The Song of King Gesar, page 21
‘It seems that the gods want you to sing that tale,’ the old man said. He walked with Jigmed for a while. ‘This is the spot where Gesar bade farewell to the consorts who came to see him off to battle, and this is where I, too, will say goodbye.’
The valley was cut in two by a tributary of the Jinsha river, and a road ran between the water and the rocky cliff. The old man pointed out an indentation on the cliff: according to local legend, that was where Gesar had smashed the liquor bowl.
Jigmed stared at the fork in the road. One road led to the old Hor land to the north and the other to the old Jang land to the south. Eddies formed and disappeared in the water below him, just as the story appeared and faded in his mind. The lost story had returned.
‘I remember it now!’ he shouted, and turned, but the old man had left without a word.
Sunlight shone on the road, and tiny flecks of quartz glittered, like salt crystals pushed by waves to the lakeshore.
The Story
Solitude
After Jang had been conquered, the territory, population and treasure of Gling increased many times. Intimidated by Gling’s power and King Gesar’s reputation, the neighbouring countries were content to live peacefully side by side and enter into trade agreements, which further increased Gling’s wealth and power. Her people enjoyed a decade with no wars and no scourge of demons. Gesar’s palace was filled with rare treasures from all over the world. Temples, houses, workshops and shops rose up around the palace, like mushrooms after summer rain. The capital city was now called Tagste khar and its fame travelled far and wide. Girls learned to weave and embroider from their mothers, while the young men, dressed in purple robes, used stone tablets to practise reading, writing and reciting the sutras with teachers in the temples. The scholars named this situation ‘prosperity’.
While Gesar enjoyed the affection of the consorts in his palace, he often set out by himself to see the country, and what he saw could be summed up in a word created by scholars to describe a situation in which nothing happened: ‘stability’.
Of course, he could not stop wolves eating sheep or people falling sick. Neither did the idea of leaving this world enter his head when he encountered old age, sickness and death – he was not from this world, so how could he leave it? The monks came into the palace to spread their teaching, and some even tried to instruct the king, although they knew that he had no need for their counsel. But ruling a prosperous, stable country had not been part of the original plan, and Gesar would sometimes wonder if it was time for Heaven to recall him. It seemed he had accomplished what Heaven had sent him to do and now had nothing with which to stave off idleness.
This thought, of course, was immediately known to the Supreme Deity, who said that after humans solve one problem they create another, and there is no end. It seemed that Thosba Gawa had contracted the human affliction.
‘Then why not recall him?’ someone said.
‘Not yet. Since he complains about peace and idleness, let us find something for him to do. We will have to ask Lhamin Dagmo to go to the human world once more.’
That night, when Gesar went to bed after feasting and merry-making with his consorts, his celestial mother, Lhamin Dagmo, entered his dream, and told him of a country called Monyul, to the west of the old Jang territory, a demon land ruled by Shengkhri Gyalpo, one of the four great demon kings, who also included the vanquished Lutsan, the White King, and Satham of the Jang. Shengkhri Gyalpo had a seven-year-old demon horse called Misen Marpo. The demon king and his demon horse were working on their magic, and by the following year, humans would be incapable of subjugating them.
‘Has Shengkhri Gyalpo ever harmed Gling?’ Gesar asked his celestial mother.
‘Before you were born into the human world, and when your brother, Gyatsa Zhakar, was very young, armies from Monyul penetrated deep into Gling to loot the Tagrong tribe, killing many people and seizing cattle.’
Then she turned to go back to the celestial realm, but Gesar had caused the rainbow she would use to vanish.
‘Does this mean the Supreme Deity wishes me to remain here?’ she asked, concerned.
Gesar laughed. ‘The rainbow would return if Mother did not always come and go so quickly.’
‘So, it was one of your tricks.’ She relaxed. ‘Son of the Deities, you seem sombre. Is something wrong?’
‘I came to destroy the demons for these humans but . . .’
‘Not all are grateful for what you have done?’
Gesar did not reply, for that would mean he was disappointed in the people of Gling. Changing the subject, he said, ‘I have rid Gling of all its demons – how can there be another I have never heard of?’
