CHAPTER V
UJJAYANI
The sea was like molten silver. The burning sun blazed pitilessly down on the little vessel, which was motionless. The northerly breeze reckoned upon by Monas had failed him. They had been becalmed for days, and the water was running short. All day the boys were stretched out under a rough awning of palm leaves, panting for breath. The sky was like a dome of burnished steel. One night Porlor watched the northern horizon, and saw a bank of clouds rising, which he pointed out to the old pilot and to his brother. Soon cat's–paws were seen along the surface of the sea. Monas said there would be a breeze in the morning. But their water would not last them, unless they replenished at some well on the Arabian coast; yet this was a very perilous proceeding, for the eastern side of the Red Sea was infested by savage robbers. There was, however, no alternative, and as soon as the breeze filled his sails, Monas steered for a port called Jidda, 320 miles south of Myos Hormos. They came to off a grove of palm trees, which denoted the presence of wells, on a bright moonlight night. A short distance to the south there were a few scattered huts. When dawn broke they could see that the wells were in possession of armed men. Monas feared to land, but the boys declared they would die fighting rather than die of thirst. Well armed, and accompanied by half a dozen of the crew, Coelred and Porlor took the boat, landed, and boldly advanced towards the wells. They were met half–way by a solitary Arab, who stood in the path uttering the word "Bismillah." He was a powerful young man, about five years older than Coelred, in a long camel's–hair cloth, with the hood secured round his head by a green band. His complexion was bronzed, nose aquiline, lips rather thick, and he had piercing black eyes. He held a long spear in his right hand. Coelred said in Greek that they must have water. The young Arab replied in the same language that the wells were in his possession. He said that he was Muhammad, the son of Abdallah, servant of Abu Taleb, one of the chiefs of the Koraish of Mekka. He was commanding an expedition against the robbers who attacked the caravans of Mekka, and had defeated them and driven them from the wells of Jidda. They should have water if they paid for it—let the master of the ship come to him. Coelred sent the boat back for old Monas, and the English lads stood facing the Arab youth, all leaning on their spears. Few more words passed between them. The Arab gazed at the young Englishmen with unconcealed admiration, and the lads scanned the features of the strange being before them with feelings of curiosity and interest which they could not have explained. Monas was very agreeably surprised to find a law–maintaining force at the wells, instead of the cut–throats he expected. It was soon arranged that the vessel should be watered and replenished with some provisions, in exchange for six bales of cloth. This occupied the rest of the day. Young Muhammad and the English lads rested under the shade. The Arab's knowledge of Greek merely enabled him to strike bargains, and he could not converse, so that the time was passed, for the most part, in friendly silence. The undefinable feeling of interest which took possession of the boys when they first encountered this extraordinary man was increased as they sat near him. The expression of his countenance changed frequently, but was always remarkable. His eyes were bright and eager while he bargained with Monas; they had a soft and gentle look when they rested on the truthful faces of his companions; then again they once or twice flashed a look of fierce anger, apparently without cause. But what the boys noticed with most interest was that far–away, abstracted look which came into the Arab's eyes as he rested under the trees, as if he saw things invisible to all besides himself; and when this strange look came it lasted long. They had seen something like it in the Princess Alca, and once or twice in old Monas. But there was something in the Arab's look which was peculiar to himself: it was as if madness mingled in his strange abstraction; and when he shook it off, it was with a glance of fury. The boys were quite absorbed by their companion, and when Monas called them away the sun was already on the horizon. They took leave of each other with solemn courtesy, and an hour afterwards the vessel was under weigh and sailing down the Red Sea with a fresh northerly breeze. The boys talked long over their encounter with this strange being, and never forgot it. The makers of England and the false prophet had this wonderful meeting before the serious work of their lives was begun. It taught the English boys to recognise a man with deep convictions, and to distinguish between real fanaticism and fraud. It elevated the fanciful conceptions of the Arab, and when he dreamt of angels he saw the faces of Coelred and of Porlor.
COELRED AND PORLOR ON THEIR WAY TO THE WELLS
The breeze continued, the air was cooler, and Monas said that they would soon reach their next stopping–place, the emporium of Ocelis. By this time he knew the whole history of his young companions. They had never thought for a moment of turning back after the death of the Gothic Prince, but were quite resolved to complete their adventure before returning to Antioch; and the old man, without any tie of his own, had become warmly attached to them. He would give them the use of his knowledge and experience, see them safe again on their way home, and then follow his master Cosmas into monastic seclusion.
