Love Destiny (Buppesannivas)

by Rompaeng

English translation:
Nopamat Veohong

Love Destiny ( Buppesannivas ) บุพเพสันนิวาส

Author : Rompaeng (รอมแพง)
English translation : Nopamat Veohong
English editor : Patricia M. Loui
English e-book : August 2020
E-book Price : 9.99 USD Cover
by : Chailairatana Suwanmetheekul

**Contact**

writer : Fanpage รอมแพง , [email protected]

https://www.facebook.com/rompaeng/
English translation : [email protected]

Author’s Foreword

In my career as novelist, people often ask me what my next novel will be about. My answer has always
been: I aspire to write an historical novel some day. This novel in your hand is the culmination of that
dream, following three years of extensive research into Thailand’s history and culture, in amalgamation
with my own figments of imagination.

I am also often asked what inspired me to write this novel called Buppesannivas in Thai and Love Destiny
in the English version. Why did I choose to base it on the events in the reign of King Narai some four
centuries ago? The question has made me think and search for a clue that could have been my literary
muse. Indeed, I have never thought of it before. But in retrospect, my inspiration may have come from
stumbling across, in my reading, a small paragraph in some chronicles, mentioning “pathological
drunkards” on the sea voyage to France during Siam’s first diplomatic mission. That term struck me. In my
opinion, people who possess superpowers and pristine concentration of the mind are more likely to be
someone of good moral standing, who upholds virtues, or Buddhist precepts, so to speak. I wondered if
inebriation was perhaps a ruse to gain certain advantages over other people. This notion of what the
mission might have been like was expanded and has grown full-scale into this novel.

The initial plot I had in mind did not evolve as planned. Rather, I must say that the story has developed
according to what the characters dictated to me. Anecdotes, yarns and urban myths woven into the story
are found sometimes accidentally or sometimes serendipitously. Some names by coincidence popped into
my head out of nowhere, and later, I found, to my incredible amazement, that they existed. From my
perspective, this novel is very hard to write. As a historical novel, I made a lot of nuanced overtones and
undertones, which may put the reader to thinking further. As a responsible author, I tried to deal with
events and characterizations as unbiasedly as possible.

My interpretations of historical characters are not definitive. I merely tell the story in the eyes of a modern
character who happens to see the historical events unfolding. Ketsurang is curious about everything
around her and what was going on in the period she finds herself in. I feel a debt of gratitude in particular
to Monsieur Simon de la Loubère, the French diplomat to Siam in the 18th century whose book Du
Royaume de Siam (1691) sheds light and lets me visualize the era more vividly. All this helped to earn the
novel the second runner-up of the Seven Book Awards of 2010 and has opened up multiple opportunities
since then. I thank Miki, Pi A.A., Nok, Na Karuhad and Pantip.com for having ignited sparks of ideas for
the writing of this novel. Thank you Kaew, Yindee and Chao Neng for sparing time to translate the old
French in this novel without much ado. My heart-felt appreciation goes to the teaching staff of the
Department of Art History, the Faculty of Archaeology, Silpakorn University for their willing consultation. I
thank Pi Nok, a professional English-Thai novel-translator, and many readers on the Internet who have
given me courage, comment and criticism that helped me to perfect this novel. I am still amazed at having
completed the cumbersome task of writing this historical novel. Finally, I thank the editor of Happy Banana
Publishing House who gave me the opportunity to reach a wider readership.

Rompaeng December 2009

After the TV series version of Love Destiny had enjoyed an overwhelming success not only within Thailand
but also on an international level, an enormous amount of foreign readers requested the English
translation of the novel. Hence, this ebook has been born. I greatly appreciate all the support and I feel
ecstatic about this English ebook. Even though it is hard to convey the Thai culture and beliefs in English, I
still believe that the power of Love Destiny will bring the readers joy, happiness and an aesthetic distinct
from the series.
Rompaeng August 2020

Translator’s note

How I landed on the translation of this widely popular novel by Rompaeng might as well be called a stroke
of serendipity. Rompaeng was referred to me by a former classmate and long-time friend, Arinee, at the
Faculty of Arts, Chulalongkorn University. Of course, I already knew of the novel’s fame from the raves
that the hit TV series received, though I have never seen it. Though I have watched movies on a regular
basis for my newsmagazine film column over the past 30 years, I’m not much given to spending hour after
hour following television series, domestic or international. And that is simply because I know that I can get
addicted and will be deprived of time to engage elsewhere, not because I won’t enjoy them. So, truth be
told, I am among a rare breed of Thais who did not follow this hugely popular Thai series. However, as a
professional translator, I was between big assignments, so I accepted this translation project with much
interest.

It turned out to be more challenging than anticipated. I had to do quite a lot of research myself into many
subjects and needed to fill in some gaps required from cross-cultural translation. For example, on the very
first page of the first chapter, Ketsurang is roused from bed to perform her regular routine of “tak bat,” or,
literally, “filling the monk’s bowl.” To every Buddhist Thai or even someone who has lived in the country
long enough, the word needs no further explanation. Even if I describe the act as “making food offerings to
monks on their alms round,” the reader from another part of the world will not be able to fully grasp the
idea and visualize this daily ritual. Eventually, with suggestions from my American friend, Patricia (Pat)
Loui, whose help I enlisted as the English-language editor and who advised against my footnoting in the
first place, I introduced the idea into the text itself. So as not to distract readers from the novel by having to
consult with intermittent footnotes, this English version describes how saffron-robed monks carry alms
bowls and walk the streets in the early morning in graceful procession, doing their alms round and
receiving food offerings from local residents. In addition, Theravada Buddhism in Thailand includes the
idea and practice of merit-making. Merit can be earned for oneself and can also be dedicated to the
deceased, which is what Ketsurang does on behalf of Karaket. Thais also have the tradition of being
ordained into monkhood and renouncing material possessions after a secular life, as an act of
accumulating good karma for the next lifetimes to come. In short, I find that a lot of concepts and terms
immediately grasped in vernacular Thai need further clarification, even the common gesture of “wai-ing,”
as a means of greeting and paying respect.

One big challenge for translation is the density of proper names. The Thai names of people and places
can be lengthy, unpronounceable and even indecipherable at times. I tried to compromise whenever I
could. For example, the name of the former capital of Thailand has many forms of spelling. I chose to use
only two —Ayutthaya as a modern-day geographical name and Ayodhya of Siam as in the old usage.
Regarding character names, I asked the author’s permission to introduce the heroine Ketsurang as Kate in
the very first sentence of the novel and to go on using Kate, instead of her longer name, so as to position
her as a modern-day woman caught in the past. The names of Siamese nobility are a little more
complicated to deal with. Upon request, the author also gave her permission to shorten the lengthy Thai
names, provided that they are introduced properly in the first instance. Hence, I have separated most long
names and use only the first part. For example, after introduction as Muen Sunthorn Deva, this character
is referred to as Muen Sunthorn. The honorific Muen, which delineates his nobility rank, is compulsory of
course. But perhaps the biggest challenge for non-Thai readers is that names change as individuals are
promoted to higher ranks. And the change is not only in the titles but can include royally-bestowed names
as well. Therefore, Muen Sunthorn Deva, whose birthname is Dej, is the same person as Khun Srivisarn
Vacha, Phra Srivisarn Sunthorn and Phraya Visut Sakorn. The last title and name given to him by the King
upon promotion is identical to that of the father of another character (his friend Muen Ruang) who has died
and left the office under this name vacant.

It might be helpful to clarify the use of honorifics before the given names of Siamese nobility, which are not
hereditary, but merit-based. They move up the ladder from Muen, Khun, Luang, Phra, Phraya to
Chaophraya. As addresses demonstrating respect, they are sometimes referred to as Okkhun, Okluang,
Okphra and Okya in the Thai novel. However, to lessen the burden of the reader and avoid inevitable
confusion, I decided to use only the official forms and leave out the respectful addresses. Hence, Okkhun
is referred to as Khun, Okluang as Luang, Okphra as Phra and Okya as Phraya in the English version.
Eventually, as a means of clearing up headaches and confusion for cross-cultural readers, I decided to
prepare a list of major characters, as appears below with their multiple names, as reference for readers. I
hope that it helps somewhat. Finally, I wish to thank Rompaeng for introducing me to this wonderful novel,
and my best friend Pat Loui for accepting the task of the English-language editor. Pat is an avid reader of
historical novels, so I entrusted her with the readability of my translation as well as any cross-cultural
issues that need elaboration.

Nopamat Veohong

July 2020

List of Major Characters

Ketsurang or Kate, a modern-day archaeology professor

Ruangrit or Ruang, Kate’s colleague and best friend in her twenty-first century life
Karaket, a highborn lady in the Ayodhya period, daughter of Phraya Ramnarong of Songkwae
(Phitsanulok)

Muen Sunthorn Deva, birthname Dej. He is promoted to Khun Srivisarn Vacha before becoming the Third
Envoy in the diplomatic mission to France. He later becomes Phra Srivisarn Sunthorn and Phraya Visut
Sakorn, respectively.

Phraya Hora Thibodi, Chief Royal Astrologer, or Phraya Rajkhru, Chief Royal Advisor, Muen Sunthorn’s
father

Lady Champa, Phraya Hora’s wife, or Lady Hora Thibodi, Muen Sunthorn’s mother

Chaophraya Kosa Thibodi (Lhek) or Khun Lhek, Chancellor of Siam in King Narai’s reign. He is the milk
brother of King Narai. After his demise, his brother Khun Pan (Phra Visut Sunthorn) will become
Chaophraya Kosa Thibodi (Pan).

Lady Chanwad, daughter of Chaophraya Kosa Lhek, later Lady Chula Rajmontri

Phra Visut Sunthorn or Khun Pan, who leads Siam’s first successful diplomatic mission to France. He is
promoted to Phraya Kosa Thibodi (Pan), Chaophraya Kosa Thibodi (Pan) and then Chaophraya Sri
Thammaraj.

Miss Mali, birthname Marie de Tanquimar, daughter of the Indian merchant Fanik

Constantin Phaulkon, Greek sailor/adventurer who serves under King Narai and becomes a Siamese
nobleman, Luang Sura Songkram. He is promoted to Phra Rittikamhaeng, Phraya Vichayen and
Chaophraya Vichayen, respectively.

Muen Ruang Rajbhakdi, close friend of Muen Sunthorn, who is promoted to Khun Ruang Abhaibhakdi and
Laung Ruang Narongdej and Phraya Ramnarong, respectively

Luang Sriyod, who later marries Lady Chanwad and is promoted to Phraya Chula Rajmontri. His ancestor
came from Persia and became Siamese nobility, the forefather of the Bunnag family whose line lasts till
today.

Phra Petraja, a Siamese nobleman who later becomes King Petraja

Luang Sorasak, birthname Dua, son of Phra Petraja, allegedly biological son of King Narai
Sriprat, or Jamuen Sri Sitvivitbovorn, birthname Sri, first son of Phraya Hora and Lady Champa, brother of
Muen Sunthorn. He is a legendary poet in King Narai’s reign.

Love Destiny (Buppesannivas)

by Rompaeng
English translation: Nopamat Veohong

CHAPTER ONE
How Much does it Take to be Skinny?

“Kate darling! Time to wake up, child!” The voice quivers from age but three strong raps on the door
followed by silence makes clear that this wakeup call is final. The rotund body flips over in bed a few
times, then springs up to waddle into the bathroom. She splashes water on her moon-shaped face, rapidly
passes a toothbrush over her teeth, then walks briskly down the teak steps to join her family’s morning
ritual.

Though the sun has barely risen on the horizon, Grandma Nuan and Mother Sipang carry trays laden with
a bowl of freshly cooked Thai jasmine rice and a curry dish in plastic bags to the front of the house. Kate
darts toward them to lend a hand as the women of three generations line up, side by side, by the gate.
They patiently wait, bare-footed, for saffron-robed monks from the nearby Buddhist temple walking in a
single file through the neighborhood to receive morning alms.

Though she awoke but a few minutes before, Kate feels invigorated by the crisp dawn Bangkok air. Dew
still covers the green lawn and the verdant tropical foliage around the small house. With the cement that
has taken over the city, this greenery is a soothing sight for its residents and passersby. Every single day
since a very young age, Kate, whose full name Ketsurang means “celestial lady,” remembers her elders
rousing her out of bed to stand with them offering food to the monks on their morning alms. The only
exception was when she went away to study abroad. Even then, she often visited the Thai temple there,
having been instilled from childhood to adhere to the tradition of piety. As a devout Buddhist, she feels
happy as she carefully spoons offerings of food into the monk’s bowls, being careful not to touch them,
and sends them off by wai-ing, the palms-together Thai gesture of greeting, thanking or paying respect.
The daily routine of merit-making accomplished, Kate pours water on the ground to dedicate the merit
gained in alms for the deceased. Upholding Theravada Buddhist rituals is already integral to the life of this
26-year-old, French-educated professor.

After alms offering, the clean-up chore falls into Kate’s department. Then, it’s time to shower and get
dressed for work at the university, followed by family breakfast, which is a time for the three-women family
to connect.

“Eat a little less, will you, Kate?”

“Oh, Mom! If I eat less I won’t have enough energy for work. Don’t you know that breakfast is the most
important meal of the day?” With a jaded look, Sipang casts eyes on her daughter’s contented chomping.

All her young life, her daughter has never done anything to trouble or disappoint her. But Kate’s obesity
concerns the devoted mother. Sipang sighs, wondering for the umpteenth time how her daughter’s body
has grown twice her own size. Kate looks more and more like a human-sized pomelo – round and
shapeless, without any feminine curves. Her face is so bloated that the double creases on her eyelids are
buried underneath. Her dark, nicely-arched brows do nothing to compliment her face when her cheeks are
swollen and reddened, with a triple or maybe even quadruple chin.

Kate tried experimenting with make-up before, but her oily skin and constant perspiration ran rivulets
through the powder and mascara in a matter of minutes, and the colored streaks made her look even more
nightmarish. At least her face is as smooth and fair-skinned as a china doll with no acne so common for
oily complexions to rub salt into the wound. Nonetheless, the absence of acne does nothing to improve her
looks.

Grandma Nuan always stands up for Kate, saying that appearance is but an external thing. What matters
is the spirit inside. Suffice to have a granddaughter who is a good person who practices Buddhist virtues
and decency. Sipang keeps swallowing her criticism and silently watches her daughter’s big appetite. She
has now reconciled herself into thinking that Kate’s weight problem is probably a boon in disguise. As a
mother, she will likely have the benefit of a spinster daughter by her side all her life, and not experience
the hollowness of living alone in old age as is becoming increasingly common in city life.

Kate keeps smiling as if she does not care how she looks. However, she restrains herself from a second
helping. She looks round the table at her three generational, all-women family. Her Dad, after his
retirement from civil service as a senior government official, has relinquished all his pension and worldly
possessions to his wife and daughter, become ordained as a Buddhist monk, and vowed to remain in the
saffron robe for the rest of his life. Renunciation of worldly possessions and entering into monkhood, in
Theravada Buddhist culture, is a means of self-cultivation and garnering merit for future lives, as Buddhists
believe in innumerable cycles of existence and reincarnation. Accepting his devout commitment in good
grace, the family often travels to visit and pay respect to him at a forest monastery where he resides, not
very far from Bangkok.

As Kate rises from the breakfast table, she reiterates her plan for the next two days, despite having
already obtained permission from her elders last night. “Today, I will go on a field trip to Ayutthaya with the
Department and Archaeology undergrads. Same accommodation as before. Convenient and comfortable,
of course.”

“Take care of yourself, child. I’ll make you cho muang when you return.” Although knowing well that she is
partly responsible for her granddaughter’s overweight, Grandma Nuan can’t help luring her with delectable
food to speed-up her return, this time with a dish of decorative dumplings seasoned with butterfly pea juice
to a lovely lavender color. Nuan’s culinary skill, from spending her younger years in the palace, is known
amongst older relatives and friends whose parents used to live in the Grand Palace. Her cooking is as
irresistible to her granddaughter as it was to royalty.

Kate smiles impishly at her grandmother, transforming her chubby moon face into a warm, bright glow.
After hugging and kissing her Mom and Grandma, she grabs her duffle bag and waddles out of the gate to
join her department-assigned expedition to Ayutthaya, or the former Ayodhya, the old capital of Thailand
that was once known as Siam.

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-
With much weight to carry, Kate is beginning to drag her feet, while trying hard to catch up with her
company. Way ahead is Ruangrit, a close buddy since college and now her colleague and collaborator
over the past year. Tonight is their second night in the old capital. The field assignment was completed
earlier in the evening and now it’s free time for everyone to go their separate way.

Usually they would mingle for drinks or go to some eateries in the market. But tonight is different. Ruangrit
has asked her out for a walk instead. The initial delight of a night out has turned into torture for Kate after
they have covered a distance much too far to call a pleasant walk.

The full moon illuminates the way all over the place, though they both carry a flashlight. The night air is
crisp with cooling breezes from the Chaophraya River. Yet Kate is covered in sweat and complains of
exhaustion and leg aches from the arduous walk.

“Agh! Enough! I can’t go any further, Ruang. We’ve come too far. Let’s go back. We’re almost at
Chaiwattanaram Temple, you know.”

“Such a short distance to complain about! We’ll be there in a jiff.” A male voice answers before turning
around to throw a smiling insult at her. Notwithstanding her chubby figure and round face, seeing Kate
always puts him in a good mood. The spark in her narrow eyes shows playfulness, so he ignores her
complaints.

“Why are we here this late at night? It’s so spooky.”

Mumbling as she is, Ruangrit pays no mind. He continues striding ahead, leading her to one of the most
splendid historical sites from the time when Ayodhya was the capital of Siam and which has been restored
to perfection.

“C’mon, Kate, you studied Archaeology. Having excavated so many old sites and you’re still afraid of
ghosts?”

“Ghosts are not one’s pals, mind you. How can I not be afraid? As for taking me here, have you some
mischief in mind? You’ve brought me to such a remote place out of public view.”

“You wish! And it came from someone like you. Wishing for some mischief?” What! Someone like her can
never attract him sexually? Ruang’s unintentional remark is so jarring to the listener that her face blanches
out briefly before she puts it back to the playfulness as usual.

“And what would you do with me here, may I ask? Why not take me out here during the day? And why
didn’t we bike here instead? I can be tired, you know.”

“And you said you’ve taken a judo class. This much exercise and you keep complaining. What’s more,
biking is not right for the mood out here. Walk is best, believe me. It’s a full moon night too. So pleasant for
a walk. And you’re so fat you should exercise a lot to burn those fats.”

His half-joking voice makes Kate feign laughing along. The handsome face she sees gives her a sharp
pain inside. Little does he know! How many years has it been since she had feelings for him? A man so
kind who never thinks of her in any other capacity but a dear buddy. The once flickering hope slowly fades
into extinction with an acceptance of mere camaraderie as it always is.

She feels sorry for herself for an umpteenth time, looking down at her bloated belly which obstructs the
view of her own toes. Compared to his tall, lean figure, she has to admit they are not a match made in
heaven. Why, oh why, hasn’t she learned to watch her weight since childhood?

As a little girl, it was adorable to be fat. Elders enjoyed pinching her chubby cheeks and rolls of skin. But
as an adult, compliments about her endearing overweight cuteness have been replaced by humorous
chides and pathetic looks. Although Kate tells herself, over and over, how strong and invincible she is, how
little she cares the way she is viewed in the eyes of others, in fact she has built a wall to fence herself off.
No one needs to know that she feels abject and self-resentful every time she looks at herself in the mirror.
In her reflection, all she sees is her obesity with the layers of fat covering over any other appealing
personality traits.

The only pride she takes in herself are the distinctive degrees of higher education, in Bachelor’s and
Master’s, from one of Thailand’s distinguished universities and from a European university among the best
in the world, and her fluency of writing, reading and speaking skills in three foreign languages: English,
French and Spanish, not to mention some basic Japanese she picked up here and there during the craze
over Japanese superstars in her high school years.

Studying in the Faculty of Archaeology, majoring in French and minoring in Archaeology, won her a post-
graduate degree scholarship to study History in France. Right after graduation and return to her home
country, she was accepted as lecturer at her alma mater university. The prestigious and merit-based
career success helps somewhat to override her inferiority complex over her unattractive appearance. Still,
she wishes to be prettier but with a renunciation. She keeps telling herself that it would be easier to be
reborn in another life than to lose weight or undergo liposuction and plastic surgery!

Ruangrit nods his head as a signal for her to follow him into the historical site amidst old ruins.

“And all you planned was to bring me to Chaiwattanaram Temple here, huh? How creative of you! We’ve
been here a million times over.” Kate jabs.

“But you’ve never been here this late at night, eh?” Ruang tries to convince her.

Kate looks around to see the splendor of the place, without the glare of sunlight. She gasps. Spotlights
highlight parts of the pagodas and stupa, lending just enough illumination against shadows, creating an
awe-inspiring ambience. The sight rejuvenates, and her exhaustion and difficulty breathing improve
tremendously.

The Chaofa Kung Pagoda, leaning in the aftermath of soil liquefaction that caused subsidence after the
big, long-standing floods some ten years ago, looks stupendous. Thin shrouds of fogs are eerily hovering
above ground in the night-lit spotlights. Kate feels a sudden rush of goose flesh.

“Hey…I’m so cold.” Her fat hands rub her prickling arms as a feeling of hollowness takes hold inside. Her
pal who is used to coming out here this late at night laughs out loud. But somehow a similar feeling
catches him and he stops midway. His handsome face looks around before his eyes hit something
indescribable that widens his eyes in shock.

