Authors: Tom Martin
‘I hurried up the stairs. I passed the door to my cell and carried on up, until the broad stairs became a narrow flight of steps that corkscrewed up to the roof. At the top there was a door. It was ajar; sunlight was streaming in. Gingerly, I pushed it open and stepped onto the roof. There were battlements all the way around and the view beyond was incredible, but I didn’t have time to take it all in, as the moment I stepped onto the roof my eyes fell on the King.
‘He was as the Abbot had described: a European man, who appeared to be in his mid-fifties. He was wearing a white robe, hemmed with gold, and he was gazing out over the battlements, oblivious to my arrival and entirely mesmerized by the view. On his head he wore a golden crown and on his wrists, neck and ankles he was wearing heavy, thick hoops of gold, that gleamed in the sunlight.
‘I paused, breathing heavily after the exertion of running up the stairs. The man appeared not to have noticed me despite the noise I was making. He remained as motionless as a statue, his arms hanging by his sides under the weight of the enormous gold bracelets.
‘“Hello?” I said tentatively. Then without thinking I broke into German:
‘“My name is Anton Herzog.”
‘Ever so slowly, the man turned around to face me. Because of the great weight of the gold, his motion had the heaviness of a deep-sea diver. I noticed that the gold ring around his neck pressed right up under his chin in an uncomfortable manner. The sight of this wretched man made my stomach turn with fear; for that is what he was, a wretched human being, dressed in a grotesque mockery of royal finery, awaiting an awful fate.
‘Now that he was facing me, I could see him properly. His eyes were like two empty caves – devoid of light, devoid of soul, devoid even of hope. Suddenly he spoke. His voice startled me with the depth of its sadness.
‘ “So, it is true then. You have finally come.”
‘Fear was beginning to take hold, my voice was shaking.
‘ “Listen to me. I don’t know what is going on here. You have to help me. I must leave immediately.”
‘“I can’t help you. I cannot even help myself. Even if I wanted to.”
‘Panic was rising within me. I felt as if I was about to lose my mind. I almost shouted in my desperation. “We have to get out of here. They intend to kill you tonight. They are going to burn you . . .”
‘The King stared at me through his dead eyes. I felt a sudden wave of pity and a deep regret for what I had just said. He did not need me to warn him of his fate.
‘ “I’m sorry. But we both have to get out of here. You are German aren’t you? You came with Felix Koenig?”
‘The man ignored my questions.
‘“I cannot leave. And nor can you. There is no way out of here. You must accept your fate, as so many kings have done before you.” He paused for a minute and then with his voice cracking with emotion, said, “I have been preparing myself for the day of your arrival for so long – but still I do not want to go. If only I could have a few more hours as ruler of the world . . . a few more days.”
‘Everything about his manner and speech made me think that he had been brainwashed.
‘“Listen to me. You must stop talking like this. There must be a way out.”
‘“There is no way out.”
‘“The silk rope I came up on?”
‘“They will stop you.”
‘“Then out the back, on to the Himalayas?”
‘“It is too far. It is hundreds of miles to the first blade of grass. No one has ever made it. And even if you did, which is impossible, they would bring you back.”
‘“But the caravans that bring things from the outside world, they make it.”
‘“They are prepared for the journey. They travel with yaks laden with supplies and warm clothes. One man alone will certainly perish up there. It is like the surface of the moon.”
‘My temper and my nerves were beginning to fray in the face of his defiant pessimism.
‘“But how can you stand there and just accept what they will do to you?”
‘“I am the King of Shangri-La. I came from Germany to enlist the monks in our cause and find the Book of Dzyan and unleash the superman. Tonight I will join the Masters above.”
‘He sounded like a hostage reciting a mantra that his captives had given him.
‘ “Well, I intend to try to escape, even if I die in the attempt. Come with me. We can take the Book of Dzyan with us.”
‘Slowly, with great effort, the King raised his heavy wrists to shoulder height and turned his hands over, as if he was admiring his gold bracelets for the first time.
