The Travels of Sherlock Holmes, page 8
Still, even the quite ordinary streets were worth seeing, thronged with soldiers in ceremonial armour of medieval appearance, crowded with merchants selling everything you could think of, and much you would rather not, and, above all, monks and lamas in their hundreds – nay, thousands. The overall impression it made on me was that I had wandered by mistake into the Middle Ages, and every moment I expected one of those old kings, whose dates were thrashed into us at school but which seem curiously elusive when we would recall them now, to come riding round the corner, his knights, squires and varlets at his back.
More prosaically, we took the opportunity to buy some fresh linen, which we now needed rather badly, from one of the merchants, an Indian who had a long and animated conversation with Dass, in the course of which we discovered that our new friend the merchant had not seen or heard anything of any suspicious strangers in Lhasa.
‘Although,’ as Sigerson remarked as we resumed our stroll, ‘that meant nothing, for they would scarcely advertise their presence. They might be here, and in hiding.’
In fact, I was quite enjoying myself, and so was Dass, who gazed at the sights around us as a child gazes at the first snow which it has encountered in its short life. Fenton and Sigerson, as usual, were both trying unsuccessfully to conceal their impatience at this delay, and after trying to cheer them up without any noticeable result, I walked on ahead with the lighthearted Dass, and let them sulk as they would.
At the appointed hour, we hurried back to the spot at which we had arranged to meet Norbu. He was there already, sitting in an angle of the wall, talking to another man, a short, stout man who wore the standard monk’s robe, and whose face was wreathed in smiles. As we approached, they rose to greet us.
‘This is my cousin, Lobsang Norbu,’ said “our” Norbu.
There were smiles, and bows and handshakes all round.
‘My cousin has a post in the ministry of the interior,’ said Norbu.
‘A very humble post,’ added the cousin with a broad smile. Like our old friend, he spoke excellent English.
‘He knows all about our mission,’ said Norbu. ‘No,’ he added quickly, seeing the look on Fenton’s face, ‘he is a good friend, I assure you. Also he has his agents throughout Lhasa.’
‘And is there any news of our quarry?’ asked Sigerson eagerly.
Norbu’s cousin nodded his head vigorously. ‘A tall, thin, man? His hair arranged in such and such a manner?’ He waved his hands over his own head.
‘That is Professor Moriarty, no doubt of it!’ agreed Sigerson.
‘He is here, in the city,’ said Norbu’s cousin, with another nod of satisfaction.
‘Is he, indeed? And doing what, pray?’
‘He is lodged in the Potala. He has been petitioning to be engaged in some sort as a tutor to the young Dalai Lama, to instruct him in the ways of the west. As you may know, the current Regent is no friend of Russia, and since the newcomer is obviously an Englishman, the Regent is consequently disposed to be sympathetic to this request.’
‘I knew it!’ said Sigerson.
‘There are, however, many formalities to be gone through first,’ Norbu’s cousin went on, with a deprecating little smile. ‘As a consequence, this professor of yours has been waiting for a week or so for a decision.’ He waved a hand apologetically. ‘Time does not mean quite the same to us here as it does to you in the west.’
‘So he has not actually met the Dalai Lama?’ asked Sigerson.
‘Not thus far.’
‘That is excellent! We have evidently beaten him. Tell me,’ said Sigerson, ‘can he be arrested, or detained, think you?’
‘Oh, yes. If, as you claim, he is intending some harm to the young God-King, then it is positively my duty to arrest him.’ Norbu’s cousin levered himself to his feet, and waved imperiously towards an angle of the wall. At once, two sturdy young monks armed with heavy staves leapt forward, waiting for instructions.
‘If you are quite ready, we can take him now,’ said Norbu’s cousin. He gave a rapid stream of orders to the two young monks, who took up their positions behind him, then he set off up towards the Potala.
Norbu’s cousin had evidently been modest about his official standing, for the guardians at the various gates and doors stood back and bowed politely as he passed. Up several flights of broad stone steps we went, up a couple of wooden ladders, into the very heart of the palace.