‘Were you not restless in the palace? Have your monks not told you that demons come from one’s own heart?’ His mother stopped herself. ‘Son of the Deities, I have said too much. Show me the rainbow again.’
He did so, and his celestial mother returned to Heaven.
He woke in the early dawn, the dream still clear in his mind. He looked at the consort beside him, a pretty woman who wore a foolish expression when she slept, and felt lonelier than when he had been banished to the Yellow river bank, though his palace shone in the dark like a giant gemstone, and his consort was warm and sweet-smelling.
He dressed and went up to the roof. The moon had set, but Venus was bright on the horizon. The consorts woke, too, and came to his side.
‘The Supreme Deity wishes me to go into battle again,’ he said to them.
Brugmo would not stop him this time. ‘After the king leaves, I will go to the temple to recite sutras for you every day.’
Meza was concerned. ‘Are the good days coming to an end?’
Atag Lhamo said valiantly, ‘I shall be the king’s advance guard.’
He asked if any had heard of the demon Shengkhri Gyalpo in the southern land of Monyul. They had not. Jetsun Yeshe said, ‘It seems that the enmity between Monyul and Gling was formed in the previous generation, with the Tagrong tribe. Why not ask Uncle Khrothung?’
The Story
Gralha the Youth
On the day of the next court session, Khrothung, who had been reinstated as leader of the Tagrong tribe, was the only person summoned by King Gesar to appear.
‘Is there a lingering dispute between the Tagrong tribe and Monyul?’ Gesar asked him.
Khrothung came forward. ‘Their king, Shengkhri Gyalpo, not only killed our people but also stole the brocade robe, a symbol of the power of the junior branch of Gling.’
‘Why has no one told me of this?’
Chief Minister Rongtsa Khragan replied, ‘Once the king descended to Gling and his influence reached all corners, the demon king no longer dared to trouble us. Besides, the brocade robe failed to unify our people and led to disputes among the three branches. Now, with the great king leading us, there is no more use for the brocade robe.’
Khrothung, his eyes shifting, said, ‘Many years ago, Shengkhri Gyalpo wished to marry his daughter, Metog Drolma, into our Tagrong tribe. I hear that she is twenty-five years old but still as pretty as ever.’
Everyone laughed when they saw Khrothung lick his lips at the thought of a beautiful woman.
‘You think she is too old for you? But you are sixty-two,’ Danma said.
Khrothung’s self-satisfied air made Gesar wonder if it had been a mistake to reinstate him so soon.
‘If Gling wages war against Monyul, the Tagrong tribe should be the vanguard in order to settle old scores,’ Gesar said.
Khrothung had no choice but to say, ‘If the king gives the order, I will obey.’
It had already occurred to Gesar that since Shengkhri Gyalpo was skilled in magic, the advance guard must be the Tagrong’s soldiers under the leadership of Khrothung, who was equally adept in transformation. But he changed his mind when he saw Gralha, his elder brother’s son. The boy had just turned sixteen, but was handsome and valiant, with a bright face and clear eyes. He had rushed to the capital from the border region the day before the court session, and Danma had brought him to see the king that same night. It was as if Gesar’s brother stood before him again, and he felt a tightness in his chest.
Although he enjoyed the favours of Brugmo, Meza and other consorts, all of whom were beautiful as flowers, as well as Atag Lhamo and Jetsun Yeshe, the Hor princess, Gesar remained heirless. The consorts all wanted to give him a son so they could consolidate their position in the palace; his father, Senglon, and the chief minister wished him to have a son to inherit the throne of Gling. But as a king sent down from Heaven to save the people, he was unsure whether he should leave a son to become the next King of Gling. Neither the Supreme Deity nor his celestial parents had offered any guidance on this. None of the consorts had borne him any children, even after sharing his bed for ten years, and he took that as a sign from Heaven.
Gesar had planned to bequeath his throne to his loyal brother, Gyatsa Zhakar, after he had accomplished his mission, but Gyatsa Zhakar had ended his earthly life too soon and had left for the Pure Land of the Buddhist realm. Now his nephew stood before him.
