The Highwayman Book 2

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narhwal90
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The Highwayman Book 2

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Chapter 1
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They threw me to the ground and pulled off the hood. Someone grabbed my shoulder, raising my face close to a torch. Dazzled by the sudden light I blinked, unable to see and a rough voice bellowed “A Spy! Gut him now” and a sudden second, “Hold- Number 1 must see him first”- and the hood again. They pulled me to my feet, back against a post and tied my hands behind, and thus I waited.

Whispers and steps, clatter and the odor of profoundly unwashed bodies, fear and dread consumed my mind. But this was the first moment for some hours where I was not cursed and driven by shoves and blows, so was an opportunity to relax the mind and let it subside.


Chapter 2
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The hood was pulled off again, and a different man demanded “What is your name, why are you here? Speak quickly or you die.”

“I am the monk Sesal, of the Dawn Temples. I am from the River Kingdom to the east- I am an exile”

A pause. “You are here to probe the king’s armies, and sow dissention, disguised as a monk- I will kill you slowly”

“No sir, I am an exiled monk..” “SILENCE!” he bellowed, “what better cover for a spy than as a simple monk, accepted everywhere and never noticed- observing all and reporting it. If you are a monk, prove it now or I will kill you”

“Sir, I was accepted by the Dawn monks 10 years ago, before that I was a bandit out on the river kingdom’s plains and mountains. My band turned on me, I was betrayed- homeless and near death in the streets. The Dawn Monks took me in. My past eventually became known, but the king was persuaded to exile me instead of execution. I have the King’s mark on my right arm.”

Someone jerked up my sleeve, and I saw the sleek, dangerous face of my interrogator glance around the torch’s flame. “Branded. But many men are such, prove you are a monk”

“Sir, I was taught that all beings suffer, there are reasons for it, there is a solution and I was taught methods that realize the solution. There are eight methods of conduct which together, do so. The Dawn Monks are a dharma school, I was taught in their manner.”

He said nothing, so I continued.

“My first master was the head of the plains Dawn temple. He taught me how to be accountable for my deeds as a bandit, what was due to my victims. My second was the temple’s blacksmith, he taught me the methods of the forge, as a practice form. The plains temple was my last residence, I have been walking for several months.”

“Tell me then, spy, how does a bandit become a monk?”

“Sir, while I was a bandit, I unknowingly robbed the man who would be my first master. Later, near death by deprivation, I saw him in the city and asked him for food, expecting nothing more than a kick to the ribs. Instead he took me into the temple, assisted in cleaning and shaving, then took me as a novice. I did not know why- filled with fear and dread of the next blow, I could barely sit among the monks. He set me to work in the forge, the smith there began the simple training of mind, which slowly reduced the fear. The monks taught me to read and assigned endless texts, the masters occasionally asking questions. I learned to sit with the monks and eventually converse with them. I owe them everything.”

“Very well, spy, tell me something you do not understand.”

“Sir, I am told that it is incorrect to say anything definitively exists or definitively does not exist. How is it possible to hold such a view when the world is here before us? I have asked that question of my masters, their answer is to assign another reading.”

“Put him in the cell.” The hood again, and they shoved me along hallways and into a small room, jerked off the hood and threw me to the floor. Alone, I surveyed my new surroundings.
narhwal90
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Re: The Highwayman Book 2

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Chapter 3
===============================

Three paces by three paces, dirty stone and door, not a window or a breath of air.

I passed a number days timed by the discomfort of extended sitting and a once daily box of food passed through a small port in the door. On the first day I found a noisome gutter in one corner of obvious utility, running through the cell along a wall. After that, there was only the occasional distant voice, faint light leaking past the ill-fitting door and the rats passing through the cells hunting for scraps.

Regardless, practice is not particularly a matter of circumstance; a floor and a willing mind are sufficient. But I did miss the incense and candles, and the small tinkle of the bell.
narhwal90
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Re: The Highwayman Book 2

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Chapter 4
===============================

Two armored guards accompanied the jailer when I was brought out. I recognized my interrogator’s voice, this time in daylight standing across a table before me.

“Monk, you are given leave to reside in the next town to the west, make yourself known to the guards. Go no further into the kingdom.” He motioned to my pack on the table.