‘ “Tonight, I will burn. All that will be left of me are these chunks of solid gold and a few bones that will be scattered on the mountainside outside the gompa gates. In the morning, they will melt the gold hoops down and recast them so that they fit you – then you will no longer even be able to dream of escape.”
‘Of course: it was true. How could he hope to walk anywhere, let alone up into the desolate mountains? It must have taken him an enormous effort just to mount the tower steps; the idea that he could flee overland was preposterous.
‘ “We can take them off . . .”
‘“No. It is not possible. I can go anywhere I please in my kingdom except for the workshop. In any case, I don’t have the skill, I would have to cut my hands and feet off . . .”
‘What a vile, vile method of imprisonment, I thought. What wicked people the lamas of Shangri-La were, posing as holy men, pretending to oversee the world.
‘“This place is evil. These monks have no power beyond their gompa walls, and they have imprisoned you and intend to murder you . . .”
‘“That is a lie!” he said, in sudden agitation. “I am the King of Shangri-La. The Abbot has helped us – through his use of the Book of Dzyan, he helped the German people to win the war . . .”
‘My God, I thought, he was so unhinged that he did not even know what had happened in the outside world. I wanted to shake him and bring him back to his senses.
‘“What are you talking about man? Germany lost the war. The Allies won and all your dreams have been destroyed . . . the monks never helped you . . .”
‘The King looked at me with a strange expression on his face. I was getting through to him, perhaps. I continued to speak, but in a gentler tone; I was afraid that my revelations might have a catastrophic effect.
‘“Japan and Germany were defeated. America, France and Britain were victorious. Hitler committed suicide when the Russians entered Berlin. It’s all over. These monks never helped you, they imprisoned you . . .”
‘And then he laughed at me; a laugh of such maniacal force that I found myself stepping backwards towards the staircase.
‘“You fool. You have been brainwashed, which is as we intended. Germany didn’t lose the war. Which three countries of the world have been the economic power-houses since 1945? Which three countries have the highest life expectancy, the greatest technological skill, the best educational institutions, the finest engineers?”
‘I stared at him in shock. My mind had gone blank. He sneered at me and for a second time his hollow laugh rang out around the battlements.
‘“The United States, Germany and Japan. They were the victors of the war, they and not the so-called Allies. They agreed the terms of peace between themselves. That is how we wanted it. It was all foretold far in advance by the Book of Dzyan. Three great power centres were to be established to lead mankind forward: one in Asia, one in Europe and one in North America. They are the engines of a global material culture which – when it blossoms to its full extent – we will sacrifice in order to release enormous psychic powers. Only then will we create the real superman.”
‘I could barely contain my rising feeling of nausea; I tried desperately to marshal my arguments but my voice was shrinking as I spoke.
‘“You are wrong. The Nazis were defeated. Hitler died in Berlin.”
‘The King smiled at me pityingly.
‘“You poor man. How many Nazis were ever brought to justice? A token handful. And they were only tried and executed because they were not loyal to us, not for any other reason. The rest? Some came here, many went to America, most remained in Germany. We were untouchable because we had won. And as for Hitler, even you must know his body was never found. We have monitored everything carefully from here. I have presided over the great triumph of the German people. Many have been called upon to sacrifice themselves; it is fitting in a sense that I should now be added to their number.”
‘For the first time in my life, I began to doubt all that I knew. I began to doubt the basis of the mythology that has sustained the free world this last sixty years: the glorious struggle against evil, the dark years, the final victory. For it was true: Germany, Japan and America were the global hegemons, and it was their technology and material culture that had overtaken the world; their machines, their computers, their breeds of men. The King smiled at me again and in a soft, patronizing voice, continued.
‘ “It is not necessary to tell the defeated of their defeat. Let them live by whatever fantasies they wish; let them believe that despite what they can see with their own eyes, they have not lost and their countries do not lie on the slag heap of history. All that is necessary is to hasten the coming of the superman.’
‘I was slipping into the void. In a whisper, I said, “And the Book of Dzyan did all this, foresaw all this?”
‘The King’s eyes were glowing with zeal.