Across the courtyard, a sylphlike young woman with a pale, paper-white face and shoulder-length hair
parted in the middle into two wings resembling bangs that cover her forehead is walking gracefully towards
them. She is dressed in the traditional lady clothes consisting of a tube skirt folded in the front, the so-
called chib-na-nang style and a thin sabai wrapped around her chest and crossed over one shoulder that
catches the wind behind her. She looks right for the ancient Ayodhya historical period, but definitely not
right for this time and situation! Her graceful gait does nothing to ease the unease of the two onlookers
who glance down at her blurry legs, making her look like she is floating rather than walking.

“Are you seeing what I’m seeing?” Kate’s soft whisper pulls Ruang out of his stupor.

“Yeah, l-let’s go back.” At that, he jolts away from the scene before sprinting off in the manner of a
hundred-meter racer, without waiting for his best friend who is standing agape and forcing words from her
paralyzed body.

“I-I can’t move my legs. Blast you, Ruang!” Her terrified voice is choking and disappears into her throat as
the diaphanous figure walks nearer and nearer. Big beads of sweat run down her nape despite the night
chill. The vague visage of whatever that thing is becomes sharper and now Kate can make out a face with
a mouth, nose, eyebrows and chin. It is beautiful beyond description, yet these perfect features have a
translucence unlike a human’s with flesh and blood.

The gossamer figure that looks like a woman strolling lithely in a prim and proper ladylike manner seems
oblivious of Kate. It walks directly past her and disappears right into the pagoda. Kate trembles
uncontrollably. Her thick legs finally unfreeze and leap out of the place as she sprints without impediment
like someone half her weight.

Her hair stands on end! On her arms, her neck, her head. Ruang is seen far ahead, and she clenches her
teeth with determination and strength to catch up with him. She thinks she can never run so fast in this
lifetime.

“Ruang, wait up! Darn! You left me behind!” Her loud yell into the quiet of the night is answered by the
howling of stray dogs, relay after relay. Her feet dig harder into the soil to speed up this horrifying run for
her life.

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The next morning, a big van departs from the official facility to transport the archaeologists, excavators and
scholars in the Department of Fine Arts, followed by a Carry Boy-rooftop pick-up truck loaded with their
archaeology students. Everyone is so zonked out from yesterday’s field work that they fall back to sleep
less than a kilometer on the road. Only one man and one woman on the van are bickering away
endlessly.

“Ruang! You are some bloody, inconsiderate friend indeed. Damn you! Blast you! You go to hell!” Kate
berates her companion, and resentfully turns her back to the man sitting beside her.

“Please! Cut me some slack! My legs had a mind of their own, you know. I didn’t mean to abandon you. It
was completely out of my control.” He keeps trying to win her back, nudging on her fat shoulder from time
to time. Kate glares at him and looks away. She is so mad that she wants nothing to do with him, so she
leans her head on the cushion and feigns sleep.

“And you pout like a child! I’ve tried to make up with you since last night and you haven’t forgiven me yet.”
His complaint is answered by a round of laughter from other passengers in the van, which only infuriates
her more. Oh yes! I’m no longer a child, no longer young. Obesity has taken its toll of premature aging on
this twenty-five-year-old young woman. To her undergraduate students, she looks middle-aged and
matronly. Now even her best friend rubs this in her face. Her resentment multiplies many times over and it
quiets her down. She will punish Ruang by not talking with him for a few days. Just so he knows that she’s
darn serious for his blatant lack of consideration.

Silence creeps in and her annoyance abates as the AC in the van cools down the atmosphere and the
engine accelerates to make time back to Bangkok. It’s Sunday and the driver and everyone onboard want
to return home as fast as possible to spend time with their family. Though the speed is alarming, no one
complains.

Kate’s mind calms and she replays last night’s incident. In daylight, the brightness of the morning sun puts
everything in a different perspective. It becomes less scary now. And in her mind’s eye, what she sees
most unforgettably is the willowy woman with a sweet, lovely face. She sighs when thinking of herself in
comparison. If only she could be half as slim, half as pretty, and half as graceful as this spirit of the past,
she would live happily ever after and die in peace!

A sudden screech of brakes jolts passengers awake. Heads jerk forward, then backward. Bodies slide off
seats in disarray from the impact. The driver spins the wheel all the way around. Everyone screams. In a
split second, the van swerves to a perpendicular standstill. Kate opens her eyes wide in shock. The tail of
the truck ahead is but a hairbreadth away.

Everyone hyperventilates. But before they can catch their breath, the bright sky suddenly darkens. An ear-
splitting brake comes from the other side of the van laying sideways across the street. All heads turn
toward the screeching noise. Another ten-wheel truck rams head on into the van. The crash of steel on
steel triggers more screams and panicked cries from passengers. The van flips over, crushed between two
ten-wheel trucks. Kate blacks out.

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The sylphlike lady wearing a chib-na-nang print tube skirt, folded and gathered at the front, with a sparkling
pure gold belt and a fine silk sabai stops her hasty zigzagging through trees and turns around to harshly
scold the woman running after her.

“Phin, damn you! What the hell is holding you back? You will be caught red-handed, mind you. Hurry up,
imbecile!”

“Yes, milady. I am hurrying all I can.” Phin sweats more profusely than the leader far ahead, a feeling of
dread leaden on her body as she relives the malicious deed that has earlier been done. Only when they
near the cluster of Thai-style houses, the gables of which are seen above trees at a distance, does the
agitation of the young woman abate. She arranges her slightly disheveled hair in place while inhaling
deeply. The worry in her eyes is replaced by a harsh, determined look. Phin lifts the end of her breast cloth
to wipe sweat while looking left and right guiltily as she hears her mistress’ orders.

“Yam up there must be worrying sick now. I do not know if anyone suspects anything. You just act normal
and guiltless. All this could go wrong because of you alone, mind you!”
“Yes, milady. But…will anyone die?” Phin’s fearful voice angers the lady who turns harshly with another
warning. “You and I know nothing of it! Absolutely nothing! We merely went down to the outhouse. Do you
understand?”

“Yes, milady.” The anxiety of her handmaid is so irritating that the beautiful, glowing face becomes stern
and malicious.

“Do not do anything to irritate me more. Let us go up to the house.” The scooping of water by a coconut
shell to splash on the bare feet before stepping up on the house is heard loud and clear in the quiet of the
night.

“Who is it there?” A familiar, powerful male voice makes her pause a little before putting on a smile and
walking up onto the wooden terrace.

“It is only me, khun pi. I went down to the outhouse, accompanied by Phin here.” The light from torches
that stand in every corner of the house and all the huge copper lamps in almost every open-sided pavilion
reveal a big, tall, sun-tanned man whose attractive masculine face would win every woman’s heart easily.

His dark, slanted brows over his large, slightly slanted eyes, with double-creased eyelids and bats of thick
lashes, emphasize his piercing gaze. His tall, straight nose matches well with the perfectly-formed red lips
on the mouth that is slowly chewing betel and areca. He spits it into an enameled spittoon gracefully. Muen
Sunthorn Deva lifts a terracotta teapot and pours it into a tiny cup. He rinses his mouth with warm tea
before speaking.

“Karaket, why did you go down this late at night? Are you not afraid of snakes and venomous insects? Did
your handmaids not prepare a chamber pot in your bedroom?” His calm, soothing voice is heart-warming
enough to the ears of the listener.

“You do not need to worry, khun pi. I wanted to go so badly and I did not want to endure the stench
throughout the night. Phin accompanied me there. May I retire to bed now?”

“You may.” His sharp eyes follow the slender figure with an indifferent look. Although he acknowledges
that this lady is intended for him in matrimony, he feels not the least affection for her. Her incomparable
beauty has not moved him one bit. Despite sharing a house and living in close proximity, he has tried to
dodge and put off marriage for nearly a year now.

Fortunately, his father and mother have made no move to force the tie. They believe that happy birds
choose their own nest. But Muen Sunthorn has not forgotten his filial obligation. Though the younger son,
the palace has bestowed the honorific “Muen” on him for his civil service status, a sharp contrast to his
higher-ranking brother, Jamuen Sri Sitvivitbovorn, who was exiled from the capital many years before
Karaket took residence here. Now the burden of living up to parental expectation has fallen on him alone.

Much of this girl’s behavior displeases him, including the abrasive, foul language she uses with the
domestic help. What’s more, he cannot disagree with those who whisper that she is good for nothing. She
stays idly all day, does not engage herself in any feminine chores, even needlework and embroidery,
under the huge excuse of ill health. All she does, day in and day out, is adorn herself with jewelry and
douse herself with fragrances. She is only trying to seduce him with her looks while sitting uselessly all day
long. Such a nuisance she is!

The tall frame starts to rise but stops short, staying only on his knees, when he sees his plump mother and
father walking from the main quarters across the teak planked terrace to the central pavilion where he sits.

Like other traditional grand residences in Ayodhya, the compound consists of small and large wooden Thai
houses, connected by large areas of planked terraces, divided by partitions for privacy, such as a large
pavilion where he sat chewing betel and areca earlier. To the right of the pavilion is a small bamboo-woven
screen with cotton upholstering. A low table/daybed is placed there as a workplace of his mother where
she runs domestic affairs of this aristocratic house.

Behind the bamboo screen are the small quarters where Karaket resides. She is his paternal distant niece
who was orphaned and came to live under his father’s protection. It is common knowledge that her late
parents wanted her to marry into this family. His mother does not quite approve of it because Karaket is no
dream girl for any mother-in-law. Yet it is hard to turn her away as she has nowhere else to go. Still, his
mother is reluctant to have the bond tied more closely.

“Father, what is the matter?”

“Some while ago, I read some astrological signs and saw a mishap happening. Thus, I cannot go to sleep.”
His father voices his concern.

“I am also anxious on his behalf because your father is oftentimes proven to be an acute seer,” says his
mother.

“Should I double-check the signs too, Father?” Phraya Hora Thibodi nods slightly before sitting down
beside Muen Sunthorn, the youngest son by his first and major wife in the polygamous, aristocratic family.
His valet walks into another room and returns with a slate and a palm-leaf notebook of astrological signs
and an heirloom treatise of horoscopy passed down in the family for many generations. Their forefathers
were experts in astrology and previously served the royal family. The young man lights incense in respect
to the guardian spirits of the house before starting to write down his calculations.

He has not finished with it yet when there is a commotion from downstairs. A manservant from the house
of Chaophraya Kosa Thibodi, walks up onto the house and sits, palms together in a gesture of respect,
though his fully soaked body raises alarm.

“Lady Chanwad’s boat sank, your lordships. His lordship Chaophraya is asking for your help to form a
rescue party in search of servant Daeng. Everyone on board is safely ashore except for Daeng who
cannot swim, your lordships.”

“And what about Lady Chanwad? Is she all right?” Phraya Hora asks.

“She is weeping by the river, your lordship.” It is common knowledge that Lady Chanwad, Chaophraya
Kosa’s daughter, is not a strong swimmer. The news of her safety at least puts everyone’s mind at ease.
As soon as he learns that a servant is missing, Muen Sunthorn orders his valet to gather some male
servants to dive and search for Lady Chanwad’s handmaid Daeng.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Did you hear that? How unfortunate! Why was she not the one who drowned?” A soft whisper is heard
from Karaket, the woman of perfect beauty. Even her heartless face does nothing to mar her beauty.

“But…Daeng…What shall become of Daeng, milady?” Her handmaid Phin whimpers.

“Let her be! Ha! Her mistress is dying to be my khun pi’s wife. This will teach her a lesson. And that
Chaophraya is so shameless too. Being in such a high position and he still hawks his daughter for sale on
the sideline. What a shame for both father and daughter!”

“If she dies, will she be a ghost to haunt me, milady?” Phin trembles uncontrollably. The alarmed faces of
servant Daeng and Lady Chanwad are still fresh in her memory.

“Nonsense! Shut you up, Phin! If you do not want to be smacked with my chamber pot. Yam, you too. Do
not go babbling about. Act like nothing has happened. Do not utter a word of this to anyone, you two. Do
you understand?” The speaker starts to hyperventilate due to her chronic illness and from terror of being
caught. Fear has taken rein over her too, but the malice in her mind blinds her. “They will be all right. Do
not fear. This is just a lesson for her. I did not wish for anyone’s death. I only wanted to teach her a lesson.
So many men are out there in the rescue effort. All will certainly be saved. Did you bury your wet clothes
deep in the ground, Phin?”

“Very deep under, milady. I assure you no one will find them.” The handmaid’s trembling voice is even
more irritating. Fortunately, Phin’s crew-cut hair is so short that Muen Sunthorn did not notice it being
soaked.

“All right! For your help in taking revenge, I have prepared some clothes for you. Yam too. I thank you for
having stayed with me all along. Whenever I get my wishes, I shall not forget the two of you.” The
determination in the eyes of their mistress makes the two handmaids cringe anxiously. They have looked
after Karaket since she was little and they came with her all the way from the North to live here. They are
bound to their mistress by loyalty. Even though they know that their mistress’ order was a crime, they find
it impossible to refuse or to go against her.
 CHAPTER TWO
The Insane Lady

Roosters crow one after another, in relay. The sky is still quite dark. Karaket’s lithe body turns to rest her
cheek on the rectangular, hard pillow, remaining in bed while her two handmaids awake, put away the
mattresses, and walk down the stairs. Torches still light up the whole house, and their eyes meet in
trepidation.

The three masters who stayed up all night are still in deep contemplation. Muen Sunthorn’s sharp eyes
glance around to see Karaket’s handmaids.

“Both of you, come over here!” His harsh voice intimidates them. “Do you know what happened last
night?”

The two handmaids tremble guiltily, speaking volumes and implicating Karaket’s part in the boat tragedy.

“Did you know that servant Daeng is dead?” Phin’s eyes open too wide. Her dark-skinned, angular, flat
face changes color and she blanches.

“Is there anything you would like to tell us?” Phraya Hora demands emphatically, making the two servants
bow to the ground shaking, though they remain silent. The three masters look at each other in
acknowledgement that their hunch must be correct.

“Go and summon Lady Karaket here,” Lady Champa orders the prostrating servants with severity.

“Milady is not up yet, your ladyship,” Yam says timidly.

“This late and she is not up yet! I must have cut too much slack for her. Prik, go and wake her up.” The
definitive voice of the lady of the house ordering another servant silences Karaket’s handmaids, who no
longer dare put up protests and excuses. They remain prostate, heads downward, almost overcome with
terror.

Only a while later, Karaket’s foul language is heard berating the servant. It puts Lady Champa in a worse
mood still. Had she not given her word to this girl’s mother, she would have immediately stood up and sent
this pariah away from her household. The three masters are speechless from unspeakable angst.

“I now defer the matter to your hand, Dej my son. I can no longer put up with all this.” Lady Champa rises
and irritably walks into her room.

“As it appears, it seems like there is no need for more inquiry into the matter, Father,” the son concludes.

“No. We do not know for sure if the girl did it or not. We should investigate before passing judgment.
Remember the apt proverb: You pinch on your fingernail and you hurt your own flesh. Somehow, she is
one of our own, you know.” The son can only answer by heaving a sigh.

Karaket saunters gracefully toward them, in no haste at all. Her expression is fearless and undaunted.

“What is it, sirs, that you had to send a servant to wake me up before dawn?”

“How can it be before dawn when roosters crowed already to wake up the entire world?” Muen Sunthorn
retorts annoyingly, training his eyes on the beautiful woman with a sharp look of resentment. The hate in
his eyes sinks her heart. Her lovely face turns abruptly in rage at the two trembling prostrating handmaids.
“What did Yam and Phin do, sir?” she asks defensively.

“That is exactly what I wanted to ask you,” Phraya Hora replies. His usually gentle voice when speaking to
this orphaned niece is now so harsh that she drops to her knees and crawls to bow closely to him.

“Whatever you wanted to know, ask on, Uncle. I shall answer you the best I can.” She smiles fawningly at
him, in a ladylike manner without opening her mouth, so endearingly that her uncle’s eyes soften. His
question becomes softer by half.
“Do you know what happened last night?”

“What did happen, Uncle?” Her innocent look makes him hesitant.

“Servant Daeng, Lady Chanwad’s handmaid, is dead.”

“Good grief!” Her hand clasps her lovely bosom in a manner that seems genuinely in shock. Her
downcast expression is calculated to be just the right degree to earn pity.

“I just saw her earlier in the evening. Poor Daeng! And what did she die of, may I ask?” Her innocent eyes
meet with those of Muen Sunthorn and the patriarch of the household without trepidation. The former
refuses to be fooled but recognizes that, given his father’s merciful inclination toward her, his elder could
fall for her pitiable feminine wiles again. He rises with annoyance.

“If you know nothing of it, fine! Tomorrow do not forget to attend Servant Daeng’s service.” He cuts it
short.

“Why should I? She is no relative of mine.” Her sweet voice asks, leaving him speechless one more time to
realize how heartless and unkind she is.

“Suit yourself, then. Father, may I go to take a bath and go to work? It is such a waste of time.” Phraya
Hora follows the tall frame of his son with his worrisome eyes and sighs heavily.

“If there is nothing else, I should like to return to my room, Uncle. I have not washed my face and brushed
my teeth before I was summoned to hear of this sad incident.” The beautiful girl rises slowly and walks
gracefully off, followed by her two handmaids who by avoiding all eye contact have guilt written all over
them.

Phraya Hora, a title acknowledging his court position as the Chief Royal Astrologer, is also known as
Phraya Rajkhru, or the King’s Chief Advisor. He follows his son into the bedroom. He finds his son in the
middle of changing into bath clothes handed to him by his valet. On seeing his father’s face, he stops short
and gestures instead for his valet to leave the room, knowing well that his father has something to say in
confidence.

“Dej my son, I would like some favor from you.”

“Why should we let the culprit go scot-free, Father?” The straight-arrow sense of justice in his son’s
character has long been well-known to him. He heaves another long sigh.

“The girl was born with harsh luck,” the old man tries to plead his niece’s case. “Her parents passed when
she was a tender age. She had to endure so many scavengers in her relatives who all wanted a piece of
her fortunes. That was before I took her in as my charge. You may feel that I pity her because of this,
but…the culprit must, of course, face consequences of the action. Do you remember the Krishna-Kali
spell?” The son’s vexed eyes instantly brighten. He knows that when the incantation is chanted, a cloth
from Daeng’s body on the day of her drowning will serve as a medium to induce dread in the mind of the
guilty, yet it will not harm the innocent.

This powerful heirloom spell, whose name recalls Krishna the upholder and Kali the destroyer, has
passed from generation to generation in his family. A lethal curse to wrongdoers, it is said the more
malicious the act, the harsher the worse-than-death fate. Time and again, this spell has driven the guilty in
any crime to dire consequences, some to insanity and some to horrible death.

Phraya Hora and his ancestral line are known as incomparable experts in magical incantation, as well as
in transforming words into rhythmic poems recited in service to monarchs dating to King Prasatthong, King
Narai’s father. Although Muen Sunthorn has inherited this gift, he has kept it hidden from public
knowledge, choosing not to follow his father’s footsteps but to work in another department of royal service.
No one would expect that this second legitimate son of the Palace’s Chief Royal Astrologer is indeed gifted
in the magic of spells and mentally stronger in meditation than even his father.

“If Karaket was no mastermind behind this tragic incident, the spell cannot harm her. But if she was guilty
of the act, it shall work on her without fail.” His father says.

“When will we cast the spell?” asks Muen Sunthorn.

“On the last day of servant Daeng’s funeral service, after the cremation.” At that, his father steps outside
and trudges off with a heavy heart. His vague hope is that this distant niece of his had nothing to do with it
because he is convinced that the black spell will not harm the innocent.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

An unfamiliar incantation well before dawn distresses the already restless Karaket. However much she
braces herself, trepidation dominates her mind from time to time. No one needs to know that ever since
Daeng’s death, she has not slept a wink. This crime of passion, though acted at the spur of the moment,
has come back to haunt her.
Though she has repeatedly justified herself as merely guarding what was rightfully hers, now she realizes
the severity of her action. The already fragile body is fast deteriorating. Phin and Yam take turns to tend to
her all day and all night. The smell of medicine from the boiling pots seeps through the air and is so
nauseating it kills her appetite for any food that might sustain her.

Today is the day she knows that Phraya Hora and Muen Sunthorn are performing a curse on the
perpetrators of Daeng’s death. It drives her mind to chaos. The chanting is heard clearly throughout the
grand residence, dooming the guilty perpetrator. Her body and soul are tortured with relentless pain, and
she perspires profusely. She attempts to restrain herself from screaming, alarming Phin more than Yam as
it was the former who did the act of flipping Lady Chanwad’s boat.

Yam, who was in on the malicious plan all along, also shakes with alarm. Phin does not suffer any ill
feelings except for the fear and guilt. All of a sudden, the two handmaids gape in horror at the sudden,
violent convulsion on Karaket whose eyes are wide-open in terror.

“She…she is here! She is here.”

“Who is it, milady? Who is here? I can see no one.”

“Daeng…Servant Daeng is here to take my life.” The mistress’ loud gasping for breath and upturned eyes
panic the two servants. They weep uncontrollably, while trying with every ounce of strength to hold down
the limbs of their mistress. The fear of being caught guilty overrides the need to call out for help. All they
can do is to gulp down their desperate whimpers and pray that all will pass unscathed.

“Why is it not me instead? I feel so much pity for you, milady. I am the one who did the deed. Why is it not
me instead of you?” Phin cries her heart out seeing how her mistress suffers.

Well into daybreak the situation has not improved. The doomful Krishna-Kali incantation floats across the
terraces, terrifying Phin and Yam beyond words. Then, suddenly, the sunlit sky turns ominously dark.
Karaket’s skinny body convulses violently, gasps for air one last time, and collapses with a dying moan
from her throat.

