Gesar of Ling

It is said that many centuries ago the kingdom of Ling, famous for the piety and the wisdom of its sages, was to suffer a time of great unhappiness. Darkness, the shadow of revenge, was to fall over the people, and the light of the dharma would be extinguished. Such a night, never to be relieved by the dawn, was to come about because of a woman who thought her unhappy life was the result of the Buddha's curse. Vengeance and hatred filled her heart, so that her dying wish was to be reborn with her three sons as rulers in Buddhist kingdoms and so be able to take revenge on the dharma, the Buddha's teaching.

Padmasambhava, the "Lotus Born", also known as Guru Rinpoche, or the "Precious Master", realized the intensity of the demonic power that would be unleashed by the dying woman's wish, and sought to save the three kingdoms in East Tibet where she and her three sons would be reborn. At Guru Rinpoche's request the bodhisattva Thubpa Gawa agreed to incarnate among the men of the kingdom of Ling, and to fight the dark powers which would rule the kingdom and its principalities. Guru Rinpoche chose as the mother of the incarnate bodhisattva a young naga, one of the serpent spirits of the water. Nagas can easily transform themselves, and so the spirit had no difficulty in assuming the form of a young and very beautiful girl, who came to be known as Gongmo.

The girl walked many miles through the kingdom of Ling accompanied by a mare, a cow, a ewe, a she-goat, and a bitch. As Gongmo approached the capital of Ling she saw that there were crowds of people around the great gate to the city. They were obviously waiting for someone. Gongmo's arrival in the city caused much laughter, for everyone knew that Tondon, the steward of the kingdom, had seen many omens indicating the arrival of a great being who would change the history of Ling. For this the townspeople had been waiting at the city gate, but to their delight, only a beggar girl and her few animals came to Ling that day! Even so, Tondon did not let his hurt pride sway his belief in the omens. He decided to learn more about the beggar girl, and so arranged for her to be taken into the service of his sister, the Queen of Ling.

It was not long before Gongmo became a familiar figure in the community, and frequently the subject of the local men's talk and attentions, for she had an unusual beauty. Her perfectly formed body and the compelling luster of her eyes were combined with a grace and charm of manner that was even more attractive because of its innocence. Her qualities would have marked her out anywhere, but they were certainly unusual in a herdswoman, and it was not long before the queen, enjoying Gongmo's company, arranged for her to work much of the time in the household. Gongmo was now often with the queen, who foolishly did not foresee that her husband, King Sining, also would awaken to Gongmo's attractions. After a time they had fallen deeply in love, so that the king was determined to take Gongmo as his second wife.

The queen was furious, both at the king's evident love for Gongmo and at the popularity among the people of the king's proposal. She did everything in her power to dissuade the king and refused to agree to his taking Gongmo as his second wife, but the queen knew that this would not deter him, and that there was only one way to make certain that she alone was the king's wife and queen of Ling. The queen arranged for Gongmo to take the yak herd to new pastures. Gongmo's suspicions were aroused since she could see no reason for the change, and she remembered hearing vague stories about the area to which she was being sent.

At the false dawn Gongmo stirred the yaks into activity with calls and pebbles from her sling on their insensitive rumps. Anxiously the queen watched from an upper window as Gongmo urged on the great ambling yaks, bellowing at being disturbed. To reassure herself Gongmo spun a prayer wheel as she walked, murmuring its mantra OM MANI PADME HUM, the physical activity helping to focus and concentrate her thoughts.

The way to the pastureland passed through a narrow ravine; Gongmo felt increasingly nervous at the reactions of the yaks, who bellowed furiously and stubbornly refused all coaxing and threats to get them to continue. Very slowly she managed to move them on, but when they were far into the ravine she realized that there was no sound, except for the protests of the yaks. No bird calls, no rustle of breezes in the stunted grass, no movement or sound from any insect. Nothing. Complete silence. Gongmo began to feel very frightened, too frightened even to turn the prayer wheel as she began to think that this valley must be the one in the stories, the valley of the silent ones.

It was said that strange and evil beings were trapped in the valley because it was the only place without sound - there they found relief and sanctuary from the agony they suffered at even the slightest noise. As Gongmo remembered the stories she stopped walking and looked about her with dread, even afraid to breathe, her rapid heartbeat filling her ears so that it sounded like thunder in the valley. The yaks snorted and stamped the ground as they clustered together; Gongmo could feel their apprehension. She remembered hearing that anyone who ventured into the valley of the silent ones and made the slightest noise caused the silent ones so much pain that, in their desperate anger, they slew the intruder without mercy.

Gongmo turned suddenly feeling herself being watched, but there was no sign of anyone, or anything, in the bleak treeless valley with its contorted rocks and boulders. Yet her feeling grew into an appalling certainty as she became aware of not just the presence of someone, or something, intently watching her, but of numerous presences circling closer, unseen, silent, stifling. She gave a frightened, unbelieving cry and tried to run from the invisible ring, but it made no difference. In desperation she called on Guru Rinpoche, as she felt herself being invaded by the invisible forces and in her mind's eye glimpsed at their awful forms.

As she cast about for some way to escape the entities that were suffocating her mind, her very life force, the ravine was transfused with light, and became transparent as she sank into despair into the ground. Her vision was clouded by the light as she weakly murmured appeals to Guru Rinpoche. The light grew brighter as Gongmo's weakening eyes searched, hungered for release. Everything was fading from sight - the sky, the ravine, the earth - in the iridescent golden light which became a thick mist that enveloped her. Now Gongmo was sure she was dead and in the bardo realm.

Dimly, Gongmo realized she was free of the oppressive forces that had stifled her, but it took a few moments for her mind to adjust. Her fear only slowly dispelled in the soothing light. The mist thinned to reveal a beautiful rainbow arching up into the heavens. Around the rainbow the golden light grew more intense, thickened and solidified, taking shape so that within moments the figure of the great deity Kenzo appeared. His body was like a living image of gold, and as he slowly descended the rainbow Gongmo saw that he held a holy water vase, with a peacock feather sprinkler fanned from its top. In a voice like the thunder of the heavens, Kenzo said to her, "The water within this vase has held the reflection of the bodhisattva Thubpa Gawa who is to incarnate among the men of Ling. Drink this water and in due course you shall bear the incarnation of Thubpa Gawa, who will be a dharma-warrior, the king of Ling."

The queen was horrified when she came across Gongmo churning cream in the kitchen, and realized that the girl had escaped from the valley of the silent ones. The two women looked at one another and the queen had no doubt that Gongmo understood the terrible trap into which she had been sent, but Gongmo said nothing, not even to the king.

The months passed and Gongmo, feeling no sign of pregnancy, began to wonder if indeed she would be giving birth to the incarnation of Thubpa Gawa. But one day when she was sitting on the flat roof of the house the remarkable golden light which had heralded the approach of Kenzo appeared again, and again a beautiful rainbow formed, stretching across the sky and leading straight to the house. From all parts of town people came running to the king's house to see the signs in the sky that could only mean the coming of a great being. Within the house there was a considerable amount of confusion, no one knew why the king's house should be so honored. In the uproar Gongmo slipped down the stairs to her room and carefully closed the door behind her. The crowds outside were both frightened and fascinated at the dancing lights that suddenly appeared around the house. Few people noticed that Gongmo's cow, ewe, she-goat, and bitch all gave birth at this time, as did her mare to a superb foal with a silvery colt, a "blue" horse, a "horse of the gods."

Gongmo waited, nervous and uncertain. She had a very strong feeling that the rainbow and the dancing lights heralded her child's entry into the world. But, she thought, looking dubiously at her belly, such an evident lack of any sign of pregnancy did make her wonder if she was not deceiving herself. Just occasionally during the months she had vaguely felt an awareness of another life within her, but it was so fleeting, she could not be sure.

"Oh, mother!" a voice, to Gongmo's amazement, came from her stomach. "Now is the time of my birth. Be not afraid, turn your mind to Guru Rinpoche." This was indeed no ordinary child, she thought, settling herself on the divan, and feeling rather shaken that her as yet unborn child could already talk! The golden light gradually filled the room, she felt it penetrating every fiber of her body. As she meditated she unconsciously lifted her hands to her head to receive an emerging sphere of golden light.

"We must prepare for the great Lama." The king was standing on the flat roof of his house with his queen. Both looked in awe at the light flooding from the rainbow, and could feel its energy. The queen murmured, "Perhaps we are to be honored for what is....and not for what will be...." The king looked at his wife sharply. "Explain! What have you heard?" The queen smiled at him and rested her hand soothingly on his arm. "Nothing. I have heard nothing, husband. But I just say what could be...." As she turned to go, the king gestured for her to stay with him. He knew that she was not telling him all of her suspicions. "I am going to have the house searched," the queen explained. "There has to be a reason for....for...." she gestured to the rainbow, "this." The king looked down at the crowd around the house; many of them were chanting prayers.

