The Forbidden Temple (27 page)

‘I’m only asking you to tell me what the hell is going on. I think I have a right to know.’

Shara was about to speak again when Dorje materialised behind them. He was staring at her and as he stepped closer, she dropped her gaze to the floor.

‘It is time for evening prayers,’ he said, a terse edge to his voice. ‘Miss Shara, I am sure you will be wanting to get back to your quarters to prepare for the service.’

Shara nodded, her eyes catching Luca’s for a moment before she moved away around the side of the fountain.

‘Wait a second,’ he protested, attempting to follow her, but Dorje gently grasped him by the arm, preventing him. Luca looked down in surprise at the mild-looking monk who had managed to stop him in his tracks.

‘Mr Matthews, we have our own arrangements to attend to. Please do not concern yourself. You will see Miss Shara in only a few hours, after this evening’s meal.’

‘But I want to . . .’

Luca’s sentence trailed off as he watched Shara stride past the fountain and with a final glance to where they stood, retreat into the inners of the monastery and disappear from view.

‘Come, Mr Matthews,’ Dorje said cordially, ‘the eastern balcony is only one part of the monastery. There is still so much to see.’

For a moment Luca stood still, ignoring Dorje as he motioned for
him to follow. Then he looked back towards the pyramid mountain. It was now completely shrouded in cloud.

There was something about this place that didn’t add up, and he was going to find out what is was. With or without Shara’s help.

‘IS THAT RIGHT?’
Luca said, chasing a clump of starchy rice around his bowl.

He was seated at the small wooden table in the corner of his room with Dorje perched opposite. Arranged in a semi-circle before them was a series of white porcelain bowls that had arrived on a tray carried by Dorje. They contained a modest assortment of rice, pulses and vegetables which he’d been picking at half-heartedly for the last half-hour.

Since the trip to the eastern balcony Luca had been locked in his room, pacing restlessly from wall to wall, waiting until dinner and the chance to speak to Shara once again. But as Dorje had just politely explained she wouldn’t be joining them this evening after all, nor did he know when she would be next available. Instead he continued with an endless litany of pleasantries while Luca’s frustration steadily grew.

‘That is indeed right,’ Dorje replied. He then paused and inhaled deeply, possibly a prelude to yet another lengthy silence.

‘One’s duties must come before social visits and I am sure you understand that Miss Shara is most busy with her work. Now, have you eaten enough of the vegetable mo-mos? They are considered something of a delicacy here in Tibet and the ingredients are grown just below our monastery near the . . .’

‘I understand that she’s busy,’ Luca interrupted, laying down his
chopsticks. ‘You’ve already told me that. But she said she would be here for dinner and promised to answer some of my questions then. There is so much about this place that doesn’t make sense to me.’

Dorje gave a smile brimming with reassurance.

‘I am sure Miss Shara will visit you when she is ready. All in good time.’

Luca exhaled in frustration, pushing away what was left of the food. His right hand instinctively reached down to his lower back, massaging the thin line of muscles he’d damaged on the last few steps of the stairway. The angle of the hard-backed chair was making them spasm painfully.

Where was Shara? Why wasn’t she here? His desire for some answers pressed on him like a physical need. He felt sure that if he could just talk to her for longer, she would tell him the truth. Dorje had been skirting around it all day, evading every question with half-truths and obscure, rambling explanations.

There was just so much Luca wanted to know. Why had Geltang been carved out of the mountain and hidden away in such an in-accessible part of the Himalayas? Such a feat of engineering must have taken lifetimes to accomplish. And what were all the monks doing here in the first place, cloistered away from the outside world for centuries on end?

The mountain
beyul
– that’s what the professor had said. It was the holiest of all the secret
beyuls
; the fulcrum about which the heart of Buddhism turned. Could Geltang really be that place? Could it be the ultimate goal that fortune hunters had been searching for all those years? Shara had certainly seemed defensive enough when he had hazarded the question.