Her beauty vanishes with this final spasm. Phin hyperventilates and extends her hand to feel her mistress’
breath. She bursts into a non-stop flow of tears feeling no air coming out the mistress’ nose. She shakes
her head tragically to Yam who drops to the floor and weeps in despair. They have no strength to gather
themselves and are in such a trance that they take no notice that the blackened sky has brightened again.

“What are we to do, Phin? What are we to do?”

“I…I do not know, Yam.”

“Let us report to Lady Champa.”

“No…not yet. Wait a little longer. I am so afraid.” The two servants throw themselves at each other in a
comforting hug and lament what is to become of their future from now on and in grieve over the ghastly
fate of their mistress.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
-

The black-out seems only momentary. When Kate opens her eyes, everything is all so gray and
monochromatic. She has the urge to close and reopen them to check it out. Like her vision her mind feels
too blurry to think straight. Though the gray fog hovers all over the place, she sees her toes clearly when
she looks down. Hey, are those my toes? Hello, good to see you!
 She stares in disbelief, and glances around to further inspect her body. Rather than pudgy paws, she
finds lean, graceful hands. Seeing her flat thin torso with no bulging belly is even more baffling.

“What! Hey…am I dreaming or what? Yes, this must be night and I am sleeping so I dream…” Her
perplexed brain searches for reasons to verify the situation. That rationalization gives her a desire to see
her own face. In a dream, anything is possible - even her one secret desire: To be skinny!

“Hey…a mirror. Is there no mirror around? This is my dream, so I’m in charge.” The dream dictator calls
out loudly in case a mirror can materialize upon her wish. But however loud she speaks up, no mirror is
there to be seen. The thick fog starts to lift until she vaguely sees a path. Everything becomes clearer all
around. Now Kate sees a vast field… grayish brown, barren and empty, yet not intimidating. She feels
something invigorating her body and mind. It puts her at ease.

“What a dream! Are there no animals here?” At that, a tiny kitten appears in front of her.

“Hey! Lucky! Lucky my child!” The kitten jumps into Kate’s arms and rubs its head on her hand
endearingly. She beams with delight and laughs out loud.

Lucky was her pet cat that died many years ago. She remembers crying her heart out over the loss of this
kitten for three days on end. Since then, she has not allowed herself to raise any other pet, as she never
wanted to be in such pain and grief ever again. As she cuddles Lucky in delight of this strange reunion,
she is hit by a lean, almost emaciated figure. Kate cries out in surprise. Those lean hands shake her arms
anxiously.

“Please help me. Help me!”

“Hey, what is it with you? Who are you running from?” Kate tries to shake her arms free from the glue-tight
grip before pausing when she sees the face of the woman clearly.

“What! Are you following me into my dream to haunt me?” The pretty face she sees is that of the spirit she
saw at Chaiwattanaram Temple the very night before. The hands holding her arms are ice cold, yet Kate
feels no fear as she is sure this is all in her dream.

“Help me, please,” the woman begs again. “And I shall bequeath all my possessions to you. Please help
me!”

“Wait, wait! How can I help you? There’s nothing threatening you at all.” Kate reassures her.
“There is. They will be here any moment. Let us flee together.” The deadly fright of the woman makes
Kate humor her, so she strides along, holding Lucky tightly in her arms. After a while of half-walk, half-run,
her patience runs out.

“For real, what are we running from?” Kate protests. “I see nothing in sight. Let’s take a rest. I’m so tired.
This crazy dream seems too real. I am both tired and hungry.” As soon as the word hungry leaves her
mouth, a gold table full of sumptuous foods appears in front of her. A gourmand like Kate stares at it,
awestruck.

“Super!” A lavish variety of gourmet foods and delicacies with all kinds of meat—pork, duck, chicken—and
mouth-watering Thai and Western desserts are laid on the table. There are also all kinds of beverages—
water, milk, soda and juices—to drink. Even that young woman stops short, seemingly famished, while
gazing at the banquet table with an insatiable appetite.

Kate puts Lucky down beside her as she sits down grinning to feast on the banquet.

“Wow! Excellent! Like a buffet. Hey, why are you standing around? Come and eat with me. Everything
looks so yummy.” She signals to the woman to join her, but the other woman is hesitant as if terrified of
something.

“Hey! You keep standing there. If you’re not eating, I won’t keep my manners, eh?” Kate puts food in her
mouth happily, glancing at her companion with a little surprise. The woman she sees is no different from
whom she saw previously, though her clothes look discolored and her pretty face paler.

“What is your name? Mine is Kate…for Ketsurang.” The sad, pretty eyes glance at Kate before swallowing
down her hunger again seeing how appetizing the food is.

“My name is Karaket. I was the only daughter of Phraya Ramnarong of Songkwae.” Kate chuckles at her
answer.
“But I saw you at Chaiwattanaram Temple in Ayutthaya, not in Phitsanulok. And why do you call it by its
ancient name, Songkwae? I must have slept a lot to have this super-realistic dream.” Despite her
conviction that it is all in her dream, Kate can’t help but feel the scrumptious flavors of the food are real.

“This is definitely my favorite dream, for sure! As for you, you are so beautiful. I wish I could be as pretty,”
says Kate.

“But you are! From the grace of your good deeds. Why should you want to be like me?”

No one has complimented Kate ever for her looks. However peculiar-sounding it is, she laughs
delightedly.

“Bah…I am so flattered. Although I don’t have a mirror to see myself, I’m just happy to be so thin. Pity it
was just a dream.”

“What dream? Is the food good?” Her faint-sounding question comes with hesitation as she is approaching
the gold banquet table where Kate is sitting.

“Very good. Come and eat with me.” Kate nods to invite her. Her lean, trembling hand grabs a drumstick
in the gold tray to bite hesitatingly, but as soon as it enters her mouth, it turns to ashes. She has to spit it
out most pitifully.

“I cannot eat! Why am I unable to eat?” Her angry voice leaves Kate agape.

“Why! Why can’t you eat when I can? Look here!” And she bites on one of the most delicious drumsticks
ever before chomping happily to demonstrate her point.

“I cannot eat anything. Such a sinner that I am.” Big teardrops roll down her cheeks in desperation. It kills
Kate’s appetite, so she washes her hands, drinks some water and refuses to touch the dessert in
sympathy for the onlooker.

“Are you a ghost?” asks Kate. “What is it that you want me to help with? Shall I make merits in dedication
to you? Hmm…have you ever been in someone else’s dream…just like mine?”

“What dream are you talking about?” No sooner than Kate can put across another question in reply there
is a loud roar that bursts with an eruption of heat. Suddenly the ground on which Karaket stands turns red-
hot like embers in a burning furnace. She shrieks frightfully to Kate.

“They are coming! Please help me! I bequeath the body of mine to you. Only use it to do some good, so
you shall alleviate my direst sufferings. Make merit on my behalf. Please help me! Please!” The hands
shake Kate’s arms pleadingly.

“What body are you talking about?” Kate asks in puzzlement.

“My body. I am at the end of the tether. I bequeath it in your care. My body is yours now. You must go
now. Or it will be too late.” Her shaking and restraining stop and she pushes Kate with incredible force.
Kate floats out into the infinite void. Her scream disappears in her throat as she turns to sees where she
was, as it recedes in the distance.

The banquet table has vanished and two red-skinned men wearing a red chongkraben loincloth roughly
drag Karaket into a fiery red lava pit. Before she blacks out Kate feels that somewhere in the recesses of
her mind, the scene seems familiar. It is like she has heard of such things before, though she cannot quite
place it. In that split second, she grasps Karaket’s fate. But she has absolutely no idea of what is
happening to her.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The acrid smoke burns her nostrils, making Kate grimace and twitch her nose. She hears the low steady
chanting of a prayer and feels increasingly apprehensive. She begins to feel claustrophobic as if being
physically framed and crushed within a narrow space and her breathing becomes labored. She blinks in
the dimly lit room as she tries to see more clearly the vague outline of her surroundings. It looks unfamiliar.
The drab colored cloth on the ceiling and a hard mattress smelling of hay all strike her as foreign. A sound
of soft weeping nearby stirs Kate, and she turns to look at the source. Her sleepy eyes enlarge in shock.
“Hey!” Beside her sit two dark-skinned plump women, wearing crewcut hair with wings on top, like in old
traditional painting. A second later, the two throw themselves at each other in a bear hug and scream
together in panic.

“Milady! Do not…haunt us, please! We shall make merit and dedicate them to you. Please!” a trembling
voice pleads, wai-ing repeatedly with her palms together and head bowed, with tightly closed and teary
eyes.

Kate herself is no less alarmed by the screams. She jumps up from the bed and leaps to the other side in
panic. Although all windows and doors are closed, the sun leaks in through the latticework on the upper
walls, so she can clearly see everything around her.

The room consists of polished woodwork walls with wide planks of teak flooring lined underneath by
bamboo lathwork. The bed on which she stoops, ready to make her next move, is made of brown polished
wood but more like a bamboo-woven framework than a proper bed. The hard mattress, smelling like dried
potpourri and camphor, lays on top. The smell, together with the funny flavor of medicine in her mouth, is
all the more nauseating. The terracotta pot of decoction on a wooden tray not far from the two women is
most likely the source of that acrid taste in her mouth right now. Kate looks down at herself, seeing lean,
thin limbs. It makes her heart sink—she is still lost in limbo.

“A dream! I must be dreaming. It has to be a dream. Blast it!” She slaps herself so hard on the cheek that it
hurts both her face and hand. The pain puts her in debilitating fear that perhaps she does not understand
just what she is experiencing now. A commotion is heard from outside, and the two retro-looking women
dart out, rushing around the Japanese partition and parting the Persian tapestry toward the door in panic.
Then they themselves slip outside barely passing the three people who are stepping in. Two of them are
men in white robes, one older and one younger. The dimly-lit room, in the mist of smoke that seeps
through the floor crevices, is such a frightful sight that Kate retreats all the way, her back against the big
chests that line the wall.

“Don’t come near. Or I’ll fight for my life. Truly!” Fear and a weird irritation in her throat do nothing to stop
her from shouting empty threats.

“Has Karaket gone insane, my husband?” The only woman who entered speaks up with a cold,
admonishing gaze at Kate. Her hateful eyes startle Kate, who backs further away. The tall frame of the
middle-aged man leans toward her, which scares Kate even more.

“Don’t come near! Who are you? I…I want to go home.” Upon my life, I can’t stay here! Kate lifts up her
print tube skirt and runs around the bed toward the wide-open door, where she sees a large group of
people standing outside peeping in through the doorway.

“Phin, Yam! Catch your mistress.” A harsh male voice is heard. It seems like the skinny girl slipping right
past him is too much of an abomination for him to grab, even touch. The two trembling handmaids raise
their arms and grab their lady.

“Let me go! Let me go! Oops!” The breast wrap is loosening up from her violent struggle. She has to
snatch it before the scene turns into a striptease show. “Damn! The wrap is falling off! Let me go!” Kate
screams.

“Do not wriggle hard, milady!”

“Milady my ass! All right, come what may, then!” Kate grabs hold of an end of the breast cloth and wraps it
around twice and pulls the end to cover her shoulders tightly before wiggling with all her might, shaking off
the two captors in different directions and in disarray.

“Possessed! Lady Karaket is possessed by an evil spirit!” The onlooking crowd shrieks and disperses in
fear. Some run away. Others have the courage to cautiously watch at a safe distance. Meanwhile, the
three people inside the room step out, looking at Kate wearisomely.

Out in the sun like this, everything is as clear as daylight can be. The woman who just gave a fierce fight
stands watching speechlessly. Her big eyes look around with incredulity. Amongst the women she sees,
some wear crewcut hairstyles with wings of oiled bangs on either side of hair parted on top and long thin
wisps of hair framing their face; some have nape-length bobs; and others sport the pixie cut cropped short
above the ears.
Many stand open-mouthed showing the black shiny teeth in their mouth. Every woman wears a dark-
brown chongkraben cloth, pulled between legs and tucked in at the back waistline and a beige top, some
in a wraparound style and some a cross-shouldered style. The men are all clean shaven, some leaving
sharp-rimmed wings on top like the women. All the men wear short chongkraben like a loincloth and are
shirtless.

Kate spins around toward the three people who seem to be in charge. The younger man has eyes so
piercing that she dares not meet them. The older man appears to be somewhat merciful. It is he whom she
addresses.

“Where…where am I? What is this place, please?”

“What is wrong with you, Karaket? If you feel ill-disposed, why did you not lie down and rest?” The
strange-sounding yet kindly tone calms Kate’s perturbed mind somewhat. She merely looks at the speaker
pleadingly.

Phin and Yam steal a look at each other before bowing down in dreadful retrospection of the last hour or
so.

Milady stopped breathing. Yet the Krishna-Kali spell is so threatening that they did not dare report on her
death. They merely sat, hugging and weeping. Then, suddenly, milady rose from bed like there was
nothing wrong with her. How spine-chilling!

“No! I am not Karaket!” That slip of tongue proves to be out of place. Her heart drops. Or did Karaket die?
In confusion, shock and fear, Kate racks her brain which is about to explode. If she tells everyone the truth,
she may be suspected of being a spirit in possession of Karaket, which would definitely cause an uproar.
And if this is no dream, her encounter with Karaket must have been no dream too. Which means she
witnessed the most horrible fate of Karaket. Kate races through what she can do to gain control of her
sanity.

“If you are not Karaket, who are you then?” Muen Sunthorn asks in annoyance, irritated by her indecisive,
tentative manner.

Kate glances down at her feet—or to be precise, Karaket’s feet—and up higher to the disheveled tube
skirt. It feels so airy she realizes she is wearing nothing underneath this tube skirt. Her eyes come up to
the lovely bosom. She has to gulp down her wonderment. In this light, Karaket’s body is even more
beautiful than ever. Or is it not so attractive after all? Because everyone is looking at her suspiciously and
hatefully.

“It’s not true. No! I don’t believe it!” She mumbles, finding the situation unbearable. Yet everything is now
as clear as day. Everything is so real. Even her stifled breathing is real. Kate feels the reality of sweat
oozing from her and the warmth of the large planks under her feet. These sensations are all too real to
deny that this is not happening. Over and above all else, the indecipherable whispering from everyone
around is driving her toward insanity!

CHAPTER THREE
Acculturation

Kate takes a deep breath before shutting her eyes to get a hold of herself. When she reopens them
everything remains exactly as it was. Most women are plump and short; most men are tall and muscular.
She looks down at herself again. Her complexion glows yellow, while others’ are brown and sun-tanned.
Only the middle-aged woman who carries herself with elegance and whose eyes are so piercing, has
lighter skin.

“Or is it really a possession, my husband?” The middle-aged lady asks the most authoritative man in a
whisper, which puts Kate on full alert with eyes wide open.

Or am I really a spirit? Hey, that’s not possible. I’m still alive, ain’t I? Shit! Or am I dead? She begins to
doubt her own state of being. If she were a spirit in possession of Karaket’s body and if these people were
convinced of it, they would summon some shaman to perform an exorcism on her. Maybe that would
require horrible measures like lashing by a charmed whip, as she saw in the movies. Doom! She must
suffer an excruciating, painful, brutal death indeed!
“How can it be, Champa? The perimeter of this house is securely surrounded with consecrated threads.
No evil spirits can penetrate through.”

Muen Sunthorn looks suspiciously at Kate’s sweet, contemplative face and her beautiful but shifty eyes.
Something in her composure and expression strikes him as different. His sharp eyes turn toward his
father’s with a nodding consensus that the Krishna-Kali spell has manifested its potency. This beauty has
committed a deadly crime as they suspected and now she has gone insane!

“I…I’m parched…um, thirsty.”

“What did you say?” Muen Sunthorn asks.

Kate looks at each and everyone again in puzzlement. They don’t seem to understand the tone of her
speech. The middle-aged lady who is watching in silence heaves a wearied sigh.

“My husband, if there is nothing else here, I should like to go down to the kitchen to see how the cooking
goes.”

“You may go, Champa.” Lady Champa turns around to catch many pairs of eyes of the servants glued
vigilantly to the situation.

“What on earth are you all gathering here for?” she scolds. “Go! Get to work!” At her berating, everyone
scurries off and instantly disperses to their chores. Kate takes hold of the entire scene and decides to
imitate the manner of speech she has heard.

“I want to drink water.” Indeed, keep it simple and to the point. What else can I do now? Her quavering
eyes, even after expressing a straightforward wish, reinforces Muen Sunthorn’s conviction. Karaket must
have gone insane!

“If you want to drink water, just go and fetch water to drink. What are you standing here for? And do not go
on alarming people by throwing such tantrums ever again. Phin and Yam too, you made such an uproar
that it sounded like the pre-noon drum. Everyone was unnerved by you too. You should be severely
flogged.” Muen Sunthorn’s admonition sends the terrified Phin and Yam down to the floor, without uttering
half a word in response. Meanwhile, Kate is all ears for what he has to say. The manner of his speech is
strangely captivating in contrast with his piercing eyes.

“Go to your room and rest, my niece. Standing out in the hot sun will only worsen your condition.”

“She must be fine, father. She leapt and ran and shook herself free from the servants with such strength.
Maybe she was not ill after all.” At that, he storms away repulsively, wanting nothing to do with the most
devious and cunning person in sight. The target of his sarcasm stands absorbing his words for a while
longer to try to comprehend just what he is insinuating. It blows her mind totally!

Kate smiles timidly before walking hesitantly into her room, not understanding anything that has happened
around her. The older man’s eyes follow her, full of questions at his niece’s weird behavior. Then he sighs
deeply before walking back to his study and holy-scripture library to finish the incantation and complete the
cursing rite.

Muen Sunthorn is waiting for his father, with the holy scripture in front of him. When Phraya Hora sits
down, the two chant the spell together with deep faith—one wanting the perpetrator of the crime to receive
the justice she deserves; the other wanting to exonerate his distant niece if she is left unharmed from this
potent spell.

Kate parts the curtain, enters her bedroom, and sits down on the bed. She feels uneasy at hearing the
chanting resume, but fortunately her bewilderment soon dies down. She watches the two women stepping
in, looking half braced-up and half scared. One of them crawls on her knees quickly to pick up a terracotta
teapot and turn over a tiny teacup into which she pours tea before handing it shakily to Kate. She then
moves quickly on her knees to open the window wide. From their actions, Kate surmises that they are
Karaket’s handmaids. She sits cross-legged in a lotus position on the bed while sipping tea and gazing into
the distance, still pondering her recent experience.

How the heck did I get here? Right this very instance, Mom and Grandma must be worrying sick about
me. A deep longing to go back to the embracing arms of her family overcomes her. Heart-broken and
desolate, she painfully acknowledges the possibility that she may never see them again in this life. None of
what has happened to her makes sense; what is she to do under the circumstances?

Kate searches her brains thinking of the time before she saw Karaket. What was she doing then? The only
memory she has is of Ruangrit trying to make up with her in the van. And if she is not mistaken, she must
have fallen asleep. And if she was asleep, it means she must be dreaming. Yet, glancing at her body, she
has stark, corporeal proof that the situation in which she finds herself here is no dream but reality. And if
she is a spirit possessing Karaket’s body, how did she, Kate, die?

And if she didn’t die but lay in a comatose state, could someone possess her body too? Most importantly,
will she be able to leave Karaket’s body? And if she does, could Karaket’s spirit return to her own body?
The more she thinks, the deeper her despair.

“Whoa!” She sighs, exhausted.

Another possibility hits her: what if she gets stuck in this body for good?!! Kate swallows a lump in her
throat. Judging from the historical costumes she has seen, it must be sometime in the Ayodhya period. A
life in this body centuries back in history, without modern amenities, must pose huge challenges.

“Whoa!” Another sigh of despair is answered by soft sobbing from the two women. It wakes Kate from her
daydreaming. She now turns around to look left and right with interest.

This spacious room is decorated with dark-colored furniture. The Japanese screen must partition off a
changing room as she sees big trunks out there. Next to it is an exquisitely woven curtain which screens
out prying eyes from the outside into the bed area. Further outside is a small dressing table with a big
brass mirror. The brass frame of peony design looks to be an import from China. Interesting! She gets up
to take a closer look. But her sudden movement startles the two women who stick together like Siamese
twins. With another jittery whimper they recede until their backs are against the wall. Hilarious! Kate thinks.

Kate chuckles at the sight of the two ancient-looking women. Her out-of-the-blue laugh makes her look
more like she has lost her mind, and they sit clinging to each other, eyes tightly closed. What the heck!
She gets up from the bed to inspect with genuine interest the small dresser with sculpted designs of
peonies and creeping vines. The vanity table is part of a matching set with the mirror. There is a thick,
medium-sized Persian rug in old exquisite design laid in front of the dresser. The design looks familiar;
after all, she was once a student of art history.

The dresser set looks somewhat similar to the small shrine back at her house. But instead of Buddha
statuettes and ritual objects it consists of assorted wooden boxes and ornamental jars in different sizes.
Curious, she opens them, one by one, to see what’s inside. Common sense tells her that even if she
racked and cracked her brains, she is unlikely to find the answer to her present condition. Better take
advantage of the situation. Seeing is believing, isn’t it? Now she can actually see and touch antiquities
only available to her in textbook photographs before. Rather than sitting idly, moping and whiling away her
time in this place, she will seize the opportunity to enrich her experience of the bygone days.

The fragrance wafting from one of the jars gives itself away as cosmetics and toiletry. Some contain oil,
some talcum powder and talcum pearls, and some home-made perfumery. The scent is so fresh and
reminds her of Grandma Nuan--a thought that again rips her heart with homesickness.

Looking into the brass mirror before her, she sees the reflection of a pair of big, round eyes. She bends
over to look closely and finds such stunning beauty in the woman who stares back. Arched brows over
large eyes with creased eyelids highlighted by long, thick lashes, are a heart-stopper. Although the brass
mirror cannot compare in quality to the one in her modern life, it clearly reflects her bright sparkling eyes.

