The Path (33 page)

The Dalai Lama said nothing for a moment. His eyes remained as dark and unreadable as they had been all evening. Duncan made
the first move; he bowed slightly to the Tibetan leader and waited for whatever words—whether of friendship or recrimination—were
to come.

The Dalai Lama returned the gesture. He turned to the two attendant monks that stood behind him and spoke in rapid Tibetan.
Duncan almost smiled to hear the language again. The monks bowed and stepped away, closing the door and leaving Duncan and
the Dalai Lama alone together.

“Now, Duncan MacLeod of the Clan MacLeod,” the Dalai Lama said, “we may speak freely with each other, without worry about
what others might hear or say. I have kept your secret through many lifetimes, as the holy Jam-dpal Rgya-mtsho, the eighth
of my line, promised so long ago. I will not break that promise now.”

“Thank you, Your Holiness,” Duncan said. The Dalai Lama crossed to a cushion and dropped easily into a seated position. He
motioned to the place next to him, inviting Duncan to sit.

The action brought a strong wave of déjà vu for Duncan. Standing in this room, half a world and two centuries away, he was
for an instant transported back to the many weeks he had spent in the holy city of Lhasa.

The current Dalai Lama was watching him, dark eyes now twinkling, and in his eyes Duncan saw none of the hurt, the anger,
or the disappointment that had been in the eyes of the eighth Dalai Lama the last time they met.

“Well, Duncan MacLeod of the Clan MacLeod,” the Dalai Lama said, “You are unchanged, as you said you would be. Through each
of my lifetimes, the memory of you has remained clear, and I have wondered if we would ever meet again.”

The Dalai Lama stopped and stared at him for a moment. Another wave of déjà vu swept through Duncan. As with his predecessor,
Duncan felt in the Dalai Lama’s gaze as if his soul were somehow opened and read.

“But you are also not as unchanged as your face would tell me,” the Dalai Lama said, cocking his head to one side in the
old familiar gesture. “It has been a difficult life you have lived. Darkness and light have both touched you, I think. Yes?”

Darkness and light, joy and sorrow, hope and despair; Duncan knew these forces shaped him now as they had two hundred years
ago. Somewhere between them he walked the narrow path that was his truth.

“It has been two centuries, Your Holiness,” he replied. “What man is immune to such things? If he does not know them, is he
truly alive?”

The Dalai Lama nodded. “Ah, Duncan MacLeod, always did you ask such questions. It is good, this seeking for answers, but it
does not make the living any easier.”

“No, Your Holiness, it does not.”

Duncan looked around the room at the many tapestries that lined the walls. Once more his eyes came to rest on the Great Mandala.

“Yes, Duncan MacLeod,” the Dalai Lama said. “It is the same tapestry. I took it from the Potala when I fled into exile. When
we looked at it last together it was an unhappy time.”

That one day, yes, there had been sorrow—but before that, sunlight and joy. It was these Duncan thought of as he looked at
the tapestry.

“What happened after I left Tibet?” he asked softly. There were many people he had cared about—Mingxia and her parents, Father
Jacques, the Capuchin monks; he hoped they had lived good, happy lives.

The Dalai Lama shook his head. “I am sorry, Duncan MacLeod,” he said. “My memories are not as yours. Some things I remember
the whole of, others only pieces.”

Duncan nodded a little sadly.
The Great Wheel has spun
, he thought, still not turning his eyes from the tapestry.
What is it the
Rubaiyat
says? “The Moving Finger writes; and, having writ, moves on…” Words from a different land and a different time, yet the same
truth. I accept it, but it still would have been good to know that all had been well
.

“And you, Duncan MacLeod,” the Dalai Lama said. “What have you done these many years?”

Duncan’s thoughts slid quickly over the centuries. Memories of faces and places swirled before him like a vast kaleidoscope
of loves and hates, successes and failures, journeys and battles and longings.

“I have gone on living,” Duncan replied.

The Dalai Lama nodded once more, slowly, his gentle middle-aged face filled with compassion. “Once I would not have understood
the cost of those words,” he said. “But now—tell me, Duncan MacLeod, have you found peace in the path you walk?”

Duncan did not answer right away; there were no easy words for such a question. No, he admitted to himself, it was not peace
he had found. It was, perhaps, something more important.

“I found myself,” he said at last, hoping the man next to him would understand.

The dark eyes that met his twinkled gently in a timeless face. But these eyes possessed a knowledge of the world his predecessor’s
had lacked. They had seen Tibet fall to invasion and his people suffer all the atrocities Duncan had fought to prevent two
hundred years earlier.

Yes—this Dalai Lama knew the meaning of the words Duncan had just uttered.

“And do you still guard the gates?” he asked softly.

Duncan smiled. “Someone still must, Your Holiness.”

The Dalai Lama nodded very slowly. “And will you never find a way to put down your sword and enter the gate?”