Gongmo held the globe to her breast and felt the tiny heartbeat within. Smiling, she felt the globe move and stretch in her hands, and the baby struggling to release himself. Her baby. Gongmo was filled with a sense of wonder and love, as the tiny babe struggled into the world, breaking free from his eggshell of light. Gongmo was far more conscious of the miracle of the baby himself, than the manner of his birth. After cleaning, him she nursed him, singing a lullaby as she cradled him in her arms.

The door of Gongmo's room flew open and the queen just caught a glimpse of the child enveloped in golden light as the girl hid the baby in the folds of her dress. Within seconds the celestial light evaporated. Gongmo looked at the queen with a mixture of fear for her child and an aggressive determination to protect him. The queen was not really surprised; somehow she had known. Slowly she entered the room as Gongmo watched her with dread, realizing that there is no greater enemy than a former friend and even greater enmity when the field of battle is a husband.

"My Lady, please...."

Gongmo's restraining hand was like a feather as the queen pulled back the folds of the girls dress. Both women gasped in amazement. In a matter of moments the infant had grown to the size of a year-old child. He fixed the queen with dark, compelling eyes; the queen backed slowly away, longing to flee the intense gaze.

In the courtyard of the house the queen looked drawn and anxious as she spoke to the servant who was soothing his restive horse.

"You have mentioned the message?"

"Yes, Highness."

"Then take it swiftly to my brother, the steward Tondon." She turned away, muttering "May he have the answer to this curse upon our lives!" Angrily she spun the prayer wheels set in niches in the wall.

Tondon, the steward of Ling, was discussing his revenues with his chamberlain when he received the queens messenger and news of Gongmo's strange confinement. Agitatedly Tondon ran his hand over his close-cropped hair. His chamberlain could not help thinking that his master looked just like worried rabbit with his bucked teeth emphasized by his thick mustache curling around his mouth and out across his cheeks.

"It is happening! It is happening!" Tondon wailed. "As prophesied, it is happening."

At first, neither Tondon's wife nor his chamberlain could understand him. Then he reminded him of the ancient prophesy.

"It tells," Tondon said, "of a young girl who will arrive in Ling with five animals, just like Gongmo, and who will give birth to a magic child, who will become a great and victorious king of Ling."

Both the chamberlain and Tondon's wife could see that while the fulfillment of such a prophesy might be pleasing for Ling, it would be a considerable disadvantage to Tondon, who would certainly lose much of his power and revenues.

Angrily, Tondon ordered his horse saddled, then rode alone through the streets of Ling, causing many who saw him to reach for their beads and whisper a prayer. For the noble steward of Ling to ride unaccompanied did not argur well, especially when his face betrayed his terrible anger. He knew that his only chance was to act decisively and swiftly, without mercy to his enemy.

"Where is the child?" Fear flooded through Gongmo as she heard the threatening voice in the corridor outside her room; desperately she looked for some means of hiding her child, but there was no place. As she thought of how they might escape, the door crashed open. Tondon stood in the doorway, his great body wrapped in a satin chuba, heaving with exertion. Behind him, his sister, the queen, stood looking nervous.

Tondon, his fat hands outstretched, bore down on Gongmo as she backed away.

"I have seen the strange signs, signs that show you have given birth to a demon," Tondon shouted.

"It is not true!" Gongmo was weeping, and cried out as she felt the unyielding wall behind her, leaving her helpless before Tondon. He tore the child from her. She flung herself at him, attacking him with all the force of her body, and the crazed desperation of a mother defending her offspring. The queen scrammed at the terrific blow Tondon gave Gongmo, it sent her sprawling into the corner, and she had to look away when he swung the baby high into the air and repeatedly smashed the child's body into the wall. Eventually the queen could stand it no longer. "Stop!" she begged. "Tondon, please! He must be dead by now!" Tondon dropped the limp body onto the floor. His face was streaming with sweat; vigorously he splashed his head with water from a leather pail.

Gongmo moaned with pain and grief.
Suddenly, the queen grabbed her brother's arm. Tondon turned.
"Ama-la? Ama-la?" the child was standing, grown to the size of a two-year-old, gently stroking his mother's head and apparently unharmed by Tondon's brutal battering.

"Now!" Tondon shouted at Gongmo who drifted in and out of consciousness, "Say this child is not a demon?" He snatched a rope from a hook in the wall and grabbed the baby, deftly binding his hands and feet. The child caught Tondon's eye for a moment and the steward found himself meeting the gaze of someone far older than a child of a few years, let alone a few hours. The child's eyes frightened Tondon with their challenging, mocking look. As he picked up the bound child, the little boy shouted to his mother, "Do not fear, Ama-la. Have faith." But even as he spoke Gongmo hurled herself at Tondon, scratching, kicking and biting for her child. Tondon, frightened by the ferocity of the attack, yelled for his sister to help him and struggled to keep his hold on the infant. The queen held Gongmo, enabling Tondon, his buck teeth working up and down as he puffed with exertion, to tear himself free and run with the child to the courtyard. He could not, dared not, look again at the babies eyes, but he could feel them on him.

Tondon ran, harder than he had ever run before, and hurled the child into the household rubbish pit in the corner of the courtyard. "Devil child!" Tondon shouted, as though to convince himself as much as anyone else, and to drown out Gongmo's moaning, despairing cries. Using all the energy he had, Tondon manhandled an enormous millstone from where it had been leaning against the wall of the house to the edge of the pit. Tondon thought the exertion would kill him as he toppled the stone so it fell and completely sealed the top of the rubbish pit. Tondon staggered and clutched his chest, he thought his heart was going to collapse.

A few hours later, after he had rested, Tondon was mounting his horse in the courtyard and saw Gongmo lying on the millstone, distracted with grief, as she tried in vain to pull the stone from the pit. Tondon rode his horse out of the courtyard, keeping his eyes ahead, toward the gate.

The days passed without any word of the child. The queen sent her brother a message reassuring the steward that he had finally succeeded in destroying the infant. But Tondon's mind would not rest. It was haunted by thoughts of the child, by a dreadful fear that he still lived. No matter how often he tried to dismiss the doubts he always ended by asking himself how any child could have survived the battering he had given it. What child could almost walk and certainly talk only hours after birth? Would such a being lie entombed, defeated beneath a millstone? He had to be sure. Trusting no one but his wife, Tondon sent her to the king's house to personally check the pit.

Hearing of her arrival, the queen went down to the courtyard to greet her sister-in-law. The two women found it difficult to make themselves heard above the laughter of the servants who filled the yard as they watched a performance by a group of strolling players. "See!" the queen pointed at the great millstone lying across the mouth of the rubbish pit. "It is undisturbed." The two women smiled at one another in relief, then stiffened, fear chilling them at the bubbling childish laughter behind them. They turned to find a small boy, about four years old, looking up at them both intently. Surely, Tondon's wife thought, this cannot be the child, it is ridiculous to even think such a thing.... The child laughed, gently, but knowingly, mockingly, then darted away among the crowd. Now the stewards wife knew. The child lived! The queen had known the moment she looked again into the child's eyes, not the eyes of a child but of generations.

As Tondon's wife hurried back to tell her husband the terrible news, Gongmo walked across the courtyard and looked for her son. The little boy saw her and held high a piece of stiff brocade. Smiling at his pleasure in this makeshift flag, she picked up the child, praising the gods who had restored her child to her, alive and well, only hours after his entombment.

Tondon paced up and down the room. "This is surely the future king of Ling, of whom the prophecies speak! Unless we find some way to be rid of this demon, we are all doomed!"

He glowered at his council. The men sat on cushioned divans, looking acutely embarrassed at their helplessness and very conscious of the truth of his words. Only Tondo's plump wife appeared unmoved by her husband's rage as she sat on the seat beside, but slightly lower than, her husband's.
"We need a powerful magician to help us," she said. "Someone used to controlling demons."
Tondon stopped pacing. "The hermit Ratna!" he exclaimed, shouting with joy.

On a rocky promontory, bare of vegetation, hermit Ratna had his hermitage, where he spent long annual periods of retreat. For the rest of the year he lived in a fine monastery, built among the woods at the foot of the mountain.

Tondon struggled up the stony track, cursing as he repeatedly cut and bruised himself on the rocks. He thought bitterly how typical it was of the hermit to have such an inaccessible place as a hermitage. When Tondon at last reached the hermitage, he found Ratna inside waiting for him.