Tender feelings welled inside Gesar. ‘You remind me of my brother.’
Tears shone in Gralha’s eyes when he heard the king speak of his father.
‘I shall love you like a father and treat you as my own son,’ Gesar told him.
The youth knelt before him. ‘I came here today to ask the king’s permission to be the advance guard for the expedition to Monyul.’
Gesar’s heart stirred. This youth may indeed grow up to be Gling’s future king, he thought. But Gesar composed his face as befitted a king and made only a questioning grunt. ‘Oh?’
Under the encouraging gaze of Danma, the prince slowly made his case: Gling might have tens of thousands of soldiers and horses but it conducted warfare in a way passed down from primitive times, when a battle was won solely upon the generals’ magical powers and individual combat. But in powerful countries like India, they knew how to deploy thousands of elephants. In China, fine horses wore armour into battle, and tens of thousands of warriors in chariots raised their swords. Like wind piling snow, or waves pushing sand, their swords met no resistance wherever they were pointed. The prince’s father had built such an army, in which tens of thousands of soldiers moved in unison, turning a thousand swords into one sword and ten thousand arrows into one.
Gralha said to the king, ‘I have followed my father’s methods and trained daily. I would like to try a new battle strategy.’
Gesar said, ‘You may go now. I will consider your request carefully.’
Before they left, Danma knelt before the king.
‘Revered King, I, Danma, pledge absolute loyalty. I will do my best to help Gralha.’
Gesar paced the palace halls for a long time, thinking about Prince Yulha Thoggyur of Jang, who had joined him after the salt-lake battle. The Jang prince was also a trustworthy young warrior. Why not give the heroes of the younger generation a chance to display their talent in a battle with Monyul? At court the next day, he gave the order to let Gralha lead the army trained by Gyatsa Zhakar, and he sent a messenger to tell Yulha Thoggyur to take his troops to the border.
Several days later Gesar left with his army, heading south. Along the way, he was joined by troops from Hor, led by Shanpa Merutse, and from the demon country, led by Atag Lhamo. Deep valleys marked the border between Monyul and Gling, but Gralha’s advance guard had already built broad plank roads and floating bridges. The troops passed as if across flat land.
They entered a forest where the sun could not shine, and a thick mist made the horses and their riders so sleepy that they fell to the ground as if drugged. Gesar rose up into the sky on his celestial steed, and saw that great glaciers like mirrors covered the mountains and reflected the light to the south. But the valleys were in shadow. Gling’s men and horses were falling asleep on the soft moss under the ancient trees, their faces and bodies turning green. Mushrooms sprouted on them. Still astride his steed, Gesar summoned the mountain gods.
‘Let the sun shine into these valleys,’ he said. ‘It will drive away the poisonous fog and dry the muddy road.’
The mountain gods shrugged. ‘Let the sun shine into the valleys? Why would we do that?’
Gesar laughed, and sent thunderclaps from his hands, cracking two towering mountains in half and causing the mountain gods to bleed from their noses and ears. Sunlight burst through the fissures and into the valleys, and the soldiers caught in the fog shouted for joy. Valleys that had been dark for thousands of years were filled with light, and the fog slowly dispersed. Tangled vines in dank places shook themselves free, and the muddy road dried. The sleeping soldiers rose up and the army set out again.
Gralha and his men had crossed the river to the south and were encamped along its banks by the time Gesar arrived. Shanpa Merutse led his soldiers to the south bank, while Senglon and Khrothung guarded the middle troops. Warriors of the senior and middle branches spread out like the wings of falcons. Atag Lhamo’s soldiers brought up the rear, in case the Monyul mountain demons and water sprites attacked from behind. And, indeed, when night fell and the other camps slept, demons attacked. They had been hiding along the route the Gling soldiers had traversed earlier. Atag Lhamo and her warriors fought hard until the red sun rose and chased away the demons.
Gesar smiled when he saw her. ‘The general looks exhausted, probably because she did not sleep last night.’
Atag Lhamo said, with pride, ‘The demons troubled us, but my warriors dealt with them.’
