‘Emily.’
‘I hope Emily will send him our way. Meanwhile I should probably give you the background. Don’t suppose there’s any chance of a cup of coffee…’
Five minutes later they were both sitting in armchairs by the bay window, nursing mugs of coffee. It was now three years since they had met, by chance, on a flight out to Nepal. Sally had been waiting for her visa into Tibet, on her way to a relative’s wedding, and Jack had been on one of his geology field trips, acclimatising before going further up into the mountains. Having established their common link of the university, they had met up for dinner at her hotel, arguing good-naturedly about their different perspectives on Asia and comparing notes on academic life over cups of chrysanthemum tea.
Now they chatted easily for a while, catching up on the last few years. Sally’s astute brown eyes hardened momentarily when Jack mentioned the pyramid mountain. But as he went on to describe the other discoveries they had made about the secret system of beyuls, she began to smile again.
‘Well, you have got yourselves in over your heads, haven’t you? And no wonder. A geologist and an adventurer, trying to tackle the esoteric myths of Buddhism. Now the first thing I should tell you is—’ She broke off as the phone buzzed on her desk and, with a frown, went to pick it up. ‘Yes, yes. Send him through.’
A few moments later Luca walked in, wearing jeans and a yellow T-shirt with ‘Easily Distracted’ written across it. He smiled in a practised way, pushing his fringe of blond hair back from his face.
‘I’m sorry I’m late,’ he said, glancing at Jack before directing the full wattage of his smile at the tiny Tibetan woman. ‘I’m afraid I didn’t inherit the punctuality gene in the family.’
Sally shook his hand in greeting, then glanced down at his T-shirt. ‘I suppose I should try and get to the point as soon as possible. Pull up a chair, Luca. I was just about to explain to Jack why you shouldn’t believe in fairytales.’
Luca hung a soft leather satchel over the back of his chair and settled down, his expression instantly focused.
‘Go on.’
Sally spread her hands. ‘Well, Jack has been telling me about your adventures in Tibet and your interest in beyuls. It’s a fascinating area of Buddhist folklore, no doubt about that, but I’m afraid that’s all it is: folklore.’
Luca frowned and leaned forward, resting his chin on one fist. ‘But the books all say the same thing, and they’re pretty specific: that beyuls are sanctuaries of total enlightenment, the most holy places in all Tibet. And they say there are twenty-one of them, situated in the most remote areas of the country.’
Sally sighed. ‘Believe me, you’re not the first person to be seduced by the idea of beyuls. But just listen to what you are saying — sanctuaries of total enlightenment. Doesn’t that sound like a myth to you?’
She raised one eyebrow and fixed him with the disparaging gaze that was usually reserved for her first-year students. There was a pause before she continued speaking, her voice softening a little.
‘I’ve always thought of the beyul myth as the equivalent of the Holy Grail in Christian belief. As any psychologist worth their salt will tell you, people love a seemingly impossible quest. It brings up all sorts of atavistic feelings: that somehow they are special and will defeat the odds.’
‘So you’re saying these places don’t really exist?’ said Jack, sounding disappointed. ‘They’re just figments of someone’s imagination.’
Sally smiled, shifting her tiny frame more upright in the armchair so that her feet dangled a few inches above the ground.
‘It all depends on your point of view. I’m not saying there isn’t any truth to them. I’m just saying such truths aren’t literal, and certainly not to the extent that you can prove them by sight or touch.’
Jack nodded. ‘You’re talking about metaphors, right? Well, they’re certainly common enough in religious belief.’
‘Metaphors?’ Luca exhaled impatiently. ‘Guys, you’ve completely lost me. Metaphors for what? I don’t even understand what beyuls are exactly. Sanctuaries keep on being mentioned — but sanctuaries from what?’
‘Oh, the usual sort of thing… darkness, evil, all that sort of stuff,’ Sally answered, staring out of the window. ‘The beyuls are a central theme in the many apocalyptic myths of Tibet. It’s similar to Biblical prophecy: when the end comes, and the world is consumed by chaos, the Lamas will lead the common people to these beyuls and, once there, they will find the wisdom and enlightenment necessary to weather the storm.’
Jack cleared his throat. ‘So there’s no truth to the idea that they contain priceless treasures?’
Sally Tang laughed, switching her gaze from one expectant face to the other. ‘Well, only in as much as every good fairytale features a hidden treasure. The myths certainly do refer to immense treasures, of infinite value. But, boys — have you any idea how many hapless fortune hunters have wasted their whole lives looking for such hidden treasures and vast riches? It’s like those endless quests for Shangri-La. They went off, searching vast mountain ranges or hacking their way into mighty river gorges…’
‘And what did they find?’ This time it was Luca who spoke.
‘They found what you would expect to find in such places — rivers and mountains. They went on wild goose chases, mistaking ancient Tibetan legends for literal truth.’
Luca leaned forward in his chair. ‘So there never were any treasures?’
‘That is exactly what I am saying,’ Tang answered impatiently. ‘There was nothing but myth. The fortune hunters found no empirical evidence at all.’
As she spoke, Luca reached behind him and, picking up his satchel, slipped open the buckles. Inside was the rolled photocopy of Jack’s thangka, which he’d unpinned from his wall to show her: the pyramid mountain lay at the centre of the picture, surrounded by its circular range of mountains.
‘No evidence at all?’ he repeated, staring at her quizzically. ‘So how do you explain the fact that I saw these mountains, exactly as they’re drawn here? Well, minus the squatting monk.’
The professor sighed at Luca’s stubborn line of questioning.
‘I grant you that some of the stories go into detail about the twenty-first or “mountain” beyul. It is supposed to be the most enlightened out of all the beyuls, a kind of heaven on earth, if you will. It’s often described or illustrated just as it has been here — a pyramid-shaped mountain with a strange ring of mountains that protect it. But, of course, the genesis of most legend and myth lies in reality. No doubt the concept of the holiest of beyuls arose because there was this peculiarly symmetrical rock formation — and that may well have been what you saw.’ Her eyes rested for a moment on Luca’s bare, tanned arms, folded across his chest. ‘But if you’re thinking of haring off to Tibet in search of the holiest of beyuls, then I’d urge you, as a friend of your uncle’s and also a responsible adult, to reconsider.’
She flicked a sidelong glance at Jack before turning back to Luca, her bright eyes suddenly very serious. ‘Over the years many Westerners — often those who were dissatisfied with their own daily lives — have become obsessed with these beyuls. As a result, a lot of them died very lonely deaths in some of the farthest reaches of Tibet.’
Jack looked over at his nephew who was now staring out of the bay window, apparently lost in thought. ‘Luca? Are you with us?’