Many a long conversation was held between the boys and their aged friend during the long starlight nights, when the little vessel made her way over the smooth sea to Ocelis. One night they talked of the young Arab and his look of abstraction. "It is the look," said Monas, "which betokens fitness for a life of seclusion, of devotion to prayer, and thoughts of eternity. The monks often have it, and the generation in which I live is one much given to a monkish life. It is only in such a life that we can find rest, safety from hell fire, and that religious truth without which there is no safety. In Egypt alone there are now six hundred monasteries, all maintaining the truth against the errors of Rome." "And what is the truth?" asked Porlor. "The truth is," said Monas, "that Christ existed of two natures, and whosoever denies it shall for ever be accursed. The Synod of Chalcedon, when Marcian was emperor, declared that Christ existed in two natures, and this wicked heresy is still held by the priests of Rome, and sends many souls to hell. Dangers and pitfalls of false doctrine surround us, and the only safety from them is in monastic seclusion. Young and old should fly to the desert." "That will I never do," cried Coelred. "My life shall be active and earnest. I devote it to brave deeds and to the service of my countrymen." Old Monas shook his head, but he could not help admiring, and even approving, the very different direction to which the hopes and aspirations of his young friends were turned. They understood his words, but their minds were not trained to receive such subtleties. "Does Muhammad hold the truth," asked Porlor, "or is he, like us, ignorant of the true nature of the Son of God? We are ignorant because what you say is beyond our comprehension. How is it with that Arab warrior with the changing eyes?" "The Arab," said Monas, "is a very young man, and he is a heathen. But he has been in Christian cities with merchants of his tribe, and knows something of the truth. I talked with him in the shade while you slept." "We were not asleep," protested the boys. "Fast asleep," repeated Monas, "while I sounded the depths of the young Arab's mind. He is no ordinary man. He will either receive the truth and convert Arabia into a land of saints, or he will be the mightiest heresiarch with which the world has ever been cursed, spreading desolation and moral death over what once was Christendom. But not in my time," drowsily continued the old man. Coelred rose to take the helm, and Porlor followed Monas to the land of dreams.
It was not often that Monas kept the boys awake with such serious discourse. He generally related the stirring events in his voyages with Cosmas, taught them the rules of steering by the stars, and told of the famous book written in the time of the Emperor Nero, and called the Periplus of the Erythraean Sea, from which Cosmas gleaned much of the information which enabled him to make his voyages successfully. The northerly wind soon brought them to the emporium of Ocelis, near the strait of Dere, which opens upon the Erythraean Sea. Here they again took in water and provisions, proceeding along the Arabian coast to Kane, a port of considerable trade, where some of the merchandise was exchanged for frankincense and aloes. Sailing onwards to the east, they reached Syagros, whence, in accordance with the directions laid down by his master, Monas proceeded to make his bold voyage across the trackless ocean to distant India. The south–west wind, called Hippalus from the pilot who first attempted the passage by it, carried the little vessel across the sea until, in a few days, the coast of Guzerat was sighted, the mouth of the great river Narbada was entered, and Monas piloted her past islands and shoals, and anchored her off the ghât of the busy port of Barugaza.
Founded by the sage Bhriga, the town of Barugaza was one of the oldest seaports of Western India, and was then one of the chief seats of trade. Its exports were cotton, a kind of fine calico called báftás, bdellium, and flowers of the mahina tree. Barugaza is on an artificial hill 60 feet high overlooking the river, the only rising ground for many miles around; for a flat alluvial plain of fertile black soil stretches away for fifty miles to the foot of the mountains, covered with crops of cotton and rice. Here and there a clump of mango and other fruit trees denoted the position of a village, and on an island in the Narbada there was a banyan–tree with 350 large and 3000 small stems, enclosing a space 700 yards in circumference.
There was much to astonish, much to interest, the English lads on first landing at the ghât of Barugaza. They had seen an elephant at Alexandria, but everything else was strange to them; especially the dresses of the people, the merchants in their snow–white robes and red turbans, and the crowds of coolies with nothing but a dhuti round their waists, carrying heavy loads, and taking cargoes on board the boats. Kesava was the name of the merchant who always acted as agent for Monas when he brought a cargo to Barugaza; and this was the fifth time he had made the voyage, without counting those in which he accompanied Cosmas. Before they were contaminated by intercourse with Europeans, the merchants of India were celebrated for their probity and fair dealing; and Kesava was a good specimen of his class. Property could be entrusted to his care with perfect confidence, and he took charge of the vessel and the crew, while Monas and the boys were to convey their merchandise up country to Ujjayani, one of the seven sacred cities of the Hindus, the famous capital of Malwa.