Gesar invited his consort to sit by him. ‘Our mission is not only to conquer a country but, more importantly, to destroy demons and bring peace to the people. You have made a great contribution to our goal.’
‘It was the effective battle formation arranged by the great king. My troops are the strongest against demons.’
‘I did not create the formation.’ Gesar pointed to Gralha. ‘This time I followed his orders.’
Monyul occupied a vast land, with thirteen large river valleys and a population of millions. The people were favored with plenty of rain, a short winter and a long summer. The mountainsides were covered with flowers and fruit. Yet the people did not have a good life: their king, Shengkhri Gyalpo, was a demon and so was their chief minister, Kulha Thoggyal. Neither of them concerned himself with managing the country, but feasted on human flesh and drank human blood. The people of Monyul lived in constant fear.
Gesar said, ‘The four demon kings have terrorised the world for too long. The other three met their destruction at the hand of Gling, but Shengkhri Gyalpo has survived because Monyul is so far away and he has caused no trouble for many years.’
Yulha Thoggyur said, ‘Shengkhri Gyalpo is at the most critical stage of his training, which is why he has given strict orders to his underlings to be alert. He hopes to pass this year in peace and, when he finishes his training, he wishes to rule the world. This is why he has avoided us so far. There are two rivers to ford before we reach his palace, where his army waits to wage war with us.’
Gesar summoned Gralha and, touching the young man’s shoulder, said, ‘Tomorrow the troops will take your orders as you put my brother’s tactics into practice.’
But the next day all was quiet, and the drawbridge to the Monyul camp was up. At noon a single horse rode out to meet Gralha.
‘May I ask the name of the young commander in chief? I am Kulha Thoggyal, chief minister of Monyul.’ He told Gralha that the fields along the river were where the king’s consorts came to pick flowers, and where his officials held contests in magic and horsemanship. Flowers bloomed, cuckoos sang; it was a blessed land. How could they sit idly by and watch a foreign army fill the air with a murderous atmosphere?
Gralha smiled. ‘Wherever the warriors of Gling point their swords, we turn a place overrun by demons into a blissful land such as you have just described. Now get off your horse and surrender.’
Kulha Thoggyal responded calmly, ‘I, Kulha Thoggyal, treat my family and friends as gently as Chinese silk, but I can be a sharp arrow and powerful thunderclap in battle. So, I warn you, your troops must be gone from the riverbank before sunrise tomorrow.’ He turned his horse and rode at a leisurely pace until he rounded a grove of trees, when he spurred it into a gallop. He was drenched in sweat when he reached the palace.
‘We must delay,’ Kulha Thoggyal told his king. ‘We will placate the Tagrong tribe by giving back twice as many people and livestock as we seized, and returning their brocade robe. Then, once the king has perfected his occult practice, we shall make them pay a hundredfold for what we must do today.’
With a stony look, the king said, ‘Have you agreed on a price?’
Kulha Thoggyal said, ‘Your humble official would never do that. This is only my suggestion. Besides, Gesar will not leave without a victory – he would never negotiate with me.’
‘Then what are you trying to tell me?’
‘I have had dealings with Khrothung, the leader of the Tagrong tribe, and he knows what we are capable of.’
‘That old man has been coveting our beautiful princess. Would you have me give her to him?’
Kulha Thoggyal knelt before the king. ‘I will prepare our army for a battle with Gling tomorrow.’
Shengkhri Gyalpo smiled and left his seat to help Kulha Thoggyal to his feet. ‘You receive the desired results from negotiation only after you have dealt your enemy a severe blow. Let us fight first. Their blood will flow like a river, which will save your tongue some effort.’
The Story
War between Monyul and Gling
Early the next morning, Kulha Thoggyal rode out with Shengkhri Gyalpo to look over Gling’s troops. He could not conceal a disdainful grin.
The king asked if he was sure of victory.
‘Great King, they will be defeated. We hear that Gling has many heroes, but that is a rumour spread by the faint-hearted. When we attacked the Tagrong tribe, they put up little resistance – and look at their formation. Hordes of people crowding into each other. What creature needs to crowd together to bolster its courage? The sheep! If a tiger or a leopard walks alone, its majesty make you take notice.’
