Temple of a Thousand Faces (28 page)

For the past several weeks Boran had sold fish to Chams while Soriya, Vibol, and Prak had stayed behind. Boran had studied the Cham camp and gotten to know the officers in charge of gathering supplies. His prices were cheap, and the Chams had come to welcome the arrival of the Khmer, hurrying out onto the long dock to greet him. And while Boran threw fish after fish to his enemies, he had counted the ships, men, horses, and elephants. He had also made note of defensive positions, arriving troops, and the well-being of the men. Each morning Prak asked for more details, and each evening Boran returned with information. While their father traded, Prak and Vibol caught fish and their mother mended nets.

Once Boran and his family had heard about Khmers gathering in the north, they faced a difficult decision. They could stay and further befriend and spy on the Chams, or they could try to rejoin their countrymen. In the end Soriya had come to Boran and whispered that it would be best for Vibol if they left the Great Lake and went far from the place of his capture and beating. Though Boran knew that if they left the lake they could never return as fishermen and could not directly poison the Chams, he agreed with his wife. Near the water, hiding from the men who had nearly killed him, Vibol had become a shadow of his former self. He would not emerge from this shadow until something in his life was different. Soriya believed that the right young woman or the sight of his people might heal him. But something must change.

Boran had spent years in the jungle, but he didn’t know these thick woods. Following nothing more than rumors and his instincts, he headed due north, eager to rendezvous with his king’s forces. Sometimes the family traveled with other Khmers, but
often these groups split apart so as to more easily avoid Cham patrols. The days were long and the nights longer. The farther they got from their home, the more fear gnawed at them, turning their stomachs sour, making them imagine dangers when the jungle was quiet.

Though Boran had usually considered himself to be their family’s leader, the deeper they moved into the jungle, the more he turned to his wife and sons. Soriya understood Vibol better than anyone, and Prak was adept at planning. Aware that his family was being tested as it never had been, and that they were all succeeding, Boran’s pride in his loved ones swelled to new dimensions.

Now, as he stepped over a fallen log, he let Soriya and Prak pass him. Vibol’s eyes were downcast, as usual. Boran reached out and held Vibol’s arm just long enough for Soriya and Prak to take several steps ahead. Sighing, Boran rubbed his sore neck, then offered the Cham axe to Vibol. “Would you carry it, my son? My body aches.”

Vibol started to shake his head but then stopped himself and reached for the weapon. He set its shaft on his shoulder. “This won’t frighten the Chams, you know,” he said quietly, walking ahead.

“I know.”

“Then why do we carry it?”

“Because it’s a good weapon, and you can give it to one of our warriors.”

Vibol made no reply, skirting an immense anthill that rose from the middle of the trail.

Boran didn’t see any ants and wondered if it was occupied. Sometimes a dormant anthill could survive for many seasons. “If we don’t save Angkor,” he said, “its buildings will be as quiet as that anthill. Our people will disappear.”

“We were never a part of Angkor, Father. Angkor is for the rich.”

“But we swam in Angkor’s baths; we walked its streets. Of course we were a part of it.”

“We were guests. It wasn’t our home.”

“You always wanted to go there. After every catch, you wanted to visit.”

“I was a fool. I am a fool.”

Boran reached out to Vibol, who moved away from his outstretched hand. “Why do you say what isn’t true?”

Vibol shook his head. “I’m not going to talk about it.”

Boran followed his son, hating to see him so beaten down, wishing that his faith could be restored. Somehow, he must be made to realize that everyone made mistakes, that misery was a common experience. “Because I’ve wanted to protect you,” Boran said, keeping his voice low, “I’ve never spoken of my failures. My biggest failures, that is. But like you, I have them. Everyone does.”

“What failures?”

Boran walked onward, his mind drifting back to a distant time and place. “When I was young…I had a little brother.”

“No, you didn’t. Just sisters.”

“That’s what I told you, but it isn’t true. I had a baby brother. One day I was alone with him on the shore of the Great Lake. The wind was strong, and I was making a fishing spear. My thoughts…were occupied elsewhere…and when I finally looked up…he was in the water. He was gone.”

“Where did he go?”