I bowed and took it up, the jailer guided me out of the room and thru the door into the blinding sun.
narhwal90
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Re: The Highwayman Book 2

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Chapter 5
===============================

After the weeks of solitary walking the busy road was loud, carts and chatter, colors and smells. I fell in behind a group of merchants and carts heading slowly away from the guard station. The measured cadence helped slow the mind and me to regain composure. The merchants ahead of me eventually paused for a midday break at a broad shallow creek; watering their horses and caring for personal needs. One noticing me walking up the road behind called “Bhante, please join us!”

I welcomed the opportunity to set down my pack and examine it, curious to see what the guards had left me with. My letters obviously riffled, but the very fine bell which Master Smith made for me was there, as were the beads and my sutra copies all intact. Small medicine pack, cooking implements, alms bowl and related items all in a jumble- yet apparently undamaged. My host among the merchants walked up with a steaming pot, so I drew out the bowl which he filled to the brim with some kind of stew which instantly brought saliva to my mouth and I became acutely aware of hunger. I bowed in thanks. “Bhante, we saw you leave that station- do rest for a moment, perhaps use the creek- we may set out when you are refreshed”, bowing slightly, he returned to the group of carts.

Feeling somewhat stronger and somewhat cleaner, I walked beside the cart upon which my host sat. “Thank you sir, I have been walking for some time through the frontier- hardly an opportunity to bathe and never with such a meal, I am most grateful”. He smiled, “It was my pleasure Bhante, my wife’s brother is a monk- forever talking of the Buddha and caring for worms and such. I watched him calm a bull once, which had just wrecked my paddock and was near to running amok in town- he saved me a vast amount of trouble.”

“Calming a bull is not easy, how did he do it?” I replied, remembering some of the Master’s lectures.

“He distracted the bull by flipping his hat in front of its eyes and talking to it. But he grew up with the bull, so perhaps they were friends. Yet many people saw him calm the bull and now my family is considered fortunate to have such a monk among us, so I am grateful either way, Ha Ha Ha!” he dissolved into mirth. He looked over at me, “but you have come a long way, Bhante- do stay with us for a time, your shoes and robe are quite worn; we have a guest cabin. My brother in law may visit.”
narhwal90
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Re: The Highwayman Book 2

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Chapter 6
===============================

The cabin was quite small, a single room but clean and bright with a cot, assorted tables, and a small covered porch. The smooth floor was an exquisite pleasure on my bare feet after long days of shoes and hiking over indifferent paths. I sat on the bed, decided to lay down for a moment to ease my back and awoke to moonlight streaming in through the window some hours later.

My nose led me to a tray of cooled rice and beef, spices- and a pitcher of water which I instantly grabbed and drunk nearly all of before I recollected manners and gratitude. Barely restraining my hunger I avidly finished the bowls and pitcher. Instantly tired again I staggered to the cot and collapsed into it.

The next morning I awoke to the tray replaced, now with pickled vegetables, smoked fish and more water.. so clean and clear compared to the puddles and rock crevices I had been sucking from. Calmer now, I saw various cleaning supplies on the porch and immediately, the state of my robe. After a vigorous washing, amazed at the dirt flowing from it and from my person, and the improvement in color and texture of both, I began to realize the vision I must have been on the road.

The necessaries completed, I conducted the first comfortable sitting I had in some time, with all the bells and chants in complete and proper order. I dedicated all merit to my host and all his ancestors thrice over, and to whatever agencies brought me to him.
narhwal90
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Re: The Highwayman Book 2

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Chapter 7
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He greeted me as I approached the house, sometime near mid-day. “Bhante, so you are here, and alive as well! That is excellent, my wife accused me of being fooled and collecting a vagrant to be housed and fed by the sweat of her brow, Ha! “

I bowed deeply, “Sir I am most grateful, you have given me the two best meals and most restful sleep I have had in many weeks. I am afraid I have not introduced myself. My name is Sesal, a monk of the order of Dawn Monks, from the River Kingdom.”

He gave a short bow and smiled in return, “Welcome to the house of the family Mayang, my name is Hafiz. Please come in,” he beckoned me inside.

“My wife, Nurul”, I bowed again to her, “Thank you so much for the food and supplies and for the cot and cabin, I am very grateful”. She extended a hand, so I took hers for a moment between mine, bowed and held mine to my heart.

“Bhante, please be welcome, stay as long as you like, it is good to have a guest occupying the cottage- my brother seldom visits and without him there the children quickly turn it into wreckage.”

“Puan Mayang, I was instructed at the border to reside in the next town, to not progress further- I am reluctant to impose further upon your kindness.”

“Bhante, do stay so we may see to your clothing- I cannot stand here and see a monk dressed in rags, and you are very thin. We shall show you the town, and the market.”

