Kingdom (26 page)

‘And yet, it was not what I was looking for. Unless of course, this man’s modesty hid the fact that from within the walls of “the house for Wisdom” as he had put it, they secretly tried to influence events in the world using telepathy and the ancient practices of Tantric yoga.

‘Without intending to offend him in any way, I asked the Chinese man what it was that they hoped to achieve in the wider world. Did his community seek to spread its knowledge to other peoples? Did he leave the valley in his thoughts to commune with peoples elsewhere? His answer was simple and direct.

‘“I think you misunderstand us. We seek to teach no one anything. Visitors are welcome to come here and learn how we live, but we would not for a second want to persuade someone that our lifestyle is the only way. But I think I understand what it is that you are talking about. Here in the valley, we have knowledge of many things, and we know full well that there are ancient arts that allow humans to access the non-material planes of this world, to reach down and make suggestions to other minds. These suggestions, if they are to reach all men, must be made in symbols and not language, otherwise only the speakers of one particular language would understand, and besides, symbols are far more powerful.

‘ “But it is against the oaths of our order to indulge in such activities, for such behaviour is far from the Tao. For how can someone live happily if they are acting only on our unconscious suggestions and they have not decided on a course of action for themselves? Instead, we put our energies in this direction to the task of discovering and nurturing the Tao. And since the Tao retreats from you if you seek it out and comes towards you only if you retreat from it, we find it is best not to try to find it. We try simply to work alongside it.

‘ “We focus our energies on ensuring that we live by the Tao, and if we succeed, then knowledge of our happiness will trickle down from our high valley into the valleys below and from there it will gather strength and become a great river and finally, it will descend to the lands below and become the Brahmaputra itself, and its flood plain will nourish the whole of India and the whole world. The Tao teaches us that even if you merely sit in silence in a quiet room, if you think the right thoughts, you will be heard a thousand miles away.” ’

Herzog had fallen silent. He was smiling again – a dreamy look in his eyes. Perhaps he has forgotten the awfulness of his predicament, the Abbot’s deputy thought. He found the stranger’s mood swings inexplicable, even with the opium. But he wanted to learn more.

‘Did you believe him when he told you these things? Do you agree – can good be achieved through such inaction?’

A feeble laugh escaped from Herzog’s cracked lips.

‘No. His aims were laudable, but to this day I do not believe they can be achieved through such methods. If you, in Litang gompa, scarcely a few hundred miles away, have not heard of this place and its teachings, then it seems highly unlikely that India, let alone New York or London, will ever hear about this idyllic community, and even if they do, it would take eternity to convert the world to the way of life of the valley. People are busy with their own schemes.’

Herzog paused to cough and then he looked up, his smile completely gone:

‘I knew, and Felix Koenig knew before me, that only active intervention and the skilful use of the lost Aryan arts that were in the possession of the kingdom of Shangri-La could change mankind for the better and elevate it to a higher evolutionary field. I had stumbled into a valley of ascetic monks, given over to quietism and the contemplation of the Tao. Splendid as this community was, it was not the place that I was looking for and so I put it to the Chinese man straight.

‘“I am very grateful for the opportunity to learn about your wonderful valley, but it is my intention to reach the kingdom of Shangri-La. Can you help me? Can you direct me or lead me on my way?”

‘For the first time since I had met him, the Chinese man looked sad.

‘ “Yes. If you insist upon it we can show you the way. But we would urge you to stay with us. Lend us your strength here in the valley; you will be happy and from your example, others will follow. Shangri-La is not a good place. They take a different path from us. They do not seek to educate mankind through simple example but through the exercise of power and magic. They are prepared to use all sorts of methods, even methods that involve powers that we believe are beyond their control. Stay here. This is a happy, peaceful place.”

‘He was a good man and it was upsetting to have to press my point, but I had no intention of retiring from life and becoming a priest–farmer, marvellous as this valley was. And as for his evaluation of Shangri-La, it was just what you would expect to hear from a retiring monk who was afraid of engaging with the wider world.