Luca stared across at Dorje as he contentedly sipped his tea. Whatever the truth was, Dorje wasn’t about to be the one to tell it. But Shara was different. There was a connection between them, something that had grown out there in the mountains. He had felt it even as she had tried to keep him at a distance this morning on the balcony.
There was something about the look in her eyes when she had told him to do what Dorje said . . . as if she feared for him but was torn by some conflicting loyalty.

Luca stared across the table at Dorje, who was evidently enjoying the silence.

‘I want to go and see Bill this evening, Dorje. I want to check that he’s all right.’

The monk set down his cup carefully on the table in front of him.

‘As you already know, Mr Taylor has secondary infections that are most dangerous at this time. It is absolutely imperative these are not complicated by a visit from you.’

‘Come on, Dorje, all I want to do is look round the door and check on him. Where is he anyway? In a room near mine?’

‘No, it’s lower . . .’ Dorje began, then quickly stopped himself. He inhaled, giving a small smile. ‘Mr Matthews, you have been specifically asked not to interfere with the work of our physicians.’

‘But all I want to do is see my friend! Surely you understand that, Dorje. I’m worried about him.’

There was a pause before the monk stood up and paced towards the open window. He peered through it for a moment as if inspecting something in the distance, despite the fact that it was already dark outside. As Luca’s eyes bored into him he slowly turned back again, squaring off his chair with the table.

‘You must understand that I am only a simple guide here at Geltang. It is not for me to make decisions on such matters and I am only passing on what I have been told. I do not want you to feel worried, Mr Matthews, but please understand – seeing Mr Taylor is quite impossible at this time. Now, why don’t you try some of this tea from Samye Monastery? As I understand it, tea is something of a fascination with the British, is it not? Was it not one of your countrymen who said, “why have bread and water when they can so easily be tea and toast?”’

Dorje smiled amiably while Luca eyed him across the table,
wondering if Dorje really was the simple guide he claimed to be. There was something authoritative about the way he spoke, something that suggested he was far more adept at steering conversations than he let on. Luca studied him for a moment then his expression suddenly softened. He stood up, scraping back the legs of his chair on the stone floor.

‘You know what, Dorje, you’re right,’ he said. ‘I should just let the doctors get on with their job.’

Dorje raised an eyebrow and looked into his eyes.

‘Well, yes,’ he said. ‘I am relieved to hear you say so. Your companion’s welfare is really the most important thing now.’

‘And we shouldn’t jeopardise that by visiting him,’ Luca continued.

‘Quite so.’

‘Well then, why don’t we call it a night? Perhaps tomorrow, he’ll be well enough for a visit.’

Dorje nodded approvingly, obviously feeling better for the sudden lift in the atmosphere. He gave Luca a nod and was turning to leave when he suddenly halted.

‘But what about the tea?’

Luca smiled tightly. ‘Why don’t we save that for tomorrow, eh?’

WITH A SUDDEN
burst of energy, Luca strode over to the open window of his room and looked down along the length of the outside wall.

‘OK,’ he whispered to himself, trying to steady his nerves. ‘Piece of piss.’

The moon had risen above the far mountains and by its pale light he could see the many levels of the monastery stacked under him, the heavy stone walls disappearing into the darkness below. Dragging his sweaty palms across his trousers, he took another deep breath. Christ, it was a long way down.

He glanced back at the squat wooden door of his room. Dorje had left nearly two hours ago, locking it from the outside. Since then Luca had been lying on his bed, waiting for the sounds of the monastery to fade. Now everything was silent. It was the perfect time to break out.

After exhaling a few times in quick succession, he sat down on the windowsill and swung his legs round until they dangled over the outside edge. He could feel the cool night air on his face and his heart beat pulsed through the vein in his neck.

It was just a few simple moves. He could do this.

Sucking in his breath, he swivelled his body round and dangled from the edge of the windowsill, scraping the tips of his boots down until he could feel an indentation in the stone wall beneath. A
sharp pain shot through from his lower back but he gritted his teeth and ignored it, extending his arms to slide lower down the wall.

Gripping tight with his right arm, he swung his left down, using his fingertips to hang on to a small fissure in the block of stone by his head. Then he leaned out, arching from his hips, so he could look down between his legs at the frame of the window directly beneath. It was just a few inches further.