"Welcome, I have tea ready to refresh you." The hermit poured them both some boiling hot liquid from a clay teapot. Tondon paused a moment to catch his breath before entering beneath the crude wooden awning above the mouth of the cave, which served to prevent the rain from driving into the hermitage. The hermitage was sparsely furnished, but the view was superb; one could see the whole valley and Tondon could not help but feel a sense of wonderment at the beauty of the woodland spread out below. Entering the cave, Tondon bowed before the great Ratna and draped a long felicity scarf across the low-carved table, set before the cross-legged hermit. Carefully, he placed a beautifully wrought silver butter lamp on the scarf, and as the container should not be offered empty, he placed a huge rough-cut turquoise in the bowl of the lamp. Ratna's eyes flickered on the lamp for a moment, then he draped a scarf around Tondon's neck in greeting and blessing. Tondon muttered his thanks, sucking in his breathe as a sign of respect, and took the seat in front of Ratna, who offered him some fruit. Tondon was disarmed that the hermit had prepared for his visit. In all the years he had known Ratna he had never known him to show the fat man any indication of having telepathic powers though he was reputed to be a powerful, if greedy, magician. The hermit waited for Tondon to begin the conversation, but he found it difficult to do so before Ratna's intense eyes, enlarged and emphasized by his bony emaciated face.

Indeed, Tondon felt so embarrassed at the thought of the hermit's apparent telepathic powers that he could not gather his thoughts even enough to explain his problem. His buck teeth rose and fell over his lower lip, as he struggled to articulate his thoughts.

"You fear," the hermit said abruptly, breaking the silence, and sounding slightly impatient, "that this boy, whose mother came from nowhere, is the future king of Ling spoken of in the prophecies."

The spell was broken and Tondon replied passionately, "It is true! It is true! I am nothing before this child." Tondon paused to make sure the significance of his words had been fully understood by the hermit.

"Rinpoche," Tondon flattered him with the title of a great lama, "with my own hands I have done everything to kill this child, only hours after his birth. No human child could have survived. Yet he did not have a mark on him, he laughed at me! What am I to do? I am doomed if this child lives to become king!"

The hermit Ratna watched Tondon and smiled slightly, his long fingers automatically fingering the amber beads of his rosary.

"What size is this demon child?" he asked thoughtfully.
"In hours he grew from being a babe in arms to being a young child that can walk, and talk, but he is still quite small.

"Good," Ratna said briskly. "Now do not worry, I will deal with the child demon." It was clear to Tondon that Ratna had brought the interview to a close.

Gongmo's baby, whom she had named Gesar, although only three weeks old, looked at least four years and when he spoke it was with a maturity of mind and such wisdom that his mother felt he was as old as the gods. Yet the child was a strange mixture, for he still had all the mischievous playfulness of a little child. After talking to him, Gongmo accepted his adult mind without question, but then would look on amazed as her young son ran out of the house to play and fight happily and uninhibitedly with the other children. He did perfectly normal things, but there was always something about the way he did them that was unusual. Gongmo reflected on the time Gesar made a bow. He went to extraordinary lengths to find a special type of tree from which to fashion a bow, and to her surprise, insisted on using strands of her hair to make the bow string.

Gongmo watched her son as he sat putting the finishing touches to the bow, his usually mobile face set in concentration. She had to admit that Gesar was not a very handsome child, certainly he did not have the sort of face one would associate with a child of the gods. In fact his broad, frank smile, laughing eyes, and snub nose made it far more believable that he was the child of nomadic bandits. But when he talked with Gongmo about his mission, he became serious, his whole personality seemed to change and he showed a compelling and definite charisma.

Terrible screeching filled the air. Gongmo ran to the window, "Gesar, what is it?" She looked up and saw three enormous birds circling over the house, like vultures over carrion. "What are they, Gesar? Never have I seen such birds!" As Gongmo went outside for a better view, Gesar held his mother's arm.

"No, Ama-la. Do not go outside."
"Why? Tell me! What is going to happen? What are these birds, Gesar?"

The screeching was directly overhead. Gongmo slammed the window shutters and bolted them. Gesar did not reply. The little boy, no more than eighteen inches high, with bare buttocks beneath his tiny sheepskin chuba, was concentrating totally on putting the final touches to his bow. His nimble fingers worked on silently, as though racing against time.

"Holy gods, they're going to attack us!" The cry of the birds had an urgent, threatening quality. "What shall we do?" Gongmo backed away from the windows and grabbed Gesar as the room darkened and the shutters shook violently, wings beating against them. Gongmo instinctively held the child close, both to protect him and to seek reassurance. She looked down at Gesar, her "magic" child, small round face, dark, wise eyes; but still he was a child. Suddenly he slipped from her hold and stood alone in the middle of the room as the shutters of one windows splintered, and, for a few seconds, framed in the window, Gongmo saw an enormous bird filling the room with an eerie metallic rattle from its shimmering black feathers, its metal beak flashing with reflected light, the edge as sharp as a well-honed blade. As the bird launched itself at Gesar, the child, who already had an arrow on the bow, loosed it, a fragile wand only a few inches long. It pierced the birds feathers. The creature screamed with pain, arched its body, then fell so close to Gesar that the point of its beak touched Gesar and drew blood.

Gongmo was terrified at the viciousness of the creature and ran to the window. Already the other two birds were preparing to swoop through the window.

"No, Gesar!" Gongmo ran over to him as he struggled to lift the bar from the door. He looked up at his mother.
"Do not fear, Ama-la. Let me go to meet them. It is better."

Gongmo hesitated, then reluctantly unbarred the door for her son. Swiftly the birds came out of the sky, close together. As they dived toward Gesar, Gongmo saw townspeople crouching on roofs and in doorways, terrified by the malevolent looking creatures. Quicker than the eye could follow, Gesar fired two arrows. Each found its mark and the two birds fell from the sky.

Gongmo ran to her son and soon they were the center of an enthusiastic crowd with Gesar being carried around the town as a hero. Already, most of the people of Ling had heard of the strange little boy, rumored to be the natural son of the king.

Tondon was furious when he heard the news. His rage alternated with desperation at what seemed the inevitable outcome of his struggle with the boy. He was even more out of humor when he had climbed again to Ratna's hermitage. The hermit was sitting outside the cave and clearly expecting Tondon. The steward thrust a scarf at the hermit, who was slightly disconcerted with his client's changed attitude.

"Well? Your news?"
"You do not know," Tondon sounded faintly sarcastic, "that your metal birds have been destroyed by this devil child?"
Hermit Ratna was shaken. Tondon continued. "I am lost. There is no one else who can do anything. You were my last chance."
The hermit irritably spun a prayer wheel on the table to relieve his feelings."
"Do not be troubled." he said, trying to sound persuasively confident. "It was a trial. I do not expect you to understand the subtitles of my actions. " he said airily. Tondon knew enough about the hermit and his ways to see that he was trying to cover his error. Tondon wiped the sweat from his forehead with his sleeve and said "Rinpoche, remember this. If this devil child becomes king, you, all of us, will be in danger." "I am a hermit," Ratna replied, "What need I fear?"
Tondon laughed. "There will not be a hermitage, no matter how dark and how hidden that will not fall to his searching gaze."
Ratna's lips tightened. He gave an empty bitter smile.
"Tondon, order the boy to come and see me tomorrow."
Tondon's plump face was still beaded with sweat from the climb. He wiped his brow again on his sleeve. "Rinpoche, what do I do if he does not come? How do I make him come?"
"He will come," Ratna said quietly and lowered his eyes in meditation.
Tondon was left alone with his apprehension and the ringing of a tiny bell that marked the turning of the prayer wheel.

Gongmo was working the paddle in the wooden tea churn, mixing the butter and salt with freshly brewed tea, when the messenger found her in the kitchen. "What does a messenger from the steward Tondon want with me?" she asked apprehensively.
"You have a child."
"Yes." She reached behind her to clasp Gesar's hand. The little boy was hidden behind her skirts. "He is to attend the hermit Ratna tomorrow."

The other's in the kitchen, who had gradually slowed their work as they listened to the conversation burst into laughter. A heavy-built woman who was the housekeeper seized hold of Gesar and held him high for everyone to see.

"This babe is meant to climb a mountain? I think the noble steward asks the impossible!"
"Perhaps his mother is meant to take him." someone said.
"Remember who killed the metal birds!" a voice shouted.
"He is indeed a remarkable child." the housekeeper kissed Gesar loudly.
The tiny child with the cascading laughter turned to the messenger. "Tell your master, the noble steward Tondon, that I shall go to see the hermit Ratna tomorrow."
Gongmo looked at her son, silently reproachful. He chuckled, saying, "Have faith in me Ama-la." Gongmo smiled, but her large eyes filled with tears.

