Temple of a Thousand Faces (48 page)

“There’s something I wish to tell you,” Jayavar said, turning toward Ajadevi.

She looked up at him, a ray of sunlight dropping from her
forehead to her chin. “Then share your preoccupation, Jayavar. I’ve sensed it easily enough.”

He smiled. “I would like to thank you.”

“For what?”

“I saw you yesterday with Nuon. You were bathing together, and her entire world was you. I don’t know what you were telling her, but whatever it was, she was consumed by your words.”

Ajadevi shifted away from the ray of light, which had fallen into her eyes. “I wanted her to understand that her role will not be to merely stand and look lovely by your side. If she has a son, she must protect him. Just as she must protect you. She doesn’t think that she’s old or wise enough for such responsibilities, but I told her that age is irrelevant. What has yet to be learned in this life has already been learned in others.”

Water bugs darted atop the nearby water, fleeing the attack of a finger-size fish. “I know that at times it must be difficult for you to counsel her,” he said. “And to see me with her. I would not be strong enough to share you with another man.”

She looked away.

“And that, Ajadevi, is what I wish to thank you for today,” he continued. “To acknowledge your selflessness, your strength. You give more to Nuon than you do to yourself, and I shall always be grateful.”

“I merely…fulfill my duty.”

He squeezed her hand. “Come, my love. Follow me. There is something I wish to show you. A gift from me to you.”

Once again they followed the narrow trail, stepping over roots, avoiding the glistening strands of broken spiderwebs. A bamboo thicket rose directly before them. The stalks, as thick as an arm and twenty feet tall, rubbed against one another, creating a series of groans and creaks. Jayavar paused at one of the stalks, holding it. He turned to Ajadevi. “You were right to bring us to
this valley,” he said. “This place has been good for our people. It has been good for me. It’s brought healing to us all.”

She nodded. “We needed to heal.”

“Like you, I’ve been a Buddhist for many years. But I still cherish the Hindu Gods. This place, with its carvings of Vishnu and Shiva, fills me with peace. And before war, I need peace. I need to know what life will be like after all of the misery.”

A monkey screeched.

“Why did you bring me here?” Ajadevi asked. “You could have told me these things anywhere.”

“Because I’ve seen how many of our people pray near this water. How they touch the carvings and bow their heads. They draw great strength from this setting.”

“They do.”

“But a few of our people, like us, are Buddhist, and we also need a place to pray and draw strength.”

She smiled, reaching for his hand. “Show me.”

He led her around the bamboo thicket. It was larger than most and appeared very old. Moving with patience and care, he sensed her eagerness, which filled him with joy. Everything she did, it seemed, she did with him in mind. She was the most selfless person he knew, and it felt good to be doing something for her.

At the far end of the thicket, the river broadened and swung to the west, creating a deep pool of slow-moving water. Facing the water at the edge of this pool was a slightly larger-than-life-size statue of Buddha, who sat with crossed legs and rested his upturned palms on his lap. An orange sash covered the left shoulder of the Buddha and was wrapped around his midsection. Scattered about the Buddha, candles burned within golden bowls. Sticks of incense that had been stuck in the damp ground smoldered and filled the air with the scent of sandalwood.

Without a word, Ajadevi stepped forward, entranced. She studied the Buddha’s face, which was dominated by a wide and gentle smile. The statue had been carved from the same dark stone that lined the river and had been used to immortalize the Hindu creations.

Ajadevi placed her hands together and bowed. She closed her eyes, praying as the bamboo swayed behind her. Jayavar watched her with pride and contentment, believing that he had helped to create a deeply spiritual place, one that would be used by his people for centuries to come.

He added his prayers to hers, asking for victory in the coming battle. The victory he sought was not for greed or power, but for liberty. His people needed to be free to live and pray and die as they saw fit. As their king, he knew liberty was the greatest gift that he could offer, and yet as of this day, he’d failed to give it. His people had been conquered and subjugated, and this failing would define his very existence until the Chams were driven from his land.

“How did you manage this?” she asked, finally opening her eyes.

“Our first day here, I walked this river’s banks. I saw the Hindu carvings and was moved by them. I saw people praying to them. And I asked a stonesmith if a statue of Buddha could be created. Five masters were soon working on it. They labored day and night so that it could be finished in time. I asked that this place be built for those of our people who are Buddhists…and for you. Because it’s you who gave me the gift of first sight.”

“What do you mean?”

“You showed me how to see, Ajadevi. Some beauty…like that of Angkor Wat or of a child, is obvious. But other beauty is harder to discern. How can beauty be seen in hardship, in a fallen tree as well as in a soaring tree? How does beauty survive, and
how does it blossom, at a time when so much of it has been stolen from the world? After the Cham invasion I was lost. And though I still grieve for my loved ones, though I still aggravate you with my laments, I believe that my children are with me, that their beauty has become a part of me. I want to live because of them, because through my deeds I honor their dreams. You and you alone gave me this faith, this ability to see, to look past the ugliness of life and glimpse its radiance. And for that gift I shall be forever grateful.”

She turned to him, embracing him. “Thank you. Thank you for seeing.”