The nose is straight, flawless and ends with a soft curvy tip to complement those luscious lips. Her white
teeth are something peculiar here – unlike what she sees in the people around her. The round chin
highlights the other features of a face that looks truly breathtaking. The only thing that bothers her is the
hairstyle. The shoulder length looks just right but the top is cut into bangs with a middle part that separates
into the two wings. The feel of the hair on her hand is a little sticky. Its stale scent recalls what she smelled
in the shrine room at home. Despite these imperfections, the person she sees in front of her is a retro
beauty, a drop-dead gorgeous, heart-breakable belle.

“At least, I’m skinny and stunning! What do I have to complain about? I’ll just have to bear with this too-
good-to-be-true body a bit longer. If there’s coming, there must be going too! If there’s a way of coming,
surely there must be a way of going back.” She mumbles in consolation to herself.

Whimpers from the two handmaids are still heard intermittently, but now it seems like they are trying to
gag themselves with their hands. They must be afraid of being flogged by Muen Sunthorn should they be
heard outside. Kate turns around to look at the source of the groans and smiles at them. She then begins
a conversation, or, rather, an interrogation, to find some way to forge a tie before they feel more alienated.

“What are you two called?” Phin and Yam feel faint. Their breath stops on hearing the strange-sounding
question.

“Hmm…my name is Phin a-and…here is Yam, Godmother. Please do not go on haunting us.”
Godmother, ha! But Kate understands that if she wants to stay safe from being whipped by a shaman, she
must first talk these two out of their sheer fright of her.

“Hmm…How can I haunt you? I’m not dead yet.” Yam can only sit shaken, palms together and tears
flowing nonstop.

“How can milady not be dead? That time when the sun went out ominously, we checked on your breath
and you did not breathe. You stayed like that for a long time...until Yam and I thought of reporting to Lady
Champa…and then, you moved…” Phin, the braver of the two, argues softly but apprehensively.

“You must have checked wrong. If I was dead, how would I be able to get up and walk about?”

“But you look different!”

“Different! Oh, yes. I was ill. It seems I can’t remember much of anything.”

“Is it really you, milady? Not a possession by any spirit?” Phin wipes her tears hopefully.

It is so easy to fool them! They are so gullible!

“Possession can only take place at night. This is broad daylight. And didn’t you see I was out in the bright
sun a while ago? How can ghosts stand sunlight? I had been very ill. When I came to, I was confused. I
barely remember anything now. But I take comfort in you both, Phin and Yam. You can help me revive my
memory.” On a mere chance that they know something about Alzheimer’s disease or amnesia, her claim is
not too far-fetched.

“But indeed you speak very differently.”

“Exactly! I can’t remember a thing - even about myself. My mind is so blurred. Phin and Yam, you must
help me out.” Kate smiles fawningly and gives them her hands to touch to boost their confidence. They
touch her, half in fear, half in curiosity. Finally, when they feel the warmth of her hands, they begin to relax.
They also notice that their mistress’ eyes are gentle and not so harsh and mean as before

“Milady!” They throw themselves at her legs and hug them with such delight.

“Hey! Easy! Easy! Or I shall trip and fall over. No, don’t cry. I am fine, really!” The heartfelt loyalty and
exhilaration in the two women deeply touch Kate’s heart. Judging from the many people she saw today,
these two must be the ones whom she can most depend on. After they let go of her legs, the questioning
begins in earnest.

“I...um...my name is Karaket. My father was Phraya Ramnarong of Songkwae. That’s all I can remember.
The rest…please, please, you have to fill me in.”

“You are right. You are the only daughter of Phraya Ramnarong. You came to reside here because the
father of your mother Lady Pudchib was a cousin of the father of Phraya Hora, the owner of this household
and estate. They used to see each other frequently. Your father fought side by side with Phraya Hora in
the Battle of Chiangmai a long time back. That was when they talked about asking for your hand in
marriage to Phraya Hora’s son. After the passing of your father and mother, Phraya Hora, who is your
distant uncle, took you in as his charge.” Kate listens and connects the dots in the family tree until the last
portion of the info startles her, and she opens her eyes widely and unexpectedly.

“What did you say? My hand is promised in marriage?” She finds it hard to believe that Karaket is the
betrothed of that stern-looking and sharp-tongued guy.

“How so? Do you not remember this at all?”

“Of course not. And are we, Phraya Hora’s son and I, in love?” Phin and Yam’s eyes catch surreptitiously
without answering, and Kate surmises that their silence means no. It must be an arranged marriage
initiated by the parents of both sides, against their children’s will. It is how people in the olden days marry,
as she recalls. The awkwardness in the two handmaids further arouses her curiosity.
“What then? I’m waiting to hear from you.”

“You are very fond of Muen Sunthorn. Very much indeed.” Bingo! Why have I never guessed it right like
this when I buy lotteries?

“Unrequited love, then,” she presumes. My oh my, this is something Karaket and I have in common.
Unrequited love is so heart-breaking. One can only pine to death. Yet, upon reflection, Karaket was better
off in luck. She got to be his intended while I am only my love’s pal.

“With my looks, am I considered pretty by your standard?

“Yes, you are. You are very pretty, angelically pretty. If you should go out sometimes your beauty will be
praised far and wide.”

“Pretty? And that guy does not like pretty women?”

“I do not know, milady.” Their evasiveness looks suspicious. But never mind! This much is good enough.
There’s a lot more to find out from these two women. Better to deal with them gradually than to be too
aggressive and demand everything all at once. It might scare them off. They look quite naïve and very
loyal to Karaket. Therefore, the information from them may be subjectively distorted in favor of their
mistress. Better to gauge the situation from other people as well and improvise accordingly until she can
find a way out of this body.

“Normally, do I never go out of the house at all?”

“You are often ill-disposed. You mostly stay in your room.”

“That explains why my complexion is so fair. Other people have dark skin.”

“You have your mother’s complexion, milady. Your paternal grandmother was from Lanna in the north.”

“Oh, yes. A mixed race. That’s why.” Kate takes a long sigh before looking at the wooden chests at the
back of the room.

“What are those boxes, please?” A long silence and no answer. Kate turns to look at the two handmaids
questioningly. She sees both mouths agape.

“Why, what are you staring at?”

“You speak so sweetly, milady.” Yam smiles timidly and innocently at her, and Kate beams back. She
can’t help but feel sorry for them. Slaves in these times must take whatever comes, cruelty or kindness,
from their masters and mistresses. It must be their inevitable fate.

“And how do I usually speak?”

“You speak very differently, milady.” Phin’s doubt reminds Kate to be more careful in the manner of her
speech. “And in what manner do I normally speak?”

“Nothing, milady. You speak fine as you do.” Phin’s reply reveals enough for Kate not to probe further.
Because they will never speak ill of their mistress.

“Then, tell me what boxes these are.”

“Tiab, milady, not boxes.” Yam corrects her softly.

“Tiab?”

“Tiab is a footed container without a lid, milady. They come in many sizes. A small ceremonial tiab may
have a spired cover. Next to them are assorted chests. Here is a Japanese chest. It has legs. There are
also drawered chests, like these.” Phin explains and demonstrates with ease. Yam listens and wipes her
tears, because she is fondly reminded of when her mistress was a talkative young child who asked all
kinds of questions -- like now. As the young mistress grew up, the manner of her speech turned sour.

Kate walks over and bends down to look at that big wooden box. She finds the tiab as Phin and Yam
described to be a whole tree trunk dug out in the middle, not so deep and carved into a square shape. It
has short legs, or is footed, as Phin described. Inside it contains a lot of sacks, and gold and silver small
boxes with dry betel and areca, together with red lime and a paring knife. At the sight of betel and areca,
she is reminded of the black teeth of the people in these days.

“By the way, why are my teeth white unlike everyone else’s?” inquires Kate.

“You are allergic to areca. If you chew it, you get rashes and have difficulty breathing. You are not in good
health, milady. I once offered to dye your teeth black and you refused. As for this krob, it belonged to your
father Phraya Ramnarong as a gift from the King.” Phin answers shyly, bowing her head down timidly as
she remembers the time when she offered to dye her mistress’ teeth and how she was severely scolded
and beaten. Meanwhile, the unwitting Kate looks at the betel box and makes a mental note that this thing
is called krob. So many new words to learn! She continues with her interrogation into Karaket’s story.

“And when will I marry…start a household…right?..start a household with Muen…whatever his name is?”

“Muen Sunthorn, milady. His full name is Muen Sunthorn Deva.”

“That’s it. When?” Kate pursues.

“How…can you ask such a question?” Yam trembles; her disapproval clearly reflecting dismay.

“Why…why can’t I? I am of age to marry and start a household, am I not?”

“Yes, you are. You are sixteen years old now.”

“What! Only sixteen? Then don’t marry yet. Better wait another five or six years.” The speaker speaks
with ease because it is not her own business and welfare at stake. Her hands touch the contents of the
tiabs with interest.

“Whoa!..that is impossible! A spinster over twenty years old and unmarried is an old maid. She can no
longer find any suitor at that age.” Yam protests.

“Then let it be. I don’t mind staying single. What’s in these sacks?” The two women look at each other in
amazement. Their mistress would usually fantasize about a grand, opulent wedding with Muen Sunthorn
and did everything in her power to attract him. But now she is asking marriage questions straightforwardly,
even disinterestedly.

“Bia sacks, milady.”

“Money, you mean?”

“Yes, milady.” If Kate is not mistaken, Karaket bequeathed to her not only her body but all her material
possessions. It cannot be wrong for her to inspect what’s now at her disposal. Kate smiles naughtily,
drawing the contents of a sack, which are bia-jun shells. She knows from her studies that bia-jun shells are
one of the eight shells used as currency. Other weightier sacks contain bullet money of assorted sizes and
denominations, separated into six sacks.

Kate looks at the bullet money with excitement. Who would believe that she is now touching new, freshly
minted bullet money with the seal and insignia of the current reign, instead of looking through glass
cabinets in museums? And how about the chance of living a life of an ancient high-born lady? And what
about the inclinations and preferences of the days for plumper women? Ha! If she traveled back in time, in
whole and not in spirit, to inhabit someone else’s body, her chubbiness might be considered attractive.
Indeed! Things seem to veer round so wondrously. Truth be told, the woman whose body she is now in
possession must be considered too skinny and sickly. By the way, what period in Ayodhya is this, she
wonders?

“Tell me, who is the King now, Pi Phin?” Phin opens her mouth to answer but is speechless upon hearing
the “Pi” honorific, meaning big sister, that Kate has used in addressing her. She grins broadly and feels so
tearily flattered while the speaker is totally clueless of what she said to touch her hearer so much.

“King Narai , milady,” she finally blurts out.

King Narai! “

For how many years has it been his reign, Pi Phin?”

“I…do not know, milady,” is the innocent reply. Kate is awestruck. But considering Phin being a domestic
slave, she is unlikely to know politics and affairs outside the house. It is more likely that she would learn
more of these things from Muen Sunthorn or Phraya Hora.

She puts back the money sacks where they belong and sits down to scan her brains about what she has
read or studied of the reign of King Narai whom historians call King Narai the Great. Nothing really!
Despite her fogged-over brain, Kate can’t help but feel euphoric. Whatever novel she’s read, time travelers
always are the protagonists or heroines. If her role is that of a heroine, how can she help but feel
flattered? Some heroine, my oh my!

Her euphoric daydreaming is suddenly interrupted by the thought that she hasn’t come here in whole, but
only in spirit inhabiting someone else’s body. And she was asked by Karaket’s spirit to do good and make
merit in her stead. What’s more, that guy Muen Sunthorn could not possibly be the hero. Heroes are
supposed to fall for the heroine at first sight, aren’t they? But he seemed to hate her the minute they met.
Rays of hatred permeated through the air, in his eyes and words. Another hindrance is that she secretly
feels for Ruangrit still.

Kate’s shifting manners - delight one moment and scorn the next - and her jumping from this to that all in
her own mind, cause Phin and Yam to worry sick. They can’t help but think that their erratic mistress may
have indeed gone insane by the undeniable potency of the Krishna-Kali spell.

CHAPTER FOUR
Damsel in Distress

The growling sound in Kate’s stomach instantly lightens the atmosphere. The two handmaids cover their
mouth to laugh before making a proposition.

“We shall go down and bring your dinner, milady.”

“Well…Don’t they have dinner together here?” It is her vague recollection that Thais have always had
meals together in the family, with rice and a set of assorted dishes. She can’t help asking the question.

“Um…” Phin meets the questioning eyes of her mistress and replies awkwardly: “These past three or four
days, you take your meals in your room, milady.”

“Oh, yes. Because I was ill. But now I’m fine. I can’t wait to have dinner with everyone else.”

“That is inadvisable, milady.”Her handmaids’ weird attitudes and reluctance to speak up annoy Kate.

“Please! Do not act hesitantly like that. I feel uncomfortable. Whatever you have to say, speak up. Be
frank. I can’t remember anything without you enlightening me, Pi Phin and Pi Yam.”

“It was because of…Daeng’s death, you know.”

“Now who is Daeng?”

“The handmaid of Lady Chanwad, Chaophraya Kosa’s daughter.” Yam takes it upon herself to answer,
seeing that Phin, who suffers still from her part of the action, is in tears.

“Why are you crying, Pi Phin? Spit it out, please! What did servant Daeng’s death have to do with me?”
The two women open their eyes widely and prostrate themselves on the floor, trembling like baby birds in
their nests. Their mistress’ repeated threat forbidding them to speak to anyone still rings in their ears.

“Nothing, milady. Nothing.”

“Hey, what is it with you two? Whoa! And how shall I know about it, then?” Kate shakes her head wearily
before rising and arranging her tube skirt and sabai breast wrap. Phin and Yam dart to help her with her
clothes. But the sweat and strong odors of the past few days cling to Kate, forcing Phin to turn away while
suggesting: “Will you take a bath first?”

“That’s nice. Take a bath before eating. I am famished, you know.” The slim lady starts to go out but gives
herself a sudden brake when she sees Phin and Yam piling up some clothing in stacks.

“Wow! Are we bringing the whole pile for a bath?”

“This one is for changing; this for covering yourself; this for bathing.” Phin piles them up together and
steps out of the room. Yam places a sabai and dark-colored print cloth on the bed before grabbing a
wooden box containing many jars.

“What are those?”

“Turmeric, fresh plai herb and tamarind, milady. This big bowl is for mixing your toiletries for bathing.” Kate
has a glimpse of the first difficulty she has to go through. Moments later, Phin comes back with a terracotta
bowl containing burnt kaffir limes. Kate stands speechless, gazing at the grand preparations before her.
When Phin spreads out a cloth and approaches to undress her, she cries out.

“Hey! Don’t do that! I can undress myself. Um…better wait outside while I change.” Somewhat confused,
Phin and Yam obey her order. After changing into a bathing sarong, Kate steps out discreetly. A slight
feeling of unease overtakes her. Since she was little, she has only taken a bath or shower in the privacy of
a bathroom. Now she has to learn to wear a bathing wrap tightly. She folds over the top rim several times
to lessen her concern of it falling off.

“Now where do I go for a bath?”

“Walk to the back, milady. You shall see the canal in a short distance.” Phin points the way and waits for
Kate to lead on. Kate asks for a cloth to cover her shoulders before leading the way tentatively. At last she
makes it. Walking down the stairs she sees a pier not so far as Phin instructed. On the bank, there are
children and grown-ups bathing. Some are washing dishes and doing laundry.

“Not that way, milady. That pier is for servants and slaves. You have to go to another pier, which is for the
masters.”

“Oh, even piers are separated.”

“There are many piers for separate uses, milady. A boat pier is at the front of the house.” Yam concludes
that her mistress needs to be filled in on all the things she has forgotten, so she willingly offers her
explanations.

“A mixture of turmeric, powder droplets and tamarind juice for washing your face, milady. Tamarind, plai
herb and turmeric for body scrub. Kaffir lime for hair washing. You have not come down to the pier for
many days. Your hair is so sticky and smelly.” Kate sits down and prepares to dip herself into the canal. It
would be quite a scene if she dove down into it as she does in her modern swimming pool. And what if the
bathing cloth slips off from water friction…Ha! That’s unthinkable!

“Wait just a little, milady. Let me bathe you first.”

“What! I’m a grown-up. I can bathe myself.”

“No, you cannot. Come, you cannot bathe yourself as clean without our help.” The two handmaids hold
her back and use a silver bowl to scoop canal water to pour on her. Kate can only blink her eyes watching
herself being bathed. The mixture of tamarind, turmeric, plai and powder droplets is then used as scrub on
her face, neck and shoulders with a huge loofa.

“And can we go into the canal? Are there crocodiles in the canal? What about leeches?” Phin and Yam
giggle at this train of questions all at once.

“There are no crocodiles, milady. The canal is flowing, not still water. And there are no leeches too. If you
like, you can take a dip. But you have to wait until we give you a good scrub.” That’s it! How can it be
clean? Anyhow she has to wash her intimate organs herself and dips in to finish up. Kate looks around
with curiosity. Lush greenery is everywhere. It looks so refreshing indeed. Canal water flows and a fresh
breeze blows in floral fragrance. Her worked-up mind momentarily calms down.
“Bathing like this can be very nice. Quite pleasant. It would be better if we are partitioned off from outside
view. Here anyone can row by and see the privacy of our bathing.”

“Yes, there are some such brash men taking a peep.” Her handmaid explains.

“Are there? And is there anyone peeping at me or you bathing?” Kate asks naughtily in confidence.

“Pooh! No one dares. Everyone knows whose house this is. Phraya Hora is the King’s Chief Advisor. You
are of high birth, so everyone is afraid. As for us, we bathe at that pier over there. Yes, there are some
men….” The coy manner and black-teeth smile are so funny that Kate laughs out loud. This comes so
unexpectedly that the two servants are in shock and look left and right with alarm. When they see no one
in sight, they sigh in relief.

“It is unladylike to laugh out loud, milady. People will criticize you for laughing…heehee haha… as horses
do.”

“Well, how does it turn out like that? I will try to keep my voice low, okay? Hey! This means Phraya Hora
and the mean lady and Muen Sunthorn must bathe at this pier too, mustn’t they?”

“You should call Phraya Uncle sir, milady. He is a senior Phraya who nearly gets promoted to Chaophraya.
As for Lady Champa, you should call her Aunt ma’m. And Lord Muen, you should call him khun pi like he
was your older cousin. And if he sees you are bathing, he will bide his time. He will not come down to take
a bath because…he might be afraid of people bad-mouthing.” Kate listens attentively but finds some words
lacking in clarity.

“Bide his time…” she repeats the phrase questioningly.

“Hold back until a proper time, milady.” Yam adds her explanation when she sees her mistress did not get
what she meant.

“Oh, old expressions are hard to understand. If there’s anything I should know, pray the two of you tell me
because I have really forgotten everything.”

“Um…milady, if an elder does not speak to you first, it is improper for you to ask a question or open a
conversation.” Phin warns her in a concerned voice.

“And what if I really, really want to know?”

“You must ask forgiveness first. Say something like…Forgive me or pardon my asking. Then you wait for
the elder’s permission before asking, milady.”

“Hmm! How frustrating! Let’s say, I won’t say anything if not necessary. If I have any questions, I shall
ask you, Pi Phin and Pi Yam, okay?” The two handmaids bow their heads and laugh softly again. This is
the first time in a decade that they feel happy and comfortable in the presence of their mistress. Her child-
like naivety and unceremonious manner now make her more endearing, many times over.

After rinsing hair and body thoroughly, Kate is again in an awkward position when she changes from wet
cloth into a dry wrap. But now it seems easier. At least she doesn’t embarrass herself in front of the two
handmaids. Her black, long hair now smells faintly of kaffir lime, which is refreshing, despite its initial
itching and stinging sensation when first applied. So does her well-scrubbed skin which also stung at first
but after a good dip in the water, the itches and stings all disappear.

All start to walk back to the house. Yam scoops water in a small jar by the staircase to pour on her
mistress’ feet, while Phin takes the bath cloth to hang dry, leaving Kate to walk up to the house with Yam.

Yam brings out toiletries to gently apply on her glowing skin. Homemade perfumery and eaglewood-
scented powder are doused profusely on her. Yam fans her dry with a palm leaf and readies to re-apply.

“Hey! Pi Yam, one application is enough.”

“No, milady. It will not last long on the skin.”

“I don’t need to smell so good. I’m not going out anywhere. I just stay home, right?”

“Lord Muen is here too, milady,” Yam replies obliquely. Kate can guess the insinuation of her muttering.

“Already betrothed and I still must seduce him?” At that, Yam pounds herself on the chest shockingly.

“How can you say that? Lord Muen is only your intended, not officially betrothed. It has been a year since
you came to reside here and no one has brought the matter up, milady.” Now she knows that she still has
a lot of work to do on that front.

“Well…if so, then douse me more with those perfumes.” At least if Karaket is not dead and finds a way to
return to this body, she won’t have to defend herself for not following the ideal of the initial body owner.
Now she spreads her arms for Yam to rub the scents in fully.

After three applications, it is time to get dressed. This time Kate asks to do it herself, but after trying to
wrap and tuck the tube skirt on herself for a while, she gives up and lets Yam help her with it.

“Damn! Clothes these days are so difficult to handle.” The grumbling starts to sound familiar to the ears of
the listener. Yam folds the cloth dexterously while Kate hangs on to her tube skirt tightly.

“Is there a blouse, Pi Yam?”

“There is a ceremonial blouse, milady. But why would you need it now? Are you cold?” Phin who just
finished with the laundry walks into the room and asks the question.