In one of the long corridors, lit by a multitude of smoky lamps burning yak’s butter, Norbu’s cousin paused, and looked about him. ‘It is a very old, rambling sort of place,’ he told us apologetically, before stopping a passing monk and speaking sharply to him in Tibetan.
The monk scratched his head, then began to answer, but before he had said more than a couple of words, there was a crash and clatter from around a bend in the corridor. Sigerson did not wait for any advice or encouragement, but set off towards the origin of the disturbance as fast as he could. Scenting adventure, I took to my heels after him.
We rounded the angle of the corridor, and almost tripped over a man who lay sprawled out full length upon the floor.
‘Give me a hand with him,’ said Sigerson, bending to help the man up.
By the time we got the man, another of the monks, to his feet, the others had caught up with us, and Norbu’s cousin put a few questions in rapid Tibetan to the monk whom we had just helped up. The man answered him, rubbing his head ruefully as he did so.
Norbu’s cousin heard him out, then turned to us with a smile. ‘The professor had evidently got wind of what we proposed to do,’ said he. ‘He has taken to his heels, and I do not think we shall hear from him again.’
‘Did he do this, then?’ asked Fenton, pointing to the injured man, on whose forehead a great bruise was beginning to be visible.
Norbu’s cousin stared down at his embroidered slippers in some confusion. ‘One of our countrymen, I fear,’ he said at last. ‘Perhaps he is just foolish, perhaps he is a rogue – who can say? He has gone with his master, in any event.’
‘Well,’ said Fenton, ‘I think I owe you something of an apology, Mr Sigerson. It seems you were right, and it was Professor Moriarty after all. Still, we seem to have beaten him, and quite easily too.’
Sigerson nodded his acknowledgement of the apology, but then looked grave. ‘I have warned you before about underestimating Moriarty,’ he said. ‘You now know that I comprehended the situation very well, so will you believe me when I say that Moriarty will not be put off quite so easily?’
‘I will,’ said Fenton at once. ‘And yet what is left for him to do? I take it the Regent is well guarded?’ he asked Norbu’s cousin.
‘He is. And after this, the guards will be doubled, and their efforts redoubled.’
‘And the lad – that is, the young God-King?’ asked Sigerson. ‘He, too, is well guarded?’
‘You may depend upon it.’
‘There you are!’ said Fenton triumphantly. ‘There is surely nothing to be feared here in Lhasa now? The Potala certainly seems proof against everything but a regiment of artillery, and the Russians would have some difficulty getting one of those here unobserved.’
‘There have certainly not been any reports of a large force entering Tibet,’ said Norbu’s cousin.
‘It certainly seems that Lhasa is safe enough,’ said Sigerson slowly. ‘On the other hand, there is nothing to say that a small, determined force has not entered the country.’
He looked far from satisfied, and he drummed his fingers against a great stone idol that ornamented the corridor. All of a sudden he shot out, ‘And the Dalai Lama – until his divinity was recognized, he seemed an ordinary boy?’
Norbu’s cousin looked puzzled, but agreed that this was so.
‘And his family?’ Sigerson went on.
‘Ordinary folk, who live in the mountains to the east.’
‘They live there still? They have not moved to Lhasa?’
‘The boy’s mother is here,’ said Norbu’s cousin. ‘She would not be parted from him, though he is now regarded as a God.’ He shrugged. ‘Who can explain how a woman thinks? It would have been very difficult to prevent her coming.’ He sighed, as if at some painful memory. ‘But the rest of the family, father and sister, they are still in the village. You understand, it is better that they do not come, better to cut off completely, when such a great change occurs.’
‘Quite so,’ said Sigerson. ‘And the boy presumably feels some affection for his father and sister?’
‘Oh, yes. As is quite natural, of course. He is particularly fond of his sister, I believe, for she more or less raised him, the parents having a very harsh life of it, and being busy all day in the fields.’
‘Indeed?’ Sigerson abruptly ceased his drumming. ‘I think it might perhaps be as well if the father and sister were to spend some time in Lhasa.’