Boran breathed deeply, trying to steady his voice. “I was responsible for him. And yet…I failed him. He drowned that day. He drowned because of me. And for a long, long time, I didn’t want to go back to the water, didn’t want to pray to Gods
who had abandoned me. But then, when you and Prak were born, it felt right to go back. I felt that my brother had returned within you both, and I wanted to show him the lake, because he’d always enjoyed it.”

“You did?”

“And I’m so glad that I returned to the water. When I’m on it, when I see you smiling on it, I know that my brother is also smiling. He’s watching us pull in all those beautiful fish and he’s grinning from dawn to dusk.”

Vibol slowed down. “I can’t imagine…losing Prak.”

“I know. And that’s why I tried to hold you back, to protect you. I couldn’t endure the thought of letting another loved one die.”

Between two tree branches, a large gold and black butterfly struggled to free itself from a spider’s web. Vibol brought his gaze back to his father. “Why didn’t you tell me earlier about your brother?”

“Because I thought you were too young to hear about his death. Now I know that you’re old enough, brave enough. You walked straight into the camp of our enemy, and even though you were caught, you were brave, and I couldn’t be more proud of you.”

“You are? You truly are?”

“Yes, my son,” Boran replied, putting his hand on Vibol’s shoulder, squeezing it tightly. “Because it seems to me that bravery doesn’t lie in the outcome but in the doing. And your actions…they told me…they tell me that my boy has become a man.”

Vibol tried not to smile, but Boran saw the corners of his lips rise.

*    *    *

A
t the height of the dry season, when rain and cool breezes were distant memories, crowds of Khmers flocked to Angkor’s community bathing areas. The vast moat teemed with tens of thousands of people throughout the day. Children chased frogs in the shallows. Men lounged in the deeper waters. Women beat clothes against rocks, scrubbed themselves, and spoke in small groups. Chams had started to visit the moat as well, and warriors swam from side to side, racing one another as their officers shouted encouragement.

Standing shoulder deep in the water, Thida, Voisanne, and Chaya huddled together toward the middle of the moat. Nearby, a koi, presumably a gift to a Khmer official from a Chinese diplomat or trader, nibbled around the broad leaves of a lotus flower. As long as Thida’s arm, the koi was gold and white. The creature moved with the grace and dignity of a more revered species, at ease in the water in the same way that an eagle commands the sky.

Thida watched as Chaya climbed on Voisanne’s back, laughing at her older sister. Three weeks earlier, Voisanne had told Thida about Chaya, and Thida had grown used to the sight of the siblings frolicking together. A part of Thida enjoyed watching Voisanne and Chaya playing. Another part of her was jealous of their relationship. It wasn’t fair that Voisanne had Chaya and Asal in her life, two people she cared about.

Most of Thida’s nights were spent with Indravarman. And though he had never beaten her, she remained terrified of him. His inability to locate Jayavar was a constant source of rage, which could boil to the surface in a heartbeat. Thida tried to keep him happy by misleading him, either through her words or her actions. She applauded his wisdom, whispered endearments, and touched him as if he were the father of her children. Thankfully, she never had become pregnant. At least the Gods had been kind to her in that regard.

Indravarman had called for her earlier that day, which surprised her as he was almost always out in the field. She had gone to him, expecting the worst, and was startled to be greeted by a smile. He told her that his spies had discovered groups of Khmers to the north, near an ancient temple. The Khmers seemed to use the temple as a base. Indravarman’s plan was to lead a large contingent of his best warriors into the jungle. The warriors would be accompanied by cooks, blacksmiths, healers, priests, and women. Thida was expected to ride with them. Most Cham officers were taking their wives or concubines. Asal hadn’t asked Voisanne to join him, but, desperate to have her friend beside her, Thida had begged her to go. Voisanne was reluctant to leave her sister, though in the end she had agreed. The force would depart at dawn.

Thida hadn’t spent much time in the jungle and was worried about insects, snakes, scorpions, and predators. Even though she would be surrounded by warriors, the thought of sleeping in the open left her unsettled. She was also afraid that the Chams would find the Khmers and kill them in the manner that Indravarman had described to her—by sticking prisoners with hot spear points until the air reeked with the scent of burned flesh.

If Thida was forced to leave without Voisanne, she wasn’t certain she could face the jungle. But the prospect of having Voisanne beside her slowed the throbbing of her heart, the rasping of her lungs. Voisanne would protect her, would keep her fears at bay.