“You have given my life renewed meaning. I’m a king without a throne, but if we win this fight, then I shall try to cast as much beauty into the world as possible. With you beside me we shall feed the hungry, cure the sick, give hope to the downcast. Our empire will rise to new heights, and a thousand years from now, people will walk the streets we paved, marvel at the sights we built, and be reminded that their part in this world is not a small one, that every man and woman can aspire to greatness.”

“That’s why we cannot lose this fight,” she replied. “That’s why I shall come here every day and pray for victory. Because victory shall give you the chance to build such a world. And I know you can build it.”

He shook his head. “We can build it. Together.”

“The Chams will come for us, Jayavar. I see their looming presence like smoke on a windless day. They’ll come for us and we must attack.”

“And we will. Soon. I need only a few more days to prepare.”

She leaned toward him, taking both of his hands in hers. “You should go. You should ready your men. I shall stay here and pray.”

Nodding, he started to turn away.

But she held on to his hands. “Thank you for…believing in me.”

He smiled. “How could I not believe in you? In the one who shall stand beside me in life and death, throughout this life and every one thereafter?”

ndravarman stood beside what had once been a large funeral pyre. The charred ends of logs and branches dominated the outside of a scorched circle of earth almost as large as an elephant. In the center of the ashes lay the charred and broken remains of a human skeleton. Jewelry had been found amid the remains, and Indravarman held blackened rings and a misshapen necklace. He remembered giving the items to Thida. She had pretended to be pleased with the gifts and had worn them without exception, but he had suspected that she’d displayed them solely out of fear.

In the two days since Asal and Thida’s escape, Indravarman’s trackers had combed the jungle near Angkor, looking for clues. Finally a farmer had said that a Cham warrior had brought a woman to this place, held her, burned her body, and left with great haste. As soon as Indravarman had heard the information, he’d rushed to the spot, unsure why he felt compelled to act quickly. It was his beating, he was certain, that had killed Thida. And though he didn’t regret beating her, he wished that she still
lived. Her presence had brought a comfort to him, a sense of contentment that he rarely knew.

In the end, he had misjudged her. He had thought her beauty was her strength. But after he had struck her, after he had taken her beauty away, that was when she had found her courage. She had killed a guard, freed Asal, and escaped into the jungle. She had become more potent, and therefore more desirable, than ever before.

Indravarman hated his foes; he hated weakness. But he did not hate Thida and was sorry that she was dead. There would be other women, of course, but none would rival her beauty, and he doubted that any would dare to stand against him as she had. She was more like himself than he had ever believed, and he was glad that she had died with honor.

Asal was another matter. His betrayal was like a deep wound in Indravarman’s side. He had spurned his king for nothing more than love. Indravarman felt that he had given Asal the opportunity to claim fame and fortune, and in return he had received from Asal only treachery. The knowledge that Asal might have already joined the Khmers profoundly rankled Indravarman. Asal knew too much, having attended recent war councils and spoken with Indravarman on several occasions about how to best use the approaching Cham reinforcements. These three thousand warriors would arrive in five days after traveling across the Great Lake. Shortly thereafter, Indravarman would lead his forces north to the Khmer stronghold. But many things could happen during that time, especially if Asal were to seek out the Khmers and gain the trust of Jayavar. As a military strategist, Asal was unpredictable, a trait that Indravarman had always welcomed. Patience was needed in war, but so were guile and audacity.

Indravarman dropped the rings and necklace, then rubbed
the iron in his belly. That iron had been placed beneath his skin by his father, who proclaimed that all his sons were to be warriors. They would live and die by the sword, and how better to know steel than to make it a part of you?

“We’ll never catch him,” Indravarman said, eyeing the trail to the north.

Po Rame, who had been inspecting Thida’s remains, turned and approached his king. Several Cham warriors near the charred wood stepped aside for the assassin, giving him a wide berth. “But neither will we see him again, Lord King,” he replied, stopping next to Indravarman.

“You think him a coward?”

“Yes.”

“Then you’re a fool, Po Rame. I’ve seen him in a dozen fights, and he’s downed killers when the rest of his men were dead or wounded.”

“But why, Lord King, would that seeker of whores risk a fight against us? He’s gone. He’s free. And he won’t—”

“He loves a woman! A Khmer woman! Her people fight against us and so he may take up their cause. When we last saw him your bamboo was in his fingers, and you think he has no reason to hate us?” Indravarman kicked the rings at his feet. “You excel at killing, Po Rame. You’re a master of death and treachery. But you misjudge Asal. He’ll go to Jayavar and share our secrets.”

“Then we should attack, Lord King. March north tomorrow. Now that one of my men has discovered the false king’s true base in the valley, we should destroy him there.”

“I have three thousand of my best warriors arriving in five days! You would have me split my force? By splitting my men I invite disaster. The Khmers could defeat us to the north, then come south and destroy the new arrivals. If I wait a week to
march, I’ll vastly outnumber them and will rid the world of them once and for all.”

Po Rame nodded, then turned his body away from the midmorning sun. “We have able spies, King of Kings, within the Khmer encampments. These spies have tried to reach the false king at the river and at the temple, but he’s closely guarded. Surely the Khmer lover, if he indeed goes to those dung-eating peasants, would be treated with suspicion. No one would protect him. He could be killed with ease.”