Patrick Woodhead - The Cloud Maker (2010)

‘What were you searching for last night?’ he passed on, turning towards Luca.

‘Hey, wait a second! I saw stuff last night that . . .’

‘What were you searching for?’ Dorje repeated, his voice firmer.

Luca stared back for a moment, eyes boring into the monk.

‘I was looking for Bill. You satisfied?’

Luca took a step closer to the screen and suddenly registered movement, a shifting of the shadows just visible under the doors at the far end of the room. There were other people there, watching him. The Abbot’s guards?

He stopped about ten feet away from the screen.

‘Look, you haven’t allowed me to see him in all this time. And since he was barely breathing by the time we got here, I broke out last night to check whether he was all right.’

‘That is all you were looking for?’ Dorje asked.

‘What? That’s not enough for you?’ Luca snapped. ‘I don’t give a damn what’s going on at this monastery. I’ve got a right to see Bill.’

Whispering came from behind the screen and Dorje angled his head to listen then straightened up once again.

‘His Holiness understands your concern for your companion’s welfare and, once this meeting is concluded, has instructed me to take you to see him directly.’

‘Finally. Thank you,’ Luca said, hiding his surprise.

‘His Holiness also said that he is most relieved to hear your reason for venturing into the monastery alone. But again he asks – is this all you were searching for?’

Luca put his hands in his pockets, his fingers curling round the small lead seal he had taken. He inhaled deeply, the heat and billowing smoke from the candles searing his lungs.

‘Let’s stop these games, Dorje. I know that this is one of the sacred beyuls . And last night I saw the treasure that you guys have been keeping secret. I know all about it.’

Dorje remained very still, listening to every word he said.

‘I saw the statues, the gems . . . everything,’ Luca continued. ‘I know people have been trying to find this treasure for years, but you guys have got to understand something – we’re not here for any of that. We came to Tibet to climb the pyramid mountain. That’s all we were ever interested in and all we came to do. The only reason we’re even here now is because Bill got injured.’

He shrugged his shoulders.

‘If you are hiding treasure from the Chinese, then that’s your business. We’re climbers, Dorje. We like mountains. It’s that simple – snow and ice.’

Dorje nodded slowly, then added, ‘And how could you guarantee that you will not tell others the secret of this monastery, when you return to the outside world?’

Luca hesitated a moment. ‘I guess you would just have to trust us,’ he said finally.

Dorje nodded again. ‘Trust,’ he repeated, drawing the word out. ‘That is indeed a lot to ask. Especially when we have already seen what you do with our trust. Can we really allow you to leave, trusting to your word alone?’

‘Allow me to leave?’ Luca repeated in surprise.

He saw movement again behind the doors. It was slight, a person shifting from one foot to the other, but it was definitely there. He tried to see more clearly, but the flames of the candles were too bright. There was a sense of menace to those shadows under the door, as if they were poised to leap out at him.

For a moment Luca just stared at Dorje in silence, then he reached into his trouser pocket and pulled out the seal.

‘Perhaps this will help,’ he said, offering it on the palm of his hand. ‘I took this last night. I’m sorry, but there were hundreds of them and I thought you wouldn’t notice.’

As Dorje craned his neck to see more clearly, a faint smile passed across his lips.

‘Perhaps we can learn to trust you, Mr Matthews,’ he said, the smile widening a little further. ‘Perhaps we can.’

He made a subtle movement with his right hand and a moment later the silhouettes lurking behind the far doors seemed to melt away completely. Luca felt the tension in the room lift, but his own expression remained unchanged. He had seen so much last night and they still had not answered a single one of his questions.

‘You talk about trust,’ he said, raising his chin defiantly, ‘yet you’ve got people tied up in the darkness. What the hell kind of a monastery is this?’

‘A very special one,’ Dorje replied evenly. ‘I am sure what you saw last night was indeed frightening, but I can assure you that you have nothing to fear from us. The devotees you saw form an extreme part of our sect that we call the “Perfect Life”.’

‘The Perfect Life? Dorje, they were bound up like criminals!’

Dorje shifted out of his formal stance, his features relaxing.

‘Please, Mr Matthews, allow me to explain. As you may be aware, in our belief when a person dies they move round the Wheel of Life. If it has been good life, they move a step closer to the state of total enlightenment or what we call Nirvana. Ultimately this is what we all hope to attain, but for many it can takes tens, hundreds, even thousands of lifetimes. The devotees you witnessed last night have chosen the hard and lonely path. They have decided to dedicate every hour of every day in this existence to meditation, in the hope that they will move directly into Nirvana and achieve enlightenment in a single lifetime.’

‘But why are they bound in leather straps?’

‘So that even in sleep they may maintain the perfect state of meditation. No one forces them to be there. They choose this path freely.’

Luca remained silent, amazed that a person would actually choose to endure such endless years of suffering.

‘Incredible to you, I know,’ Dorje said, catching the look in his eye. ‘But to us belief is everything. Our religion permeates every facet of our lives. And we will do anything to safeguard it.’

He walked forward, stopping just in front of Luca.

‘I must apologise if you feel us to be excessively secretive, but we are only cautious because so much of what we once had has been destroyed. When the Chinese came, almost everything was taken from us during the Cultural Revolution – monastery after monastery was simply burned to the ground. Even the Jokhang, our most holy temple, was turned into a pigsty, while the sacred Mani stones were used to build a soldiers’ latrine. Thousands upon thousands of our brothers were imprisoned, and many of them died for refusing to recant their belief.’

A deep frown had appeared across Dorje’s forehead and his eyes were clouded by bitter memories.

‘One by one the twenty-one beyuls across our land were discovered and lost to the horror. All of them were lost. All except this single monastery in which you now stand. Our High Lamas then made the decision to bring everything precious that remained to Geltang for safe-keeping, including the treasure that you saw last night. Our blue order was thus created, with the express purpose of preserving our heritage. Now, after so many years of retreat from the world, we are all but forgotten – and happy for this to be so. The only sign that we even exist is the blue in the prayer flags you see over the busy streets of Lhasa.

So, Mr Matthews, if you find us secretive it is because we have been hunted to the very brink of extinction. Geltang is the last beyul we have. The very last. Should the Chinese ever discover the route to our gates, we would have nowhere left to hide.’

He placed a hand on Luca’s shoulder, staring directly into his eyes.

‘I hope you can forgive us now for questioning your motives.’

Luca’s shoulders slumped and he nodded slowly.

‘There’s nothing to forgive. I’m sorry I said what I said, but I just saw those things and presumed . . .’ He paused. ‘Thank you for taking us in, when you had so much to risk.’