Temple of a Thousand Faces (25 page)

“Continue.”

“I would place a large group of elephants, Lord King, outside the city walls. Let them seem unprotected, and let his spies tell him of their existence. He’ll try to capture them, and when he does, we can spring a trap.”

Indravarman grunted. “I’m told that you have grown fond of your woman,” he said, turning to Asal, eyes meeting eyes. “If she’s so desirable, maybe I should claim her for myself. There are plenty of others for you to choose from.”

Asal felt his body stiffen but quickly recovered, willing himself to relax. The thought of Voisanne in Indravarman’s hands provoked thoughts of betrayal for the first time in his life. If Indravarman
came for her, Asal would kill him. He would free her, then die in shame, executed by whoever took the reins of leadership.

“Indeed, she pleases me, Lord King,” he replied, meeting Indravarman’s stare. “She’s as meek as a kitten,” he added, knowing that Indravarman savored a challenge. “It took me but two days to break her.”

“And how long, Asal, would it take to break you?”

“Longer than two days, Lord King. Though I don’t think any man knows until he is tested.”

“Do you believe that we shall all be tested?”

“Yes, Lord King. Even you. And when that test comes, it shall not be in a time or place of your choosing.”

Indravarman smiled. “That’s why I like you, Asal. That’s why I seek out your company. For not only do you give me sage advice, but you don’t cower before my questions like so many of my men do.”

“Cowering men tend to die first. They ask for mercy that never arrives.”

“What do you ask for?”

“I only wish to serve you, Lord King.”

“Then bring me Jayavar’s head. Bring me his head, and whatever you covet shall be yours. Even your woman. But fail to find him, and I’ll find another use for her.”

“I will find him, Lord King.”

“Go then.”

Asal bowed, turned, and walked away from the basin. He passed through a vaulted doorway, heading toward the sun. Through windows carved into the sandstone walls he saw the city of Angkor far below. On his way up, the view had been inspiring. It had made him think of Voisanne and how she also provoked thoughts of hope and beauty within him.

Now everything looked tainted. Indravarman had stolen so much from the Khmers. Their statues and temples and people were now a part of his empire. And if Asal wasn’t careful, Indravarman would take Voisanne. She’d be ripped away from him just when he was coming to know her, to feel as if a part of himself was absent when he wasn’t with her.

The best way to protect Voisanne, Asal decided, was to do what Indravarman wanted.

Jayavar must be found.

he jungle was as thick and unruly as ever, inhabited by boisterous creatures both seen and unseen. Jayavar kicked his mount forward, aware of how Ajadevi pressed against him. Though dawn had just broken, the heat emanating from their bodies was significant, and perspiration rolled down his back. The humidity generated by the previous day’s rain had changed the personality of the jungle, which now seemed to steam and sweat. Mosquitoes that had died off with the start of the dry season were reborn, tormenting both horses and humans. In many ways, the journey was intolerable, and yet the spirits of Jayavar and Ajadevi had been lifted. While saddened by the confirmation of the loss of their loved ones, each was filled with hope at the sight of the thirty-eight newly escaped Khmers who traveled with them. The children, women, and men had appeared not far outside Angkor, at first mistaking Jayavar’s force for Chams and fleeing into the woods. But Ajadevi had heard their voices and called out in their language.

Seventeen warriors had accompanied the group, and after
being introduced to Jayavar and told of his plans, two of the men had headed back to Angkor with orders to quietly circulate the word of where the Khmer army was being remade. Only trusted men and women would be approached and recruited. Though most such Khmers had been killed or enslaved by Indravarman, pockets of survivors existed within the city, as well as in the surrounding areas. And if enough farmers, seamstresses, healers, fishermen, and warriors could be convinced to travel to Banteay Srei, then perhaps a suitable force could be assembled and trained.

Ajadevi knew that word would spread. The question was how long it would take for Indravarman’s spies to learn of Banteay Srei. When they did, a mass of Chams would descend upon the temple. The Khmer scouts would then flee to where their army was really based in Kbal Spean, and the whereabouts of the Khmer force would, with luck, remain unknown. Any additional Khmers arriving at Banteay Srei would no doubt be cut down by Indravarman until word could be spread of a new rendezvous site.

Wishing that they could get Khmers to their secret base sooner rather than later, Ajadevi looked for signs in the jungle, hints that might give her a possible solution. As they often did, monkeys screeched within the treetops. Spiderwebs longer than the width of her reach spanned from branch to branch. Everything seemed greener since the rain, though she wondered if her imagination was playing tricks on her. Had a single rain made the jungle flourish? Could a single moment in time affect an entire world?

“Do you think, Jayavar, that the jungle is greener?” she asked, brushing a mosquito from his shoulder.

He eyed his surroundings. “Perhaps. It certainly feels different.”

“Did you ever notice such an immediate change while in Angkor?”

“Not like this. But then, we’ve been living in the jungle. We’re more conscious of its personalities.”

Ajadevi nodded, inhaling deeply, aware of the scent of growth and decay. “It shall not take long for Indravarman to learn of Banteay Srei. And while it’s not the ultimate destination for our people, once he sends his men there, ours will continue to arrive and will meet their deaths.”

“I know. But what can be done?”

