A loud bell woke them at 4 a.m. the next morning. Sam came stumbling half-asleep into Alex’s room, arching his back in an attempt to click his vertebrae back into place after sleeping on the hard floor. Alex sat up in bed fumbling with her watch to read the time.
“Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me. The sun’s not even up yet,” she groaned pulling the blanket over her head.
Moments later the monks sent a choir of chanting morning prayers through the crisp morning air causing Alex to pull the saffron blanket even tighter over her head.
“Rise and shine sleeping beauty. Think of it this way. We should hopefully get a decent breakfast. Last night’s pilferage barely touched sides.”
She had to admit. Sam had a naughty streak in him she had never seen before. She thoroughly enjoyed their secret rendezvous to the kitchen, but she woke up ravenous this morning.
“I don’t think it will be pancakes and bacon, Sam. But I’ll promise you this much. If Ollie is messing us around, I will personally wring his neck.”
“Oh, I’ll hold him down for you, Alex. My back is killing me after sleeping on that thin little mattress on the floor. We had better walk off here today with a decent clue to that urn or else.”
Alex giggled. Sam wasn’t a rough-and-tumble kind of guy. “Yeah yeah tough guy, perhaps we should get ready before these monks find you in my quarters.”
Twenty minutes later, the chanting had stopped and Roshi was waiting in the corridor outside their rooms. Ollie was nowhere in sight.
“Morning,” Alex mouthed to Roshi not sure if she was allowed to speak or not and tapped on Sam’s door to join them.
Walking into the eating hall, Sam threw Alex a naughty smile. She was equally amused. But, unlike the bare dining mess the night before, the eating hall was packed to the rafters with cheery monks in bubbling conversation over hearty bowls of soup. Ollie sat in the middle of the room amidst a small group of men who greatly enjoyed his Aussie chatter. The man was noticeably the center of attention. A baffled Alex and Sam exchanged surprised expressions as they made their way to his table.
“G’day Mates. What took you so long? You almost missed the most important meal of the day. Get some nosh and eat up. Our meeting is in fifteen minutes.”
It had just gone 4:40 a.m.
“Have these people all lost their minds?” a stunned Alex whispered to Sam who nudged her by the elbow toward the server where the chef stood dishing up steaming bowls of watery vegetable broth and bread. Sam’s disappointment was very evident as he grumpily tucked into his nosh, consequently sending Alex into an uncontrollable giggle. They whisked through their morning meal and finished just in time for Ollie to gesture that it was now time for their meeting.
Alex found herself nervously fidgeting with her headscarf in anticipation of their meeting; delighted that a game of charades was seemingly off the table if the cheery banter of the monks at breakfast were anything to go by.
The lengthy informal tour through the monastery deposited them on the opposite wing of the establishment that was even more lavishly decorated. It was unquestionably set aside for the more prominent members of the community.
“Wait here please,” Roshi ordered as they entered a modest foyer and then disappeared behind a small red door.
Unlike the rest of the cloister, this room didn’t have the same poignant smell of incense. It was plainly furnished with six red ottomans spaced in rows of three opposite from each other. Alex’s eyes sparkled in anticipation as she paced the tiny room. It wasn’t often a lay person had the honor of meeting the great Supreme Patriarch of the Buddhist community in South-East Asia. He was practically the Dalai Lama or Buddha himself. She bit her thumbnail. A habit she still had even though her agoraphobia was almost non-existent of late.
“Chill out Sheila. He won’t bite,” Ollie snickered.
“And how would you know exactly?” Alex bit back.
“Well he hasn’t any teeth left for one and he is hands down the wisest man I’ve ever met.”
Ollie’s flippant declaration had Alex and Sam respond in complete unison, “You’ve met him?”
Throwing his hands in the air, Ollie responded. “Whoa cobbers, don’t look so surprised. Of course I’ve met him. I told you, these guys are like family to me.”
As if on cue to help Ollie evade further questions, Roshi popped his head out from behind the red door and ushered them in. The dazed pair hastily followed Roshi into a poorly lit room where the supreme monk sat in a gold and red armchair. Standing slightly behind him to his right with his eyes staring at his feet was a younger monk whom they presumed was his caregiver.
Roshi and Ollie hurried over and sat cross-legged in front of him on the floor, so Alex and Sam hastily followed suit. The elderly man didn’t look a day over eighty until his friendly face softened into a broad smile to reveal glistening pink gums instead of teeth. His face lit up like a candle when he saw Ollie and greeted him enthusiastically in Mandarin. Ollie responded with equal glee as if it were his father. The confusion on Alex’s face must have been evident, for seconds later, the patriarch’s attention moved to Alex and Sam who silently sat watching the reunion. Ollie and Roshi both laughed in response to something he said after which Ollie turned to Alex.
“He wants to know if you think he bites that you look so scared.”