Monas set out on his journey a few days after his arrival at Barugaza. He and the boys travelled in open palkis, their bales of goods were slung on bamboos which were borne on the shoulders of coolies, and they were guarded by a well–equipped body of fighting men. They travelled up stream, along the right bank of the Narbada, for 180 miles, to a small town called Mandlesar, where the river is still 500 yards in width. Thence the route turned northwards across the Vindhya Hills for a distance of seventy miles to Ujjayani. Coelred and Porlor walked across the hills, travelling from midnight until sunrise, and on the third day from leaving Mandlesar they entered the far–famed capital of Malwa. Along this road the English lads observed that long lines of trees were planted to afford shade to travellers from the scorching rays of the sun, while at intervals there were fountains by the road–side to enable them to quench their thirst. Porlor, especially, was deeply impressed with the excellence of a government which took such thought for the comfort of its people.
The city of Ujjayani was built on the right bank of the river Sipra, with ghâts leading down to the water. It was very extensive, and contained many grand edifices, besides the famous temple of Siva and the palace of the Raja. There were, however, more trees than houses. Every dwelling had its shady garden stocked with flowering shrubs, and round the city there was a broad belt of fruit trees, and avenues of the sacred vata or peepul trees, frequented by the Hanuman monkeys. Within this belt of foliage were the great tanks with bathing ghâts shaded by clumps of tall trees, above which rose the spreading fans of the palmyra palm and the graceful areca; while palása and tulasi shrubs, with their gorgeous flowers, concealed the bathers.
The golden age of Hindu literature was the period when Vikramaditya ruled at Ujjayani about B.C. 57, and when the "Nava–ratna" or nine gems of literature flourished there. His dynasty still ruled over Malwa, and in 592 Jayachandra was the Raja. The place was full of traditions of the hero king, and of his divine poet Kalidasa, whose immortal works had the freshness and reality at Ujjayani which such poems can only really possess at the place where they were composed. The bright river Sipra, the flowering groves, the pretty girls descending the ghâts with lotas on their heads, the cranes in the paddy swamps—all nature reminded the votaries of Kalidasa that he dwelt at the court of Ujjayani when he wrote Sakuntala, the Seasons, and the Cloud Messenger. Peace reigned in Malwa, but there were threatening clouds on the northern horizon. Gollas, King of the White Huns, had overrun Northern India, and terror repeated marvellous stories of the prowess of his army, which included 2000 elephants. It was said that, when he besieged a town, his soldiers drank all the water in the ditch, and then marched dry–shod to beat down the walls. It was to this conqueror that Athanagild had contemplated the offer of his sword; but Coelred and Porlor had no such intention. Ujjayani was to be the remotest point of their wanderings, whence they were to return homewards.
Monas was busily engaged in exchanging the merchandise for bales of small bulk, containing fine calico and muslin, valuable gums, spices, precious stones, and specie. Among his acquaintance there was an old Guru named Govinda, who had travelled far and spoke Greek. He was a man of profound learning though of Sudra caste, and was passing the evening of his days at Ujjayani, occupied in speculative studies. Govinda had taken a great fancy for the English lads, whose bright intelligence and simple truthfulness first attracted his regard. After their bath in one of the great tanks, they often passed hours conversing with the Guru, asking him questions, and listening to his wonderful discourse. He was generally in the verandah of a small garden–house near a large tank, which was surrounded by flowering shrubs, and shaded by a large vata tree. Here the Guru sat, an old man with a very benevolent expression and high intellectual forehead, clothed in snow–white robes, often with a bundle of reeds forming a book, and a kalam in his hand. Coelred and Porlor reclined on a step at his side, listening eagerly to what he told them. The boys were in perfect health, being well cared for by Monas as regards clothing and protection from the sun and from chills, and living on a diet of rice and pulses duly seasoned, on fruits, and milk. They were thus able to enjoy to the full all the wonders of their sojourn at Ujjayani.