After Chaya leapt off Voisanne’s back and headed toward the koi, Thida reached for her friend’s hand. “You’re sure that it’s all right to leave Chaya behind?”

“She’s safe here and can attend to her duties. One of Asal’s men will look after her. I’ve met him twice and trust him.”

“How can you trust a Cham?”

Grinning, Voisanne turned away from one of Chaya’s splashes. “Because I trust Asal, and if he vouches for someone, then that’s good enough for me. Besides, I think it’s better to have Chaya here than out in the jungle. The Chams know that she’s his slave. None would dare harm her. And she has nothing to fear from Khmers.”

Thida nodded, squeezing Voisanne’s hand. “Thank you…for agreeing to come with me. I’ve never been deep in the jungle.”

“It’s beautiful.”

“Nothing is beautiful…with Indravarman beside me.”

“But he won’t be beside you, Thida. He’ll be out looking for Khmers. I’ll be beside you and there’s nothing that we need fear.”

Thida looked away. “Nothing? You say that because you haven’t heard his boasts about the coming battle. You haven’t heard him say how he’ll capture and torture our people.”

Voisanne called out to Chaya, telling her not to swim too far away. She then turned her attention back to Thida. “What does he say?”

“You don’t want to know.”

“Tell me.”

Thida did as Voisanne asked, describing in detail Indravarman’s threats and promises. “He’ll kill them all,” Thida added. “Even the women and children. Because they have all defied him.”

Voisanne looked toward a group of children playing in the shallows. Their laughter carried over the water. “Then we’ll have to warn our countrymen,” she whispered. “I don’t know how, but there must be a way.”

“If Indravarman learns that we’ve—”

“Would you have us do nothing, Thida? When we could save them?”

Thida started to speak but stopped, unsure how to answer. She didn’t want to see her people tortured, but the thought of trying
to outsmart Indravarman terrified her. “He has so many spies,” she said. “They tell him everything, and if we make a mistake he’ll skin us like animals. I’ve seen what he does to his enemies, and he’d do even worse to us.”

Voisanne nodded. “Somehow I’ll warn our countrymen. You needn’t worry about it. Pretend that I said nothing.”

“Maybe it’s better…if I don’t know. That way Indravarman won’t see through me.”

“Fine. That’s just fine, Thida.”

“Thank you. You’re such a good friend. I really don’t deserve you.”

“You deserve to be happy. We all do. And I think that someday…we all will be. I don’t know much about the world, about war and kings. But I think that we’ll be happy again.”

Thida squeezed her friend’s hand again before releasing it. “Go play with your sister. She’s calling for you. I just want to stand here and watch you. Watching you two together makes everything feel normal.”

“I’ll be back.”

Smiling, Thida gazed at Voisanne as she swam into the deeper water. The sisters met, splashed each other, and for a moment Thida forgot about Indravarman.

Then a war elephant trumpeted and Thida’s thoughts darkened. What Voisanne didn’t understand, what she couldn’t fathom, was that no one ever really tricked Indravarman. He let them think that they had. He let Thida think that she had. But in the end, he understood everything. There was a reason why he was the master of two kingdoms, why men feared him and died for him.

Indravarman would find the Khmers. And he would find whoever betrayed him.

*    *    *

W
ithin the Echo Chamber at Angkor Wat, the evening light was subdued, mostly shielded by the room’s thick walls. Unlike the vast majority of the temple, the Echo Chamber was unadorned with carvings. Simple sandstone blocks had been fitted together and formed a small, rectangular room with a ceiling twenty feet high. Doorways stood at the east and west sides of the room, providing glimpses of the surrounding temple.

Voisanne remembered when her father had taken her to the Echo Chamber and how he had explained its secrets. She smiled at the vision of him holding her, showing her just what to do. He had been a patient man, and it was no surprise to her that his favorite place in all of Angkor was this one.

Grateful that she could now smile at such memories instead of weep over them, Voisanne took Asal’s hand. In the month that had passed since he had freed Chaya, Voisanne had seen him every few days. His duties often carried him outside the city as more and more skirmishes with Khmer forces occurred. Yet when he returned, he always sent for her, and she came quickly to dress his wounds and tell him about her day.