‘You think they may try to harm them in some way?’ asked Fenton, rank disbelief in his voice.
‘Not as such. It is more kidnap that I fear, to blackmail or coerce the Dalai Lama into acceding to their demands. If I am wrong, if they are in fact not in any danger, well, then nothing is lost by bringing the boy’s family into the capital for a while.’ He still looked anxious. ‘I only pray we are not too late.’ To Norbu’s cousin, he said, ‘I take it Moriarty will know where the Dalai Lama’s family is to be found?’
Norbu’s cousin frowned. ‘He has been here a few days, so he may have made some enquiries,’ said he. ‘But he has been carefully watched, and I can swear that he has had no opportunity to get word out of the Potala.’
‘You are positive?’
‘I am. I would answer for it with my life.’
‘Well, then,’ said Sigerson, ‘things are not so bad after all. Perhaps you would furnish us with directions to this village in the east?’
‘I will send a man who knows the way,’ said Norbu’s cousin. ‘And you can take these two,’ he nodded to the two young monks who had accompanied us from the first. ‘A larger party would only slow you down, I think.’
‘I think so too,’ said Sigerson.
We were quickly provided with a guide who knew the way, and set out at once.
For two days we travelled, under skies of ever deepening greyness, until we came to a tiny hamlet set high in the mountains. The place was silent as the grave, and I think all of us feared the worst. But we knocked on the first door we came to, and a tiny woman, wrinkled and toothless, pointed the way to the cottage we sought.
Norbu hammered at the door, which was opened by a short, wiry man. He looked afraid at first, overawed at seeing all these strangers at his humble home, but spoke readily enough in answer to Norbu’s questions, and then summoned his daughter from an inner room. She was about fifteen or sixteen, as far as I could tell, pretty enough but frightened, like her father, at the sight of strangers, and more particularly at the sight of Fenton, Sigerson and me, who were probably the first ‘foreign devils’ she had ever set eyes on.
Norbu quickly explained that they were summoned to Lhasa, to be with the Dalai Lama, and that satisfied them, for they were simple people, and asked no questions of those in authority over them.
‘The thing now,’ said Sigerson, ‘is whether we should all go back together.’
‘Safest not to split our small forces, surely?’ said Fenton. ‘We do not know how strong the enemy may be.’
‘True enough. And yet I should dearly like to take a look at our adversary,’ said Sigerson.
Norbu put in, ‘Our enemies presumably have never seen the man and girl they seek. If we disguised the girl as a boy, and send these men –’ he meant the three monks who were with us – ‘back with them, it will look like a father and his four sons. They should not attract attention, even if they are spotted, whereas a larger force might. Moreover, these monks have instructions not to return to Lhasa alive if anything should happen to the God-King’s family.’
I may add that these monks were not at all the lean, ascetic men one thinks of as being monks in the west, nor yet the rotund Friar Tuck type of the old legends. They were evidently all farmers’ sons, great strapping fellows who must have been part of that surplus male population of which Fenton had told me earlier. I should not have cared to tangle with any one of them in a dark alleyway.
‘H’mm,’ said Sigerson. ‘That may be so, but how would they stand up against rifle fire?’
‘How should we?’ asked Norbu – for we still had nothing in the way of firearms ourselves. ‘A larger party might more easily attract those unwelcome attentions which we are ill-equipped to repel.’
‘That is true,’ said Sigerson. ‘How do the rest of you feel about it?’
‘Let us carry on,’ I said, ‘for I should like to see the enemy.’
‘Dass?’
‘Why not? The winter will be a long one, so let us have some adventure while we may.’
‘Fenton?’
‘Oh, I’ll go along with the majority. A smaller group may get back quicker, and not attract attention. Yes, let’s take a look at our opponents – perhaps that way I’ll finally be convinced that it is the professor.’
We stood watching until the little group was out of our sight, then started off along the track, little more than a footpath, that led out of the village in the opposite direction to that in which we had entered it.
