Part VI: The Southeastern Adventure

It was just after the monsoon season in the land of Bharat, and the entire world was green. The Monkey Paladin, wielder of the Mace of Haruman, and the hermit Ashram were traveling from the city of Puri as they continued on their pilgrimage to the four compass points (the latter's tiger, Ghal, kept at some distance as they walked, as he tended to make people nervous). The land then was a patchwork of small rajahstans and they had passed through many, having adventures along the way of course. As they neared their night's destination, the city of Amirdata, they saw a figure on the road ahead, wearing clothing that resembled monk's robes and carrying a pack full of scrolls.
    "What do you make of that?" the hermit asked his companion, who shrugged. When they neared the man, it became clear that he was a foreigner, with pale skin and slanted eyes.
    "Hello," he said.
    "Good morning," the paladin greeted him.
    "Are you going to Bharhut?" the stranger asked.
    "No. In fact, I have never heard of such a place," Ashram said.
    "Really? I don't understand, there is a great university there. Many scholars advanced in the dharma are there."
    "Have you been to this place before?"
    "No, but its reputation has spread as far as my homeland."
    "And where is your homeland?"
    "Oh—I come from the Middle Kingdom. I have traveled for three years specifically to this pilgrimage to the holy city of Bharhut, that I may learn the ways of the Buddha."
    The hermit nodded, comprehension dawning. "Ah, Bharhut. Bharhut's reputation did indeed spread far and wide, several hundred years ago. Infamy might be a better word," he added under his breath. Heretics. "It has been long since abandoned. There is no reason for you to go there."
    "This is distressing," the traveler admitted, clearly disconcerted. "Are there any other centers of the Buddhist dharma here?"
    "Not for some time," Ashram informed him sternly.
    "But... what do you mean? This is the holy land of the dharma. I came all this way!"
    "Then you have come all this way to learn something new. We are on pilgrimage to Amirdata," he indicated himself and his companion. "If you would like to travel along with us, you could absorb new paths."
    The stranger wanted to be sure. "Completely abandoned?"
    "Very much so."
    The despairing Buddhist struck his head against a tree.
    "You are not doing the tree any good," the hermit informed him.
    "That's what they meant when I stopped in Java." He sighed deeply. "They didn't have the dharma there, either, all talking about Mecca or something. I thought they were speaking metaphorically."
    "No, the city has been abandoned. Whatever of the city still stands is no doubt in disrepair, decay, unsafe to walk through. The only people who would stay there are those who would flout the law."
    "I see. Where are you going?"
    "Amirdata." It lay on the same road that had once led to Bharhut.
    He thought for a moment, then shrugged, accepting his disappointment. "I suppose I shall have to go there, at least for the evening. Ah!! A tiger!!"
    "Oh, that's mine," the hermit reassured him. "Ghal travels with me. Nothing to be concerned about."
    The stranger shook his head. "These are strange and degenerate times. Tigers on the road, and the dharma being abused."
    The three continued on their way. The two original companions were very curious, having never met a Buddhist, and asked him many questions about the strange ways of his religion. His name when he eventually gave it was Mahabhodipani. Not worshipping any of the gods... strange. They climbed a ridge and looked down into the valley, where a village surrounded an impressive palace on a hill: their destination.
    The rajahstan of Amirdata was renowned as the home of the Bolt of Krishna. Thousands of years before, Prince Arjuna and his charioteer, Krishna, had passed through the area, and a bolt had fallen from the chariot. The rajahs of Amirdata had kept and protected it ever since, crediting it with their prosperity. The bolt was kept in a temple attached to the palace, and a destination for many pilgrims, including now the famous pair of travelers.
    As they passed through town they were trailed by the occasional alarmed shout at the sight of Ghal before word spread that Ashram the Hermit was visiting, the two holy men being justly famed for their many deeds. The three made their way to the palace.
    "Welcome to Amirdata. May we ask your identities?" the guard inquired.
    "This is Ashram the Hermit. I am Hari," replied the Monkey Paladin.
    "We are honored, sir! I will tell the Rajah immediately. Please, step inside." They were escorted to a room and brought food, wine and fruit for the paladin and some yogurt for the hermit. Some time later the Rajah Akshe himself appeared, an old man in splendid robes.
    "Welcome. My kingdom is honored to have such guests. Tell me, what brings you here?"
    "The compass pilgrimage," Hari answered; he was a man of few words.
    "Ah, I see. Yes, very difficult. Your renown has spread over the length and breadth of Bharat. Please, be my guests. And perhaps... you can help my poor kingdom."
    The two did not exchange a glance. They were used to this.
    "Is there some problem?" Ashram inquired.
    "Later we will have a council. We would be honored if you would attend."
    "We are honored that you would invite us."
    "And you, sir?" He looked to the Buddhist, who explained his plight. "Ah, that is very unfortunate. Yes, the city of Bharhut is not very far from here, and one hears that there was indeed a Buddhist university there at one time. But that was very long ago, and it is now covered with vines and reeds, and the bat and owl inhabit the halls. No, there is no other center of Buddhism around here. Not any more. How long did it take you to get here?"
    "Three years," the pilgrim replied stoically. "And there was two years in Java, so I could learn Sanskrit and Pali. I don't mind...."
    "I'm certain your dedication will in some way be rewarded," the paladin assured him when the rajah had left them.
    "In your next life," Ashram added.
    "Well, I did get all these scrolls. Unfortunately three of them turned out to be copies of the same thing, I didn't know that when I bought them."
    "What are your scrolls?" the hermit asked.
    "Scripture. See this one is in Javanese, this one is in Pali.... I didn't realize I was buying three different copies in three different languages... I didn't know the languages when I bought them." He sighed again. "I knew I should have gotten suspicious when I went to Borodabur and Java, and they were all praying toward Mecca and talking about one god, but I figured it couldn't be that bad here, in the homeland of the dharma! No, how could it!"
    "We are not worshipping one god here," Ashram pointed out. "Well, except when we are. But not exclusively."
    "No, it was none of the Hindu nonsense in Java, they had some new nonsense," he muttered, then shook himself. "Forgive me. Still a little put out."
    The two travelers were still curious about the Buddhist, and spent some further time in conversation, until eventually Ashram asked, "What does your order actually do?"
    "We meditate."
    "To what end?"
    "Enlightenment. And we read the scriptures."
    "And then?"
    "And then what?" he asked irritably.
    "We have heard many stories about the feats that you perform," he explained. "We are a trifle surprised to learn that they are...."
    "Well what can you do?"
    "Walk across fire, summon insects, speak with animals."
    "That's fairly impressive," he allowed. It appeared that the holy men of his country did not perform the feats legend ascribed to them.
    Dinner was soon served, and the travelers were introduced to the people of the palace: the rajah's uncle and general Lord Utam, his eldest son Rudra, the swami Chandrasha, the head priest at the temple, was present, as was one of the chief warriors, Lord Maraham. Of them, only the swami was brahmin; the rest were of the kshatriya caste, as was the Monkey Paladin. Ashram was a vaisya, but being twice-born and a hermit his presence was accepted.
    Also present were three ambassadors from the maharajah of Srivasti, a powerful kingdom almost two weeks' journey away through difficult terrain. Their names were Chandra, Raji, and Srimaya. Clearly better educated than anyone else present except perhaps the swami, they spent much of the meal making their superiority clear, though they did converse pleasantly enough.
    Dinner conversation was all small talk, with many interested questions directed to the new arrivals about their pilgrimage. It was clear enough that there was something important hovering over the room, something none of them wished to talk about.
    