Slowly releasing the grip of his right hand, Luca felt his body start to slide. With well-practised precision, his foot connected with the sill below and he jolted to a halt.

He exhaled again. Just a couple of moves, but in the dark, and over such a long drop, they’d been difficult. A few seconds later, he kicked open the shutter of the room below and swung himself in through the open window.

It was some kind of storeroom. There were row upon row of receptacles, each with labels inscribed with neat Tibetan writing. Luca reached out to touch one and realised that his hands were trembling. He clenched his fists, squeezing the shakes out of them.

This was the way it always was with free climbing.

He moved towards the door, feeling a new excitement build in him as the wave of adrenaline passed. He was finally free from Dorje and able to explore the monastery unhindered. Since they had first arrived, he was sure their routes through the miles of passageways had been very carefully chosen. Certain corridors had been deliberately avoided; certain doors closed ahead of his arrival. Dorje had taken great pains to shepherd him through the monastery, ensuring that he saw as little of it as possible.

Now he had the chance to see it all for himself. But first he had to find Bill – and Dorje had let it slip that he was somewhere in the lower levels.

Stepping out into the corridor, he half-expected to see Dorje’s figure materialise out of the darkness, but everything remained still. Luca
swivelled his head from side to side, wondering which way to go. At the far end of the corridor, a faint light emanated from a flickering yak-butter candle.

Luca patted the pocket of his trousers, feeling for some wedges of sliced chocolate. Lying on his bed in the darkness, he had decided that the real danger with breaking out of his room was getting lost in the maze of catacombs that presumably lay below the monastery’s main levels. His GPS had been left in the cave with most of his other climbing gear, but even if he did have it, with such thick walls it would have been useless anyway. Instead, he’d remembered something from his schooldays: Theseus and the Minotaur. He didn’t have a ball of string, but he could use pieces from the two crumbled chocolate bars they’d had left to mark each stairway he used or door he opened. That was if the rats didn’t get to them before he returned.

Luca moved off swiftly, descending a staircase just in front of him that led down to the next level. He moved as fast as his bulky climbing boots would allow, stopping when he remembered to tuck one of the bits of chocolate into the top rung of the stairs.

He shook his head. The plan was ridiculous. It felt like something out of Hansel and Gretel.

Below was another corridor, identical to the previous one. He edged across the stone floor, feeling weighed down by the oppressive stillness of the monastery. The only sound was the rise and fall of his own breath. On he went, down more staircases and corridors, the smell of the dripping candles heavy on everything he passed.

A few levels lower down, the corridor he was following came to a dead end. He stopped, studying the wooden door ahead of him. It was much larger than the others and had been ornately carved. Luca turned the handle with a loud click and pulled his lighter from his pocket.

As he opened the door, Luca’s eyes narrowed in surprise. He could see the roof of the chamber high above him. Directly in front
was one long, continuous row of bookshelves, stretching off for as far as he could see. The flickering light picked out the spines of countless books. He paced alongside them, following them deeper into the room.

He turned left at the end of the shelves, the flame of the lighter revealing random glimpses of the room beyond. Writing desks were neatly spaced out across it, and behind them stood towering columns of paper set in wooden boxes. Each contained hundreds of old parchments stacked on top of each other, reaching towards the ceiling like crooked stalagmites. Luca waved his lighter higher. The columns led back as far as he could see.

Approaching the nearest, he picked out a few loose pages at random. They were covered with dense Tibetan writing. These must be prayer parchments, like the ones he’d seen in the market stalls in Lhasa. Sweeping the lighter around in a slow arc, he wondered how on earth they knew which one was which.

‘Just like Cambridge,’ he muttered under his breath.

Retreating along the line of the bookshelves, he then went out of the door and down another level, then another. He left bits of chocolate on the top tread of each stairway. Now he stood halfway down the next, finally realising how idiotic he had been to think he would be able to find Bill in such a gigantic place. It could take weeks. As he stood there, wondering whether to retrace his steps, he noticed a musty, almost chemical smell. He sniffed, wondering what on earth it could be.