And the Piper Played the Tune

AND THE PIPER

PLAYED THE TUNE

David Morisset

Copyright David Morisset 2020.

All rights reserved.

This novel is a work of fiction.

All names, characters, events and places are products of imagination.

Please see the author’s acknowledgements and disclaimers at the end of this book.

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For Na’nee

I

Dansawon’s population was enjoying an era of elegant simplicity. It was a time when the earth was still lightly touched by the tread of human populations and nature flourished in its embryonic grandeur. Only the ruler’s palace seemed to display a magnificence that pushed beyond the majesty of the natural world.

The palace complex stood at the very top of a gentle incline in the midst of a patchwork of vineyards, orchards, farms and gardens set on rolling hills. So lovely were the cultivated lands around the royal buildings that the people of the villages dotted amongst them believed that they were breathed into existence at the beginning of time by messengers from heaven.

Two rivers flanked the principality, providing ample water for fruit, vegetables and cereal crops, as well as for the herds and flocks that grazed in fields bordered by neat rows of leafy trees and stands of wildflowers. The rivers were home to many species of fish. They provided such an abundant supply of food that the riches of the land’s farms and gardens seemed almost redundant. Far away, the bountiful streams flowed into an ocean that shone on the edge of the world.

The walls that fortified the palace were made of sandstone carved from the steep cliffs that rose from the drowned valley estuary where the river on Dansawon’s western border approached the sea. Fragrant jasmine climbed wooden trellises pinned to the yellow stone walls, creating evergreen carpets dotted with showy white flowers. Between the plants, and on the supporting columns of the main structures, there were decorative patches of gold leaf and chiselled decorations studded with rubies and sapphires. The main gates were made of teak and sections of their jambs were bejewelled with jade.

In the colossal courtyard just beyond these gates, sticks of sandalwood burned day and night, sending their perfume into the vastness of the space. The multi-tiered pitched roof of the palace reached towards heaven, its four distinct levels affording cascading platforms for ornate adornments. These included carved figurines of fantastic creatures from the imaginations of Dansawon’s artists, as well as more familiar shapes such as rampaging elephants and other animals of the wild.

***

One day, Tanawat, the ruler of Dansawon, summoned his court. He had presided over forty years of peace and freedom. As Tanawat entered the throne room, a senior aide announced in a baritone voice of a timbre that demanded instant attention, My good people of Dansawon, prepare yourselves for the presence of our beloved ruler. Obediently everyone knelt, with their heads bowed.

There was a solemn silence as Tanawat ascended a few steps to the top of a low platform, taking his place on a polished throne, its rosewood frame inlaid with ivory. He sat, surrounded by the finest tapestries depicting the picturesque flora of Dansawon. The silence lasted only a few moments as Tanawat signalled, with a clap of his hands, for all those present to lift their heads. Then he spoke, his voice even richer with resonance than that of the aide who had announced his arrival.

Gentle people of Dansawon. I have been privileged to rule over this bounteous realm for four decades. But I am growing old. Soon I will be too concerned with the cares of age to give proper attention to the business of government. So, for the sake of our continued fortune, I have determined that I will divide my realm into two regions to be ruled by my two sons. As for the boundaries of those regions, I will decide upon them after my sons each complete a quest that will equip them to become good rulers, beloved of their subjects, and efficient stewards of their inheritance. Stand, my sons, stand. Tanawat’s eyes sparkled with pride as he looked into the faces of his two sons, Sirichai and Channarong. Their mother, Princess Kanokwan, had been a beautiful woman, even in her final months of illness and death, and her sons had inherited some of her splendid features despite their masculine bearing.

They were both on the verge of manhood. Sirichai was the eldest, a thoughtful and artistic lad of fifteen years. Channarong was a year younger but slightly taller, stronger, and more graceful in his movements. Both were handsome enough to attract the attention of many an ambitious daughter of pushy courtiers. The princes were spectacularly dressed in ceremonial garb that was only surpassed in splendour by the robes of Tanawat. Their smooth faces and shoulder-length black hair contrasted with the greying locks and wispy white beard of their father.