    
    Meanwhile, Hasin the Thief was in Amirdata with one thing on his mind—the Bolt of Krishna's Chariot—and running into problems. He had arrived at the temple earlier that day to take a look around, just another in the stream of pilgrims who visited the temple constantly, only to find that no one was being allowed in, or indeed had been allowed in for two weeks.
    Some bastard got here before me, he thought glumly. It had been that sort of a week. But he wasn't going to give up so easily; in an attempt to find out what was going on, he did some sneaking around the palace. The gossip among the servants was that the Monkey Paladin and the famous hermit were guests now, and would be the saving of the rajahstan. From what, he wondered—conquest from somewhere, apparently, unlikely as that seemed. He also confirmed that the bolt was gone; its disappearance had unnerved everyone. Well, those two probably didn't steal it. He had encountered the hermit and the paladin before. More rumors said that there would be a council after supper. At this point, information was all to the good, so he noted the tower where lights were burning and climbed the wall to listen.
    
    The council was called in a high tower room after dinner. The ambassadors were not present, but the rest of the important people from dinner were.
    "Good sirs, let me explain our situation," Akshe began. "In the past few months, my rajahstan has been visited with many troubles. First and foremost, four months ago, the bolt of Prince Arjuna's chariot disappeared in the night. We have no idea what happened to it. It is constantly guarded, there are mystical wards on it, but it was gone."
    Outside, Hasin thought, Damn.
    "My daughter, Kalinda, has been courted for many years by the good rajah of Urim, named Mard. An excellent boy, I knew his father and we were friends, and I was about to arrange their marriage, but then the ambassadors came from the maharajah of Srivasti. The maharajah is a very powerful man, and we but a small kingdom. The ambassadors insisted that the maharajah wanted Kalinda for his wife, and would become an ally of our rajahstan, and would preserve us, because we are a poor and rather weak state. They have been here several months and are insisting on an answer soon. Mard says that if we arrange the marriage with the maharajah, he will come and kidnap Kalinda by force, which he is capable of doing. Lord Utam." He looked at his general.
    Utam cleared his throat. "The rajahstan of Urim has about three dozen elephants to our twenty, and about five thousand men to our three thousand. We could resist, but I believe we would fall. But better to go down fighting! We should strike first!" He pounded the table.
    "Then there is the matter of the mysterious deaths," the swami spoke up.
    "That's unimportant," Utam dismissed.
         

| Top |