Every cell in her being wanted to lash out at Ollie for making fun of her, but she couldn’t. Instead, she pushed her chin up and forced her sweetest smile without responding. Ollie’s face dropped. He was unmistakably convinced she would participate in his sick little game and bite back with some snide remark. An amused Sam cleared his throat in an attempt to bring them both back to matters at hand. Roshi caught on and swiftly addressed the guru.
The room went quiet before the senior monk finally looked at Alex and Sam and said, “I understand you are looking for the urn?”
Alex and Sam turned to each other surprised that the monk could speak such perfect English. With a slight reverential stutter, Alex responded, “Indeed, venerable Sir. Could you help us, please? We were hired by the commissioner to find the one that got stolen from here. However, we believe there is a dispute over its authenticity. We were hoping you would be able to shed some light on the matter, please?”
There was an awkward silence in the room as the old man paused flashing another broad smile of glistening gums before finally answering.
“Do not dwell in the past, do not dream of the future, concentrate the mind on the present moment.”
As if his answer was to conclude the meeting, he sat back in his chair and folded his hands in his lap. Alex tried to clear the dry spot in her throat. She couldn’t help wonder if this was a test of some kind. Not quite knowing how to respond, she cleared her throat and made another attempt.
“Thank you Sir, however, it is imperative we know if indeed there was another urn and more-so, where we might find it. We would really…“
The old man raised his pale hand to stop her from speaking any further.
“There is nothing more dreadful than the habit of doubt. Doubt separates people. It is a poison that disintegrates friendships and breaks up pleasant relations. It is a thorn that irritates and hurts. It is a sword that kills.”
Alex felt defeated. Nothing this old man said made any sense.
“Sir, I wholeheartedly agree with your statement, thank you, but could you however be just a tad more precise and direct us to where you think the urn might be?” She was losing her patience. Perhaps her irritation lay with Ollie for leading them on. She wasn’t sure. All she knew was that they had flown all this way to South-East Asia and was nowhere nearer to finding the mysterious golden urn.
The monk turned to the side and said something to his caregiver who promptly bowed and left the room. Sam looked at Alex who looked as dazed and confused as he did. She wasn’t sure what was going on either but decided to probe even further.
“Venerable Sir, we were hired to retrieve the urn, but in almost a month we are nowhere nearer to finding it. There has to be something you remember that might assist us.”
Alex elbowed Ollie, who sat next to her in a silent cry for help. He ignored her, so she nudged harder. It was like elbowing a statue. The man didn’t even flinch. She felt her blood boiling with irritation as neither Ollie nor Roshi spoke a word or did anything to help her. It was several minutes of total silence before the old man finally spoke again.
“Patience is key. Remember, a jug fills drop by drop.”
Alex bit her lip so hard she was certain she tasted the very drop of blood he just spoke of. This was ridiculous; an utter waste of time, she thought. This man, as wise as he apparently is, will bring them nothing but useless pearls of wisdom. He is nothing but a toothless bag of bones speaking in parables. She was just about to get up and leave when the caregiver returned. Sam, who had sensed her unrest, pulled her down by her arm and watched the young monk walk across the room and hand the old man a rolled up red cloth. Instantly Alex’s eyes lit up. Her heart gave several beats, and it took immense effort to stay seated. Sam gave her arm a squeeze. Perhaps this was it. Could it be the original golden urn, or possibly the clue they have been waiting for? Both Alex and Sam’s eyes were fixed on the red cloth in the old man’s lap. Even Ollie and Roshi straightened up. The painstaking process of watching a hundred-and-two-year-old man unwrap something was worse than watching paint dry. Alex glanced sideways at Sam’s clenched hands in his lap. His white knuckles were proof enough that he too needed to restrain himself from jumping up to help. Both Ollie and Roshi, on the other hand, sat calmly with eyes closed. Were they praying for him to finish faster or genuinely as disciplined as they looked?
It felt like an eternity when the last knot was untied to reveal a flat wooden box that was polished to a brilliant luster. The old man looked up and handed Roshi the wooden box who placed it in front of Alex on the floor. Alex could barely contain herself. It wasn’t considered sanctimonious for monks to hand anything directly to a female so this she understood. But was she allowed to open it up, she wondered.
“Go on Sheila. You were ready to bolt five minutes ago, yet here you are. Open it up.”
Even Ollie’s sarcasm bounced like arrows off her back. She couldn’t be bothered. The excitement was far too sweeping to be snuffed by anything. She slowly opened the latch and lifted the lid. Inside lay a perfectly preserved scroll tied in place by a yellow ribbon.
“Remember, not getting what you want, is sometimes a wonderful stroke of luck,” said the old man.
“Can I read it?” Alex replied in a barely audible voice to which he smiled another toothless smile and nodded.