In prescribing this quest, I am mindful that, like all the princes who have ruled this pleasant land, you will require knowledge that exceeds the most learned of your teachers in this place. So, you will travel away from here for nine months, seeking scholarly men to instruct you. When you return, you will be fit to become rulers. This I command.

Tanawat rose from his throne. All of the people in the room knelt and bowed their heads again. Sirichai and Channarong fell to their knees and stared at the marble floor in front of them.

The absence of Tanawat created an opportunity for men of specious authority to offer self-serving advice to the two princes. For two hours the princes listened to the urgings of their would-be mentors. Sometimes the names of eminent teachers were whispered, with detailed estimates of the amounts of money that might be involved if their services were to be secured. Tired, the princes retired to their wing of the palace to consider their next steps.

***

As he put together a small traveling pack, Sirichai sighed. He had realised something. "None of the courtiers’ suggestions respected the spirit of our father’s wishes. He wants us to travel away from here. That is how we must learn."

You are right. But surely we cannot travel willy-nilly. There must be some purpose. We can’t simply wander. Channarong stared out of an open window at the seemingly limitless sky, which was turning purple in the failing light of dusk.

My young princes, please allow me to enter. The soft, raspy voice of Nattapong, an ageing teacher, at whose feet the princes had sat many years ago, came from the entrance to their room. In recent times he had become a well-connected courtier on whom Tanawat relied for advice on many matters of state.

Yes, of course. Sirichai beckoned to him.

You are young. Nattapong searched the eyes of the two princes as he spoke. Sensing that they were open to his guidance, he continued in a small, still voice.

"You know only the world of this court and its hinterland. You have been taught by skilled men and cared for by generous women. But a ruler must know and understand more than what his own court can teach him and he must learn skills that his own people cannot demonstrate to him. Your father realises this only too well. When he was young, his own father gave him a similar assignment. I was also young then. But I knew enough to give your father some sound advice. I reminded him that wise and learned men are not always recognised by those in power and only a few of them rise to positions of prominence. And, for most of them, that does not matter. They prefer to seek knowledge and contemplate eternal truth instead of competing for the favour of the ruthless politicians of a royal court or vying for prominence in fluctuating markets of business. The most earnest of them often live humble and reclusive lives. Many become hermits, spending their days accumulating ideas and pondering the realities of existence. You must travel long distances to find such men.

"Whether your journey takes you to secluded villages or wild jungles, it will be worth the effort if you find even one of these men and learn from him. Because you have only nine months to complete your quest, I suggest that you might begin your search by travelling into the rainforest to the east. It will not be an easy journey but it will be much less dangerous than making your way by sea. Ocean voyages are slow and driven by fickle winds that might prove unfriendly.

"Ensure that you impress the men and women you meet with the quality of your character before you consider revealing that you are of royal blood. Indeed, it would be best to keep your nobility secret.

"Exercise diplomacy at all times. Be careful about making your innermost thoughts known to strangers. Remain on guard even with those whom you come to regard as friends. Maintain a degree of reserve even when you are feeling lonely and you long for easy familiarity. Your time to learn is short. So do not waste it on meaningless entertainment. It will, from time to time, be easy to be led astray. I can almost promise you that!

"On the other hand, be as agreeable as you can be in all circumstances. Avoid quarrels, especially when your opponent is of inferior intellect or infected with prejudice and bile. If you do find yourself in an argument, make your case with respect and use evidence to prove your point. Where there is no chance of reaching agreement, or compromising, withdraw with grace.

"Do not judge anyone solely by their apparel and beware of pretence to riches. There are imposters in all lands and in all professions. Similarly, take care with your own appearance, even when the hardships of your expedition leave you exhausted.

"Your father has asked me to give you a small amount of money and, to each of you, several gold rings, some of them studded with precious stones and bearing the emblems of Dansawon. The money should be ample for your needs if you are frugal and the rings should you help you in an emergency. You should not allow yourself to fall into debt. Nor would it suit your purposes to become a lender to anyone, no matter how worthy their supposed cause.

