Chapter 3
There was no natural light, only a collection of squat candles connected by long rivulets of syrupy wax. From their flames came a low aureole of light, illuminating the outline of five seats carved directly into the stone walls.
The seats were arranged in a semi-circle, following the natural shape of the chamber. All but the middle one was occupied by a cross-legged figure dressed in highly ornate robes. The fabrics were all dyed in rich contrasting colours and wrapped in complex folds so that only the right arm of the figure remained bare.
On the other side of the circular chamber, a small collection of personal effects had been laid out neatly on the stone floor. There were five of each item, prayer wheels, beads and miniature golden bells, stretching away from the candlelight.
One of the figures leaned back, pulling aside the yellow cowl that covered his face.
‘The divinations were correct,’ he said in a voice cracked by age. ‘The boy has been found.’
The others turned to look at him, their elderly faces creased in surprise.
‘You are certain of this?’
‘I am.’
Another of the monks leaned forward in his seat, arranging his red robes around him.
‘How did you find him so soon after His Holiness passed away?’
The monk in the yellow robe smiled. ‘It was indeed a marvellous thing. The smoke from the cremation blew south-west, confirming exactly what the Tshangpa oracle said. After only a month of searching, we found the boy in a small village called Tingkye.’
‘A month?’ another monk interrupted dubiously. ‘How can
‘If the divinations are correct, you should do nothing but rejoice that we have found him so fast.’
‘And the boy — what is he like?’ asked another, slightly younger monk, his green robes glinting in the candlelight as he leaned forward eagerly to address the others.
‘He is only nine years old, a peasant with no learning or education. Yet as soon as I cast eyes on him, I saw he possessed a spirit that was identical to his predecessor’s. When I showed him the personal effects, he did not hesitate for a moment. He chose His Holiness’s personal prayer wheel, then the golden bell that he only used in his private chamber. Presented with five different prayer beads, he cast his hands over each before settling on the one that can only be used by His Holiness — the beads made of jade and silver that are the mark of Shigatse. They boy took them into his pocket and then looked at me curiously, saying, “These are mine. Where did you find them?”’
As the old monk finished speaking the other three bowed their heads in awe. The search could take years, even decades, and yet in only a few weeks the boy had been found.
Eventually one of them raised his head.
‘And what of the golden urn?’
‘He was chosen. With each trial, it soon became clear to me that he did not even know he was being tested. The movements came to him naturally, as if he were following a dream he had already experienced. Such things could not have been taught.’
There was another long pause as each monk considered the significance of what they had been told. Then the younger one in the green robes glanced round the semi-circle, his eyes bright.
‘We must inform Shigatse that their new leader has been found.’
The monk in the red robes shook his head abruptly, sending shadows flickering across the chamber’s walls.
‘No. We must tell no one. The boy’s identity must be concealed at all costs. If such news were ever to leave this room, there are many more powerful than us who would seek to control him. We must act quickly, brothers, or suffer a terrible fate.’
He turned his head slowly so that his gaze fell on each of them in turn.
‘This is the most important secret we will ever have to keep,’ he said, raising his finger towards the ceiling of the chamber. ‘The very fate of Tibet now depends on us.’
Chapter 4
The climb down was relatively easy.
Luca began by using the ropes to lower Bill down from the ledge, but almost as soon as they started the descent, he began to feel better. The profound lethargy that had crippled him further up the mountain dissipated with each new lungful of thicker air. As the hours passed, and they abseiled quickly downhill, strength seeped back into each tired muscle.
Soon he was climbing down at almost the same pace as Luca. By the time the pair of them reached the lower slopes where they had built the snow hole, the only ill effect that remained was an occasional rasping cough.
His mood, however, had darkened. He knew that what he had experienced up there were the first signs of a full-blown pulmonary oedema. Both he and Luca had witnessed it once before on the north buttresses of Mont Blanc. A solo climber had got himself stranded high on the mountain, cut off by the darkness and high winds. Bill and Luca had turned back earlier that afternoon and reached the safety of the Cosmiques refuge, nestled on the ridge above the towering pinnacle of the Aiguille du Midi.
Throughout the night, the sounds of the dying climber crackled through on their radio.
At first he just coughed, but after a while he began breathing with a slow, laboured gurgling sound as his lungs filled with liquid. By the time the helicopter arrived at daybreak, he had slipped into a coma.
A day later, when they had made it down to Chamonix village, they found out he had died on the way to hospital — drowned on his own body fluid.
The incident was replaying itself in Bill’s mind as they trudged along a narrow ridge in silence. Suddenly, without warning, he stopped and dug his ice axe into the snow. He lifted his goggles up on to his sunburned forehead and turned to face Luca, eyes squinting against the harsh sunlight.
‘You were going to just leave me up there!’
Luca stopped and the rope between them sagged, paying out in a small arch.
‘Not for long, mate. We were just below the summit… maybe twenty minutes or so. I thought I could bag it quickly and come back for you.’
‘Don’t bullshit me. We weren’t that close.’
Luca began coiling off the slack in the rope automatically.
‘This isn’t the time to do this,’ he said quietly. ‘We’re both knackered from the climb and we’ve got another couple of hours to camp one.’
Bill picked up his ice axe, shifting the weight of his rucksack. Then he stood looking down the ridge as if weighing up his words.
‘Tell me, Luca, is that how it played out on Everest?’
The placatory expression on Luca’s face was wiped off and his grey eyes became as expressionless as polished marble. Unclipping his pack, he let it slip to the ground, trying to control a sudden surge of temper. But colour had appeared in blotches on his cheeks and when he spoke his voice was barely more than a whisper.
‘Don’t ever say that again. You know exactly what happened.’
After a pause Bill shrugged and went to trudge past him, but this time Luca remained where he stood, barring the way.
‘I’m serious, Bill. Don’t ever say that again. You know what it cost me.’
‘Then how could you even think about leaving me up there? Didn’t you learn your lesson?’
‘Learn my lesson? Jesus Christ, Bill! Did you ever stop to consider that maybe I wasn’t thinking straight up there either? Altitude hits everyone a different way. I thought we were right under the summit.’
‘It shouldn’t even have crossed your mind…’
‘Enough of this shit!’ Luca interrupted, raising his hand. Gathering up his rucksack, he started trudging down
