Amaanat. ‘Then I shall give you the answers you seek.’

Nina ate her meal as quickly as politeness allowed, waiting impatiently for the others to finish. Finally Amaanat sipped the last of his tea and rang the bell, and the monks returned to take away the empty trays and crockery. ‘Thank you,’ she said.

‘It is our honour to provide for our guests,’ the abbot replied. ‘Now, if you are ready, I shall show you our monastery.’

‘I’m definitely ready.’ She stood, the men following suit.

Amaanat led them back through the rocky passages to the debate house, going through the door opposite the courtyard entrance. Beyond was a long hallway lit by hundreds of candles. The floor was old polished wood, a red carpet running down its centre between two ranks of prayer wheels: metal cylinders inscribed with Ranjana calligraphy. Tapestries depicting scenes and figures from Buddhist mythology hung from the walls behind them. ‘Are you a spiritual person, Dr Wilde?’ asked the abbot.

‘Not particularly,’ said Nina, slightly uncomfortable with the question. ‘I’m concerned with finding tangible truths. The intangible, the spiritual… it’s something I can’t really connect to. I guess I’m a rationalist.’

‘And there is nothing wrong with that,’ Amaanat said. ‘Without rationality, what are we but primal animals? But a mind that is not open to the possibility of there being more to the world than what we can see and touch seems… imprisoned , in a cell of its own making.’ He carefully rotated one of the wheels, whispering under his breath, then another as he walked along. ‘Perhaps you should try.’