Mandala of Sherlock Holmes (16 page)

18

The Missing Mandala

The Lama Yonten quickly summoned a monk physician who bathed Mr Holmes’s wound and treated it with some aromatic herbal salve. Servants also brought in hot tea and other refreshments, which were very welcome to us after our trying experiences of the night. As he was being tended, Sherlock Holmes narrated to the Lama the strange occurrences by the bridge. The Lama seemed much troubled by Mr Holmes’s tale.

‘This is terrible, terrible,’ the Lama said, shaking his head from side to side. ‘But at least you have, for the present, prevented an unthinkable evil and a national catastrophe.’

‘Is His Holiness all right?’ Holmes inquired.

‘Yes. I have just come from his bed-chamber. He is unharmed. Fortunately the assassin must have made a mistake and entered His Holiness’s chapel instead of his bedchamber.’

‘Humm … perhaps,’ said Sherlock Holmes speculatively. ‘Though that could have been his intention all along.’

‘What do you mean?’ the Lama asked, puzzled.

‘Well, when I was chasing the intruder, I noticed that he had something in his hand, which he tried to hand over to whoever it was in that covered litter.’

‘I saw it too, Sir,’ I ventured. ‘It looked like a rolled-up scroll or a roll of parchment.’

‘Exactly. Now it would not be unreasonable to assume that the article had been taken from the chapel. And, since our intruder did not strike me as a chance thief, one could possibly conclude that the man had intended to enter the chapel and steal the scroll in the first place.’

‘So you do not think that he had any murderous intentions?’ the Lama Yonten queried.

‘I cannot really say,’ answered Holmes, shrugging his shoulders. ‘Of course, I must confess that such an intruder, armed with two wicked swords, is someone to whom one cannot confidentiy attribute peaceful intentions. But considering the facts it would seem that his principal task was not murder, but the purloining of some object from the chapel.’

‘Well, it will not be difficult to verify,’ said the Lama Yonten. ‘The Senior Chapel Attendant is at this moment cleaning up the mess there. He will certainly know if anything has been stolen. I will have him summoned.’

He reached over for his small handbell, but Sherlock Holmes raised his hand.

‘It would perhaps be more profitable to go there and look for ourselves.’

‘But your wound, Mr Holmes?’

‘A mere scratch. It does not prevent me from walking.’

‘Very well,’ the Lama nodded.

Holmes rose from the couch, grimacing slightly from the pain he must have felt. I started to go over to help him but he waved me away.

The chapel, now brightly lit with oil lamps, was still in some disarray, though a few monks were attempting to tidy it up and put everything in order. One of them — a wrinkled, toothless old chap with narrow squint eyes and hollow cheeks sprouting a few grey hairs — was clearly upset.

‘Oh dear me … oh … oh …‘he wailed, holding up the remains of what had once been an exquisite Ming cloisonne vase. ‘How can I get everything ready for the morning service?’

‘Do not worry
kusho]
said the Lama Yonten. ‘His Holiness is confident that in your good hands everything will be in order. Now, is there anything missing?’

‘Missing?’ the greybeard threw up his hands and commenced his lamentations again. ‘Oh! Were I to have as many eyes as the Za demon, it would be impossible to tell in this chaos.’

‘Has something been removed from there?’ asked Sherlock Holmes, pointing to the far corner of the back wall.

‘Where did you say?’ the old man peered about confusedly. Holmes stepped across the room and indicated the place. ‘I think we had a … now what was it? Oh yes, there was a
thangka
hanging there.’

‘About two feet high and a foot and a half wide?’ asked Holmes.

‘How did you know …?’ the Lama Yonten began to ask, amazed, then he laughed. ‘Ah, Mr Holmes, you noticed the discoloration on the wall where the scroll was hanging.’

‘Yes, clear observation is the basis of any investigation.’

‘Which
thangka
was it?’ the Lama Yonten asked the old chapel attendant.

‘Let me think. Yes, it was the one of the
mandala
of the Great Tantra of the Wheel of Time. The very old one.’

‘Was it of any significant value?’ asked Holmes.

‘In terms of material wealth, not really so,’ replied the Lama. ‘There are others just like it. In fact one could commission an artist to paint one exactly like it for a small sum of money. But this one originally belonged to the first Grand Lama, or so I have been told, and therefore has greater spiritual value. Even then, I really do not see why anyone should risk his life to steal it.’