Finally, be true to your lord, Tanawat, and to your own selves, no matter what surprises or disasters might dog your footsteps. That is not an easy commission. But it is an essential quality of men destined to rule.

Bowing, the old man gave them two rough leather purses and several chunky gold rings, and then he left them. As he walked away, Nattapong slowed, and then he turned his head to offer the two princes the light of eyes that shone unevenly, as if they had been tarnished by disappointments but still held on to fervent hopes.

II

The next morning, following instructions issued by Tanawat, servants of the palace kitchens saw to it that the two princes were supplied with enough food and water to last only a week. Sirichai and Channarong carried their provisions in backpacks made from the hides of buffaloes.

Forsaking clothes of silk and other fine fabrics that were suited to the formalities of everyday life in the courts of the royal palace, the princes dressed simply in sleeveless shirts and loose-fitting trousers that finished just below the knee. Their garments were made of rough, hard-wearing material and featured pockets for knives. Although it was Channarong who was most dextrous in the use of knives, both princes carried blades suitable for defence against bandits and for various other purposes, including the cleaning of fish and the butchering of small animals.

Sturdy leather sandals supported the brothers’ feet. Their heads were uncovered but they carried austere plain bandanas as a precaution should they need to shield themselves from the heat of the day. They looked like common workers rather than heirs to principalities.

They set out well before the morning sun had dried the dew on the verdant slopes around the palace complex. As the days passed and they consumed the food provided by the palace kitchens, the princes’ backpacks became lighter and the terrain of the rainforest became more demanding. However, the weather was pleasantly warm and there was ample fresh water and abundant fish in numerous tributaries that flowed through the wild environment.

Eventually they came to the river that bordered their homeland on the eastern side. They soon found a narrow section where the flow of water was gentle enough for them to cross easily. Although both princes were not particularly proficient swimmers they encountered no real difficulties in reaching the other side.

***

By six days into their journey the density of the rainforest canopy had become variable, so that more of the sun’s relentless rays could heat the damp ground. The two princes soon encountered long stretches of dense undergrowth that hampered their progress.

It’s getting worse. Perhaps we should change our course and travel south instead of east. Sirichai’s eyes scanned the patches of sky in all directions. To the south there was only brilliant blue but there were dark clouds in the east.

One more day. We should go east for one more day. The words of Nattapong, the old teacher, were still on Channarong’s mind.

Sirichai nodded, but glanced apprehensively at the menacing black clouds above the treetops in the eastern sky.

At the end of the day, the two princes arrived at the edge of a clearing. At its eastern edge were steep inclines that rose towards the looming clouds that Sirichai had seen earlier. The brothers stopped to rest and spent the evening dining on fish they had caught in one of the countryside's munificent streams.

***

Early the next day, just after dawn, they were awoken by a heavy downpour that made the air heavy with petrichor. The rain was warm, as if it had been heated by the rising sun, which soon began to turn the clearing sky a deep crimson before it transformed it into a glistening blue. However, the evolving sky was not the only sight that dazzled the still sleepy eyes of the two princes. The steep inclines they had seen in the moody light of dusk were no longer topped by storm clouds. In the flawless air of the morning they revealed themselves as mere foothills of a noble mountain.

At its peak the mountain was covered in what the two princes guessed was snow – a feature of foreign climates that their teachers had told them about.

Let’s climb to the top. We can take some of the snow home to our father. Sirichai, unaware of the naivety of his intentions, was already gathering his belongings to make a start.

Channarong set off after his brother.

The going was easy in the foothills as, rather intriguingly, there was a sharply defined pathway that wound its way upwards through a series of hairpin bends. It appeared that someone had spent considerable time hacking back the vegetation to create the thoroughfare. After several hours, the track came to an end on a grassy landing in front of the entrance to a grotto. Sirichai peered into the cave.

I am sure there is a light in there. Come. Sirichai beckoned his brother to follow him.