Her hands were shaking. She had opened up many clues in her young life, but this one seemed to take the cake somehow. Perhaps it was because she sensed danger and secrets around finding an artifact that decidedly had more significance than just being a religious symbol. The knot in the yellow ribbon was tight and required quite a firm tug at it to unravel. Careful to not damage the paper she gently pulled the trimming off and extended the slightly yellowed paper.
“How old is this?” she asked.
“As old as the sun and the stars,” the old man replied with yet again another answer with many words but no meaning.
The relic looked at least a hundred years old, but it was in pristine condition. The paper was a pale yellow in color and much thicker and firmer than ordinary white photocopy paper or papyrus. Sam joined in by gently rubbing the sheet between his fingers.
“Remarkable, I’ve never seen anything like it,” he commented.
“That’s because it is palm leaf and not paper,” Ollie added.
“Yes, Marut, you remember well,” the senior monk rendered toward Ollie causing Alex to look at him questioningly before glancing at Sam. She was intrigued now more than ever as to how Ollie knew all this.
“But it looks just like paper,” she ventured further to establish just how much this Aussie knew.
His inflated ego led him to fall hook, line, and sinker for it.
“Well, it’s quite a craft, Sheila. There were very few who knew this skill. The paper came from the Buong trees that were quite rare in itself and was only found in isolated mountainous areas. The young leaves were cut and dried in the sun before it was cut up into strips. A scribe employed only by the king used a pointed iron tool to carefully carve out each letter and word. Can you imagine the precision and hand control? It’s bonkers.”
Alex and Sam examined the document with great interest. The carvings under her fingers felt like braille.
“So which king wrote this?” Sam questioned Roshi.
“It is believed to have been king Norodom. He passed it to his brother, king Sisowat who took over his reign in 1903.”
“So it is in fact over a century old! That’s astounding but what does it say?” Alex asked passing it to Ollie, much to her reluctance.
“No bloody clue, Sheila. None of us know. Those squiggles aren’t French, Khmer or Mandarin. It’s some sort of a code or something. It’s been locked in that box for years. Apparently came with the urn you’re after.”
“You had better not be messing with me, Ollie,” Alex warned only to be interrupted by Rhoshi clearing his throat urging her to keep her voice down. She bowed apologetically and pulled her camera from her bag.
“May I please, Sir?”
Accepting the quick nod in agreement from the elderly monk she snapped several photos of the opened leaf scroll in Ollie’s hand.
“If you are facing the right direction, all you need to do is keep walking,” the senior monk whispered before looking to Roshi with a nod.
“It’s time to go Miss Hunt,” Roshi prompted and swiftly tied the scroll and placed it back in its box and wrapped cloth.
“Thank you Great Venerable. It was an honor,” Alex bowed in gratitude and turned to follow Roshi and the others back to the foyer.
Barely outside the room, Alex shrieked in elation. “Can you believe it, Sam? How magnificent was that scroll? Not to mention that we met the Great Senior Patriarch of Cambodia! How many archaeologists can record that? Do you know how many would kill to have their hands on this information?”
“You better believe it!” Sam replied. “Have you forgotten someone already tried? We need to keep a tight lid on this, Alex. If word gets out about the scroll’s existence, those thugs might just come back for us. We have no idea who they’re working for or why they’re after us, so we have to be cautious, okay?”
“Okay, Debbie Downer. Deflate my balloon all you want. This was one incredible meeting and I can’t wait to flip my laptop open to find out what that scroll says.”
“You’re welcome, Sheila,” a smug Ollie interrupted. “I guess it pays to have me as an ally, doesn’t it?”
“Yes, yes okay, you win. Thank you.”
“See, now that wasn’t so hard was it, Sheila?”
“I wish you would call me Alex, please? Besides, we still need to find out what is written in that scroll. It might be nothing of significance whatsoever, but I have to try.”
Ollie exclaimed a loud laugh. “Tell you what, Sheila. If there’s nothing of significance in a scroll only about ten people in the entire world ever laid eyes on, then I’ll never eat a bear again. Deal?”
“Sounds like a good deal to me,” Sam laughed. “On the other hand, Ollie, I would gladly frighten a bear straight into your arms for a plate of your bear stew right now.”
The two men’s laughter echoed through the monastery’s courtyard as they made their way back down to the secret tunnel and through the secret entrance. Once outside in the forest, they bid their farewells to Ollie and Roshi who insisted Ollie had to stay another night. The two men quickly disappeared back through the veil of shrubbery leaving Alex and Sam to find their way back to their motorbike that was still parked under the tree.
“All right then, Alex. There’s one positive thing about these monks rising before the sun is up. It’s only now time for breakfast where we’re heading. What do you say we go hunt down a proper English breakfast and a shower back at the hotel?”
“Thought you’d never ask, Dr. Quinn. I reckon it’s exactly what the doctor ordered.”