Temple of a Thousand Faces (16 page)

“You seem better,” she said softly, wanting their conversation to remain private.

He pulled his horse alongside hers. “The closer we draw to Angkor…the better I feel.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s home. And the men are filled with hope.”

“And you?”

“I’m filled with uncertainty—though I’d rather possess uncertainty than despair.”

A monkey screeched and she glanced above. “I’ve seen something.”

“What?”

“When I was a child, I traveled to Kbal Spean. The setting…moved me. In a way, I think it’s even grander than Angkor Wat.”

Jayavar’s horse stumbled over a log and the prince lurched forward, then righted himself on the silk pad that comforted both him and his mount. “I’ve never been to Kbal Spean. Tell me about it.”

“At Kbal Spean a narrow river runs over beds of sandstone. Long ago, Hindu priests carved images of Vishnu, of Shiva, and of sacred animals into these beds. In the monsoon season the river covers the carvings. In the dry season they are revealed. The place is sacred. But best for us…it lies within a valley that is thick with bamboo. There’s game, fresh water, and vantage points from which to view an enemy. We could hide an army there and never be found.”

“How high are the rises?”

“They tower over everything. A handful of sentries could watch in all directions.”

“And the valley…it’s deep?”

“Deep enough to cloak our fires, to mask the sound of our mounts. The priests are all gone, I believe. And even though Kbal Spean is only several days’ march from Angkor, few people know of its existence. Khmers have forgotten about it. Chams won’t
even know of it. The jungle is so thick that few dare to wander within it.”

“And—”

“And less than a day’s march away lies Banteay Srei, the Citadel of Women. This small temple, which I visited as a girl, inspired me in many ways. It could serve as a meeting point. We could spread the word that it’s where we shall gather our forces. But when groups of Khmers arrive, they could be led to Kbal Spean. This way we will have a buffer between our first encounter with strangers and our true base.”

Jayavar smiled. “You should be king, not I.”

“Women will rule one day. But that day hasn’t yet come.”

“Perhaps it should come tomorrow.”

“Perhaps.”

Sunlight filtered through the canopy, warming Jayavar. “How many people could live in this valley? Could live in secret?”

“Thousands.”

“And the jungle is thick?”

“It would be easier to see through a herd of elephants.”

His brow furrowed. “We could send two men back to begin the arrangements.”

“They should go soon.”

“And what of this thought?” he asked. “I have an idea to send two good men into Siam. We’ve fought using Siamese mercenaries before. Why not promise them gold and silver? We have plenty.”

“Siam is our enemy.”

“But its warriors are not. The lure of gold would be hard to resist.”

She nodded, thinking about the Siamese, recalling her encounters with them. “There will be spies and traitors among them,” she said. “For every ten warriors you receive, one will seek to betray you.”

“I know. We’d have to be careful. We could tell them to come in small groups, to arrive at, as you suggest, the Citadel of Women. A few thousand Siamese, fighting for us, could balance the scale.”

“Then add them to the scale. But move with care, Jayavar. They’re not to be trusted.”

An animal’s snarl sounded up ahead. The jungle was full of tigers and leopards, and Jayavar put his hand on the hilt of his sword. His horse trotted ahead in silence, and he relaxed as several of his men shouted to scare off the beast. A ray of light fell from a hole in the jungle canopy, and he reached for it, watching as it illuminated his hand and then his arm.

“Do you know what you are to me?” he asked.

“What?”

“My most trusted adviser, the woman I love, and my friend. How can one person be so many things?”

“Because I’m a collection of people. I’ve lived many lives, and been beside you during those lives. I’ve been your wife, your adviser, and your friend before.”

He reached for her hand. “I love you,” he whispered. “More than Angkor, more than my people. If I’m a river, you’re the rain that feeds me.”

She squeezed his fingers. Though she knew that pride was a weakness and that her karma depended on being pure, she couldn’t help but smile. “We shall go to Kbal Spean, Jayavar. And from there we shall begin anew.”

T
he flickering light of six candles illuminated Asal’s room, hinting of the draft that emerged from under his door. A slave had carried away his dinner dishes, and he sat cross-legged on a thatch mat, sipping rice wine through a narrow bamboo tube. Though
his parents had been poor, they’d made their own wine, letting him sample it on occasion.

Asal smiled at the memory, then looked at Voisanne. For a reason he didn’t understand, her beauty seemed more pronounced than ever. He wanted to touch her, to kiss the contours of her flesh. Instead he sipped more of the wine, wondering when she would speak. Music emerged from beyond his door—the beating of drums accompanied by chanting male voices.

“Did the priests die?” she asked, made uneasy by the drums and needing to break their rumblings.

“Yes.”

“How?”

“Swiftly and without pain.”

She nodded, adjusting a silver bracelet that clung to her damp skin. “Indravarman has ordered that I move into new quarters.”

“He has?”

“His men…couldn’t find Thida. So he moved both of us, along with some other women, into a house near the moat. We have a guard and aren’t to leave, except to bathe or if someone comes to claim us. We’re prisoners.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Why did you come here? Why did you attack us?”

Asal had asked himself that same question. “The nature of men is to wage war,” he replied, and then offered her a flask of wine and a bamboo tube, which she took. “Chams. Khmers. Siamese. We all fight.”

“Perhaps if you were women, if you created life, you wouldn’t be so quick to take it.”

“That’s—”

“How many men have you killed? How many Khmers?”

He looked away, no longer entranced by her beauty. “If I didn’t kill, I’d be destitute. My unborn children would have no future.”