Despite Gesar's reassuring word's Gongmo's heart ached as she watched her son set off on the long journey to the hermitage. She had provided him with barley meal and dried cheese cubes in a bag which he carried over his shoulder.

From the windows of the kings house the servants watched Gesar's slow progress, for he was still a very little boy indeed, and Gongmo was convinced that he would not reach the hermitage before sunset, but he had refused to let her go with him. As he walked through the fields people stopped their work to ask him where he was going, and when he told them, many joined him, singing and laughing, carrying Gesar on their shoulders to the hermit Ratna. As they climbed the steep path the sharp breeze caught the clouds of felicity scarves and draped around Gesar's shoulders, gathering up the lightest and lifting them like feathers floating in the wind over the valley.

It was a long and arduous climb. As they neared the hermitage, Gesar could hear the dry, rapid beat of the damaru drum used to invoke the deities. He asked to be lowered to the ground so that he could approach the hermitage alone. As Gesar turned the corner, he saw that the hermitage was empty and his eyes were drawn upwards. Ratna, his deep throated chant accompanying the drum, was sitting, dressed in the brocade robes of his personal deity, levitating some twelve feet off the ground. The pilgrims with Gesar were awestruck by this display of spiritual power. Some of them saw more than others. Terrified they turned to force their way through the crowd and back down through the narrow track.

Like Gesar, they had seen the enormous shadowy figure towering behind the hermit, with its dozens of arms fanning out from each side of its body, each arm moving, supple and snake-like, and grasping a different weapon of destruction. Its bull-like head moved impatiently; its three eyes searched as though it hungered for destruction; its whole being throbbed with power, only held in check by Ratna. For many hours he had meditated on this being, until his yiddam, his personal deity, had appeared before him, charged not only with his own power but also the concentrated mental power of the hermit.

Gesar approached closer to the hermit. The deity held no fear for him, he knew that it was only the fierce aspect of a power that could also be compassionate and gentle, and that power was always terrifying if one did not understand it. None of the pilgrims followed Gesar, for even if they could not see the deity, they could sense its presence.

Ratna had fixed the little child, not two feet high, with a terrible stare. The stocky Gesar looked back unwaveringly at the hermit and slowly wiped his nose on his grubby arm. The hermit was disconcerted and his concentration was momentarily lost, he dropped fully three feet in the air. Ratna intensified the rapid beating of the damaru drum, twisting it back and forth in his hand so that the leather thongs hanging from it beat a rapid tattoo on the drum faces. The hermit paused in his chanting and said severely to Gesar: "Which demon gave you birth?"

Gesar laughed loudly and looked up at the hermit with a mocking air, his head on one side. "Surely such a great hermit and magician as you knows who my parents are?" The child did a handstand, and standing on his head, gazed in silence for some time at the hermit, who was, to say the least, unsettled at his total lack of success in intimidating the child.

"You know of my mother Gongmo, surely?"
Ratna did not deign to reply.

"She is one of the fairest of the nagas, chosen by Guru Rinpoche himself to be my mother, just as the bodhisattva Thubpa Gawa was chosen to be my father."

Ratna began to sink slowly to the earth like a pricked balloon. He knew now that this was to be the greatest test in his life.

Gesar continued to stand on his head and watched Ratna who, still chanting and beating the drum, unfolded his legs as he neared the ground and entered his hermitage, still in the demonic shadow of his yiddam. Ratna sat on the low divan in front of the shrine.

Gesar, who had carefully turned himself around so he could face the hermit, although still upside down, said, "Tell me, Ratna, which is the real hermit Ratna? The one I see now or," he dropped to his feet and stood up, "the one I see now?"

The hermit was not inclined to reply or engage in metaphysical debate, but feeling he had to retain some control of the situation abruptly ceased drumming and said: "Neither has any objective reality. My form is passing. It changes every moment. But the potential for enlightenment within my mind shines as a lamp in the darkness forever."

Gesar smiled, "Some will seize hold of the lamp to lighten their whole mind, while others will use its light to work in the shadows."

Ratna picked up one of the carefully made tormas, pyramid-like cakes formed of colored dough, and infused it with the destructive power of his yidam. He hurled the torma at Gesar, who deftly caught it then reverently set it down on the ground, picking up a small piece that had broken off. He looked at it and then at the hermit.

Ratna sat rigid, unmoving, frozen with fear.
"Why are you a hermit?" Gesar asked, and the magician felt dread at the calm note in the boy's voice.
"That I might help people, little demon!" Ratna shouted defiantly, helplessly.
"Then surely such a strict hermit as you shall be of the very greatest help to people." Gesar laughed and raised his arm to throw the piece of torma.

Ratna stood up and extended his arm in mute appeal, but Gesar had already thrown the piece of torma. It hit the rock with a grinding roar and turned into an enormous boulder that slid down and fell across the entrance of the cave entombing the hermit.

News of the battle of magic between Gesar and the hermit quickly spread through the town, and it was not long before Tondon heard of Ratna's defeat. In despair, and in fear of Gesar's growing popularity among the people, he banished Gesar and his mother to a distant and uninhabited valley. Tondon ordered the leading lamas and citizens of the town to escort the child and Gongmo into exile, enforcing his order by leaving them in no doubt as what would happen to their hostage if they did not carry out his order. Tondon did not really think this banishment of Gesar would free him of the threat the child posed, but at least he thought it might postpone it.

When they reached the solitudes and the valley of banishment, the little group of townspeople sadly left Gesar and Gongmo, but not before helping them find a cave for shelter and leaving them with plenty of provisions. They urged Gongmo to travel on and to find refuge in another kingdom, but they knew that few left the solitudes, for many demons dwelt among its bleak and cavernous rocks, and danced upon stony wastes.

Gongmo held the little boy's hand as they silently surveyed the vast plain, the surrounding mountains so distant they looked like soft blue mounds, a mirage on the horizon. In the far distance a herd of wild asses appeared from the haze and galloped across the plain, so small in the distance that Gesar was reminded of flies he had seen running across the rice paper window in their room in the house at Ling.

Days, months, and years passed. Three years after their banishment, Gongmo and Gesar were still traveling the solitudes, for though Gongmo still talked of finding a place where they might settle and perhaps farm, they had set out many times only to find that they had returned to the heart of the solitudes, so that Gongmo knew in her heart that Gesar did not intend them to leave, not until he could return to Ling. In three years he had grown into a handsome, if unkempt, youth, who daily became more attuned to their nomadic existence. By the time their provisions had run out, he knew exactly where to find wild berries, what to hunt and where - his senses had become as sharp as any animal's. A change in the wind, a bird call - Gesar understood their every significance.

But Gesar was not always successful at providing them with food, and one day while they were sitting disconsolately drinking tea, thinking of their hunger, they became aware of a rainbow that stretched across the plain and formed a beautiful tent where it touched the earth. Realizing that they were to be honored by celestial visitors, Gongmo and Gesar searched among their belongings for scarves to present. Guru Rinpoche emerged from the iridescent tent. He received their scarves of homeage, then reminded Gesar of his mission, that the child was fathered by a bodhisattva to fight against the dark forces which were bringing unhappiness to the land. Guru Rinpoche declared Gesar to be the king of Ling, urged him to use all his capabilities and wisdom to take possession of his throne, and assured him of the support of the gods. He told him about eight treasures he had to find in order to overcome his enemies when he would become king of Ling. Then Guru Rinpoche withdrew into the rainbow tent, which slowly ascended into the sky and was gently enfolded by the clouds.

So many months had passed without Tondon hearing anything of Gesar os his mother, surely, he told himself, he could feel confident now that he had finally outwitted the devil child. But like a recurring twinge of toothache the doubt would return, like a ghost of the dead, like a fearful herald of the prophecy's fulfillment. In an attempt to gain some mental rest, some reassurance, Tondon decided to spend a period in retreat and meditate on Tamdin, a deity who was his yidam, his guardian and guide. Surely, he thought, Tamdin would show him the truth and release him from this tormenting uncertainty.

For many days Tondon meditated alone. A servant left his meals in an outer room, so that no one, and nothing, disturbed him. He meditated before a large and beautiful shrine. The outer wall of the shrine room gave onto a red painted carved wooden balcony. One day after Tondon had been meditating all morning and was beginning to feel definite pangs of hunger, a large blackbird silently alighted onto the balcony rail. For a few moments it quickly looked around the room. Tondon was startled out of his meditation by the rapid beat of wings as the blackbird flew into the room and settled on part of the carved canopy of the shrine. For a moment Tondon looked at the bird in disbelief, confused as to whether it was part of his meditation or an actual blackbird that had flown in through the window. In either case it could only be of significance, for blackbirds were most auspicious. After carefully grooming its flight feathers, running them through its beak, the blackbird turned its attention to Tondon.