She thought again about the rain. It was a sign; she was sure of it. But she wasn’t certain how to interpret its transformative effects. Turning around, she studied the Khmers behind them. Most were on horseback. On the nearest mount, two children rode in front of their father. The mother, she knew, was at the rear of their column, walking with some other women. The two children were arguing quietly, which made Ajadevi smile. Though everyone always wanted to hear children laughing, she didn’t mind the dispute. It meant that the children still cared about trivial things, that their lives hadn’t been ruined by the Cham invasion.

A puddle on the trail caught her attention. She studied the muddy water, which would likely be gone before the day was over. “When the Chams come to Banteay Srei,” she said, “we must…send a signal. We must warn approaching Khmers of the danger.”

“Any signal would need to be visible from far away.”

She envisioned the temple, remembering how and why it was called the Citadel of Women. A small and elaborate structure, it was surrounded by a clearing and a circle of immense trees. On a hot day, the conditions at Banteay Srei could be almost unbearable. “It’s dry there,” she replied. “The trees are too far removed to provide shade.”

“And?”

“We could create a pile of dry timber to the south of the temple. Dry in the middle, but with patches of moss on top. When the Chams approach, as they shall one day, our scouts would light the timber and retreat. The flames and smoke would delay the Chams and warn approaching Khmers that our position has been discovered.”

“That would buy us time. And save lives.”

“Yes. We’d bring change to the jungle—a moment of change—but for those who are saved, a lifetime of opportunities.”

He reached back, took her hand within his, and kissed her fingers one by one. “How many lives have you saved, my love?”

“One can never save enough lives.”

“Yes, but one can try. And you’ve done just that.”

“What I do, I do for our people, and for you.”

“And what may I do for you? What would make you happy?”

She briefly closed her eyes, willing herself to be strong. “Did you see…the young woman who joined us today?”

“Who?”

“Nuon. Her name is Nuon and we spoke earlier. Her father served yours. He was loyal, as is she. And she is of an age to marry, to bear fine sons. She is wise beyond her years and you should take her as a wife.”

Jayavar turned away. “I needn’t—”

“I know that you miss your other wives. More than you claim to. Perhaps Nuon would help you overcome that grief.”

“My other wives were my companions. You are my love.”

“Still, you need an heir, Jayavar. If you don’t have one, then all of our struggles, all of our suffering, shall amount to nothing. Even if we’re so blessed as to drive the Chams from Angkor, without a strong heir they will return one day. Is that what
you wish? To once again have your land stolen and your people enslaved?”

He sighed, stroking her thigh with his thumb. “I wish we could have that child. We deserve that child.”

She looked away from him. “As Buddhists, we’re supposed to accept suffering. But in this area, I struggle to do so. I’m not strong enough. The pain…the want…are too great.”

“Yet your struggle endears you to me even more.”

“Why?”

“Because I know that you suffer not only because we can’t produce an heir, but because we can’t behold the beauty that we would create together.”

She nodded, finally meeting his stare. “It’s I who can’t create such beauty. I who am deficient. I must have done something vile in a past life. I tainted my karma.”

He kissed her hand once again. “You’re wrong. Because you do create beauty—in the way that you look at the world, in the way that you look at me.”

“But I—”

“Think of the unborn daughters and sons you just saved with your idea about the warning fire. With that thought, you created life; you created beauty. And that’s why I shall love you forever. When I see the world, when I see its beauty, I’m reminded of the blessing that is you.”

V
oisanne secretly followed her younger sister, Chaya, through the sprawling outdoor marketplace, which was filled with hundreds of vendors and shoppers. Most every item for sale—whether onions, mangos, peppers, star fruit, lemons, bowls, fabrics, or knives—was displayed on a bamboo mat laid out on the ground. Chickens clucked in cages, while turtles and eels
tried to escape from deep pots. People knelt before the mats, haggling over prices and quantities. The majority of shoppers were Khmers, though a few Chams were also present. One Cham, a high-ranking official by the look of his dress, walked with a leashed peacock in tow.

Located to the west of Angkor Wat in a field that had been cleared of everything except for towering trees, the marketplace smelled of saffron, cooking fires, flowers, and steamed rice. Voisanne had never spent much time there and was surprised to see how adept Chaya was at navigating the crowds and bargaining for various commodities. As she hid behind a tree trunk or a merchant’s wares, Voisanne wondered what Chaya was thinking. Her little sister’s shoulders seemed to slump, yet her gait was brisk.

Longing to embrace Chaya, but knowing that she must wait until the right moment, Voisanne rubbed her hands together. Her heart thumped with increasing vigor, and perspiration glistened on her skin. She glanced about, looking for suitable places to reveal herself, but seeing only chaotic crowds. To her right, a group of Khmer children kicked a leather bag in the air, keeping it aloft with their feet, knees, and heads. Farther to the west, beyond the market, a few dozen men were gathered around a pen to watch a pair of boars fight. Even from such a distance, Voisanne could hear the men cheering on the creatures and exchanging bets. In this way Khmers and Chams were alike—both groups seemed to enjoy betting on battles between animals of similar size and strength.

Chaya placed a melon inside her bag and headed back toward Angkor Wat, passing a burned-out structure that had been destroyed in the invasion. She followed the footsteps of an old blind woman who used two poles to make her way. Chaya was about to pass the woman when a puppy ran into the market, chasing a
squirrel. The puppy darted about, yapping, and disappeared into an alley bordered by the merchants’ carts and wagons. Increasing her pace, Chaya followed the puppy, calling out to it. She passed piles of bamboo baskets, a man asleep on a hammock, and a woman combing a girl’s hair.