“Not very. But if you have blouses, give me one. I’m afraid the cloth could fall off. This breast wrap is so
difficult to wear.” Kate bends down to look at the breast wrap, which even after a second wrap doesn’t give
her any confidence.

“You can cross it over a shoulder as a sabai and tuck it in, so it will not get in the way and be pulled
loose.” The two handmaids sigh while clothing their mistress. Despite her recovery this time, milady has
forgotten even how to wear clothes. This must be the potency of the Krishna-Kali spell!

“Can’t I wear chongkraben breeches like you?”

“You cannot. You are an unmarried lady of high birth. You must dress properly.” Yam explains.

“Hmm…It feels so…naked. You know what I mean? It feels naked because I don’t have panties
underneath.” Kate steps up coyly when she feels the air flowing underneath her wraparound skirt.

“What are panties, milady?” The unfamiliar word sounds so curious Yam can’t resist asking. Kate sighs at
the question, but then her eyes brighten up at a thought.

“Do you have fabrics? Any unused cloth. Or any cloth softened after usage is all right too. Some cloth we
can use for cutting, that is. And if you do, can I have scissors, needles and thread too?” She wonders if
she can sew herself some underwear. It doesn’t look like there will be elastic tapes for use, but drawstrings
can come in handy.

“There are fabrics and thread, milady. But scissors…are clippers for cutting?” Phin reiterates Kate’s wish
list in order to get it right. Kate nods wearily. Clippers they are! Old usage is quite a headache to her. If
she cannot acculturate fast enough, either she or the two handmaids will go nuts!

“But we can save them until later. After dinner and we’ll deal with them.” Her growling belly puts off the
thought of sewing makeshift underwear. Her long hair starts to dry off. Phin leads her by the hand to sit in
front of the brass mirror. With palms together, the handmaid wais to ask for forgiveness before touching
Kate’s head and combing her hair gently.

“Why must you wai me, Pi Phin?”

“The head is the crowning glory of a person, milady. Without a proper cause, one should never touch
another on the head, worse yet for a servant to touch her mistress’ scalp.”

“Oh!” Zingiber oil is placed in front of her before it is applied lightly on her hair, which is combed into
loosely-styled bangs with middle parting by a dexterous pair of hands.

“Can we not do this style, Pi Phin?” The fussy girl interrupts.

“And how would you like it, milady?”

Kate snatches the fine-toothed comb to part her hair at one side and comb it as smoothly as she can. The
reflection in the mirror looks a little more like a contemporary woman of her present days and age.

“This will do. Now let’s go to eat.” The slender girl gets up briskly, parts the curtains and walks away from
the murmurs of displeasure of her two handmaids who find the new hairdo so weird and unfashionable.

Walking out to the open space in the middle, Kate sees servants walking in file to serve trays of dishes.
Almost everyone glances at Kate before avoiding her eyes suspiciously and frightfully.

“You came out for dinner today?” The nonchalant question from the lady who is standing supervising the
servants is given a very short answer, as Kate has decided to talk the least and listen the most in order to
gauge the situation she is now confronting. The fragrance Lady Champa exudes reassures Kate that she
is not overly scented. What grabs her attention is the unexpected sight of Phraya Hora and Muen
Sunthorn half-naked, their chests heavily powdered after a bath. The Phraya passes further notice, but
Muen Sunthorn…Wow, wow, wow! Kate gives a mental moan. He’s so hot! Those six-pack abs. A pity that
his handsome face is a little too stern and the hairstyle so retro, so outmoded.

The two men are sitting flat on a reed mat laid in the middle of a large pavilion. Trays and bowls of
assorted sizes contain rice and dishes mostly of vegetables and fish. Kate sits down awkwardly trying to
imitate Lady Champa’s table manner. This is the first time she has ever sat down, lady-style, legs folded to
one side on the floor for a meal. To the side of each person is a small terracotta bowl containing water with
a few slices of floating lime. Kate has no such bowl at her place.

“Juang, go and fetch a finger bowl for Lady Karaket.”

“Yes, your ladyship.” One of the 4-5 domestic help who wait on them crawls off on her knees and comes
back with a bowl of water and lime peel.

“I did not know you would come out and have dinner with us, so I did not have your place prepared.” Lady
Champa remarks.

“Are you well, my niece?” The Phraya’s question has a hidden agenda. At the same time, he seems very
observant.

“Yes, Uncle.” Kate gazes straight back at him. His niece’s guileless face and sparkling eyes, without any
sign of insanity or illness, make him laugh softly with relief.

“Good…very good! Let us have dinner together.” Kate eyes some dishes in a wooden tray. She notices
that all the bowls and plates on the tray are fine bone-china, most likely imports from China. They are
brimful with assorted dishes. If some of this china were to last to her days, they must be kept in museums
as fine antique collections.

One bowl contains a chili paste dip, the principle fare in most Siamese families’ meals, with an assortment
of fresh and blanched vegetables. Another dish she recognizes as grilled sun-dried fish and another two
are yum-style sour-flavored dishes. Only the chili paste dip and yum dishes come with small serving
spoons. There is no other flatware; no doubt everyone eats with their fingers.

The individual terracotta bowls are merely for wetting fingers up to the knuckles to prevent rice sticking to
them. And they must be for rinsing fingers after the meal as well. The food tastes very good, but it takes
time to learn how to gather the rice and put it in her mouth. Kate observes closely how Lady Champa
does it and sees the “trick” in eating with one’s fingers.

The four fingers are used to form rice into a ball, and the thumb is used to push the ball into the mouth.
Eating becomes so much easier that Kate can’t help giving herself a pat on the back. Once acculturated in
table manners, she feels not so pathetic after all. Cooked rice here is rather dark in color. Without machine
milling as in the present days, it must be pounded in a mortar. This rice is from a fresh harvest and is also
more glutinous, sticking together and forming into balls more easily.

“Your appetite tells me that you have recovered indeed.” No need to look up to see who’s talking. It is the
kindly Phraya Hora, no doubt. And when she glances toward Muen Sunthorn, she meets his suspicious
and resentful look.

“Malicious thought and deed notwithstanding, and some appetite, huh! How mean and cruel!” The
unspecified sarcasm from the young man heats up the atmosphere. Even a naïve person like Kate can
feel the heat.

“Dej my son, the Krishna-Kali spell was incanted in full, which has proved that Karaket did nothing
improper. Why should you keep suggesting such an unfounded accusation?”

“How convenient was it to go down to the outhouse at that time of the night? How could I not harbor such
a thought, Father? The envy was in plain sight to everyone. It is hard to dismiss the idea that she had
nothing to do with the dead person.” Phraya Hora lets out a deep breath, and turns away from his plate.

“My dear husband, will you take some fruits now?” Lady Champa intervenes in a trembling, pleading
voice. Phraya Hora washes his hands and gets up and walks into his room without so much as a word. It
now falls on Kate to receive the blame in the eye of Lady Champa for having caused friction between
father and son.

“It must be so satisfying to you.” The stern, accusing male voice speaks with eyes filled with hostility.

“Did you speak to me?” Kate’s confoundment is like oil splashed into a fire. His dark eyes are seething.

“I have never seen anyone so callous. Even without acceptance of guilt, some things can be surmised as
to what really happened.” Kate cannot comprehend his unspecific accusation. What the heck is going on?

“Enough of it, Dej. Karaket, you are excused. Go back to your room. What a nuisance and incessant
trouble!” says Lady Champa. Kate remains speechless at what has happened at dinner but walks backs to
her room obligingly. Glancing at the many pairs of servants’ eyes watching her, she sees their daggers of
suspicion and hatred have likewise declared her guilty of some unknown crime. What on earth did Karaket
do?

Back in the room it is high time to question the two handmaids to find out just what Karaket did to stir such
hatred. Judging from the weary look in the eyes of Lady Champa, Kate guesses that all may not be
attributable to a single action.

“Pi Phin, Pi Yam!”

“Yes, milady.” The two handmaids answer softly bowing their heads low.

“You know that I have no memory whatsoever. But I am not too stupid to see how I am hated here. If you
two love me, pray tell me honestly and truthfully. Otherwise, I will have difficulty living here.”

“Milady!”

“What is it going to be? If you two do not tell me, I will go and ask Muen Sunthorn and Lady Aunt myself.”
Phin looks up in panic.

“Please, please do not do that. There will be an uproar.”

“Uproar it is! I have been through direr situations.”

“Please, milady. Do not be senseless. Matters may go beyond control.”

“And what matters are they? Why does everyone look at me like evil personified? Or was I previously that
bad?” Kate wonders.

“Everyone, you said?” asks one of the handmaids, trying to prevaricate. From Phin’s and Yam’s
perturbation and reluctance to reply, Kate infers that Karaket must have been indescribably nasty.

Kate calmly works through one question at a time. “First of all, what did that person called Daeng die of?”
Bullseye! No more probing is needed. The two handmaids raise their heads with mouths dropped, faces
instantaneously blanched. “If you do not tell me, you and I shall stop the conversation here. I shall ask it
now of Muen Sunthorn.”
“Yes, we will tell you, milady. But…you forbade us yourself. You said we must keep our mouths shut.”

“Now my new command is: You must open your mouths. Tell me quickly what happened. And what does
‘go down to the outhouse’ mean?” She remembers the sarcastic phrase spit out at her by that macho guy.
Although she didn’t get the meaning, she grasped that Muen Sunthorn found her so repulsive that he didn’t
even want to cast his eyes on her.

“Going to the outhouse means to defecate, you know.” Phin’s explanation sheds no light at all. It only
further confounds Kate who says: “Oh, literally, the outhouse! Hmm? And what did it have to do with that
servant Daeng’s death?”

“Three or four days ago, you and I went down to the canal bend at Yai Gui’s orchard. Yai Gui is a tenant of
Lord Phraya’s land just before going out of Klab Canal. Um…you ordered me to flip the boat of Lady
Chanwad, Chaophraya Kosa’s daughter…Daeng was her new handmaid, who just arrived from the north.
She was not a strong swimmer, so she drowned. If anyone asked us where we were, you told us to say
we had gone to the outhouse.” With that, Phin bursts into tears, prostrating and trembling at the thought of
both karmic retribution and her mistress’ fury and abuse. Yam just bows her head, crying in
commiseration with her friend.

“Flip the boat? Causing a death?” Kate muses. Karaket really went overboard this time. Now Kate is
convinced that what she saw happening to Karaket before she came into this body was real. The man in
red chongkraben pants must be the messenger of Death. And now it is no surprise why Death dragged
Karaket to hell. She caused someone’s death – a mortal sin, that’s why.

Now a new thought dawns on Kate. If Karaket died and went to hell, what about herself, Kate? Is she a
spirit too? Or was it a mind wishing, alas, to right the wrong that made Karaket’s spirit appear to Kate at
Chaiwattanaram Temple? That resolute spirit had attracted Kate’s into an encounter and thrust her spirit
into Karaket’s former body. Kate’s mind races through the weird series of incidents that have happened to
her. Her head spins and her unfounded assumptions weigh heavily upon her. She has no idea whether
what she thinks is right or wrong.

The more she sees the dread in her two handmaids and recalls the hatred in the other servants’ eyes, the
more she realizes what evil and abuse Karaket, the former owner of the body she is inhabiting in, must
have perpetrated.

Well, others travel back in time to become heroines. But I...I traveled back to be a monster, a wicked
villain. Whoa! How stressful could it be? With that realization, Kate sees Phin prostrating and trembling in
terror, and can’t help feeling sorry for her. You have a wicked mistress and you had to live with her until
death do you part. Alas, Pi Phin!

“Cry no more, Pi Phin.” Kate sits down by Phin’s side and pulls her in her arms to comfort her. “It is all
over. I…I did not intend it to turn out so tragically. Let us start over and leave the past behind. If you feel
bad, let’s make merit together on that Daeng person’s behalf.” This proposition seems like a good
opportunity for her to dedicate the merit to Karaket as well. Despite being much surprised by her mistress’
behavior, Phin wipes her tears dry and cries no more.

“That is good, milady. I did not attend Daeng’s cremation. If we make merit for her, maybe she will know
that milady and I did not intend it to happen,” Phin says.

“Agreed. By the way, I can’t help but wonder: with such a tragedy going on, is there no authority to
investigate? Or is it not known that the boat was capsized?” Kate wonders about the law of the land.

“Everyone defers to Phraya Hora, milady, because he holds the office of Phraya Rajkhru, the King’s Chief
Advisor, as well. No one dares to interfere. In addition, he cast the Krishna-Kali spell, which was heard all
over the river bend, to curse the perpetrator. The potency of this spell is commonly known. If there should
be a culprit in Daeng’s death, he or she would suffer a death penalty, or…insanity.” Yam explains gently
though her face pales again.

“That’s why,” concludes Kate. That’s why people think that she was insane. But that’s how they should
think! Because she happened to pop up in Karaket’s body like this. Or maybe the Krishna-Kali spell is
really potent. Maybe Karaket did not die; she was just dragged for torture by the spell. And what did I
have to do with all this? Why do I have to take it all on myself?

It is so exhausting. And unthinkable! She had the chance of a lifetime, getting into this gorgeous and
slender body, but she must face the responsibility of solving this inextricable problem that comes with her
new body. Worse still, she is stuck in ancient history, for better or for worse. And she happened to fall into
an aristocratic family with a very close connection to the king, in the position of the Royal Chief Advisor…
Rajkhru…does it ring a bell here? Why does it sound so familiar?
From her textbooks in college, the Ayodhya period was full of so many short reigns due to unending
struggles for absolute power amongst nobility and royalty. The long reign of King Narai the Great, which
history says prospered most in trade and foreign relations, is no exception.

CHAPTER FIVE
A Villainess Turned Heroine

At bedtime, the two handmaids lead Kate to a small terracotta pot at an alcove in the wall in front of the
chamber. They bring with them a terracotta bowl, a beaten sprig and a powdery mixture in black and white.

“What are those, may I ask?”

“This khoi sprig is a toothbrush, milady. And here is a mixture of salt, alum and charcoal powder.” Another
novelty to try, Kate grabs the sprig, dips it in water and touches the ‘toothpaste’ before brushing her teeth.
It tastes funny—salty, sour and a bit bitter. A silver bowl of water is handed to her for rinsing the mouth.
Then, they retire to the inner room. Yam uses a horsetail whip to dust the bed and pulls the mosquito net
over and tucks the rims under the mattress.

“To bed already? So soon,” says Kate.

“Come, I shall give you a massage so you can fall fast asleep.” Phin busies herself rubbing and squeezing
while Yam fans her with a palm leaf. Kate lazes while continuing to ask questions.

“And where do you two sleep?”

“We sleep right here beside your bed. There, our mats and pillows.”

“Why don’t you have a mosquito net? Mosquitoes are aplenty, aren’t they?”

“It is fine, milady. They bite and we swat. That is all.”

“And would you be comfortable sleeping?”

“Too much comfort is bad for us, milady. We will be berated if we oversleep.”

“It’s not only that. Mosquito bites can give you dengue or malaria.” Kate clarifies.

“What are those?” They ask cluelessly. Kate bats her eyelashes at a loss for words before heaving a long
sigh. What kind of fever do they call dengue and malaria here, she wonders?

“Are there a lot of people sleeping without mosquito nets?”

“Those who sleep in mosquito nets are only nobility and clerics, milady. Fabric is too expensive for us to
afford.” Light bulbs of good ideas ping in Kate’s head. She now has good causes to go shopping at the
market for mosquito nets for her handmaids. Besides sightseeing and visiting places in this historic period,
she can repay the two handmaids who are awfully good to her.

“You said there are men who peep at the pier when you bathe. Why didn’t you marry anyone?” asks Kate.

“Um…” They hesitate and avoid making eye contact with Kate, actions that provide wordless replies…It
was likely the mean Karaket at work again, standing in their way so they could not leave her service.

Hmm…what kind of karma has taken its toll on her now?

Nature calls after lying down for some time. “I wanna pee.”

Her confounding comment is repeated to her, “Wanna pee?”

“Um…I want to take a leak…piddle…widdle…wee-wee…pass water?”

“Oh, you want to urinate?”

“Aha! So outright!” Kate giggles to learn of the most straightforward expression for natural needs.

“There is a chamber pot behind the Japanese screen, milady. At night, you can defecate if you need to,
only you have to cover it well. In the morning, I shall take it down to dispose of. If you do not want to do it
in the pot, you can go down to the outhouse, which is some distance off from the main house exclusively
for use by the masters. We servants go to the field or the pier or the woods to relieve ourselves. And if we
go to the field or the woods, we must bring a stick to drive away rampant pigs.”

“Ahh! And how do you clean yourselves, Pi Yam and Pi Phin?”

“We find leaves from around the area for wiping off. We only rinse when we bathe. But we take several
baths a day. Sometimes we relieve ourselves when bathing. Myself, I take three or four baths a day. So do
you.” Phin and Yam can’t help but steal a sigh after explaining. Their mistress has forgotten everything
indeed, even how to relieve herself.

“And what about potable water for drinking and cooking?” Kate asks repugnantly.

“We use rainwater, harvested in big jugs for perennial use. Sometimes we use canal water.”

“What! And what do the people downstream do when we relieve ourselves into waterways?”

“They do not do anything. Canals are big and water is quite clear. With the use of alum swung in fetched
water, water is good for use. Not many people live downstream from us.” Phin speaks matter-of-factly in a
normal tone, but the listener reacts with repulsion.

“That explains why a lot people suffered gastro-intestinal epidemics.”

“What did you say, milady?”

“Nothing for milady to say.” Kate says teasingly before grabbing the terracotta jar, more than half-filled with
water and walking behind the Japanese screen to relieve herself. She sees another terracotta pot of the
right size to sit astride. This is roughing it! Hmm…how can she let it dry out without rinsing or wiping?
Impossible! She may have to find some clean cloth to cut into pieces for wiping. Either that or find a way to
invent toilet paper for her personal use!

Kate is struck by the unthinkable notion that Phin and Yam must clean her chamber pot every morning.
And what of canal water? For cooking it may not be that bad. At least, boiling disinfects. But for drinking!
Ugh, it’s such a disgusting thought. Perhaps she must teach hygiene to residents in this house.
Otherwise, she may one day hit the jackpot and get infected.

The first night of living in an age far from her civilized life with modern amenities passes smoothly. Kate
falls asleep for a while. When she stirs half-consciously in the middle of the night, she finds the mosquito
net all tucked in around her and the two handmaids sleeping on their sides on the floor not far from her
bed. But still exhausted, she falls back asleep fast and easily.

A relay of crowing roosters breaks the silence. Having had a full night of sleep, she opens her eyes at
once, gazing at the sky outside. It is still quite dark. However, Phin and Yam are already up and about.
Mats and pillows were put away and they are quietly sweeping and mopping the floor.

“Hmm…you’re up early,” Phin remarks.

“Will you not go on sleeping?” asks the other. “It is not light yet.”

“I can’t go back to sleep now,” answers Kate. “Last night I went to bed so early. Better to go out for fresh
morning air.”

Kate goes straight to wash her face and brush her teeth. The khoi sprig is tucked on the wall in the same
spot, as well as the terracotta bowl with a cover. Now she knows what to do to groom herself. After wiping
her face dry and powdering it, she meanders to the front of the house. Torchlight and wafts of kitchen
smoke, together with the fresh morning air, invigorate her. A team of domestic help works diligently,
cleaning up the entire area. Looking across the partition, she sees Lady Champa arranging lotuses. Kate
guesses that those lotuses must be prepared as offerings for the monk’s morning alms round, something
she herself has performed almost every day of her life. She steps toward Lady Champa, who looks at her
husband’s niece in utter surprise.
“You are up early today,” remarks the older lady. It is now confirmed that Karaket is a late riser. Her
handmaids said the exact same thing. Kate smiles obsequiously before sitting down on the floor beside the
low table where the older woman is preparing flowers.

Her elegant arm reaches out for a lotus and folds its petals exactly as the lady does. She used to help
Grandma Nuan with this kind of floral arrangement, so Kate is quite dexterous in petal-folding. Lady
Champa looks at her niece’s handiwork and is surprised for a second time.

“These are floral offerings for monks, aren’t they?” asks Kate.

“They are.”

“Um…may I accompany you to the alms offerings?”

“Of course, you may. You never get up in time for the monks’ round.” The harshness in the voice lets her
know that the lady is still crossed with her.

“From now on, do you mind if I make the morning offerings with you every day?” asks Kate.

“How should I mind about good deeds being done and merit being made? I can only feel joy and
congratulate you for it.” A while later, a horde of servants arrive with trays holding big rice bowls, boiled
eggs and grilled fish in quite a large quantity.

“Today is not a holy day. We only make our usual offerings. On an observance day, we take tiffin boxes of
assorted dishes to make merit at the temple and listen to the day’s sermon before coming back home in
the late morning. Do you want to come with me to the temple too?” Kate grins delightedly at the invitation.

“Yes, I do. In fact, I want to make merit and offering of my own too.”

“Wait until tomorrow, which is a full-moon observance day.” She doesn’t seem like a hard case to please.
Despite her still simmering resentment, Lady Champa acts civilly, which is a relief to Kate, whose only
wish is that if she, Kate, behaves well, she would dissolve some of the hatred that Karaket had caused.

“Then, today…may I go to the market? I shall make preparations and buy things for offerings.” She lays
down the folded lotus, excited by the possibility of going sightseeing. Who knows for how long she will be
in Karaket’s body? And if she reverts to her own time eventually, all that she has witnessed here will
surely benefit her archaeology and history career.

“Let us discuss that later on.” At that, Lady Champa rises and nods to Kate to follow. With a train of
followers carrying trays of food behind her, they walk past Bauhinia shrubs and fragrant yellow-blooming
ylang ylang clusters. Dewdrops glitter in the dawn sunlight on wet grassy ground. Kate takes extra caution
walking on the slippery lawn. Soon enough, they reach the pier where boats of different sizes are mooring
near the canal bank.