I am a messenger of the gods, noble steward Tondon." The blackbird spoke in a soft lilting voice. Tondon could not believe he was to be so fortunate. It has been years since he had received such direct guidance from the gods, why, long before he had become immersed in his responsibilities as steward of Ling. The blackbird continued, "King Sining will not be returning from his pilgrimage to the holy places in India."

At first Tondon did not understand what the blackbird was saying.
"You must announce the king's death to the people of Ling, and then you..."

Tondon had already begun to protest; how would people believe him if he said he received this message from a bird! But the blackbird was continuing its message for Tondon and was clearly not going to be interrupted.

"You must prepare for the enthronement of a successor. Inform the people that the throne will be occupied by the most worthy, by the chosen of the gods, for the skill of the candidates will decide who is to be king. A race will be held in which all the men of Ling can participate. It will last two days and will prove who is the most worthy to sit on the throne, to be the king of Ling."

Tondon was not very happy about this arrangement, and he was just going to try and explain to this blackbird said reassuringly, "Do not worry Tondon. Choose the best horse he can find, and there will be no doubt about the outcome." The blackbird paused, cocked its head to one side, and looked at Tondon intently as though to give him time to realize the significance of what he was saying. After a few moments he said quietly, "I am the voice of the precious master."

At the mention of Guru Rinpoche Tondon was convinced. This was indeed, he thought, a message of the gods.

The blackbird had apparently completed his message. It had become absorbed in grooming its feathers while Tondon thought about what it had said to him. Watching the bird at its toilet made Tondon think how very normal, even handsome a blackbird it was, indeed he really began to feel it looked too normal, and he started to wonder if he had imagined it all. He had to be sure.

"Is it true?" he said softly, feeling acutely embarrassed, and fearing both that he might upset the bird or be proved deluded. The bird ignored him and went on grooming, vigorously scratching its beak wit one foot.

"Did I imagine it? Please say something!"
Suddenly the bird stopped scratching, and holding its foot in mid-air said testily, "I have told you." Tondon, with some difficulty, as his legs were stiff from sitting in meditation for so long, prostrated himself from sheer emotional gratitude before the blackbird, and held aloft a scarf. The bird flew down from the shrine, plucked the scarf from Tondon's hand and left some droppings on his head. These Tondon reverently removed with another scarf, while the blackbird dropped his scarf over the shrine and flew away through the window. Tondon ran to the balcony in time to see the bird swiftly flying towards the woods on the mountainside.

Tondon threw open the doors of the shrine room and, bursting with the news, pounded through the corridors of the house shouting for his wife and chamberlain, so the whole household heard him. His wife and chamberlain came running up to him, greatly agitated, feeling certain that something dreadful must have happened.

"Summon the council. I have vital news for them!" Tondon said breathlessly.
"When do you want them to meet?" The Chamberlain asked.
"Now!" Tondon shouted impatiently. "Tell them to come here immediately, this will be the most important meeting of their lives! It affects the whole kingdom!" Tondon was holding onto the wall to steady himself he was so out of breath. The servants who had overheard Tondon quickly relayed his words to other members of the staff and soon the whole house and neighborhood were full of rumors.
"Sound the great drum." Tondon said to the Chamberlain. "I wish all the people of Ling to hear news of great importance."
"What is it, Kusho?" His wife put her arm around him to support him, for his face was scarlet with the exertion and excitement. Tondon dismissed the chamberlain and walked slowly back to the shrine room with his wife, telling her of the extraordinary message he had received from the gods. Her silent and unimpressed reaction angered him.
"Do you not remember how I used to receive such messages," he said peevishly, as though to remind her that this was not the only time that the gods had honored him.
"I remember indeed, Kusho," his wife said gently, "but it is just this message that I am not convinced about."
"This message! Why this is the most important one of my life!" She stroked his head and attempted to soothe him. "That is why we must be very careful. If it were a trick it would be disastrous."
"How can it be a trick?" he asked scathingly.
His wife did not answer, but poured some chang to cool her husband. She knew from the concern that filled his eyes that he was beginning to see her point. But the birds message was too much of a lifeline, an escape from all he had feared. He had to believe.

"Get out!" he shouted, and a bowl of fruit narrowly missed her head. Then like an enraged yak he chased his wife from the room, while she yelled back warnings of woe and misfortune.

Neither Tondon nor his wife noticed that the blackbird, the "messenger of the gods" perched on a branch of a tree overhanging the balcony, chuckling quietly to itself. It was a laugh Gongmo certainly would have recognized.

Tondon was not alone in remembering Gesar. Already he was a folk hero, and many talked of his coming back to Ling some day, for was he not a "child of the gods"? Many wanted Gesar to ride in the race for the throne of Ling. Some of these supporters were eating at the house of Tsering, the richest man in Ling, and arguing about how they might find Gesar and Gongmo to tell the boy of the race. It was known that there were many traps and dangers for the traveler in the solitudes, and who could tell where Gesar and his mother had gone in these vast plains; it could be weeks, even months before they were found.

"I will find him for you." Everyone stopped talking and looked in astonishment at Dolma, the pretty, young daughter of Tsering.
"Dolma! Dolma!" her father laughed. "Why will you be able to succeed when none of us, who have years of experience traveling the mountains and valleys can be sure of finding Gesar?"
"Because, Pa-la, I know in my heart that Gesar is destined for greatness. Because I know that my destiny is to help him."

The guests were silent and then murmured to one another. Dolma was a very unusual girl. At her birth the lamas had said that she was an especially blessed child. Although Tsering was very reluctant, eventually he agreed with his guests, and Dolma's sincerity convinced him, that the gods had chosen her to be their messenger.

The following day at dawn, Dolma, dressed in a peasant's chuba and with saddlebags bursting with provisions, set out on the route described by her father, who was one of the group that had taken Gongmo and Gesar to the solitudes.

Many lonely days passed; only once did Dolma come to a village, a tiny hamlet of six houses where she stayed the night. Occasionally she saw the splash of a monastery's white walls set high among the rocks of a mountain, the temple roofs reflecting the sun in their gilded tiles. But gradually all sign of human activity disappeared as she went on across a vast grassy plain, and into the solitudes, beneath the glacier-tipped mountain peaks. Dolma sang:

When you have arrived beyond the pass,
The great high mountain will cover you with its shadow,
Though I call you will hear no word.
When you go down into the valley,
Where lies the most precious jeweled lake,
You will go down into its waters,
But I who have exhausted my good karma
Will be left by the side of the waters....

Dolma's sad lover's refrain reflected her thoughts as she rode the empty, stony plain, the bells of her horses harness no longer sounding joyous but melancholy as they emphasized the silence, the emptiness of the land. Dolma fought off despair, determined to find Gesar, certain that with the blessing of Guru Rinpoche she would succeed.

Three days later Dolma was getting worried about finding Gesar in time for the race, and she began to wonder if perhaps he and Gongmo had managed after all to travel to another land, another life. But still Dolma felt, despite everything, that Gesar's life lay with the future of Ling. She was falling asleep with exhaustion as her horse took her over a rise - stretching into the distance was yet another vast plain - but here she caught sight of an outcrop of rocks with a cave, its entrance sheltered by a tattered awning. Excitement and anticipation flooded through Dolma as she urged her horse ahead. This had to be where Gesar and Gongmo lived, she thought. A few yards ahead she noticed a marmot suddenly appear from its hole, sit bolt upright on its haunches, and gaze intently at her, nose twitching vigorously as it intently sniffed the air at the approach of the horse. Something flashed passed the head of Dolma's horse and the marmot was knocked off its feet and lay dead. turning in the saddle, Dolma saw a young man striding toward her. He was about sixteen with wild, unkempt black hair, dressed in a sheepskin chuba, and holding a sling. He looked like any number of nomad boys she had seen, but there was a quality about his smile, and as he came closer she saw something in his eyes.

"Gesar!"

The youth laughed with delight on hearing his name called, and helping her to dismount, teased Dolma on how beautiful she had become since he had last seen her in Ling. As they walked toward the cave, Gesar deluged her with questions, desperately wanting to make up for being so long without any news.

As they neared the cave, Gesar, still walking, stooped, picked up a small round stone and slipped it into his sling. He stopped, whirled the sling around his head, his eyes trained on another distant marmot that had incautiously appeared from its hole. Instinctively Dolma put a restraining hand on his arm, but Gesar launched the stone killing the animal instantly. Gesar sounded faintly mocking as he said, "Do not worry Dolma. These animals are not what you think!" Gesar walked over to the body of the marmot and held it up for her to see. "They are spirits that can change from this harmless appearance to demons who torment the spirits of the dead." At first Dolma thought he was teasing her, then realized that he was perfectly serious.