I was reluctant to accept but noticed Hafiz wink at me, and I recognized the futility of resistance. Instead, I attempted to express my master's humility and bowed deeply, saying “As you say, Puan.”
narhwal90
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Re: The Highwayman Book 2

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Chapter 8
===============================
Puan Nurul kept up a steady flow of conversation as they escorted me into town and the market. I learned about the children, the chickens, her parents, the weather and the wonderful variety of flowers we walked past. Hafiz, clearly with long practice, participated with nods and and small signs of agreement. I was grateful for the gift of simple listening and such good company after the weeks of solitude and imprisonment.

I had to intervene at the fabric stalls, the lady began reaching for the fine and decorative linens- “Lady Nurul, my order requires robes of the simplest undyed canvas”, gesturing towards the plain fabrics, “they must be sewn by my hand- this is one of our practices. But I cannot express my gratitude for your generosity- I have only these to wear, clearly fit for rags and it pains me to present them as robes.” Mollified somewhat, she nodded to the stall keeper who quickly made up a bundle, handing it to her.

We likewise obtained shoes and rattan, for a new hat. I recognized how accustomed I had become to the methods of the monastery- when robes became unrepairable, shoes broken, the steward supplied the necessary materials. Here, I was entirely beholden to the chance encounter of the Mayang’s generosity. A compulsion to insist on some form of repayment was strong upon me, the irregularity of such gifts and my clearly evident need for them was unsettling. Accordingly, as we walked back I spent the time observing the mind and carefully allowing the arising discomfort to subside.

Inside the gate, she bid me goodbye, all smiles and entered the kitchen. I turned to Hafiz,

“Sir, while in monastery we are a self-supporting community. Please forgive me for being unnerved by the generosity of you and your wife- I owe you a profound debt of gratitude that I feel I cannot repay.”

He looked concerned and replied “Bhante, I find it is fitting to sometimes give and sometimes receive, and the best gifts are given freely. I saw you stagger half-dead out of that guardhouse- they are most harsh with strangers. As it happens people were kind to me as a boy, so I saw an opportunity to be kind in turn.”

“Well spoken, you are showing me my assumptions- thank you sir.” I continued, “In my order the creed is service, we may not be at leisure while others work. While I stay here, is there a way I can contribute to the household- perhaps not as repayment but as a gift, in turn? I can work the fields, I have little experience with livestock but I learned forge and metalwork by my master’s side. I would happily assist in the kitchen.”

His eyes lit up, “Ah now that is fortunate. Hands in the fields are plentiful, but we are in sore need of forge work. I handle some repairs but the tools are in disarray, it seems no-one in town can properly fix a shovel- I certainly cannot. We make do, and frequently have to buy tools – it is expensive and unsatisfactory. If would be beneficial indeed to have your help. Let me show you...”

He looked at me carefully, “But, Bhante, please, when my wife finds you working here, be eloquent. If she thinks I asked you to do it, things will not go well for me.”

I bowed formally.
narhwal90
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Re: The Highwayman Book 2

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Chapter 9
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The Master Smith would have been cross at the state of Mr Mayang’s workshop. I felt very close to my master that day, smiling as I sorted and cleaned. I remember him grumbling under his breath like an old badger when the novices brought in another load of wrecked tools; “... solid iron broken like a twig- how do they do it....” “... heedless careless brainless ...” “how many times has it been...”

Master Smith was a man of definite views when questions of workshop practice arose. Clutter and disorder in any form was not tolerated, cleanliness in every detail at all stages of work, tools were only loaned to certain individuals who demonstrated strict attention to their treatment and return, only selected people were even allowed entry. Over time I grew to recognize this as refined discipline instead of grasping at privilege.

Hafiz’s shop dramatically showed the consequences of laxity in design, in process, in product. Irregular and unstable workbenches, dust and grime, indiscriminate piles of tools and parts, an uneven dirt floor instead of Master Smith’s crushed stone raked and tamped twice daily.

One of the more backbreaking chores left to me as apprentice was shoveling out the stone when it had become dirty and replacing it with fresh. I remember complaining under my breath about shoveling perfectly good stone just because of a little dirt, just so as to make it look nice. But Master Smith’s gravel was always as dry and smooth and flat as a temple floor yet safe for a dropped tool, and no danger of splatter or fire when casting or working with molten glass. Here I saw signs of mud where rainwater had intruded under the walls and who knew what might be trodden into the soil.
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