The whole party sits, waiting for the monks to arrive at the pier. Momentarily, a small boat with two monks
and a temple boy rower comes by and stops to take alms offerings. More such boats come by, one after
the other. After all the offerings are made, they bow down to receive the monks blessing which reverberate
all through the canal bend. Kate is reminded of this same morning routine undertaken with Grandma Nuan
and Mom. She feels painfully homesick. When, oh when, will she get to go back and do this pious routine
with them, she wonders?

After the chanted blessing, the ladies scatter the remaining rice in the bowls into the canal. Schools of
small fish pop up to the surface to gulp the grains. This is quite a sight for Kate! Then, Kate joins Lady
Champa in kruad-nam, a water pouring ritual on the ground to make merit for the dead and the spirits.
Kate solemnly but silently makes a wish for Karaket and Lady Chanwad’s handmaid, and apologizes to the
dead Daeng on Karaket’s behalf. She promises Karaket that she will try the best she can for the sake of
Karaket, whether or not she will return to the body Kate now fills. She fervently hopes that her good deeds
may speed her own way back home faster.

On the way back to the house, Lady Champa has her followers collect some vegetables and herbs to fill
up the empty trays. Near the main house, the servants split ways to the kitchen, leaving their mistresses to
go up the house. At the central pavilion, Phraya Hora and Muen Sunthorn sit on the floor in the midst of
assorted dishes waiting to have breakfast.

“Let us eat first and then we will talk about your going out to the market.” Lady Champa says softly before
moving to sit beside her husband. Though not very hungry, Kate seizes the opportunity to bond and
establish friendlier relations. Today she will be more cautious about what she says. Breakfast here is not
taken with everyone sitting around a low table as she imagined. Rather, all dishes on low footed trays are
placed on the matted floor, like in the manner of family meals in rural areas as she has seen in modern
days. Father and son are chatting in the usual manner. Phraya Hora seems to be in a much better mood
and Muen Sunthorn refrains from throwing sarcastic remarks at her. Presumably, this is their make-up
period. Yet, Muen Sunthorn hardly casts eyes her way.

Lady Champa makes a gentle request. “Dej my son, Karaket should like to go to the saffron robe market
to buy some robe sets for tomorrow’s temple-going. Will you be kind enough to accompany her?” Lady
Champa’s question startles both the young people at breakfast. Kate turns to look at Muen Sunthorn in
shock. Knowing real well that this guy hates her guts, how can they go to the market together? They are
bound to fight to death in public view, no doubt!

“That is very good of you, my niece. Dej, you take her out, please.” Phraya Hora’s word has a finality in it.
Though resentful, Muen Sunthorn does not want to go against his father, who has spoken civilly with him.
He restrains his irritation.

“Yes, Father.”

“And may I buy a mosquito net too, please?” asks Kate.

“Why, is yours so torn and tattered that you need a new one, Karaket?” Lady Champa asks in surprise.

“I would like to buy one for Pi Phin and Pi Yam, my aunt.” As soon as she states her purpose, everyone
stares wide-eyed at Kate, including the domestic help who are bowing around the pavilion. “I want Pi Phin
and Pi Yam to uphold the precepts by not killing mosquitoes.” Religious reasoning always works. If she
told them she was afraid they would get dengue or malaria, it would be too far-fetched. Since everyone
seems convinced she and her gang have caused a death, let them think now she wants to repay by some
good deeds. So be it.

Muen Sunthorn cannot resist: “And you can harbor such a noble thought too, I see.” At his sarcasm, Lady
Champa shoots him a warning look that silences further taunts and prevents recurring friction at another
family meal.

Muen Sunthorn says no more, except to set the schedule in a normal tone of voice.

“Shall we go in the afternoon, after I come back from work?” His mother sighs with relief at her son’s
courteousness.

“Whatever suits you, lord Muen.” Though she remembers well that the two handmaids taught her to
address him as khun pi, she finds it hard to follow their advice. And no doubt the address makes Muen
Sunthorn turn in puzzlement. The two handmaids meet each other’s eyes and bow down in silence. After
breakfast, Kate walks joyously into her room.

“Well, it must be a lot of fun. Hmm…what’s to be on my shopping list now? I can’t believe I will get to see
Ayodhya in its glorious days with my own eyes.” Phin and Yam observe her delight before crawling toward
her with heavy hearts.

“May it please milady, why did you not call lord Muen khun pi?”

“Why…anyone with a pair of eyes will know how he hates me. And how can I be so shameless as to claim
him a relative of mine? No way! I just realize that men in this day and age can be such a prig.”

“Milady, please! This does not bode well.”

“What exactly does not bode well?” asks Kate.

“Already, Lord Muen hardly has feelings for you. If you should act this way, he may totally ignore you.”

“Ignore if he must. I don’t care.”

“That is not right, milady. You will remain an old maid without a man to take care of you. You will have no
sanctity of marriage to protect you. And if he should start a household with Lady Chanwad, what shall
become of you?”

“Let him. For all I care!”

“What is wrong with you, milady? Why do you carry such a thought?” The anxiety in the two handmaids
gets Kate to think through her conclusion. In modern days, women can support themselves or remain
single. But here, what can a woman like Karaket do for a living? She needs a husband to look after her.
That’s plain fact! And if Karaket comes back to repossess her body, she may find herself in trouble.

Kate changes her tune. “That’s right! Okay, okay! I should call him khun pi, right? I shall try.”

“Lord Muen will be back from work in the late morning. You must wait for him at the pier with drinks and
sweetmeats, you know.” Yam expands her advice in how to please a man.

“What? Do I need to pamper him that much?” A woman who has only taken care of the elderly and has
never tried to please a man starts to feel the weight of that burden.

“If you do not want anyone to think you have gone insane, you should behave the way you used to. If
those scandal mongers see that you are well and in your right mind, criticism will fade away.” The retro
handmaid Phin gives her rationale, which sets the modern woman to thinking and finally acceding.

“All right, all right! I shall try the best I can.” Kate finds the beaming faces of the two handmaids so
touching. All the advice they give is entirely for her own sake. From now on, she resolves to do better for
both herself and Karaket, at least for these two servants who are so good to her.

“We better talk about shopping. How much money should I bring?”

“Shopping? What is shopping, milady?” Kate giggles at the question. She walks straight to the tiab
containing money sacks.

“Going to buy things, that is. How much should I bring?

“One baht should be enough, milady.”

“One baht!” Now what! What are the denominations of currency these days, she wonders? From her past
studies, she remembers only vaguely.

“Pi Phin, Pi Yam, come and teach me. What do salung, pai, bia, fueng look like?”

“You forgot those too?”

“Of course, I did. What can one baht buy, may I ask?”

“Eight hundred bia equal to one fueng. Two pai equal to one fueng. Eight fueng equal to one baht. Two
fueng equal to one salung. Four salung equal to one baht.” Yam gives a long recital of the currency table.

“Whoa! That makes no sense to me altogether. Tell me, how many mosquito nets can one baht buy?”

“A mosquito net costs two hundred bia, milady.” Phin answers and frowns as she counts her fingers.

“There! It looks like Pi Phin flunked math. Let me calculate it. Hmm…This goes to say that one fueng can
buy four mosquito nets. Gosh! Eight times four is thirty-two. One baht can buy thirty-two mosquito nets.
My oh my! We can buy them for landfill, mind you!”

“Yes, milady.” Yam and Phin are in consensus and laugh at their mistress’ strange-sounding expressions
and manner.

“And what if I buy some fabric too? And needles and thread…that sort of things?”

“Needles, thread and clippers are available in the house. They are at the bottom of these chests. There
are many rolls of cloth too.”

“Let me see them please.”

Phin grabs keys on the cabinet and unlocks some large chests at one end of the room. Yam helps to pull
out many rolls of fabric and lays them out for her mistress’ scrutiny. Most of the fabrics are prints, with
patterns similar to her tube skirt; some are two-sided silk, and others are printed cotton of assorted colors,
mostly in dark colors -- red, brown, ochre and deep purple. Only two rolls of solid color fabrics are found in
brownish beige, very much like skirts and tops that Phin and Yam are wearing, and in red.

“Wow! That’s quite a lot we have here. But why are most only print-patterned. Only a few solids. Let us buy
more solids then.” Her lean hand caresses the red cloth that seems nice for underwear as the fabric is thin
and light and will soften more after washing. “We must buy saffron robe sets and some dry goods as
offerings to the monks.”

“Dry goods are a-plenty in the kitchen, milady. As for saffron robe sets, we must go to the yellow robe
market.”

“I see!”

She continues surveying the room and inspects the two wardrobe chests near the Japanese screen with
curiosity. The clothes chest contains several blouses with elbow-length sleeves and front opening and
short-sleeved pull-over blouses. The buttons are made of coconut shell and ivorylike material. Besides
there are stacks of sabais of solid colored cloth and satin silk and tube skirts of print fabric.
“Very well. Then we’ll go to the mattress market and the yellow robe market and look for some solid-color
fabrics at the cloth market. Three different markets, eh?” Of course, she will find means and chances for
visiting other markets too. If she is not mistaken, old Ayodhya had all kinds of land and water markets,
known even at the present time as floating markets, that is. They are worth seeing with her own eyes. The
mere thought tickles every fiber of her body.

“Yes, milady.” At that, Phin drags rolls of cloth back to store in the chests at the back of the room, with
Yam lending a hand too.

“Leave the red solids out, please. Since we are free this morning, let us sew some panties. Do we have old
unused cloth?”

“Yes, we do. It is kept separately in another chest. Most of it is thick lai-nok-yang patterns. Some old solid
colors you no longer use are handed down to us. Servants cannot wear those lai-nok-yang. They are used
by aristocracy and lower royalty. The lai-yang cannot be worn by commoners or lower royalty. It is only for
higher royalty.”

“Wow! And what are the differences between lai-nok-yang and lai-yang?”

“Lai-yang is fine fabric printed in patterns of Siamese origin; Lai-nok-yang, which is an import from India,
is thicker and printed in Indo-Siamese designs.”

“Hmm, I get it. Even clothing reflects so much class discrimination…But I see new solid-color cloth too.
How many sets of clothing do you two have, Pi Phin and Pi Yam?”

“We have three or four sets each, milady. When they are too worn out we turn them into rags for floor
mopping.”

What an abject life! Kate can’t help thinking how miserable she would be if she had come to live in Phin’s
or Yam’s body. She should count her blessings to have the fortune of being in the body of an aristocrat.

“Good! Then bring some old cloth out. The older the better. Put them in a pile. And bring some new solids
in the colors that you two can wear too.” Phin and Yam are speechless for a while. Although Karaket used
to mention she would give them some clothes, she never meant brand new clothes, rather hand-me-
downs. Hence, they are uncertain of Kate’s command.

“New solids, you mean?” They need to confirm their understanding.

“That’s right.” Kate reassures them.

Materials in hand, the place transforms into a sweatshop. Kate cuts cloth into patterns of panties a little
bigger than her hip line, leaving enough rims to sew and the waistline in the drawstring style. The strings
are made of the left-over cloth. Phin and Yam steal a look at Kate’s sewing skill. They never taught her
how. To their knowledge, she never learned how. And they have never seen her sewing before. They only
worry that if her sewing is badly askew, they must fix it themselves. But her sewing skill in fact passes their
standard. After a while, nine panties made under Ketsurang’s exclusive brand are manufactured.

“That’s enough. One pair a day. It will keep me going for nine consecutive days. That should be okay.”
Kate mumbles.

“Okay?” The handmaids are puzzled at the meaning of the word.

“Just forget it please. Do not pay attention to everything I say. Or I’ll have to keep explaining forever. Now
let us sew your clothes.”
“There is no need for you to do it. We will do it ourselves.”

“That’s not right. You help me with my panties. I should help you with your clothes. It’s only fair.” Upon
their mistress’ insistence, which truly flatters the handmaids, all they can do is speed up their sewing so
they can get it done. Clothes for Phin and Yam are very simple to make, no pattern cutting required. It
does not take much time before they each get two sets of sarongs and breast wraps done.

The two handmaids bow at Kate’s feet to pay their deep appreciation. Instinctively, Kate pulls away; she is
uncomfortable receiving such humble gestures of respect from elders.

“What is it for?” asks Kate.

“It is such a blessing. You are so kind to us.” Their tearful thanks softens Kate’s heart.

“It was nothing really. After my recent recovery, I only have you to help me out in everything. You have
taught me things I didn’t know and given good advice on what to do. I know that you love me truly and will
never abandon me. You are not afraid that I have no memory. You are always there for me. And how can I
not be kind to you?”

“You are much different…As if you were a new person, not the person that you used to be.” Yam’s deep
appreciation brings a smile to Kate’s face.

“Thus saying, and you do not think I’m a ghost, do you?”

“No, we do not, milady. If you are anything, you must be an angel from heaven.”

“Angels must stay in the sky. They do not live a difficult life on earth like this. Better take a bath and be
ready to go out.”

“Yes, milady.” The two handmaids nod in unison and make haste to get bathing clothes for their mistress,
so that she is ready to go out with her intended, the man in every girl’s dream, for the first time.

CHAPTER SIX
Miss Mali

The tall frame of Muen Sunthorn in a solid-color chongkraben and a dark-dyed cotton collarless pullover
steps on the rowboat followed by an oarsman and a servant carrying his royally bestowed garment.

The latter slides the ceremonial tray toward the bow as a gesture of respect for the royally bestowed
garment. “Hurry up, Yod. It is already late now.” As he is urging his oarsman to hurry, his mind turns to
wonder at the incongruities in Karaket. Presumably, her frenzied attitude comes from shame and guilt. But
the look in her eyes is definitely different from the person she used to be. Muen Sunthorn sees some
sparkling determination suggesting strength of character, but also gentleness, unlike the raw harshness
and cunning only evident before.

And if her eyes seem deranged, it could be safely construed that she must have gone insane under the
Krishna-Kali spell. But no! Her manner of speech is sweet, and she mentions her servants with kindness
and a certain respect. Everything about her is so changed from her old self. This new Karaket has stirred
up something that lay buried deep at the bottom of his heart. He tries brushing it off and overlooks it from a
year’s experience of living together in the same house. It would be nice if Karaket repented and turned
over, but he is afraid it would only be another ploy she has deviously devised to fool them all.

“Dej, Dej!” A male voice calling out to him wakes him from his pondering. He is quite surprised at himself
for giving a woman he loathes so much thought.

“Hey, Ruang! Are you going to the King’s audience too?”

“I am. Do not forget this afternoon, eh?”

The cryptic voice of one is answered by a headshake from the other. “It is not possible now. This afternoon
I have to chaperone…my father’s relative…to the market.”

“Relative? How old? I cannot believe you have turned into a child sitter.”
“Not a child. Must be about fifteen or sixteen years old.”

“Oh, he will be fine with us. Bring him along to see the Master, so the Master can see if the boy should be
accepted under his wings.”

“That is not possible. She is a girl.”

At that, Muen Ruang, whose full name is Muen Ruang Rajbhakdi, laughs out so loudly his voice is heard
all over the river bend. “What! Is she your intended? I have heard about her for some time now.”

“Laugh if you must but you will not be able to laugh if you were in my shoes,” Muen Sunthorn replies
wearily.

“And what market will you go to? Stop by at the convent pier market too.” Muen Ruang suggests.

“What good is there over there?”

“If there is nothing good, I would not ask you to stop by. You can leave your intended to go shopping and I
shall take you to see something worth seeing.” The word ‘intended’ is so irritating that he grimaces.

“Do not prattle. She is merely my father’s niece, not my intended.”

“Whoa! Do not be offended, my pal. Not your intended, I get it.”

Muen Sunthorn shakes his head at his teasing friend. Their rowboats alongside each other’s slow down
near their destination.

The magnificent Grand Palace adorned with stunning gold wood carvings, glitters in the morning sunlight.
The two men alight from the boats, with their servant-carriers holding elaborate garments and daggers
bestowed on them by the monarch, and walk straight to the dressing room behind the throne hall. With the
help of their valets, they change into their regal uniforms.

Pull-over brown cotton shirts and solid-color traditional pants are exchanged for short, patterned
chongkraben that stop at mid-calf in accordance with their rank. Royally-bestowed kris, or daggers, in gilt
lacquer sheaths are tucked into their waists. All go topless, revealing muscular bare chests of healthy,
young men in their prime, ready to have an audience on official business.

“Today the audience was over so quickly. It is not pre-noon time yet. Let us visit the convent pier market
first, Dej.”

Muen Sunthorn gazes at the sunlight. The morning air is still nice and cool. It is still early to go home. He
nods his consent and starts to undress from the official garments, placing them back on the ceremonial
tray as before.

“All right. We can stop by. I wonder what you have there to show me.” Although he has complete trust in
his friend, who is the son of Phraya Visut Sakorn, Chief of the Maritime Administration, he cannot help but
inquire.

“A wonderful sight to behold!” is the cryptic answer.

Muen Sunthorn chuckles before turning to order his valet in his usual authoritative tone.

“Cherm! You and Yod, carry the official garments back to the house and tell Yod to take a boat to wait for
me at the convent pier before noon.”

“Yes, your lordship.” His eyes follow the garment-carrier who, after bowing, strides away.

“Let’s go, Dej.” Muen Ruang leads the way to his rowboat and tells his rower to make a short cut to his
house on Kujam Canal to return his royal garments. He then calls his men to fit two boats and leaves the
house, out into the main river to the destination at Bang Kaja.

Even before the pre-noon time, trading at the river delta is bustling. Western, Indian, Chinese and
Japanese merchants busily load and unload their merchandise. At Pompej Fort, Muen Ruang orders his
men to dock a little further from the convent public pier. He glances at the rafts, big and small, where
goods are waiting to be taken on or off. He soon catches sight of his mark and breaks into a broad smile.
 “Look that way.” Muen Sunthorn’s handsome face turns in the direction of his friend’s pointing finger. He
sees a slender woman in white muslin dress with a black thin coat, in contrast to her fair skin. Her beautiful
face is a perfect blend of the Orient and the Occident. Her long, brown hair is curly like a Western lady.
Her nose is sharp and prominent; big and bright almond eyes convey determination and intelligence. She
supervises coolies carrying merchandise on the pier. Near her stands a dark-skinned middle-aged man
bearing some resemblance to her. He is taking stock and counting merchandise.

“Who is that?” asks Muen Sunthorn.

“Miss Mali, daughter of that guy Fanik,” replies his friend.

“The father is a brown-skinned Indian. Why is the daughter so fair? And her face looks a lot like an
Oriental. She has a Siamese name too. Mali means jasmine. Is her mother one of us?”

“No, her mother is half-Portuguese, half-Japanese, living in the Portuguese community. That explains why
she has light skin. As for her name, I have no idea. People call her Miss Mali. It must be because her skin
is white like jasmine, so I call her so. Is she pretty to your taste?”

At his friend’s question, Muen Sunthorn’s mind unintentionally recalls the glowing face of the lady at
home. In comparison, Miss Mali has sharp features and is as pretty as a daughter of an Indian can be.
Karaket, on the other hand, has a much sweeter, more beautiful face. It’s such a pity that the honey-face
has such a bitter heart. And her manner and speech are insufferable. He cannot judge Miss Mali from afar
like this. The daughter of a merchant must be no better than Karaket, he presumes.

Muen Ruang looks at his friend who is lost in thought and feels the urge to scratch his head. This friend of
his barely lays eyes on any woman in the capital. Even when good-looking maidservants and slaves in his
house are so willing to get in bed with him, he pays no interest. Even his polygamous father Phraya Hora
gets the better of his young son. What a shame! Such a gorgeous looking man that Muen Sunthorn is. Any
girl of age swoons after him. But he behaves as if he were a hermit, even more austere than their mentor
Master White-Robe.

“Let us go on shore, Dej.”

“Where are we going? If to see Miss Mali, I will not be part of it.”

“Bah! It is not for that reason. We must kindle and fan more rumors of ourselves, you know.”His sharp
eyes spark with roguish delight. Laughingly, he pats his friend on the shoulder before stepping up on the
pier.

“By the way, are you really not interested? That wench is eligible and her hand in marriage is one of most
sought after. You can see her for yourself. She is such a vision to look at. All eyes are on her directly and
indirectly.”

Muen Ruang weighs in to squash any doubt. “Fine, if you are interested, you and I shall pass by her. Do
not tarry. Your little Indian wench walks over there.” Teasingly, he nudges his friend and pushes him in
her direction. Meanwhile, he surveys Fanik’s rafting store with interest for exotic fabrics and imported
knickknacks.

His eyes glance toward Fanik who lowers his head while taking stock of the inventory. A coolie carrying
rolls of cloth staggers near the waves and nearly falls off the raft. Re-gaining his balance, the laborer
unknowingly, hits his employer with the load on his shoulder. Muen Sunthorn’s arm shoots out and deftly
grabs Fanik and the merchandise before either falls into the water. A woman’s scream is heard before she
darts to help her father. Her body inadvertently brushes against the large figure who has saved her father
and his precious imported cloths.

“Thank you so very much for saving my father.” The clear voice thanks him in distinct Siamese, while
bowing humbly to show her appreciation.

“Muen Sunthorn is truly nimble.” A quasi-serious comment from Muen Ruang is heard before he beams
with delight when he sees Miss Mali’s shy look at his friend. The servants all smile secretively and all eyes
are on the incomparable beauty.

“Never mind. It is a small matter,” the young gentleman replies to the grateful woman in front of him. He
does not need to see his friend to be aware of his silent prodding.