“Perhaps in time, Your Holiness. When the Great Wheel spins again.”

“And when that day comes, Duncan MacLeod, I hope that we will sit together once more in the beauty and sunlight of the Potala
gardens.”

The Dalai Lama’s words sent a flood of warmth through Duncan. The thought of returning to Tibet, of walking again down the
streets of the holy city, of sitting again in the hills among the blue orchids, brought a joy that was like the gentle caress
of love and laughter. Even after two hundred years, he knew he was not alone; Xiao-nan was still with him. She lived in his
soul.

For all the lives to come
, they had promised. He thought about the other great loves he had known; he thought about
Tessa. Perhaps Xiao-nan had been part of each of them, as she was and would always be part of Duncan MacLeod.

He looked at the Dalai Lama and smiled. “So do I, Your Holiness,” he said. “So do I.”

For the purposes of the story, I have changed the date of the Gurkha invasion of Tibet to 1781. In reality, the Gurkhas, the
army of the royal house of Nepal, invaded Tibet and attacked the holy city of Lhasa in 1792. It was the troops of the Chinese
Emperor, not Duncan MacLeod, who repelled the invaders.

The people of Tibet were once as warlike as their neighbors. But in the seventh century, the teachings of Buddha were brought
to the high plateau and swept through the nation. By the thirteenth century, the people had embraced a life of nonviolence
to such a degree that the fame of their masters and Lamas spread throughout the East. A treaty was eventually signed with
the Chinese Emperors: they would come to Tibet, to the Dalai Lama, for spiritual guidance and in return the Emperor’s troops
would protect Tibet whenever necessary.

Unfortunately, the people of Tibet are paying a high price for that relationship now.

In the 1950s China began its occupation of Tibet. By 1959, conditions had become so bad that the Dalai Lama was forced to
flee the country. He now lives in Dharmasala, India, from where he travels, lecturing, writing, teaching, and continuing to
bring his message of nonviolence and compassion to the world.

I have tried to encapsulate some of the most basic teachings of Tibetan Buddhism in the book. Any errors of either understanding
or presentation are entirely my own, and for them I humbly apologize.

Those wishing to know more about Tibet, the Dalai Lama, and this extremely complex religion might try the following books:

The Teachings of the Compassionate Buddha
, edited by E.A. Burtt,
The Tibetan Book of the Dead
, translated by Robert A.F. Thurman,
Introduction to Tibetan Buddhism
, by John Powers,
Inside Tibetan Buddhism, Rituals and Symbols
, text by Robert A.F. Thurman,
The Four Noble Truths
, by the Venerable Lobsang Gyatso,
The Modern Buddhist-Christian Dialogue, Two Universalistic Religions in Transformation
, by Paul O. Ingram,
The Religions of Man
, by Huston Smith,
The Wheel of Time Sand Mandala
, by Barry Bryant in cooperation with the Namgyal Monastery, and the many writings of His Holiness the Dalai Lama, especially,
The World of Tibetan Buddhism
and
Beyond Dogma: Dialogues and Discourses
.

Finally, they say no good deed ever goes unpunished and with that in mind I wish to thank the following people whose aid has
been invaluable in the creation of this book:

First of all, to the people of Filmline International Highlander, Inc., for such a wonderful and complex character as Duncan
MacLeod, and particularly to Gillian Horvath, Associate Creative Consultant, for her timely suggestions and shared vision
of what this book might become.

Betsy Mitchell—kind, patient, encouraging, insightful, all the things an editor should be—working with you has been a delight.

Wayne Chang—for all the help, and the shared jokes.

Mike Moscoe—who can see with the eyes of a soldier and a priest.

Donna—for reading, and reading, and trips to the library, and reading and reading….

And, as always, to Stephen—husband and friend—who understands that having a writer for a wife might not produce a great deal
of domesticity, but it is never boring.

—Peace—

Rebecca Neason

He is immortal. A Scottish warrior born four hundred

years ago. He is not alone. For centuries he has fought

others like himself. He can die only if a foe takes his

head, capturing his life-force in an event known as the

Quickening. But his battles are eternal…for in the end,

there can be only one.
He is Duncan MacLeod.

The Highlander.

It is said that the Dalai Lama is immortal, in his own way:

repeatedly reincarnated with his memories of past lives

intact. Will the current incarnation of the Dalai Lama

remember the Duncan MacLeod he met in

1781? And will he greet him as a friend—or an enemy?

In 1781 Duncan MacLeod was a weary traveler trying to

escape the memory of too many European battlefields.

Reaching Tibet’s holy city of Lhasa, he found

peace in a woman’s love, an ancient land’s eternal

wisdom, and friendship with the Dalai Lama. Until a

bloodthirsty Immortal turned his unstoppable army

toward Tibet…and the head of the Highlander.

THE SERIES

ALL-NEW, ORIGINAL ADVENTURE