When they reached the cave, Dolma hesitated to go in, it looked so filthy, and used the opportunity to unharness her horse to put off the moment, but even when she had unsaddled and tethered her horse she made no move to enter the cave.

"Dolma, I know this is not what you are used to, but you will never receive warmer hospitality. Come and meet my mother Gongmo. You will make her very happy." Dolma smiled, but her step toward the cave was obviously reluctant; it was so very filthy. She screamed as the body of one of the marmots Gesar killed hit her on the head. Angrily she turned on Gesar. He was laughing and this so enraged her that she ran to hit him, but as she raised her small fists to strike she saw that her arms were covered with loose clumps of black hair. She clasped her head. To her horror she realized that her hair was falling out with even the slightest movement of her head.

"My hair! Gesar! My hair! What has happened!?" Dolma wept while her hair gently continued to fall, sticking to her tear-stained cheeks. Smiling, Gesar leaned forward to touch her head. Instinctively, Dolma drew back, fearing that even the slightest touch would cause even more of her hair to fall, but Gesar ran his hand through her hair, as she cried out in despair, but no more hair came away in his hand. She touched her head. her hair felt as thick and luxuriant as before. Laughing with joy, Dolma tentatively pulled at a lock. It held. She tugged. Not a hair left her head. Dolma looked at Gesar and wept with joy. Gently he untied her plait and drew her waist - length hair over her shoulder, running his hand through it so that she could see that the light shimmering through her hair formed the mantra OM MANI PADME HUM. Dolma looked at Gesar for a few moments, her heart filling with love, then, laughing, she aimed a blow at him in mock anger at his teasing.

"Even the humblest cave can hold riches." He smiled; Dolma understood and followed him inside. There was Gongmo in a tattered dress, looking very dirty and unkempt. She greeted Dolma warmly and made a place for her to sit. Dolma gave them gifts of food and from the people of Ling, and while they enjoyed the fine tea, which Gongmo and Gesar savored after drinking nettle tea for so long, Dolma told them about her mission and the race. Gongmo was concerned that if they returned to Ling, Tondon might try to kill Gesar again.

"But no one will recognize him." Dolma knew that this was not true, but she hoped it would reassure Gongmo.
"My destiny is Ling's destiny." Gesar said quietly.

A few hours later Gesar and Dolma sat on a rock in the sun and talked as the watched a small herd of musk deer. Gesar took a thin rope from his shoulder, saying he had to kill one of the deer, and asked Gongmo to help him. She was not at all happy about the suggestion, for she did not believe in the taking of life. But, laughing, she asked, "Are you going to say it is another demon?" "Yes," Gesar said, and Dolma did not know whether to believe him or not. But she helped him. Stealthily Gesar worked himself into the browsing herd of deer without causing them to panic and run. Slowly he took the rope from his shoulder, and swiftly, silently, whirled the lasso; the deer became apprehensive, then they all started running. The noose snaked out over the head of one of the stampeding deer. The animal reared up in terror, then wildly hurled itself in all directions, struggling to free itself of the noose. Gesar played it like a fish, slowly bringing the rope in. The small animal with the delicate body, weaving and dancing at the end of the rope, was using every ounce of its energy to pull itself free. It danced around Gesar, then suddenly darted away, so that before Gesar realized it, the rope was twisted around his neck and then tightened. Gesar struggled to free himself, but now the deer was the captor, the hunter, rather than the victim. Dolma ran to help but she found that no sooner had the deer slackened the rope for a second than it would tighten again; it was like fighting against some demonic intelligence, she was sure the deer knew exactly what it was doing. Gesar threw himself to the ground in an attempt to free himself from the strangling rope. He was gasping for breath, choking as Dolma tried to free him. Desperately she turned on the deer and tried to grab it, then without thinking as she heard Gesar groaning, she picked up a stone as the deer darted past her, without thinking she brought it down as hard as she could on the animals head, killing it instantly. She ran to Gesar and helped him to tear the rope from his throat. He gulped at the air, then staggered to his feet and walked slowly across to the deer. Dolma watched him. "It's dead." she said finally, sadly.

Gesar jokingly chided her for killing a defenseless creature.
"But it was a demon!"
"I may know that, but I will wonder if others will believe it?"

Dolma was upset that her family might hear of her killing the animal, for they were very religious. She was angered by Gesar's attitude, especially since she had just saved his life, but he made light of the episode and teased her even more, promising to keep her secret if he could have her whip.

"I'll give you my whip!" Dolma shouted. She ran to her saddle and harness, seized the whip from a rock and then chased furiously after Gesar, trying to beat him with the whip, until they both fell exhausted and laughing to the ground. Thus Gesar acquired the first of the treasures described by Guru Rinpoche.

Gesar and Dolma realized that if they were going to return to Ling in time for the race, they would have to ride hard, so it was agreed that Gongmo would follow on behind at an easier pace. As they galloped across the plain, Dolma felt very unhappy that Gesar seemed to think so little of her, that he could tease her so unmercifully. Gesar was thinking of Tondon, of his subtleties and tricks. There were, after all, many greater magicians in Tibet than the hermit Ratna whom he had defeated three years previously. It occurred to him as certainly not beyond the realm of possibility that Dolma was a phantom, conjured up to trick him. He prayed it was not so, for he knew now how he felt about her, but for this very reason he had to know, or the question would always be there. He spurred his horse, whispering in its ear.

"Gesar! Wait! I cannot keep up with you!" Dolma shouted. Suddenly Gesar's horse lunged forward, its body like a clenched fist of taught muscles. Then to her horror, Dolma saw the horse bolt. She shouted, and Gesar shouted back at her, but she could not catch what he said as he struggled to bring the horse to a halt, pulling its head around to slow it. Dolma spurred her horse on. As Gesar's horse neared the long grass of the river bank, a forehoof slipped on a marmot burrow, and the horse fell, throwing Gesar violently from the saddle. He disappeared into the long grass. The grass was so tall that for a moment, just after she dismounted, she could not even see Gesar's horse; then it staggered to its feet. She ran over to it and saw that it seemed to have no broken bones. But there was no sign of Gesar.

"Gesar! Gesar? Where are you, Gesar?" She walked slowly through the long grass looking for him, worried that he had been knocked unconscious, yet not able to put the idea out of her mind that all the time he was playing a joke on her.

"Gesar, if you do not come out I'll ride on without you!" But her threat brought no response, and as time passed and she walked on, Dolma grew more apprehensive. Then she saw his hand in the long grass. She recognized his silver saddle ring, and lying nearby she noticed the whip she had given him.

"Gesar," As she parted the grass Dolma's mouth opened in a silent scream that took moments to tear itself from her being. It was Gesar's arm, but the grass had parted to show the bloody stump of his shoulder where it had been severed from his body. Feeling she was in some terrible nightmare and unable to understand how it could have happened, Dolma wandered through the grass. She looked down as she accidentally kicked something and felt it roll beneath her feet. She was looking into the lifeless eyes of Gesar's severed head. Her tears mingled with his blood as she murmured again and again, unable to believe that he could really be dead, "Gesar, Gesar, do not tease me."

Wracked with grief, Dolma called on Guru Rinpoche for help. Her long, black hair fell over her face as she looked down at Gesar's head cradled in her arms, tears nearly blinding her. "Dolma!" At first, Dolma thought it was her mind playing tricks, as she heard the familiar voice. She opened her eyes. There was no sign of Gesar's head or body. "Dolma!" She turned. He was sitting, restored and healthy, cross-legged and balanced on the slender curve of a two-foot-long stalk of grass.

"Gesar!" She ran to him. "I thought you were dead!" Dolma was overwhelmed with an emotional flood of anger and relief. She pummeled him in a rage as soothingly Gesar tried to defend himself. "Why, Gesar? Why put me through so much pain? Why?" "I had to know, Dolma." He stood up and held her face in his hands. "Now I know that there is no deception or trick, that your heart is your own, that I do indeed have it, as you have mine."

Gesar and Dolma rode beside the surging river of the Ling valley, its fields of barley ripe for harvesting. Even from a distance they recognized the portly figure of Tondon approaching with a group of riders. Dolma hoped she would not be recognized in her peasant chuba. As the party of riders approached, Gesar realized that Tondon was looking at him and his horse intently, even while he continued speaking with the rider beside him. Dolma glanced nervously at Gesar and lowered her head. They eased their horses to the side of the path so Tondon and his party could pass them without hindrance. As Tondon's party went by, Gesar bowed his head in respect to the steward and drew in his breath. Then, just as he and Dolma were urging their horses onward, Tondon shouted to Gesar: "Nomad boy! I want to speak to you!"