The Indian Fanik bows low in appreciation. “I thank you so very much indeed, Lord Muen. Without your
help, I and the merchandise would have been damaged by water,” He expresses his thanks in Siamese
with a heavy accent.

“If you need to thank someone, do so to Muen Ruang Rajbhakdi, Phraya Visut Sakorn’s son, who initiated
our coming out to this market.” The full name and pedigree of his friend are cited while the speaker strides
toward Muen Ruang who is standing with a question in his eyes. Fanik acknowledges the other man with a
humbler manner. His daughter who is clutching her father’s arm casts a glance at the two men, her face
lovingly flushed. Although the two are walking away, her eyes beneath thick lashes follow them longingly.

“Muen Sunthorn…?” A dreamlike murmur unwittingly slips from her red lips. Coming to her senses, she
feels angry at herself for acting like a shameless hussy and so very unlike a good Catholic lady.

If Signora Ignes Martins, her maternal grandmother, knows of this, she will be heavily reprimanded. Time
and again, Signora -- the first Japanese Catholic baptized and named after Saint Francis Xavier and one
who is also related to Japanese royalty -- has reiterated and instilled Catholic piety in her granddaughter.

Filial respect slows the heaving of her breast; her previously flushed face turns calm and composed as she
orders an employee to take care of her father while she excuses herself to the outhouse where she was
previously headed.

“Pi Phin, what year is it now? In Buddhist Era, I mean.” Kate swings her legs in the water before darting
toward the handmaid on the bathing pier.

“B.E. 2225, milady. But we usually use C.E. for Chulasakaraj Era. This year it is 1044 C.E., second lunar
month, the year of the Dog, milady.” The answer comes more readily as the servants are now growing
accustomed to being asked strange questions. Kate does quick math and comes up with A.D.1682.

“The second lunar month falls in January, doesn’t it?” She casts her eyes low and mumbles the dynasties
of the Ayodhya period in her somewhat foggy memory of college history classes. Fortunately, the reign of
King Narai is one of the most outstanding historical periods. She can recall some facts she has retained in
memory.

“Another six years!” Her exclamation is heard all over the canal bend.

“Another six years for what, milady?”

“No, um…nothing.” She feels a little chill in her breath. If she is not mistaken, King Narai died in B.E. 2231,
or A.D. 1688, and there was civil unrest among foreign and Siamese lords, with King Petraja eventually
ascending the throne. That time is not so far from now. She brushes it off with her usual positive thinking,
instead of worrying sick about it. She may not even be in this body by that time.

“Well, at least it is not the fall of Ayodhya that is soon to come.” Kate murmurs. In her calculation, it is
almost a hundred years from now before the second fall of Ayodhya in B.E. 2310 or A.D.1767. By then,
Karaket’s body will have gone to dust.

“Please come up on the pier, milady. Lord Muen must be coming home soon.” One of the handmaids
reminds her.

“Right on!” The slender body pulls herself on to the pier and accepts cloth for changing. She walks up to
the house with Yam as before. After getting dressed, the two handmaids give her a disapproving look
because she is wearing an elbow-length, front-buttoned blouse under the cross-shoulder sabai. Ready
and fitting for an outing.

“No woman wears a blouse to the market, milady. A front-buttoned blouse is only worn under a sabai for
decency when going to the temple.

“What the heck!” Kate laughs softly. Ah, not only clothing that is not trendy to the eye of people of this time,
but also an out of place hairstyle because she refuses to oil the top and part it in the middle into two wings.
Given the choice of fashion, between a thin, revealing sabai, which may slip off and humiliate her in public,
and this unstylish but safe clothing, she opts without hesitation for the latter – any time.

Kate steps over the threshold and out of her room with confidence. The clothes and the red Ketsurang
exclusive-brand panties, which she wears underneath, give her assurance of safety for this outing. She
pays no mind to the weary expression of her servants who dare not cross her. They have high hopes that
their mistress will score with her intended fiancé on their first outing together.

“Here he comes!” Handmaid number-one, Phin, strides in and announces excitingly. Handmaid number-
two, Yam, hands Kate a terracotta containing a red handkerchief soaked in jasmine-scented water and
hurries to prepare a tray of tea. Instead of taking the cue as prompted, Kate looks at the tray in Yam’s
hand with interest.

“A wooden mother-of-pearl inlaid tray, eh? So pretty. Let me take a look, Pi Yam.”

“This talum? What are you looking for?” Handmaid number-two is at a loss, but she obligingly slides the
tray with teapot and cup on the floor.

“Peony design. Made in China? Fragrant sandalwood too!” Her hand caresses the talum of mother-of-
pearl inlay and lifts it to her nose in delight. These stuffs, if they survive to her day, will be swooned over by
modern-day art historians.

“The hibiscus design, milady.” Yam corrects her gently and gives a long sigh seeing that her mistress is
more interested in the serving container than in the arriving young man.

“That’s right. Um…the tray…talum…does it come in other forms? The ones used for dishes and bowls at
our meals don’t have this design.”

“Those are made of hardwood. They are for daily use and are washable. We clean them with boiling water
after use. They need no such design, lest they get stained from food spill. Talum has many designs. Gold-
painted, silver-painted, stained-glass. This one has mother-of-pearl inlay, for a hot teapot.” While Yam
goes on explaining, Phin cranes her neck busily trying to spot the young master of the house.

“Milady, Lord Muen is nearly here,” Phin announces.

“I know, Pi Phin. Pi Yam, if I want to take a look at talums in different designs as you said, what market
shall I go to?”

“You must go to the utensil market around Wat Rajburana near the charcoal market, milady.”

“Let us go there next time, eh? This time we go to shop for fabrics.” Kate sketches out her sightseeing
plan. Besides, fabrics and utensils of these days, the most desirable site for her must be the foreign
communities. She remembers that in King Narai’s reign, foreigners and expatriates had important roles in
commerce and the military. Western technology started to pour in at this period. And if she remembers
correctly, the very first Siamese diplomatic missions were sent to France too.

What year was that historic event, I wonder? It is such a pity her major was in art history, rather than
history itself. Even her electives in history at college were mainly focused on Western and Persian History.
Her coming to live in Karaket’s body could be historically futile indeed! Why didn’t I know of this in
advance? I could have read some textbooks in preparation. What a bore!

Cherm, Muen Sunthorn’s valet, comes up to the house with the official garment tray. Seeing the frowning
Kate, he lowers himself to walk past her, but Phin calls out to him.

“Wait, Cherm. Where is Lord Muen, tell me?”

“Lord Muen…went to see some wonderful sight.” Cherm’s mischievous smile causes Phin to frown.

“What wonderful sight are you talking about?”

“Just a wonderful sight, I say. Mind your own bloody business, will you? First, I shall have to put the
royally-bestowed garments in place.” Cherm replies to Phin. The word ‘royally-bestowed garments’ at once
perks up Kate’s ears. Her longing expression a moment ago suddenly turns into curiosity.

“Wait! Cherm, isn’t it? Let me take a look at the garments.” Despite his confusion at her strange-
sounding command, Cherm crawls on his knees toward Kate obligingly. She has no idea if women are
allowed to touch the highly regarded male garments, so she bows her head to inspect them with interest.
She notices a kris in a gilt lacquered sheath beside the garments. It must be another royally bestowed
object.

“This is the theppanom design, isn’t it, with motifs of angels kneeling and wai-ing? Why is the royally
bestowed garment made of print fabric? Shouldn’t it be a brocade?”

“Lord Muen’s rank is not high enough for brocade, milady.”

“Oh! Is that so? And when can he use brocade? He’s now a Muen. Higher than the rank is Jah, and then
Khun. Can he use it then?” Kate inquires.
“I do not know, milady.” The valet is at his wit’s end. Kate sighs in desperate surprise at his total lack of
curiosity. She wonders if the servants ever think of asking or if they are too afraid to ask.

“Hmm...I see. Now you can put them away.” She continues her wait for Muen Sunthorn, thinking that
women these days must be waiting for men all their lives. Domestic help is bustling around as they
undertake the house cleaning. They are chattering in low voices. Phin and Yam give them a hand and
come back to report, from time to time, that Phraya Hora is at the official service of the King regarding his
authoring a book and Lady Champa is out for a visit to her dying relative near Lavo. She is not expected
back until dusk. Kate wonders if she woke up too early this morning. In the cool river breeze, she falls
asleep on a big pillar with a notch just the right size to rest her head.

The liquor shop by the river, opposite to Pompej Fort is the right joint to hang out jovially. Many people
who travel on this trade route can see the two Siamese junior lords sitting in a boisterous drinking duel.
Their followers sit on reed mats on the ground below the platform on which the masters are sitting. They
make a lot of noise reciting poems in contest, even more loudly than their masters. The scene attracts the
eyes of all passersby.

Well until midday, Yod and Cherm stride in a bowing gesture to join them, sitting beside the platform. The
sound of the noontime drum is heard in the distance. Muen Sunthorn sighs deeply, feeling bored by the
matter at hand.

“I must go now.”

“Why? A few cups into it and you give up already?” Muen Ruang protests.

“That is not the case. Do you remember that I have to chaperone Karaket to the market?” Muen Sunthorn
explains.

“Oh, yes. Well, I would love to see that girl Karaket sometime. I expect from the look of boredom in you
that she must not be so very attractive.” Muen Ruang jests.

“To me she is not attractive.” His honest remark refers to her insufferable behavior.

“I heard some rumor that she was so jealous of Lady Chanwad that she had the boat flipped over, causing
the death of a servant at Phraya Kosa’s. Is there any truth in it?” Muen Ruang asks.

“It is possible, though uncertain, because she escaped the potent Krishna-Kali spell unscathed.” Muen
Sunthorn equivocates.

“Oh! Then it must be just a rumor. Everyone knows how effective the Krishna-Kali can be. Go if you must.
I shall sit here for a while longer. When you are relieved of your chaperoning, you can come over again.
The Master may join us here later.” The two men meet each other’s eyes secretively before the tall frame
of Muen Sunthorn stumbles off to his rowboat.

The smell of alcohol permeates the air as if he were doused in whisky. All eyes, native and foreign, turn on
him with repulsion and censure. This is broad daylight and not the time for men to hang out in a drinking
bout. However, this tall man seems oblivious to all. He drops himself into the support of his servants onto
the rowboat which is rowed off the pier along the river.

Far off from the Pompej Fort, verselets and doggerels shouted by Muen Sunthorn are heard loud and clear
along the canal. It is hard to ignore this amusing attraction, but it calls to everyone’s attention the young
nobleman’s despicable inebriation. Near the mouth of Khun Lakorn Chai, some distance downstream, the
boisterous sight and sound finally quiets down. His sharp eyes hide behind his speechless expression.
Even his reddened face and wobbling gesture disappear without a trace of drunkenness. He carries
himself with a straightened chest until the boat turns into Klab Canal where his house is located.

His hand scoops up water by the pier to wash his face which he wipes with an all-purpose waist cloth
before walking to the house. His tall frame halts and he frowns when he sees Kate in her strange outing
outfit napping in plain sight. Phin and Yam hurry to wake their mistress and hand her the prepared
welcome drink and a wet towel like well-trained assistants. The drowsy lady takes it unwittingly. Only when
she sees the tall man staring at her does she realize she has a mission to fulfill. She walks toward him,
terracotta bowl in hand, smiling the sweetest smile she can muster. Her lovely face looks even more
attractive, but her wide beam seems a little too odd, so with his inherent bias toward the young woman,
Muen Sunthorn sighs and looks away.

“A wet cloth, khun pi. To wipe your face and freshen up.” The pungent smell of liquor hits her nose, but
Kate keeps the smile on her face. Getting tipsy in the middle of the day, eh?

“I already washed my face with the canal water. I need no more freshening up.” The young lord walks
away, paying no mind at her whatsoever. Trays of sweetmeats and a tea set are handed to her next. She
snatches them up and follows him along.

“Tidbits and tea, khun pi, to quench your hunger.”

“I already have tidbits with my drinks. I am not hungry.” His nonchalant refusal and his obvious disinterest
while walking to his room cause Kate to despair as she follows him with her eyes.

“No, no, and no! He wants nothing to do with what I offer! Good grief! What an obnoxious man! He gives
me a homicidal urge to strangle this man, truly! How can a man so disagreeable be so gorgeous? Huh!”
Kate storms about, angrily putting the trays on the pavilion floor. The two handmaids send sympathetic
grimaces her way. In consolation, Phin even puts out her hand to caress her mistress’ feet.

“Give me the terracotta bowl, please.” The two-day new beauty gives an indignant command. Though
confused by Kate’s order, Yam hands her the bowl. With onlookers staring in surprise, Kate grabs the wet
cloth, squeezes it and wipes her face casually.

“Whoa! I just woke up and felt so drowsy. This jasmine fragrant water is quite refreshing. Too bad there’s
no cold towel.” She puts down the cloth, grabs the goodies and puts a piece in her mouth. “So sweet! Pour
me some tea, please, Pi Yam.”

Yam pours tea spontaneously, while the sympathetic Phin is stunned by her mistress’ behavior.

“This beancake candy is quite good actually. Tea cuts its super-sweet taste down to the right degree.”

“Milady has not taken lunch, so you must be very hungry.” It crosses Phin’s mind to ask before getting up
to ask Cherm to ask his master about lunch. His reply is a flat refusal.

“Why should you need to ask him? He said right out loud that he has eaten some tidbits. How annoying!
Better you go and get me my lunch. We’ll have to go out in a short while. The outing will be no fun on an
empty stomach. You two better eat too, so you’ll have enough energy to be out.” Deep down, she feels
humiliated for Muen Sunthorn’s indifference to her, but she tries to hold it down. If I act offended, he will
probably find an excuse not to take me out. And that will really ruin my day.

“We, servants, only have two meals a day, milady. In the morning and in late afternoon.”

“Why! And are you not hungry? It looks like you are busily working all day.”

“No, milady. We are used to it.” Kate acknowledges the answer by a nod. After a nice lunch of rice with
fish, a spicy dish and boiled eggs, Kate looks forward to her outing and cranes her neck toward his
quarters. Not long after, he comes out in the same outfit as before.

“Cherm, go and summon Yod, Wan and Muang to come along. See that three boats are prepared for the
outing. Cherm, you row the boat for me and the lady. Wan and Muang take another boat in escort of the
lady. Yod, you row for the two handmaids.” At that, he walks down the house at once without so much as
casting a look toward Kate.

“Hurry up, milady. Lord Muen and Cherm walk over there now.”

“Well…he let me wait for half a day before budging. And when he wants to leave, he acts as if he will fly
off.” As she complains, she nonetheless darts after the tall man. Her long running strides draw comments
from the handmaid who puts a hand on her chest in shock.

“Milady, do not be as hasty as you are. It is inappropriate and unladylike.” As if that would stop Kate from
running. Her eyes glance back with amusement at the two handmaids who are waving to slow her down.
She forgets to look ahead, and runs smack into something hard and elastic. Looking up, she sees she has
bumped directly into Muen Sunthorn’s muscular chest. Up further, she sees the most unfriendly face in the
world. His arms are crossed behind his back as if he does not want to touch her, but his eyes express
surprise at her klutzy behavior.

“Why should you run? It is a manner unsuited for nobility.”

“I was afraid I could not catch up with you, Lord Muen.” Kate grimaces behind his back. I’ll be damned if I
call him khun pi now, huh! Some time next life maybe! Even with his gorgeous, hunk of a body, he’s too
cold and stern. Definitely not her type!

“You should call me khun pi. It is more appropriate. You used to call me so. Why did you change your
address?” The indignancy in his voice gives her a start.

“Yes, khun pi.” The sassy, once-fat girl quickly adjusts the mode of her face into a humble slave. Better to
humor him as he wishes. He may be the only person she can depend upon to chaperone her excursions.
Now and in the future.

Her trailing voice and lowered head, as if in guilt, soften him somewhat, bit by bit, unwittingly. Then, it is a
big scene of boarding the boat. Kate is a little nervous as the boat is small and looks flimsy. Fortunately,
Phin and Yam are at her side to support her in stepping down from the pier.

“Hey! Pi Phin, Pi Yam, do not let go of me.” The boat is rocking to and fro when she drops her weight onto
it. Kate shrieks – to the amusement of onlookers, including the most unfriendly man on earth. All aboard
and Cherm starts to take the lead off from the pier, followed by two other boats of the servants, staying
close in a convoy.

CHAPTER SEVEN
The Lady to be Reckoned with

Kate sits at the bow, embracing the cool breeze, with Muen Sunthorn in the middle and Cherm steering
from behind. Out of Klab Canal, they flow into the big river.

“This is the Chaophraya River, isn’t it? There, that’s Chaiwattanaram Temple!” The temple is very close to
Phraya Hora’s estate. That’s why she saw Karaket’s ghost taking a stroll that eerie night.

“That is right.” He is quite surprised at her question but guesses that this lady has never left home even
once in the past year. Out on her first outing, everything looks new and unfamiliar. Realizing this, he gives
a command to his valet.

“Cherm, row along the Chaophraya River and enter downtown at the Chakrai Noi canal mouth.” Cherm
takes it in, recognizing this route to be a long detour to the mattress and yellow robe markets.
Nonetheless, without question, he complies with his master’s command.

“What is this fort on the left, khun pi?”

“The Khun Lakorn Chai canal mouth Fort.”

“Why is it named Khun Lakorn Chai? Lakorn is a theatrical performance, right? Does it mean there is a
theatre in this area?” Her eyes sparkle with the thought.

“Yes. On your right, outside the city walls at the mouth of Khun Lakorn Chai canal, is Chinatown, where
there are ale houses, theatres, Chinese operas, and tea houses.” Kate looks to the right of the river and
sees a small community.

“Oh, this is where it is.” Kate recalls that her history textbooks describe the area as rife with disrepute.
Historically, “teahouse” is a euphemism for whorehouse, and this is the infamous syphilis-spreading district
in Ayodhya. On past archaeology field trips, excavations have found many skeletons with extensive bone
lesions in the international communities. The porous skeletal remains have caused archaeologists to
deduce that sexually-transmitted venereal disease or syphilis has caused extensive deaths.

As the boat glides along the river, Kate sees that the banks of the Chaophraya are full of houses and trees
branching out into water. Most houses are raised on stilts, either of tied bamboo rods or wooden pillars,
with walls made of woven bamboo. It is very rare to see teak walls as in the house of Phraya Hora.
Residents in riverside rafts bustle about their daily work. They are dressed not too differently from the
servants she sees at Phraya’s household. But some women wear breast-revealing sabais, causing the
modern-day onlooker to do a double take at this lack of modesty.

The boat travels to a riverside wood mill on the right-hand side. Kate sees a cluster of junk ships and
corrugated tile-roofed boats, which look strong and awesome.

“Why are there so many ships and boats here?” Her musing is heard and answered.
 “They belong to the royal navy. Royal barges and warships. This is the estate of Phraya Rajbangsan in
charge of the royal fleet. Further toward Buddhaisawan Temple is the estate of Phraya Visut Sakorn in
charge of all boathouses and rafts in the entire capital.”

“Wow! Jurisdiction is clearly allocated. By the way, I have a question about clothing. Why do you not wear
the sompak silk for the King’s audience?”

He frowns, not expecting this girl to offer an opinion on how authority is assigned or to ask a question at
length with this strange manner of speech.

“The sompak brocade silk is for the royal household staff from Hua Muen Mahadlek, Hua Muen Nai Wain
and Chao Krom Paladkrom. I am a new civil servant holding the rank of an ordinary Muen. I have not
earned myself a position in which the holder can wear the sompak brocade chongkraben.”

“Hua Muen Mahadlek, Hua Muen Nai Wain, Chao Krom Paladkrom…what are these, khun pi?”

“Hua Muen Mahadlek, Hua Muen Nai Wain, Chao Krom Paladkrom and Treasurer, all these are positions.
Muen, Jah, Khun, Luang, Phra, Phraya and Chaophraya are ranks. Why do you ask?”

“It’s not a prize-winning question. I’m just curious. I’ve heard these words before but didn’t quite know what
they mean.”

“What is a prize-winning question, may I ask?” Kate turns around to look at the handsome face of the man
who replied with such a serious question. She can’t help chuckling.

“I saw Cherm carrying your royally-bestowed uniform back home, so I just wanted to know, that’s all.”

“Well, I can wear the sompak silk if I should want to, because my father is Phraya Hora, advisor to the
King. Progeny of Phraya and Chaophraya are entitled to wear it. Just like you can wear a patterned tube
skirt and silk breast wrap because your father was a Phraya and you are also related to my father. But in
royal service, it is wiser to be humble and not flaunt your birthright, which might cause jealousy.” He gives
a lengthy explanation to her satisfaction.

“If you want to see sompak silk, I can show you some. There are royally-bestowed silks for my father and
brother Sri.”

“Brother?” It crosses her mind that it is nearly impossible for Muen Sunthorn to be the only child. If not for
siblings from the same mother, he is likely to have half-brothers and sisters as it is customary for peerage
in these days to have progeny in the dozens.

“Jamuen Sri Sitvivitbovorn, who holds the position of Hua Muen Mahadlek, or royally-bestowed
pseudonym of Sriprat, is my full brother. You have not met him because he went away to live in the
southern city of Nakorn long before I entered royal service.”

“Sriprat!” Kate turns around to look at Muen Sunthorn in amazement and goes speechless momentarily as
she learns that she has come to live in one of Ayodhya’s legendary families. So that’s why these names
sound so familiar! Phraya Rajkhru, Phraya Hora, Sriprat, Nakorn. I wonder if this guy will be famed later in
his life and have his name on record in some chronicles too.