“Why not?”

“Because fighting is all I’ve ever known. It is my surest path to a better life for any family I might have.”

“You could know more. Your mind could be as potent as your body.”

“Indravarman would…” Asal paused, the muscles in his jaws clenching. “My station is fixed,” he finally replied.

“My station was fixed too, before you came. So was my father’s, my mother’s, my lover’s.” She sipped her wine. “But you Chams changed all that. You sneaked up on us like a pack of cowards and changed everything.”

“Our war is an old one. Khmers have attacked Chams just as we attacked you. You have burned our cities, enslaved our citizens. I’ve seen Khmer arrows in the backs of my people—in the backs of women and children.”

Voisanne shook her head. “But we wanted peace! And Indravarman is worse than any Khmer king ever was. He’s nothing more than a thief and a murderer.”

“Many Chams are different.”

“Many? You, perhaps, but not your countrymen.”

“People are not defined by their ruler.”

She scoffed at his words. “Yes, they are. Because your king takes what he wants; he kills whom he pleases. And if you follow him, you’re no better than he is. You may be noble, but if you’re his instrument, then you’re an instrument of evil, destined to be hated and scorned.”

A female servant knocked on the door and Asal sent her away. Though he didn’t fear men or blades of steel, Voisanne’s words shook him. Yes, he’d killed, but he had done so out of necessity. If he hadn’t learned to fight, he would have been killed long ago. Yet this Khmer woman didn’t understand what drove him; she didn’t realize that he wished his fate had been different.

“Your father’s home,” he asked quietly, “was it near here?”

“Why?”

“Because I could walk past it and see who is there. Perhaps someone from your family yet lives.”

Voisanne started to speak, then stopped. “But…I saw them all killed. They’re gone.”

“During battle, the eye, the memory, can deceive. Such trickery has happened to me on many occasions. With fighting comes fear, and fear does strange things to the mind.”

“It does?”

“I could look,” he offered. “I could inquire.”

“And you would do that…for me?”

“Of course.”

“But…”

“I want to help you.”

She bowed low. Then in a rush of words she told him where her home was and described her family members. He had never seen her excited, and her enthusiasm was infectious. Though he was taking a risk in making such a promise, he suddenly forgot about Indravarman’s spies and suspicions.

“It may not happen tomorrow,” he said, “or the day after. But I shall visit your home. I shall be your eyes and ears.”

She bowed again, deep and long. “I’m sorry for…assailing you, for being so weak when you’ve been so strong.”

“You needn’t—”

“I’ve done nothing but insult you.”

“True enough. And you’re quite skilled at it. But fortunately for you, I understand how pain taints everything it touches. How the very air you breathe becomes bitter.”

“You’re much more…than a Cham killer. Please forgive me.”

Asal smiled, feeling as if he’d been released from a prison of his own making. “Nothing needs forgiveness, my lady.”

She bent back, shaking her head. “My lady? Why…why would you call me that? Especially after how I’ve behaved toward you?”

“Because it suits you.”

“I’m a slave.”

“You’re a lady.”

She started to speak and then stopped, wringing her hands. “And what shall I call you? What would please you?”

The concern etched in her face made him smile once again. So many years had passed since anyone had worried about his feelings. “Please call me Asal, my lady. That would please me very much.”

hida pretended to sleep though her eyes were half open, and she gazed toward the far end of Indravarman’s chambers. She lay naked in the middle of his teak bed, on pelts of tigers and leopards. Indravarman was nude next to her, lying on his belly with his head cocked to the side. Near his right hand were several scrolls containing the translated writings of Confucius.

The king’s room, located in the heart of the Royal Palace, was immense and lined with huge wooden columns. Candles that had burned all night fluttered, their feeble light reflecting off gold and silver treasures that he had plundered from Khmer temples, courtyards, and homes. Statues of Vishnu, Shiva, and Buddha were among his most prized discoveries, though he’d taken only small and elaborate pieces that were easily carried. Bolts of silk, precious gems, parchments of poetry, and carved ivory had been placed in tidy piles. Thida didn’t know what Indravarman did with all of his plunder, but she had seen him give out items as rewards to his most valuable officers and advisers. He was generous,
sharing his treasures of gold, jewels, and women. And yet Thida sensed that his men feared him. They bowed too quickly and spoke too little. Those who displeased him did not always return.

Though Indravarman had never beaten her, she made certain to satisfy him, to meet his demands and even exceed them. As the days had passed, she had learned to anticipate his needs. He asked for her again and again while other women were sent away. It seemed that she alone knew how to please him, which surprised her, because she had never considered herself to be bright or strong. Of course, she’d recognized her beauty, but she hadn’t realized that it could be such a powerful blessing or curse until Indravarman had come into her life. She was terrified of him and let him see her fear since it seemed to entertain him. Though she was Hindu, her faith wasn’t unassailable, and she worried that she would never be reincarnated. If he killed her, there might be only blackness.

“Why were you never with another man?” Indravarman asked, his accent thick. “All men must have desired you.”

The abrupt sound of his deep voice caused her heart to flutter. After it settled, she thought about how her father had deserted their family and how her mother had struggled to feed them. They’d lived in the countryside, and once she blossomed into a young woman she traveled to Angkor with a group of pilgrims, instructed by her mother to seek out a wealthy man. Though her suitors were many, she had remained unmoved by their proposals, reminded of her father’s unkept promises, as untrusting of these men as she had been of him. And yet Indravarman had carried her away like a typhoon, his will impossible to deny.