As we all began to leave the chapel, the Lama Yonten turned to the old attendant and offered him a few words of consolation and encouragement. ‘Don’t worry. You can take the vases and ritual implements from behind the Assembly Hall to replace the broken ones. Everything will be all right.’

As we once again settled down in the reception room, Sherlock Holmes lit his pipe and spoke to the Lama Yonten. ‘Could you enlighten me as to the subject of the painted scroll? My knowledge of the symbolisms of your theology is very limited.’

‘Well, Mr Holmes, let me first explain to you what
mandalas
are in general, before discussing that particular one.’

‘Pray, if you would be so kind.’

The Lama took a pinch of snuff from a jade snuff bottle and delicately wiped his nose on a yellow silk handkerchief. After blinking once or twice he proceeded to give a detailed explanation on this unique cosmological and psychological aspect of Lamaist Buddhism. The Lama Yonten’s explanation was very recondite, and certainly liable to be misunderstood by someone not familiar with the tenets of Lamaism. I have therefore taken the liberty of providing a simpler (and more scientific) version of his talk.

The
mandala
is a circular design of many colours and great geometrical complexity. Essentially it is a symbolic map of a world; the world of the human mind and consciousness. The various circles and squares composing it represent the various stages of psychic development on the long journey from ignorance to ultimate enlightenment. The final stage is arrived at in the centre of the circle, in which resides a Buddha or Bodhisattva who represents the final goal of the spiritual quest.

The particular
mandala
in question was of the Great Tantra of the Wheel of Time (Skt.
Sri Kala-chakra).
The most complex of such occult systems, this tantra was said to have been brought to Thibet from the mythical realm of ‘Shambala of the North’ in the eleventh century.

Shambala, in the Lamaist world system, is regarded as a wonderland similar to Thomas Moore’s Utopia, the New Atiantis of Francis Bacon, or the City of the Sun of Campanella, where virtue and wisdom had created an ideal community. This fabled land is considered to be the source of all high occult sciences, far in advance of our world in scientific and technological knowledge. The sacred scriptures of Thibet prophesy that when mankind is finally enslaved by the forces of evil, the Lords of Shambala will, in the Water-Sheep Year of the Twenty-fourth cycle (2425), send forth their great army and destroy the evil forces. After that Buddhism will flourish anew and a Perfect Age will begin. The Lama Yonten of course believed implicitly in this charming myth, as did all other Thibetans and Mongols.

At the end of the Lama’s story Sherlock Holmes stretched back on his couch and looked pensively at the ceiling. Then leaning forward again he asked, ‘Did you not mention yesterday that the Grand Lama would be undertaking a retreat at a certain far-away temple?’

‘Why, yes. At the Ice Temple of Shambala. He will be going there in a week’s time.’

‘Does this temple have any connection to “the Shambala of the North”, that you were describing to us just now?’

‘Most certainly, Mr Holmes. The temple, which is normally buried underneath the great ice, was the very spot where the messenger from Shambala originally expounded the secret science of the Wheel of Time to the first Grand Lama. Ever since then all Grand Lamas have been required by tradition to undertake a period of retreat there, prior to their enthronement. There, through prayer and meditation, they would establish cosmic communion with the occult forces of Shambala, which would then awaken their latent powers and wisdom, thus enabling them to rule this land wisely and protect it from the dark forces.’

’And the last three Grand Lamas — who died before their majority? They presumably did not get to go to this temple.’

‘Alas, no. The schemings of evil councillors and Chinese pressure prevented them from doing so. It is now vital that nothing happens to prevent His Holiness from going to the Ice Temple and meditating there.’

‘And after …?’

‘Our task will have been accomplished, Mr Holmes — yours and mine. It will then be out of our hands.’

The Lama Yonten peered rather short-sightedly towards the door, which was just behind my low couch.

‘Is that you, Tsering?’

‘Yes, Honourable Uncle.’

‘Come in. Come in and sit down.’

I turned around to see Tsering standing by the door. So, he was the Lama Yonten’s nephew. That explained the deference with which the governor of Tholing had treated him. It was prudent of the Lama to assign the care of his two potentially compromising foreign guests to someone close to him, in blood as well as trust. Tsering sat on a low divan next to the Lama and gratefully gulped down a bowl of hot butter tea served to him by a monk servitor.