‘ “Yes. It is here. It is our patrimony. It connects the worlds, it bridges time and space. It controls us all. It brought you here today and it will bring others. And it will bring on the next global war – a war that will be the
Götterdämmerung –
the Twilight of the Gods – a war for which even now we are sowing the seeds. We will create a mass human sacrifice and so we will rise to the next level of being. You will be the King. You will lead the world over the abyss. You will be the great destroyer. You will be Kali. You will be death itself.”
‘As I stood with this man, his golden fetters shining in the sunlight so that a harsh and terrible glare emanated from him, I feared that I had lost myself entirely. I felt very small and as if I was slipping away, into blackness. The journey had been too much for me, the decades of searching, the metok chulen, the terton’s death, the emerald valley, the decaying heads and the human cage – I couldn’t take any more, but still the King’s voice was booming in my ears.
‘“The Book of Dzyan comes from the depths of the past; it has helped man to emerge from the state of savagery in which he found himself long ago. Our work is drawing to a close. I only wish I could see it to the end. You will have that privilege, you and your Queen whom we have also summoned.”
‘“Black magic.” I was clutching my head. “It’s black magic . . .”
‘“No. It is the voice of the universe, and all who look into the book come under its control. The book is responsible for all our actions and thoughts. The book controls us all . . .”
‘The King fell silent for a moment. He was like a religious maniac. I had to take control of the situation. I had to prove him wrong. I was almost shouting: ‘“Who created the Book of Dzyan? It was made by men was it not? Therefore it is fallible?”
‘“No. It was not written by men. It wrote itself. It represents the voice of the universe, speaking to itself.”
‘I was flabbergasted, speechless.
‘“What do you mean?”
‘ “It first appeared in the pattern on the back of a tortoise’s shell many millennia ago. The sages recognized its wisdom. They transcribed it to papyrus. It began to grow in power. It began to hatch its schemes. Those who listened to it prospered. More copies were made. Its power grew and grew.”
‘Suddenly, as he said these words, I felt as if I had just awoken from a nightmare. The King shrank before me, reverting to the proportions of a normal man. Tortoise shells? Ancient sages? A book growing in power and hatching schemes? Growing from writing on a tortoise’s shell? It was gibberish. With relief, I realized that I didn’t have to listen to him a second longer.
‘The one thing I had to do was to leave immediately. It was clear that this lunatic King would not be able to escape. The gold hoops made sure of that, and anyway his mind was ruined. But I had no intention of getting fitted out with a set of luxury manacles myself. I had to block his insane words out and focus on my escape.
‘I turned on my heels and bounded down the tower stairs, the King’s words echoing in my ears as I went. I had one idea in my mind; I still had some of Terton Thupten Jinpa’s powder left over from the metok chulen. Although I hadn’t recovered from the effects of the last session I was going to have to gamble and use it again. I hoped – it was a desperate hope but it was simply all I had – that it might just help me to make it over the mountains to the nearest trading route or settlement. If it failed, at least I would die on the mountain, on my own terms, in the free air and not on a foul funeral pyre. And before I left, if at all possible, I would steal the Book of Dzyan.’
The Abbot’s deputy, lost in Shangri-La with the stranger, marvelled at all he heard. The opium had carried the stranger aloft: he was a great orator, a Teutonic bard, weaving a beautiful and strange tale, beguiling all who listened. But behind them both the blackness beckoned; the deeper depths of the cave summoned them all to oblivion. He had not saved this man, thought the Abbot’s deputy, he had betrayed him. The story of escape that the stranger was recounting ended here, in this ancient place. He would be betrayed again, as he had been betrayed already. The Abbot’s deputy shivered in the darkness and he raised his eyes to the ancient rocks above as the dying man’s voice filled the night.
For some time Jen led them onwards. They edged along the path, climbing higher and higher, scrambling on all fours up the steeper sections of the track. At one point the route shared its course with a stream and they found themselves slipping and sliding over rocks covered in wet moss. Jen led the way, remorseless in his energy. He was moving so fast that even Jack, a seasoned mountaineer, was wheezing slightly, and Nancy thought her lungs must burst.