They had barely gone more than a few metres when Channarong, who was still behind his brother, sensed the presence of a wild animal. At first it was the faint sound of a padded foot on the dirt floor of the cave, then it was the smell of something feral and dangerous, and finally, when he turned around, it was the unmistakable silhouette of a tiger, black against the circle of light at the cavity’s entrance.

Discovered, the tiger no longer needed to maintain silence. It growled, apparently taking delight in its ability to intimidate its prey with such a simple expression of its potential power.

Sirichai turned around. Shaking with fear, he stood beside his brother and whispered.

Don’t move. We need time to think. As he spoke, Sirichai was sure that the light in the grotto was somehow becoming brighter.

Soon the two brothers could see well enough to comprehend the full extent of their predicament. The tiger was a magnificent specimen. Its stripes of black, white and old gold defined a powerful animal, against which they stood no chance of launching a successful resistance. In shock, and beginning to panic, both of the princes contemplated running towards the light in the hope that it revealed another way out of the cave.

Channarong? Sirichai could barely say his brother’s name.

Yes? The younger brother answered hopefully, a tremble in his voice.

No sooner had Channarong spoken than the hollow of the cave was filled with music. It was a sound that neither of the princes had ever heard before. So mesmerising, indeed hypnotic, was the melody that Channarong was overcome with a peacefulness that was like the beginning of a trance-like state of perfect contentedness.

The music seemed to be having the same effect on the tiger. Its eyes closed and its head lifted as if it was spellbound. Then, rolling its massive face from side to side, it began to stride slowly towards a shelf in the cave wall. Once there, it lowered its great body and, in serene calm, began to purr like a domestic cat. Even when the music stopped the tiger did not stir.

I am sorry. I hope Suya did not frighten you. She is fiercely protective of me.

The voice, which snapped Channarong out of his reverie, came from a man whose age was indeterminant. His grey hair suggested that he had lived a long time but his eyes were bright and there were only lines of apparent happiness on his cleanly shaven face. His knee-length tunic was made of animal skins.

Who are you? Sirichai was still unnerved by the thought of ending his life as a meal for a tiger.

The man merely raised his eyebrows and smiled.

Oh, I am sorry. Thank you for saving us. We had no right to enter your dwelling without your permission. Sirichai was keeping a wary eye on the reclining Suya.

You are young and curious. Both are good qualities, if you use them well. My name is Prommin. He paused, again raising his eyebrows and smiling, and turning towards Channarong.

We are travellers from a land to the west of this place. I am Channarong and my brother is Sirichai. We are seeking learned teachers so we can learn more of the world and … Channarong stopped talking when he felt the grip of Sirichai’s hand on his forearm. He remembered Nattapong’s advice that they should not readily disclose their nobility.

Come. Help yourselves to some refreshment. Do not mind Suya. She has now accepted you as harmless. Prommin indicated a low oval-shaped table laden with plates of dried fish, fried insects, green mangoes and jackfruit, as well as jugs of cold tea.

After the two princes had been eating for a few minutes, Prommin joined them. The threesome sat cross-legged around the table while Suya dozed on her rock shelf. From the vantage point of the table, the brothers could now see clearly the brilliant torches hung around the cave walls.

With his appetite for food almost sated, Sirichai could no longer subdue his curiosity about the music that had soothed the tiger. Was that you playing the marvellous music we heard?

Yes. It is my most happy talent. Prommin rose and moved to a section of the cave where he was enveloped by darkness. He returned with his musical instrument, which he passed to Sirichai.

You probably call this instrument a pipe. It is similar to a flute in sound but it is played in a vertical position. Go ahead. Play. Prommin grinned as he issued his challenge.

Clumsily, Sirichai lifted the pipe to his mouth and blew into the tiny aperture of the wooden mouthpiece. The tube vibrated, producing a shrill note that disturbed Suya, who opened one eye in mild annoyance. Sirichai studied the object and, feigning an instinctive understanding of its properties, placed his fingertips over four of the seven holes spaced along the tube. Finding another hole positioned where it was natural for his thumb to rest, he suddenly felt in control of the instrument. However, his untrained breath generated only another discordant squawk and, irritated, Suya rose to her feet.