Gesar realized it was fruitless to ride on with Tondon's party all around them. He turned his horse and, with Dolma following, walked the few yards back to Tondon. Gesar dismounted to approach, hoping his deference would help to prevent the steward from recognizing him.

"Your horse is very fine," Tondon said. He was carefully appraising the horse. It was without doubt the finest he had seen, and he was remembering the words of prophecy: ride the finest horse in Ling to be sure of winning. This horse must be, he thought, the one he should ride.

Tondon's companion's had gathered around Gesar and Dolma, each voicing opinions on the horse. Gesar received congratulations on his mount, which inspired considerable admiration in all of them. "Would you consider selling it?" Tondon had little hope that he could persuade Gesar to sell it; as a fine horse was far more valuable than its monetary worth.

If Gesar was unwilling to sell, Tondon thought, he would have to think of some other means of acquiring the horse. Gesar politely discounted the virtues of his horse, explaining that Tondon's horse was better in various points. Tondon held out his hand and Gesar took it. Tondon offered Gesar a substantial amount by the means of a hand grip, the movement hidden by his long sleeve. Gesar declined, and so Tondon increased his bids, until he realized that Gesar was unresponsive from lack of interest in a sale, despite being offered a fortune.

"Kusho," Gesar said, "with respect, I do not wish to sell my horse." Tondon threw Gesar's hand down angrily. There was a hardness in his voice when he spoke. "I would like to try your 'humble' beast!" The breath hissed through his back teeth. Gesar paused for a moment. "You will honor my horse and myself." He wanted to do anything to avoid suspicion.

Tondon's servants dismounted quickly in order to help the steward dismount from his own horse and mount Gesar's.
Where did you get this horse?" Tondon asked.
From my uncle. He has fine horses."
"Why will you not sell him, even for a fortune."
"I cannot, Kusho, he is my mother's."
But I thought you said that he came from your uncle." Tondon tapped a small jade bottle onto his hand and inhaled some snuff.
"From my uncle's herd."
"Would your mother think of selling him?"
"Then why does she need a horse like this?" Tondon sounded exasperated.
"One does not only have what one needs in this life," Gesar replied.
"Can you tell her I am interested in buying her horse?"
"I will not be seeing her for some six months."
"You are on pilgrimage?"
"Yes," Gesar replied, "but my mother does not know anything about horses."
"But since she owns it, I would have to buy it from her?" Tondon asked.
"Well," Gesar sounded thoughtful, "she would ask my opinion. I am the only one who knows about him since I ride him."
"But you said he wasn't your horse."
"He isn't."
Tondon was growing angrier by the minute. "I have already asked if I can buy the horse from you." "Well," said Gesar, "it would depend on my uncle."
"But you said your uncle had given the horse to your mother."
"He has."
"Then explain to me."
"My uncle wants to breed from the horse."
"So I have to ask your mother, who will ask you, who will ask your uncle. But your uncle will have to ask your mother who will ask you?"
"Er, yes, Kusho." Gesar smiled. Tondon hit the horse with his whip, determined now that he would have it, and mentally cursing Gesar for all eternity. As he rode past, some of his companions pointed at the horse. Tondon reined it, then asked them what they saw.
"The horse has a double joint."

Tondon did not believe them , and got Gesar on the horse so that he could watch its movement closely. To his horror he saw that the beautiful beast did indeed have a double joint. It would be hopeless for racing, Tondon thought, and felt even angrier that he had not noticed it earlier and had wasted so much time. His friends were clearly finding the whole thing hilarious. Feeling humiliated and uneasy, he climbed back onto his own horse and urged it into a rapid pace.

Dolma rode beside her father, dressed in her festival clothes and attended by their household, listening to the dull echo of their horses hooves in the deserted town square as they rode to join the townspeople camped at the picnic ground for the start of the race. Dolma's father looked across the square at the large carved and gilded throne set up on the temples steps, awaiting the winner, and beside it the slightly lower throne for the new queen of Ling - Dolma. His daughter, queen of Ling. He glowed with pride when he looked down at her. Already she looked the part in her chuba of brocade satin edged with otter fur, her hair in a hundred plaits gathered in a single braid and interwoven with ornaments of turquoise and coral. Looking at the empty thrones Dolma felt both apprehension and excitement. Her father had promised her to the winner of the race. If it was not Gesar she would lose him forever, but if he won she knew she would be his wife and queen.

The rolling turf of the picnic ground on the outskirts of Ling was churned up by the five hundred horsemen, milling and shouting as they attempted to get al their horses lined up beside the shallow stream which was the starting line.

Almost the entire population of Ling had come out to see the race. Many families had set up their picnic tents, which were decorated with brightly colored felt designs, and innumerable fires heated cauldrons of water for the enormous teapots. The two-day long race had become a festival for the whole country and everyone was dressed in their finest clothes. When they were not watching the race it would be a time of dancing, singing, feasting, drinking, and gaming. Tondon glanced up at the monks setting up the ancient canon on the monastery ramparts, in preparation for the starting signal. A groom led his horse through the crowd toward the edge of the stream. Many people had been unhappy that Tondon was participating in the race, for some said that such a powerful figure would put everyone else at disadvantage, but Tondon realized very rapidly that no one was going to allow him to win the race out of awe or respect for his position and rank. Those men who courteously acknowledged him before the race, Tondon was quite aware, would fight him relentlessly during it. The steward smilingly acknowledged the greetings, then his smile froze as he noticed someone on a horse a few yards away. It was the young nomad boy he had seen the day before. Tondon was very puzzled to see that his horse appeared to be perfectly fit with no sign of a double joint. It was as he had originally thought, a superb horse. Even as he realized this, Tondon also recognized the boy's smile and the look in his eyes. Tondon moaned aloud. Gesar had returned!

The canon on the wall of the monastery was fired in a cloud of billowing smoke before anyone expected it, startling some of the horses so that at least twenty of the riders were thrown at the starting line. The rest of the competition careered across the stream, and in the jostling mess more riders fell.

The terrain was such that the winner of the race would not necessarily be the fastest runner, but the toughest, the best able to endure the pressure of the race and the harshness of the course. Tondon had made careful preparations: along the route were grooms and servants carefully disguised as farmers, pilgrims, or monks, with refreshment and even fresh horses. Even though the gods had assured him that he would win, he believed it was up to him, he believed it was up to him to make sure he would realize the prophecy!

Gesar had made a very poor start. Hemmed in at the back of the mass of the horsemen, he had been brought down within seconds of the start by a falling horse. Some hours later he adjusted the eyeshade of fringed cloth which protected his eyes against snow glare as he plodded toward the mountain pass. The snow was churned up with hoofprints and the footprints of other competitors. A handful of riders were scattered across the mountain, wearily climbing the track toward the pass. Gesar paused to give his horse some tsampa, then chewed a cube of dried cheese.

At noon the sun was harsh. Gesar and his horse walked with dragging feet along the edge of the lake, so vast that he could not see the far shore. He wore his sheepskin chuba with the sleeves tied around his waist, leaving his torso bare to the sun. Gesar looked longingly at the water, so enticingly refreshing, but it was salty and undrinkable. About a hundred yards ahead Gesar saw three other competitors. One, too exhausted to walk, was riding a horse that looked ready to drop. As Gesar walked through some apricot trees he saw a strange figure sitting on a medong - a wall of stones engraved with invocations. Drawing closer Gesar realized that the young man was a hunchback, his body twisted and contorted so that it appeared as if one side of it had been lifted higher than the other before his bones set, giving him a hump, limp, and leaving his head on one side. But the young man had a cheerful countenance and greeted Gesar while he filled his hat with water from a large container and gave it to his horse to drink. Gesar looked longingly at the water as he walked up to the young man. The hunchback smiled and offered the bottle to the youth. When Gesar had given his horse a drink from his cupped hands, he took some himself.

Gesar was exhausted and, looking at his horse, knew that they had to rest if they were to have any hope of going on. He sat on the wall with the young hunchback, and felt utterly drained of energy. "What is your name? Mine is Gesar."
"Greetings Gesar. I am Chamba, the riddle maker."

Gesar laughed at the man's title and, nodding his thanks to the young man handed him the water bottle again, took another drink. While he drank Gesar took in the young man: he was dressed very colorfully, with a red chuba, saddle rings on every finger like a nomadic bandit, and a beautiful bow and quiver of arrows. The quiver especially caught Gesar's attention. It was covered in sharkskin and bound in silver.