‘“I would be most grateful for your assistance.”

‘ “Then so be it. But let me warn you, if you leave, you will never be able to return, for it is not possible to draw you a map, or explain how to get back into here. The route by which we came would be impossible for a stranger to follow, and it is only every ten years that our caravan goes out into the outside world, and unless you were in dire need of help, we would not encumber you with our assistance or even let ourselves be seen by you . . .”

‘For some reason, I felt a tightening in my stomach.

‘“But I could come back from Shangri-La? Surely I could just retrace my steps from there.”

‘The Chinese man smiled.

‘“Alas, that is not possible.”

‘“Why not?”

‘“Because the route can only be travelled in one direction.”

‘“But how can that be?”

‘“Come, if you are ready. I will show you.”

‘We rose to go and, almost immediately, the strange feeling of regret began to leave me. I was going to Shangri-La after all. I was going to reach the place that I had strived so hard to reach.

‘“Where exactly are we going?” I asked, as we mounted a little trap, drawn by a young yak mare.

‘“There.” He pointed up towards the dark cliffs at the end of the valley. “Up there.”

‘I stared upwards; the tops of the mountains were veiled in mist. He must be pointing to the hidden entrance to a cave, I thought; a cave that would turn into a dark passage that would eventually disgorge me into the kingdom of Shangri-La. But what kind of route could only be traversable in one direction? It occurred to me that it might be an underground river. That would certainly not be navigable in both directions.’

The Abbot’s deputy had picked up the map again. He scoured it for a valley of the correct proportion that was abutted at the end by giant cliffs. Meanwhile, Herzog continued with his description of his journey.

‘We rattled along in the trap and in no time at all had passed through the green meadows and lush paddies of the top end of the valley. Wherever we went, people paused from their work and waved at us or hailed the Chinese man. Several times we stopped to be given pieces of fresh fruit and for the Chinese man to indulge in pleasant conversation with his fellow valley dwellers.

‘Finally the road petered out at the base of the vast cliffs that seem to rise up into the sky for ever. I was an experienced mountaineer in my younger days, yet no matter how I scrutinized that cliff-face, I could see that there were absolutely no routes up it at all. It might as well have been a sheet of black ice. I turned to the Chinese man.

‘ “So where is the entrance?”

‘“One moment please. I have not been here in sixty years.”

‘The Chinese began very slowly to pace about. He appeared to be concentrating very hard. I realized he must be engaging in some form of meditation, for his eyes were focused on a spot about a yard from his face and his expression was locked. He was in a deep trance, and then suddenly he stopped and reached out in front of him as if he was grasping hold of an imaginary butterfly.

‘“Here.”

‘I stepped over to him, completely baffled as to what he meant. And then, to my amazement, I saw that in his hand he was holding a single thread of silk. It was so fine that it was barely visible to the naked eye but now I could just see that it rose up into the sky, though I lost track of it after about six feet. Nevertheless, I felt it must derive from the top of that dark cliff, thousands of feet above, that somehow it was anchored up there.

‘With a firm but gentle tug, he pulled the thread. For a second, it brought to my mind an image of a bell-ringer in the wooden village church near to my parents’ house in the Pampas. I did not know what to say and the Chinese man’s eyes were closed in concentration.

‘Then to my amazement, I noticed a loop of thread appear above his hand. Someone, or something, high in the heavens above, was reeling out the silken line. In stunned silence, I watched as spool after spool of semi-visible thread coiled on the ground around our feet. On and on it came until the ground around our feet was covered in a spider’s web of this gossamer-like thread. Then, after some four or five minutes of this, the silk thread turned into a silk rope. The lama nodded his head and let the rope descend until it had created a couple of loops on the ground and then he tugged the line twice and suddenly all motion stopped. The silk rope hung in the air.

‘ “Please, raise your arms,” said the Chinese man.

‘I watched as he wound the rope under my armpits and tied it behind my back.

‘ “Is it strong enough?’ I said in genuine fear, for the rope was really quite thin-looking and it was hard to imagine how it would ever be able to support my weight.