Chapter Nine - Again Professor Moriarty
‘There are only two ways into the village,’ said Sigerson, as we set out, ‘so we must encounter them on this track, for they were not on the other.’
‘I still don’t see what we can accomplish if we do meet them,’ said Fenton. ‘We have no weapons, so we can scarcely hope to stop them.’
‘Well, for one thing we do not yet know how strong they may be,’ said Sigerson. ‘That knowledge in itself may be useful.’
‘And some weapon may turn up,’ added Dass.
Fenton looked unconvinced. ‘And the weather seems to be taking a turn for the worse,’ he said.
‘I confess that does bother me,’ said Sigerson. ‘However, it will affect our opponents just as much as it affects us. Still, I should not like to be trapped in these high regions without adequate provisions, so let us compromise. We shall travel two days, no more, then set off back for Lhasa, whether we have met the enemy or no, come what may. But if Norbu thinks we should turn back sooner, then we shall. How say you to that?’
We all agreed that this sounded reasonable, and speeded up our pace in order that we might get as far as we might before it was time to return.
All the next day, and the morning after that, we kept up a good speed under a leaden sky. Fenton, Norbu and Sigerson all seemed to be trying to outdo the others in setting the most gruelling pace that they could. Only Dass and myself, there by accident, almost as a result of our sense of fun, as it were, seemed not to be infected with the sort of silent desperation which spurred the others on. We struggled at the tail end of the little group, giving each other many an ironic look as the man temporarily at the head of the line tackled a yet more difficult gradient.
There were few travellers abroad now, for those who were to spend the winter in Lhasa were already there, while the others had sought their isolated villages or farmsteads, which their summer labours had stocked with food and kindling.
On the morning of the second day, we passed through a tiny hamlet, attracting stares of curiosity from the people, for they knew that all sensible travellers were back at home by now, and Norbu told us that we were approaching the very limit of our outward journey. ‘Even if we had not decided to return tomorrow,’ said he, ‘we should have had to think about starting back to Lhasa if we would be certain of spending the winter in shelter.’
Sigerson looked none too pleased at this, but he evidently meant to honour his promise, for he said nothing, merely nodding to acknowledge that he had understood. Fenton did not trouble to hide his relief, a relief now shared by Dass and me, for the skies were now ominous even to my untutored eyes.
The little hamlet was three or four hours behind us, when we came to a long, low slope that led up into the swirling clouds. Sigerson, at the head of the column, called for a five-minute halt, and we took out pipes or cigarettes.
‘It is a pity that we could not devote longer to this part of our journey,’ said Sigerson, ‘but it cannot be helped.’ He looked with some disgruntlement at the cigarette of rank Indian tobacco with which Dass had just presented him. ‘Well, Moriarty has presented me with many a three-pipe problem in the past, but – what the devil!’
The last remark was occasioned by the fact that a man had just scrambled over the rim of the rock above us, and now came, half sliding and half running, down the rocky slope towards us. As you may imagine, we looked at him with a good deal of interest. He bore every appearance of being under the influence of some powerful emotion, and as he got nearer we could see that it was fear, for he looked scared to death.
He babbled something in Tibetan, and Norbu translated it for us. ‘He says there are bandits, over this hill.’
‘That sounds bad,’ said Fenton. ‘Under other circumstances, I’d have faced them, but as it is –’
‘I knew we should have brought some weapons,’ I could not resist saying.
Fenton was – very properly – about to put me in my place, when the man said something more to Norbu, in an urgent tone.
‘He says, bandits are all dead,’ Norbu told us.
‘What? How?’
But the man, now somewhat recovered, merely waved to show the way we should go.
‘Come along, then,’ said Sigerson. ‘Dass, you bring this fellow along as quick as you can.’
We set off up the slope, and down the other side. The mist or clouds – the two merge imperceptibly at those heights – prevented our seeing anything until we had gone down the far side for a hundred yards or more, but then we came out to where the atmosphere was clear as crystal, and we halted in our tracks, as if we had all heard an unspoken command.