"Tell me some riddles." Gesar said as he handed the water bottle back.
The young man laughed. "No, I shall tell you of the possible that is impossible, or the impossible that is possible." He laughed again, and Gesar thought that he must not stay too long or he would lose the ground he had made up.
"How could one louse fill your hand to overflowing?"
"How?" Gesar asked.
"Why, if its muscles are unraveled it would fill both your hands."
Gesar pulled a wry smile. He saw a rider approaching in the distance.
"How," the hunchback asked again, " can one ant fill a tsampa bowl?"
"I do not know." Gesar replied.
"The drop of blood from an ants nose will fill a tsampa bowl."
The rider was fast coming up to them. Gesar, instead of feeling refreshed, was feeling more and more tired.
"You talk nonsense." he said, He tried to walk away, but found he was to weak to do so. As he glanced at the hunchback, the young man smiled back at him, with his curious laughter. The rider cantered past. "But you must hear the third impossibility."
"Well," Gesar said, and tried to summon up all his energies.
"A magpie that gives birth to a baby and gives it milk."
"It is not hard to think of impossibilities, riddle maker."
"But mine are possible, think carefully."
Gesar shook his head in disbelief, he was so tired.
:Tell me three things sharpened by nature."
"I don't know." Gesar wanted to get on, if only he could get up enough energy. He forced himself off the wall and stood up.
"A tusk, a horn, and a splinter of wood."

Gesar smiled and tightened the girth of his saddle, as the young man limped across to help him. Swiftly he slipped a bur beneath the woven saddle rug. Gesar swung up into the saddle, and was about to bid farewell to the hunchback, when his horse, reacting against the pain of the bur, lashed out with his hindquarters, catching the hunchback in his side and knocking him into the lake.

"Help me!" the hunchback shouted. "I cannot swim! Help me!"
Gesar quieted his horse, jumped down from the saddle and saw a thin trickle of blood oozing from beneath the saddle rug. He felt beneath it.
"Shall I help you," Gesar angrily shouted, "as you have helped me?" He held aloft the bur.
"Please," the hunchback was treading water and managed to grab hold of a slippery rock to which he desperately clung. "I had to do it. I am sorry, the steward Tondon ordered it."
Gesar walked to the edge of the lake and looked calmly at the struggling hunchback, tossed the bur into the water, and said, "We will strike a bargain. For your fine quiver, I will rescue you."
"Anything," the hunchback gasped. His hands slipped on the rock, "Help me!" He disappeared beneath the water.

Gesar took the rope from his saddle and hurled it out into the water. It was quickly grasped by the hunchback, and Gesar pulled him onto the bank. As he lay wet and frightened on the ground, Gesar took the quiver from him and slung it over his shoulder, and, remounting his horse he spurred it into a gallop to catch up with his competitors. He had found another of the treasures of Guru Rinpoche.

When dusk fell Gesar rode on through the night, with only the pale, ghostly light of the moon. Sometimes when it disappeared for minutes behind the clouds, his horse would stumble, his hooves slipping into one of the holes of the tailess rat-warrens. Gesar slackened his pace but still rode on.

It was some hours after midnight when he was riding through a wood that he saw, in the shelter of some rocks, the glimmer of a campfire. Gesar approached cautiously; it was unusual for a fire to burn brightly at this hour, and who could say what evil spirits might be abroad waiting to catch the unwary traveler. As he drew closer, Gesar saw the glint of firelight on the long blade of a sword held at the ready.

Gesar was by no means certain that the sword was only for defensive purposes! A gravelly woman's voice called: "Come into the light where I can see you."

Gesar dismounted and, leading his horse, walked up to the long figure beside the campfire. She was a plump middle-aged woman, her chuba bag was stuffed full, and she carried twin sets of saddle bags filled with the equipment and medicines of a doctor. As the doctor sheathed her sword, Gesar had no doubt as to her capability with it. She heated water on the fire for tea, and he unsaddled his horse to give it a rest.

As he talked with the doctor, he was increasingly fascinated by her hat. Like a giant bird's beak, it was made of tightly woven bird's feathers. They appeared to be a form of cloth, so closely did one feather lie against the other. The doctor, Gesar discovered, was on her way to a nomadic encampment for the winter. After they eaten and talked for awhile, Gesar asked for the doctor's opinion, saying that he had felt unwell for some time. The doctor gave him a thorough check, gently feeling the subtle veins of energy in his body, and eventually declaring him to be perfectly healthy. Gesar accepted this doubtfully. A short while later, Gesar said he was definitely not well. Again the doctor wearily went through her tests, and again she reassured him that there was nothing wrong with him.

"But I know that there must be. Why would the upper part of my body feel like fire, and the lower part of my body feel like ice?"

The doctor began to wish that they had not met. She was sure that he was teasing her, but he had such a charming manner that she found it impossible to be angry and could only smile. For a third time she tested him, and yet again found nothing wrong with him.
"And what," she said laughing, "can I give someone who is not ill?"
"Noble lady, your gamcha!" Gesar pointed at the hat.
The doctor laughed disbelievingly, then impulsively took it from her head and gave it to Gesar. Gesar called down the blessings of the gods on the doctor, for now he had another of the treasures of Guru Rinpoche.

Swallows wove an invisible pattern in the limpid blue sky above the few remaining competitors in the race for the throne of Ling. Gesar knew that not only the swallows looked down from the heavens, as he urged on his horse, for he was well up with the leaders in the race.

As they rode through a narrow ravine the high cliffs, eroded by wind and rain into patterns like the faces of strange beings, looked down upon them intently, broodingly. Gesar gained on the leaders. As the sound of his horse's hooves thundered in his ears, and seeing the cliffs, he thought for a second of how he had seen rock, stone harder that he could imagine, worn away by the gentle caress of water. As the riders emerged from the ravine Gesar overtook most of the leaders. There were now only two competitors ahead of him, and the leader was Tondon's son Dutsum. The three men pounded across the fields surrounding the town of Ling as they neared the finish. Suddenly Gesar saw Dutsum's horse appear to tumble, then fall headlong. Dutsum managed to roll aside and avoid being crushed. Within seconds he was on his feet but a glance at his horse told him that while it was not seriously injured, he could not continue on it. Dutsum drew his dagger and raced toward the oncoming rider, just ahead of Gesar.

"Stop. I am Dutsum, the steward's son. I order you to stop." The rider slowed, undecided whether to stop, and as he came up to Dutsum, the young man, though of a portly build like his father, leaped at the rider, throwing him from his horse. Then Dutsum was in the saddle, urging the horse onto Ling, glancing back to see how close Gesar was. To his horror he saw that Gesar he saw that Gesar had stopped and was walking toward his injured horse, dagger drawn, with the evident intent of slitting its throat. Dutsum hesitated, but could not ride on, he loved his horse too much. Turning back, he galloped toward Gesar. "Stop, Gesar! Please do not kill my horse!"

At that moment, while Dutsum was shouting, Gesar on the "horse of the gods," galloped into the market place, to the delight of the crowd, which went delirious with excitement. Dolma wept with joy and cried out from the top of the temple steps, "Gesar! Gesar of Ling!"

Gesar was carried to the steps by the crowd - their hero, the child of the gods, the banished young prince, for it was said by many that the nomad boy was the natural son of the late king. He had proved his right to his inheritance by winning the race.

"Gesar! Gesar of Ling! Gesar! Gesar of Ling!" The cry echoed through the town as he was hailed by the people.

Gesar ordered the crowd to part and led his horse to a water trough, then, surrounded by the chanting crowd, he loosened its girth and saw that a palace servant would look after the horse. Slowly he mounted the steps of the temple. He embraced Dolma and then Gongmo to wild cheers from the crowd. The head lama of the temple then assisted him to mount the throne of Ling. The royal robe was put around his shoulders, and he accepted the symbols of sovereignty as the monastic trumpets and the great drum were sounded. Gesar stepped down from his throne and helped Dolma onto the queen's throne. The crowd's welcome for their new queen was as warm as for their new king.

One of the first to enter the marketplace after Gesar was Tondon. Just outside Ling he had come across his son and had learned how Gesar had used a phantom body to trick Dutsum into turning back. Tondon was helped off his horse. The crowd was noisy, and not very friendly toward the steward. His buck teeth worked up and down as, panting for breath, the overweight steward climbed the temple steps toward the throne. Tondon paused before Gesar and the two looked at each other. Gesar smiled. Tondon laughed, and felt very relieved. He stepped forward.

"Nephew!" Tondon bowed low, and his public acceptance of Gesar drew cheers from the crowd.
Tondon draped a six-foot-long kata over the throne, then turned to the crowd in the market square. "Today we have a new king. King Gesar!"
Amidst the cheers flintlocks exploded, and countless juniper incense fires were lit in thanksgiving as Tondon presented Dolma.
"The queen of Ling!"
Gesar smiled at Dolma. A beautiful rainbow formed in the sky over town. Gesar caught sight of the treasures on the table before him, the whip, the bow, the quiver, the hat. All were to play a part in his adventures, for King Gesar knew that in reality his story had just barely begun.