‘ “Yes.”

‘Then without another word he reached up and tugged hard twice on the rope above my head and within a second I felt a jerking motion as the rope tightened under my arms. My feet were lifted off the ground. Within ten seconds, the Chinese man had been reduced to the size of a small doll. I saw him turn and get back into the trap. Then I could hardly see him any more. I was being drawn ever higher. Beneath me I could see the entire valley, and suddenly to my horror I remembered what Gustav had said about how he had a vague recollection of staring longingly over the parapets of Shangri-La and how he had dreamed of flying down to the Emerald Valley below. But it was too late to do anything now.

‘Up and up I was carried, like a spider ascending a thread, through veils of mist and cloud, passing sometimes perilously close to the cliff-face and then sometimes floating in the thin air, ten feet away from it. Finally, after what I estimated to be about six minutes or more of this, I could at last see an end to my flight. Above me, the rope passed over a wheel on the end of a wooden arm that extended from the edge of the cliff. I was barely twenty feet away and rising fast. The adrenalin surged through my veins; who would be there waiting to greet me?

‘And then suddenly I was at the top of the cliff, staring at a great stone battlement, and then to my everlasting horror I saw that on top of every battlement, mounted on successive spikes, was a decaying human head. I screamed in terror and kicked my legs, trying to swim backwards through the air. It was absurd and futile, an expression of simple bodily fear. For a second I swung in mid-air, like a helpless fly, caught in a web. I could see beyond the battlements to an area of rugged ground, and then beyond that were the black walls of a lamasery, a dark tower rising at the heart.

‘Suddenly, I was not alone. An oriental man in his mid-fifties appeared to me, a man dressed in silk robes of the nineteenth century. He reached out his hand and leaned towards me and said in heavily accented, broken English, ‘“Welcome to Shangri-La. Lamas are expecting you. Please take hand.”

‘I didn’t really have any choice, despite my pounding heart, so I did as he suggested and clasped his hand. Then I was standing on the firm ground of the battlement walkway. The man had noticed that my face was ghostly white and that I was still staring in terror at the human heads. He waved his hand through the air. His English was awkward and jerky but perfectly comprehensible.

‘ “Apologies for frightening figures. Necessary to scare unwanted visitors. Room prepared for you in tower. Trust you find comfortable.”

‘I decided my best course of action was to try to project a sense of purpose and determination. His explanation of the disgusting display of heads was hardly adequate; human scarecrows they may have been, but the question remained of who the heads had belonged to, how the victims had come to be thus mutilated.

‘“I would like to speak immediately with the Abbot of this place,” I said.

‘The oriental man did not smile.

‘“Come to tower. Lamas receive you there.”

‘He gestured at me to descend a flight of stone stairs. I could see they led down to the rocky area between the battlements and the lamasery. I was helpless, standing with the beheaded warnings to one side, the unfathomable drop to the other, and so I acceded to his request. I noticed as I stepped past him that he carried a sword which I assumed was not for ornamental purposes alone.

‘Together we walked over the bare earth to the lamasery gates, where he banged hard with his fist on the doors. The doors swung open, revealing a gloomy courtyard. The doorkeeper was a stocky sherpa; apart from him the courtyard was entirely empty. I followed my now silent guide across the courtyard, through an arched doorway, down several stone corridors, across several inner courtyards and finally, into the base of the great tower itself. A wide flight of steps arched majestically around the interior of the tower, with landings and doorways coming off at intervals. We ascended the stone stairs until we had almost reached the top, at which point he opened a door and gestured for me to go in.

‘“Please. Wash. Rest.”

‘What choice did I have? None. Even if I had forced my way past him, where would I have run too? To the battlements? There was no way I could have descended the silk rope alone, even assuming that no one tampered with it as I went down. And as for trying to escape beyond the lamasery, over the high Himalayas, well, that would be effectively suicidal. I could not imagine I would last more than a couple of days without the correct clothing and supplies.