The Guru had told them many tales of Hindu gods and heroes. One morning the boys came from their bath with a quantity of crimson water–lilies, and a handful of the golden–coloured champaka flower, sacred to Krishna. This led Govinda to tell them the story of the avatur, calling Krishna the Son of God. They, in their turn, related the legend of Balder, and, after reflecting a while, the Guru said that Balder and Krishna were one, and that both were Christ. Remembering the conversation with Monas, Porlor asked whether this Son of God with several names, whom they all worshipped, existed of two natures or in two natures. "Both," replied the Guru, and this bold solution appeared at once to sweep away the motives for religious disputes which sounded so incomprehensible to the boys. "Both, for whether of or in two natures, the incarnation of a deity embraces and contains, and in fact is, all that can be expressed by prepositions, and much more."
Then, descending from such sublime speculations, he said that he would relate to his young friends the sequel of the story of the Pandavas, those princes favoured by Krishna, including their search for heaven after a long life of adventures and vicissitudes. The Pandavas found that all the rewards of this life were vanity, and that they must seek for higher and better things. "We must all do likewise sooner or later, and meanwhile we may reflect on the story of the Pandavas," he went on. "There were five princes—Yudisthira, Arjuna, Bhima, and the two sons of Madri. They set out with their wife Draupadi and their dog Suparaka." "That is the name of our dear old dog at home!" exclaimed Coelred. "True," said the Guru, "for Suparaka is Yama." He continued—"The princes, with their beautiful wife and faithful dog, set out for the mighty Himalaya Mountains, to find the heaven of the gods on Mount Meru." "Is not Asgard the abode of the gods?" interrupted Coelred. "Asgard is Meru," explained the long–suffering Guru; "but few can reach it, trusting in their own strength. Sins and moral defects prove fatal to the pilgrims. They toiled on over scorching plains and snowy mountains, tired and foot–sore. Draupadi was the first to fall." Porlor asked why she should be the first. "Her love for Arjuna was too great," explained the Guru. "Next fell one of the sons of Madri, for he thought that none was equal to himself; and the other son of Madri followed, for he had the same fault. Then Arjuna fell, because he could not fulfil his boast that he would destroy all his enemies in one day. Bhima fell, because he cursed his opponents before he encountered them in fight. Yudisthira and the dog Suparaka alone reached the gate of heaven. The Prince was invited by the gods to enter, but he refused unless Draupadi and his brothers were also received. He was assured that they were already there. But he still refused, unless the faithful dog Suparaka could bear him company. The gods remonstrated, but Yudisthira was firm. 'Never, come weal or come woe, will I abandon that faithful dog.' He prevailed, but when he entered he found that Draupadi and his brothers were not in heaven. They cried to him for help from hell. Yudisthira triumphed in the crowning trial. He resolved to share the fate of his dear ones in hell, rather than enjoy heaven without them. This was the supreme test applied by the gods. They then showed him that it was all maya or illusion, and the brothers, Draupadi, and the dog dwell in heaven with the gods, in full content of heart for ever."
Coelred and Porlor talked much over this story of Yudisthira when they returned that evening to their home with Monas. They loved the Pandu prince for standing by the good dog Suparaka, and they swore that they would imitate the steadfast loyalty of Yudisthira.
Thus the days passed on, while Monas completed his business, and the Guru related many strange tales to the English lads. One day, as they sat with him, a dark mass of cloud rose from the southern horizon, and moved rapidly northwards across the sky towards the Himalayan snows. Old Govinda pointed to it, and said that it reminded him of Kalidasa's poem of the Cloud Messenger. "Tell us about it," said both the boys; and he related how Yaksha was banished for some fault by the god Kuvera, and was sent to pass the years of his exile at Ramagiri, near Nagpore, and to the south of Ujjayani, and of the Vindhyan Hills. One day he saw a cloud, the herald of the rainy season, passing to the north, just as the cloud we now see floats in the same direction. He prayed to the cloud to take a message for him, after discharging some of its moisture.
With pinions swifter by the 'minisht store,
Soon over Vindhyan mountains thou wilt soar,
And Reva's rippling stream, whose waters glide
Beneath their feet, without their rush and roar,
In many a rock–bound channel, summer dried,
Like lines of paint that deck an elephant's huge side.