Here, let me show you. Reclaiming the pipe, Prommin made an exaggerated gesture with his lips as he shaped his mouth so that it caressed the solid wooden block that housed the aperture of the pipe. Gently he coaxed several wonderful series of clear tones out of the device, his fingers dancing up and down the tube as if they were under the direction of a renowned choreographer. Suya once again chose to recline on her shelf, both of her eyes closing with pleasure.

Sirichai tried again. This time the tone was better, although it was far short of the benchmark set by Prommin. Also, Sirichai’s fingers seemed to resist movement so there was no semblance of a tune in the short succession of sounds he managed to construct.

Prommin’s face became serious and his eyes narrowed under his knitted brows. I can see that you have never played before. But I can hear something in your attempts. Does this pipe interest you? Prommin reached out to regain his instrument.

Yes. It does. Sirichai glanced at Channarong. But there is something other than music that I detect in your art. Why did the tune you played quench the fiery wrath of the tiger?

I do not know. I only know that it does. The musician looked upwards at the roof of the cave, which was only barely discernible beyond the bright light of the torches.

Can you teach me? Sirichai asked.

I can teach you to play music. The ability to use that music for good, if you have it, will be found in you. I cannot teach you that. I might be able to help you find it in yourself.

How long will it take?

As long as it takes. It all depends on you.

Please, teach me then. Sirichai reached into his backpack and took out a gold ring, offering it to Prommin.

Yes. I will. Prommin accepted the ring and examined it closely. Its royal origins were obvious to him but he said nothing to his new protégé.

Throughout the conversation between Sirichai and Prommin, Channarong had been thinking. He certainly did not want to learn to play music and he doubted that he had a hidden knack of turning the output of a musical instrument into something that could have such an impact that it might mollify savage beasts. The encounter with Suya had made him think along entirely different lines.

Sir, perhaps there is something you can teach me while my brother is training. I know that music can sometimes bring peace, as we have seen with the reactions of Suya to your mastery. But it is not always so. Sometimes it is only war that can be the precursor to peace. As I trembled before the might of Suya I was wishing that I had the skills of an exceptional swordsman. I knew the small knives I was carrying were of no use in overpowering such a mighty animal. However, a well-wielded sword would undoubtedly defeat her. Can you teach me to be a master swordsman? As he watched the changing expressions on Prommin’s face, Channarong came to realise that his question was ridiculous.

Me? I am a musician. I am not a fighter. Prommin was gentle in his reproach. But perhaps I can help you. If you continue along the path which brought you here for another half a day, you will come to an encampment. Within its boundaries is a school run by a great warrior whose name is Boonrit. He will accept you if you tell him that I have sent you. To make sure of that, I will give you a note for him. But rest here tonight. The path becomes steeper as you climb higher and there are many steps in the immediate vicinity of Boonrit’s encampment. You will be glad of a sound sleep.

III

The months passed by quickly and Sirichai soon mastered his pipe. At dusk, a time when the birds of the mountain’s foothills would usually fill the trees with ceaseless twitters, Sirichai would sit at the entrance to Prommin’s cave and practice. For the first few weeks the noise of the birds would distract him but he persevered with his practice sessions. Then, one day, after four months, Sirichai noticed that the birds had become quiet as he played, as if they were dazed by the music.

Prommin, who was standing nearby, nodded his head. I was right about you.

The next day Sirichai’s efforts failed to quieten the birds. Rather than becoming disconsolate, he resolved to apply himself even more doggedly to his practice sessions. Two days later, his composition once again charmed the birds into silent idleness. As Sirichai absorbed his lessons he came to understand that he was able to play at two levels. First, there was the simple pleasure of good music but, at the second level, he could fill the air with magic, bewitching both men and animals with his songs.

"It is well that you save your best practice for