‘Well?’ said Holmes, as Tsering put down his tea cup.

‘It was no problem following them, Sir.’ said Tsering, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. ‘And we were careful not to let ourselves be seen, as you instructed. We followed them out to the city, where they took the Lingkor road,1 south of the Iron Hill. They carried on in an easterly direction, sticking all the while to the back streets till they came near the Kashgar caravanserai, which they skirted, and finally they entered the compound of the
yamen,
the Chinese legation.’

‘Are you sure?’ asked the Lama Yonten anxiously.

‘I am certain. The main gate of the legation walls was open and the Amban himself with servants and guards was waiting. All of them bowed low as the palanquin went through the gates.’

‘Then it is him!’ the Lama Yonten went white as a sheet. His hands trembled.

‘Who?’ asked Holmes.

‘The mysterious guest that arrived at the Chinese legation, the person within the palanquin who caused swords to fly, the power to whom even the Amban must bow. It is him. The Dark One!’

‘The Dark One?’ repeated Holmes rather incredulously, arching an eyebrow,

‘Yes. He has returned from the outer darkness to destroy our master again as he swore to do eighteen years ago.’

‘Reverend Sir,’ said Holmes bemusedly, ‘so far I have confined the limits of my investigation to affairs of this world. As I had occasion to remark before, the supernatural is definitely outside my sphere of competence.’

‘Oh no, Mr Holmes. The Dark One is a living person, I assure you. He acquired the name because he turned away from the light of the Noble Doctrine and perverted sacred knowledge for the fulfilment of his greed and ambition. It is a black and sinister tale, but it is important that you hear it all — from the beginning.

‘The College of Occult Sciences in Lhassa is the highest institution of occult knowledge and practice that exists in Thibet. Few but the best of scholars from the great monastic universities are admitted; and that too only after a rigorous and thorough investigation of each candidate. Every twelve years, when the calendar of the twelve beasts makes a full round, the college holds a great examination. In the year of the Water Monkey (1873), the College produced two of the greatest adepts of the occult sciences that the country had beheld for more than a century — ever since the Laughing Yogi of the Grey Vulture Peak covered the barley fields of Tsetang with his hand and saved them from a hailstorm.

‘Great honours were bestowed upon them. The Grand Lama himself — the twelfth sacred body — attended their final examinations and afterwards invested upon them (with his own blessed hands) their white cloaks of occult mastery. Their fame spread beyond the frontiers of the Land of the Great Snows, even to the court of the Emperor of China; and they were invited to Pekin to hold services for the well-being of the Emperor and his subjects, and the protection of his hills and streams.

‘It was there, Mr Holmes, that certain demonic ministers of the Emperor lured one of them into the ways of evil. With great cunning they filled his mind with every kind of filth and abomination — and even with the unthinkable ambition to take the Grand Lama’s throne and rule Thibet. On returning to Lhassa both received suitable appointments at the Grand Lama’s court. With the cunning of a serpent, the Dark One managed to conceal his foul intentions from nearly everybody, but inadvertently aroused some slight suspicions in the mind of his colleague, the Gangsar
trulku,
the former abbot of a small monastery in southern Thibet. This astute lama had noticed some slight but disquieting changes in the Dark One’s behaviour in China.

‘On the eve of the Great New Year’s Festival, when everyone was busy preparing for the coming ceremonies, Gangsar
trulku
saw the Dark One enter the Grand Lama’s chapel — the very one the assassin entered tonight — and strike His Holiness with a sword. The loyal
trulku
rushed in to save his master, but he was too late. In his brave struggle with the Dark One, he lost his life. Unfortunately for this incarnation of evil, the Grand Master of the College of Occult Sciences appeared upon the scene. Before the Dark One could strike again, the Grand Master projected a surge of mental energy which nearly destroyed him. His mind was partially shattered, and he lost his memory and most of his former powers. He was incarcerated in one of the deepest dungeons in the Potala. The Amban, however, on instructions from the Imperial court in Pekin, managed, through extensive bribery and coercion, to get him secretly released from his prison, and smuggled out of the country to China. Since then, we know not what became of him, for distance weakens telepathic waves. It is possible that he has recovered some of his old powers and put up some kind of mental screen.’