The cloud passed on to this bright imperial city of Ujjayani, the pride of all the earth. It rested on flower–sweet terraces where women sit at open casements, while the air of the morning
Plays wooingly around the loosened hair
And fevered cheek—
Then, as it blows o'er Sipra fresh and strong,
Bids all her swans upon the banks prepare
To hail the sunrise.
"The cloud hurries onward on its journey," said Porlor, "but whither was Yaksha's message sent?" "It was sent," said the Guru, "to Alakà." "To Alca!" exclaimed both the boys, as they sprang to their feet in astonishment. Then, seeing the question in Govinda's eyes, they explained that Alca was the beautiful Princess of Deira. "We love her more than anything in the world. She knows everything. She loves all living things. She can disclose all the hidden mysteries of nature. She is our joy, our hope. Oh that the cloud would take a message to her from us! Shall we pray to it? Answer us, good Govinda."
The Guru looked at the eager faces of the boys. He then pondered for a long time. At last he said—"The Alakà of our religion is believed to be the abode or the heaven of the Gandharva on Mount Meru. The Gandharva is the being who knows and reveals the secrets of nature and divine truth, and prepares the holy soma juice for the gods." He again paused to think. "Your northern Princess Alca is the same as our Alakà, the abode of the Gandharva of wisdom and truth, the depository of the secrets of nature. You do well to love her. Pray then to the cloud and it will take your message." The boys knelt down, praying long and fervently to the cloud to take their message. It was that they were well, that they had never forgotten her words, that they would return to her. The Guru assured them that they had not prayed in vain. They had never felt so happy since they parted from the Princess at Aldby.
Not many days afterwards they bade farewell to the Guru, who had become warmly attached to them; for Monas had completed his arrangements, the bales were ready, and they started on their return journey to Barugaza. The boys had offered their old friend a gold ring as a keepsake, which he declined. But when he saw them for the last time he gave them a small parcel as an offering for their Princess. "It contains," he said, "a very precious gum called bdellium, translucent and fragrant. It is a trifle by which to remember me." "We shall never forget you, dear Guru," exclaimed Coelred; and Porlor declared that "Bdellium" should be their watchword and the watchword of their friends for evermore. Soon Ujjayani and the Guru, Barugaza and its busy ghât, were but memories. The north–east wind was taking their little vessel homewards again across the Erythraean Sea.
One night, as old Monas sat aft by the steering oar, with Coelred and Porlor near him, he asked the boys what they had been told by the Guru. Porlor was full of his praises, and repeated the stories of Krishna and of the Pandus; but something held the brothers back from mentioning the Cloud Messenger to the aged pilot. They declared that the Guru was the wisest, the most learned, and the most religious man in the world, and that he was beloved by God. "The strange and incomprehensible questions over which others quarrel for days and years, the Guru sees through and settles with a word. He is generous, and says that all men, more or less, are in the right way." Monas shook his head. "My friend Govinda," he said, "is learned and good. It grieves me to the heart that he will assuredly be burnt in hell fire for ever and ever. Yet that must be his fate, for he is unsound on all points of doctrine." It was on the tip of Coelred's tongue to say he would go where the Guru went; but he checked himself, for the boys loved old Monas, and made it a point not to anger or annoy him. "Beware," he continued, "how you allow plausible falsehoods to sink into your hearts. You are very young and will be surrounded by dangers. May the Lord watch over you!"
On another night Monas explained their position to his young friends. "Thanks to Prince Athanagild," he said, "you are very rich. Your property consists of small bales easily carried but of great value, and of gold coins and gems. The crew will be amply recompensed by a present of the vessel and a generous distribution of money. We will land at Berenike, to which port the voyage is much shorter than to Myos Hormos. There camels can be procured, and the journey to the Nile will occupy three days. I will accompany you to Alexandria and see you embarked for Antioch. For myself I need nothing. I go to the cell of my old master, who must now be dead, where I shall end my days happily, in prayer and in the contemplation of the true nature of the incarnate Word. Your destiny is very different. I am on the verge of the grave. You are entering upon life. You are brave and true. May the blessing of God be with you!"
It was very grateful to the old pilot to receive the warm thanks of his young friends, knowing how true and genuine they were; and the voyage passed pleasantly. The plans of Monas were admirably arranged. The crew was satisfied, the journey across the desert and the voyage down the Nile were performed without accident, and when Coelred and Porlor left Alexandria in the vessel that was to convey them to the port of Antioch, the last thing they saw was the white cloth with which old Monas waved his farewell from the Pharos.