The Mandala of Sherlock Holmes - Jamyang Norbu [91]
'We'd be going around in circles,' I admitted, a trifle abashedly.
'Exactly There are just too many references to circles in this message to make it possible that it is a physical description of a route to some actual destination.'
'You are right, Mr Holmes,' said the Lama Yonten.'The message is probably symbolic. The circle, or the wheel, is the omniscient symbol of the essential principles of our faith; of cause and effect, of birth and death, indeed of the entire cycle of existence itself. Perhaps the message is nothing more than that — just a religious discourse couched in recondite metaphysical terms.'
'That really won't do, Your Reverence,' said Holmes, shaking his head. 'It hardly stands to reason that a man of Moriarty's unregenerate nature should take such trouble to steal a religious tract. No. The message definitely conceals something of great material advantage to the Professor. His own words seem to indicate that he is seeking some tremendous source of power.'
'But exactly what, Mr Holmes?' I demanded.
'There is an appalling directness about your questions, Hurree.' said Holmes, shaking his pipe at me. 'They come at me like bullets.'
'I am sorry, Sir, I did not mean ...'
Holmes waved away my apologies. 'The answer to your question lies in the Ice Temple. I really do not think we can form any further conclusions without paying a visit to the place.'
'Well, Mr Holmes,' said the Lama, 'we shall be there in a week, when His Holiness goes there on his retreat. That is if the Regent doesn't have me arrested first and the visit stopped.'
'Then the sooner we get to the temple the better,' said Holmes crisply. 'Is it possible for the Grand Lama's travel plans to be advanced?'
'That would go against tradition,' protested the Lama. 'The date for His Holiness's departure has been especially chosen by the State Astrologer.'
'Well, Sir,' replied Holmes, a trifle brutally, 'you will have to choose between flying in the face of tradition or seeing the end of everything you have worked for, not least, the life of your master.'
The Lama Yonten was silent for sometime, head bowed low, his hand turning the beads of his rosary with soft regular clicks. Finally he sat up and said resignedly at Sherlock Holmes. 'You are, of course, right, Mr Holmes. When shall we leave?'
'The sooner the better. We must not forget that Moriarty may be making a trip of his own to the temple, if he has not been too affected by tonight's mishap. Do you think it would be possible for His Holiness to start tomorrow?'
'Tomorrow,' the Lama Yonten wailed. 'That is impossible.'
But of course, it wasn't.
Next day at dusk a small cavalcade of riders departed inconspicuously from the rear gate of the outer walls of the Jewel Park, by the deserted shores of the Kyichu River. Only a few water fowls (Tib. damcha) watched the passing of the line of men and horses. I rode alongside Mr Holmes, just behind the Grand Lama and the Lama Yonten. Tsering, Kintup and ten Thibetan soldiers rode ahead. Our company had been kept small on Mr Holmes's insistence, he very correctly feeling that anything larger would adversely affect our speed, and, more critically, the secrecy of our expedition.
The young Grand Lama, far from objecting to Holmes's precipitous decision, had been tremendously enthusiastic about it and had refused to pay any attention to the Chief Secretary's many doubts. The Lama Yonten, to give him his due, soon recovered from his initial worries and quickly got down to making all the necessary preparations for our expedition — which were considerable. We could not just 'rough it' as the Grand Lama himself was travelling with us, and proper tents, provisions and bedding had to be arranged. But it was all very efficiently accomplished before the appointed hour of our departure.
The Ice Temple of Shambala was about a hundred miles north of Lhassa — three days' hard riding. It was located, quite uniquely, under a huge mass of trapped glacial ice, squeezed between a