This is some heavy stuff that has fallen on her head! Who would have thought that Sriprat was a real
person when no concrete evidence points to his existence. Scholars in her generation say almost
definitively that the pseudonym Sriprat may not have been a real person. As far as she can remember,
legends say that Sriprat is to be executed by the governor of Nakorn Si Thammarat. There is even a pool
where the alleged executioner cleaned his sword in what is now the grounds of Kalyani Si Thammarat
School. When did that happen? She has no idea of the date and year. But before the demise of King
Narai, for sure, as legend says that the governor of Nakorn, after having ordered Sriprat’s execution, was
himself under the death sentence by King Narai’s command.

If she lets on what she knows, will she be able to prevent Sriprat’s unfortunate death? Can she intervene
the course of history? And what will these people think of her if she claims to prognosticate the future?
Kate frowns in consternation. For the first time, she realizes the complexity of her predicament: She finds
herself living among historical figures whose fates she can foresee.

“We have arrived.” The simple announcement stops her train of thoughts from reeling out of control. She
looks around at the sight in excitement.

“There is really a market on water!” The famous floating markets of the good old days are common
knowledge, but she can’t believe that she is seeing one with her own eyes. Though not as spectacular as
she thought, it is quite a sight.

“This is the Kujam canal mouth floating market, and that is the Kujam canal mouth fort.”

The rowboat slows down upon reaching the floating market and before taking a left turn toward a massive
wooden gate. Made of whole teak logs strapped together, the gate can be raised and lowered with layers
of rope pulleys as thick as a man’s wrist.

“This is the Chakrai Noi canal gate -- the entrance into the inner city walls.” Her personal guide patters on,
pointing out important sites. More and more houses crowd along the two banks. A flotilla of small
rowboats maneuver past each other deftly and without congestion. Not until they pass under a bridge
does Muen Sunthorn’s convoy stop at the wooden pier where crowds of vendors and customers are busy
going about their trades. Kate feels such an urge to start a shopping spree that she forgets her recent
concern and anxiety.

The expedition, now on foot on a not-so-large dirt road, files past shops selling monastic saffron robes
and religious objects. Other sheds sell sweetmeats, snacks and groceries. Behind most shops are
residences where partitions, thatched roofs and even floors are all made of bamboo.

Kate gawks wide-eyed at all the men and women vendors and traders. Passersby likewise gape at the fair-
skinned, pretty lady with curiosity. Many cordially and respectfully greet Muen Sunthorn. After buying
three sets of saffron robes, he leads the way further north and turns left at the fork. Walking a while longer,
she sees temple roofs at a distance.

“Hey! What temple may that be, please?”

“Mongkol Bopit Temple. A little further on, it is the Grand Palace.”

“Can we walk over there, please?” she beseeches him.

“Better wait until later. I shall have to drop by at the Convent public pier once again today.”

“Yes. Until later, promise?” He nods gravely in confirmation. Kate can hardly contain herself --- her hope
to sightsee all over ancient Ayodhya now seems within reach.

“And where is this Convent public pier?”

“It is in front of the Portuguese community.”

At that, her eyes widen. “Yes, let us go there, please.”

“Who said you would go there? I shall have you rowed back home, while I part ways to go there.”

“Why, how can you ditch me like that? Let me go too, please. I have not yet bought some solid-color
fabrics I intended to buy on this trip. And I would love to see the Portuguese community. I want to see the
farangs of this era. I mean I want to see what the farangs look like and maybe see some exotic goods too.
Please!” she begs.

“I have business to tend to. It is not a place you should be. If you want some solid-color cloth, I can buy
you some.”

“I promise not to be naughty. I will not be demanding. You can tend to your business while I look around
and buy fabrics. And we can meet back at the pier. I have many servants to accompany me. They will take
good care of me. Let me go with you, please!” Kate forgets herself and shakes his arm insistently. If not
now, when? Better to see it now than to add a site to her lengthy bucket list and have to wait and make a
new plan for the next trip.

For as long as he remembers, no woman has begged Muen Sunthorn in this manner. He has no little
sister. Of course, he has half-sisters whose mothers are servants and slaves. But no one ever dares
pester him like this. Besides, the farangs are a gigantic, coarse-skinned and hairy race, who speak foreign
languages which the Siamese find incomprehensible. Most Siamese people would shun them, if there is
no business to deal with them, at all cost. Yet, this lady wishes to see them.

Muen Sunthorn notes to himself that Kate’s demeanor looks different. His glaring rebukes of her improper
behavior have not wilted her. All she did was let go of his arm and put up a sad countenance and plead
with him persistently. Over the course of a year since she has lived in his house, she has flirted with him
ceaselessly, either by sideways glances or with coy feminine wiles or by looking up at him so charmingly.
Such a bothersome nuisance! But now, her eyes and manners seem guileless. Her speech sounds
different too. Other women would demure and refrain from carrying on conversations with him, only
speaking to him in short sentences. She is certainly different in that respect. She asks questions
straightforwardly in so many words. She can plead adorably like a child. He is simply stunned by her
persistence.

The servants eye each other in shock. The manservants look away half-smilingly, while the two handmaids
pale like blanched chicken, afraid that their mistress will be admonished.

“That arrangement is fine by me,” he finally responds. "But beware that if I am not finished with my
business, you must wait at the pier without wandering around too far so I shall not need to wait for you
upon my return. Is that acceptable to you?” His consent comes with the usual stern condition.

“Oh, yes, of course. Of course. I shall wait without a word of complaint. I shall not wander around. I shall
be prim and proper and utterly modest. I agree – now let’s go!” At that, Muen Sunthorn does not know
what to do but blink remorsefully. He has given his word, so nothing can be done now. Sighing regretfully,
he wonders why it is that this woman has all of a sudden become a handful to deal with.

Kate steals a smile when her prey has fallen into a snare. She has seen for herself that Muen Sunthorn is
merely stern outwardly but is in fact a kind-hearted person. It escapes her now how Karaket could have
made him despise her. On his end, Muen Sunthorn looks at the blooming, sweet face with apprehension.
All he can do is lead the convoy to shop for mosquito nets as Karaket wishes and embark on the boats out
of the city walls and on to Bang Kaja as he has agreed.

As soon as the boat enters the Bang Kaja neighborhood, Kate excitedly glues her eyes to the activity on
shore. Farangs…big, tall foreigners in historical costumes with lace-collared shirts, breaches and boots are
everywhere. Some stride about in shin-length trousers with stockings and leather shoes. They hustle and
bustle about as if on location for a movie production. Some supervise the unloading of cargo from big junk
ships. The two-sailed junks are of assorted sizes with all sorts of fascinating cargoes being loaded and
unloaded. The coolies carry the terracotta and enameled pottery, and rolls of fabrics covered in oil paper
balanced on their shoulders. From the corner of her eye, Kate notices her two handmaids nervously
avoiding the eyes of the staring foreigners.

Kate suddenly becomes aware that onlookers are pointing at her. It must be once in a blue moon that a
long-haired, aristocratic Siamese lady is seen in public. Despite the quizzical looks cast her way, she
stares back fearlessly, displaying her full intent to survey, sightsee and satisfy her endless curiosity.

Up ahead, the boat arrives at the delta’s floating market where the Chaophraya River meets the Pasak
River. She sees a huge fort on the left. This must be the famed Pompej, or Diamond Fort. The formidable
white walls enclose corners looking like cut diamonds just as she has read somewhere. Suddenly the boat
gets caught in an eddy, and Kate must sit and brace herself as the swirling waters make it challenging to
row through. The boat rocks then swings right until there, at last, is the pier for disembarking.

“Is this the Convent public pier?”

“That is correct. You go ahead and look for solid-color fabric as you wish. And come back and wait here.
Then have Cherm go and fetch me. There is no need to hurry. Only do not linger until it is dark.”

“Of course not.” Her pretty eyes follow his tall frame walking away. As soon as her chaperone disappears,
she beams at her lackeys.

“Now, let us have a good time looking around.” Cherm, Yod, Wan and Muang turn themselves into
bodyguards on active duty, encircling Kate and the two handmaids as they stroll forward. Each has a knife
tucked at his waist to prevent any mishap to their mistress and to scare off any man impudent enough to
dally with the niece of Phraya Hora.

The market overflows with exotic imports --- ornately carved furniture and ironwork, remarkable kerosene
lamps in Persian designs, silk and carpets stacked high, Japanese screens, drawered cabinets, carved
translucent jade, and silver necklaces, rings and bangles of non-Siamese designs.

Shophouses on rafts and on the ground offer an endless variety of merchandise. Kate stops at nearly
every shop and buys from them all, a little here, a little there. Most vendors are foreigners who speak
some Siamese, but coolies are mostly Chinese wearing long braids, with only a few Siamese.
 A loud commotion heard all over the riverbend stops Kate in her tracks. She cranes her neck to see the
source of shouted verses.

“The Siamese lords have hung out at the ale shop since morning in defiance of the farangs, until this late
hour.” The complaint comes from a middle-aged ferry-rower who is waiting for customers to cross the river.
Kate turns her attention back to the merchandise she was looking at.

“They must be the same, old gang of lords again. Some guys by the name of Muen Sunthorn and Muen
Ruang.”

From inattention, Kate is now all ears. Muen Sunthorn…could that be the same Muen Sunthorn Deva ---
her intended?

The wearisome voice continues, “They get drunk day in day out. If not at this market, they go into the city
at Cheekun Temple market. Maybe we can find them at Ban Chine market too.” This drinking group must
be quite a sight. It has her full attention now. She determinedly goes over to see just what really is the
business Muen Sunthorn has told her about.

Together with her servants, Kate walks back on the same route, tracing the source of the noises. But she
has not reached her destination when she sees an altercation along the way. Two big farangs are striding
through the marketplace, looking left and right. Catching sight of an Indian man walking towards them, one
of the guys darts at him, bumping into him until the latter falls headlong into the fabric rolls on a table. The
rolls fall to the ground. “Oh God, there goes my merchandise,” the tanned man cries out. “How can you
bump into me like this? How can I sell my fabrics now that they are soiled in dirt?” The Siamese language
spoken with an Indian accent comes from the man lifting himself off the ground. He looks like a dark-
skinned Indian with a handsome face that bears much resemblance to an Asian. He must be of a mixed
race.

“It was really your fault,” the farang insists. “Why did you not know your place? Why did you stand in my
way? You bumped into me. And when your goods are damaged, you have the audacity of blaming me?”
The Siamese language spoken with a heavy accent comes from a haughty big, blond bully. He carries a
sheathed sword in hand and acts offended as he grips its handle as if to draw it out.

“I was not standing in the way. I was in my raft shop indeed. There was no way I got in your way. You
cannot accuse me of such a behavior.” The trembling Indian tries to reason with him.

The farang spits at the shop owner contemptuously. “It is your word against mine. You are but a lower
class, black Indian. Who would believe you? I am an adjutant officer of Luang Sura Songkram. Are you
accusing me of lying?”

Although Kate has read about how Europeans and Englishmen looked down upon brown-skinned Indians
and treated them as slaves during the colonial days, she never expected to see such discrimination with
her own eyes.

Another voice intervenes. “Let us call it quits. My subordinate did not mean it.” The second farang, who
looks to be the first’s superior, steps in but it is clear that he sides fully with his guy. His eyes narrowed in
contempt is so upsetting Kate cannot keep her mouth in check.

“Wait, I saw the whole thing. I saw this man bumping the fabric vendor on purpose and causing the
damage.” The intervention of the female voice turns every onlooker toward her. When they see that this
bold voice is also a stunning beauty, they simply cannot take their eyes off her.

“Little lady, what did you just say? Do you know who you are addressing?” The gentle voice that comes
from a blue-eyed farang infuriates Kate even more.

…You damn prick!

“I do not and I don’t want to know. You behave badly.”

“Milady, please,” Yam steps into the fray, “it is better not to speak to him like that. This farang holds the
rank of Luang.”

“Whatever he is, Luang or Phraya, I don’t care. Bullying an honest trader like this cannot be condoned.”
An uproar of approval is heard from the crowd that has stopped all other activity all around.

“I thank you, noble lady.” The Indian merchant stammers his gratitude. He is well aware that even though
he was in the right, no one would vouch for him. Yet this young lady has fearlessly protested in his favor.
Such a rare, daunting act!

“Never mind that,” Kate replies as she turns again toward the farangs. “A subordinate of a Luang who is in
royal service with such despicable behavior! Shame on him! Siam is a free nation. Anyone can come here
and do their trading. We live in brotherhood and camaraderie. No one can act big and bully others at will.”
Cherm et al nod to each other as her back-up chorus and draw their knives as good bodyguards lest these
farang giants even think of attacking their out-spoken mistress.

“Calm down, lady. What is your parentage? Why do you act so insolently?” Luang Sura asks in a calm and
even tone. His womanizing eyes spark with interest and give Kate a glimpse at finding a solution for this
old Indian guy.

A loud and clear voice declares: “The lady is the niece of Phraya Hora, who also holds the position of
Phraya Rajkhru or Chief Advisor to the King. No one can transgress her, verbally or physically.” Cherm’s
factual proclamation of Karaket’s lineage creates another uproar among the bystanders.

“Oh…Phraya Rajkhru’s niece, is she? His son is a drunkard who is sitting wasted at the joint up the bend
there. Why do you not tend to him? Instead, you meddle in somebody else’s business like this. Or do the
Siamese peerage raise their children to be like this?” The adjutant of the foreign lord starts again to
provoke Kate’s bodyguards, drawing his sword half-way out of its sheath. The sight is terrifying to the
Indian, who nearly faints.

“What my khun pi does is his own business.” The woman’s voice is unrelenting. “But here I saw the
entire incident. You bullied someone who is not your match. And this is my business. As for you, you are
the servant of a senior officer and you condescend to take advantage of common folk like this. What can I
call this behavior, then? Who taught you that, may I ask?” Her sarcastic remark alludes to his master who
is likely the behind-the-scenes manipulator.

“What is happening, Father?” A young woman darts to her trembling, terrified father and lifts rolls of fabrics
up from the dirt, and vigorously dusts them off.

“Oh…is this old Indian your father?” Seeing that the black Indian has a beautiful, fair-skinned daughter
with a right mixture of Occidental and Oriental features, the farang officer’s harsh voice turns soft instantly.

“Yes, this man is my father. His name is Fanik. As for me, my name is Mali. What happened?”

“All right, all right,” replies Luang Sura, the womanizer. “Now that this lady has seen the whole incident, I
admit that my guy was guilty as charged. I shall reimburse the payment for the merchandise. Accept my
payment and call it quits then.”

“Well…if you complied easily like this at first, there was no need to argue.” Phin and Yam nearly jump at
their mistress to close her mouth, but it is too late. The farang Luang approaches Kate. “I shall remember
you, garrulous lady. Your speech is more audacious than any man’s.”

“Remember also that my name is Karaket.” She is fearless. Kate looks into his eyes unrelentingly.
Notwithstanding her much smaller size, her spirit is going to war as if they are her worst enemies. Besides,
Kate has strategically assessed that her many muscular male servants provide her the support to speak
boldly and to stand up for what is right. Her anger has not abated when she hears Luang Sura speak in
French to his lackey.

“Alfred, allons y, on ne vas plus perdre de temps avec ces clochards.” (Alfred, let’s go. We will no longer
waste time with these tramps.)

Blood rushes up to Kate’s face once more, and she retorts instantly, “Si nous sommes clochards, vous
l’etes vous aussi, car nous sommes des etres humains avant tout.” (If we are tramps, you are as well,
because we are human beings above all.)

The intent of her comeback delivered in perfect French is all too clear. The white face of Luang Sura turns
red with humiliation. He did not expect anyone to understand, let alone reply, in a quick-witted repartee, to
his French. And worst of all, from the Siamese lady who doesn’t know her place. His adjutant drops his jaw
in shock and hurriedly follows his superior onto the boat with no less astonishment and loss of face.

The half-Japanese, half-Indian Fanik and Miss Mali are awestruck. Though they are not well-versed in
French, as they are only fluent in their ancestral Portuguese and Japanese, they can understand some.
They are stunned to find a high-born Siamese lady speaking a foreign language, not merely her native
tongue. Kate’s entourage look at each other in disbelief, not knowing where Lady Karaket has learned to
speak a foreign tongue. She sounded so fluent that she disgraced the farangs!

“What pricks! Picking fights and blaming it on the others. Despicable indeed!”

“Milady, please! Are you not afraid? The farangs are huge and how did you dare look them in the eyes?”
asks Phin.

“Of course, I am afraid.” Kate admits.

“Oh?” The servants and the people Kate saved exclaim in amazement.

“I was afraid, but not terribly so. We outnumbered them, you know. I have Cherm, Yod, Wan and Muang
on my side. If it turned physical, how could two farangs get the better of us? In truth, Pi Phin and Pi Yam
alone could perhaps beat them, nails and teeth, in a cat fight.” Everyone laughs, even the speaker. The
cautious look in the eyes of the manservants turns to admiration and pride as they fully realize their
mistress’ integrity and courage. This one heroic act by Karaket has erased all the years of abusive words
that they have had to silently endure.

“I thank you very much, Lady Karaket, for having saved my father.” The gentle voice comes from the
foreign woman who calls herself Mali. “We have only recently come to trade at this place over the past few
days, despite having been in the Portuguese community since birth. Previously we have traded by rafting
toward Bangkok. We may have offended merchants in this area.”

“Never mind. It was a small matter. The man who was here holds the position of a Luang. It was unlikely
he was offended by your business here. He must have been displeased with something else.”

“My father is half-Bengalese, half-Japanese. Perhaps it was for that that they are offended. White men
usually find dark-skinned Indians, like my father, detestable.”

“Well…perhaps. By the way, is your name Mali? Why do you have a Siamese name?”

“That is not really my name. I go by that name to suit the Siamese tongue. My name is Marie.”

“Oh, Marie…Mali. That’s quite fitting.” Kate laughs cheerily while browsing inside the rafting shop with
interest. “These dirt-soiled cloths, I shall buy them. Like this you cannot find any buyers, surely. Yet the
dirt can be washed off.

“Will that be good for you?”

“It will. Only give me a little cut in price.”

“I can give them to you without charge. The money thrown at us by that Luang is enough to cover the cost
of the fabrics.”

“No, that is not the way it should be. Business is business. It is only slightly soiled. Consider the money he
threw at you an indemnity.” Despite a strangeness in the Siamese lady’s manner of speaking, the meaning
is cordial and respectful.

“Well…I was going to sneak a look at my khun pi Muen Sunthorn. Now I know that his business is a
drinking bout.” The cheeky girl’s bluntness continues to surprise while she is thinking: He mentioned his
business as if it were an important mission when indeed he was hanging out with his drinking buddies.
How infuriating!

“Muen Sunthorn! Do you know Muen Sunthorn too?” Miss Mali asks, eyes twinkle brightly when she hears
the name of the man she admires.

“Of course, I know him. We live in the same house. Whoa! I’m thirsty. Yod, can you please buy me some
drinks at that shed? Buy for everyone too, please. Do you know Muen Sunthorn too, Miss Mali?” Kate
hands Yod two pais to cover the expenses. She is not familiar with the currency and prices of things
around here.

“We have exchanged some conversation. Lord Muen once helped my father just as you did. He is a very
kind person. Despite his reputation as a drunkard, he is never known to be a bully or create trouble for
anyone,” replies Miss Mali.

The admiration in her voice irritates Phin who glances at her in resentment and tries to set the record
straight: “That is the way it is. Muen Sunthorn is my mistress’ intended. They must have a lot in common to
be able to live together until old age.” Phin, gauging the eagerness in the eyes of this half-farang, half-
Indian woman, nips the matter in the bud to put off her false hope. True to her expectation, she sees Mali’s
face instantly wilt.

“Oh, his intended, are you?” asks Miss Mali.

To which Kate replies: “Hmm…That is common knowledge,” and turns her attention to something else.
“Hey, there are jade figurines over there. Shall we go and take a look, Pi Phin and Pi Yam?” She takes a
small terracotta jar of sweet drinks on a tray that a female vendor delivers and sweeps the pai and a
handful of bias Yod hands her into her money sack. True to what the handmaids told her, one baht is more
than enough to spend for the day’s shopping.

“Let’s drink, all of us, and then we will continue with our browsing.” After finishing with the drinks, Kate
says goodbye to Miss Mali and the Indian Fanik and promises to return. Then she treks off to tirelessly visit
more shops, leaving behind Miss Mali who looks after her with so much heartbreak in her eyes.

CHAPTER EIGHT
Crocodile Tears!

Kate’s retinue returns to the pier dragging their legs in exhaustion. They sit waiting for Muen Sunthorn
dutifully as instructed while Cherm, volunteering to fetch him, walks off into the crowd. The market is
bustling with people of multiple races and nationalities. It looks as if trading will continue well into dusk. A
while later, a tall frame supported by Cherm appears before her.

“Completely wasted!” Kate grimaces at the sight before stepping on the boat. Yod comes to the rescue
and takes the seemingly wasted body of his master, while Cherm grabs the boat to stabilize it. When he
sees Kate has seated herself safely, he leaves his friend to support their master and returns aft to ease the
boat away from the pier and into the river.

“Take it easy, please. Or the boat will capsize,” requests Kate.

“Are you afraid?” Even in his state of inebriation, Muen Sunthorn is still doing a good job of jibing at her.
All Kate can do is sit in a sour mood. It must be because of his drinking problem that he has not gone very
far ahead in the royal service. From what Kate recalls, his brother, the famed, legendary Sriprat, got
promoted to Jamuen at a very young age, serving in close proximity to the King. He made his
advancement faster than anyone his age because his father served as Chief Advisor to King Narai. So
should his second son Muen Sunthorn. Had this guy been anything other than a good-for-nothing, he
should have gotten promoted to at least Jamuen or Phranai, the equivalent of Khun Phra, as his brother
was.
Her lovely eyes narrow to size up Muen Sunthorn disapprovingly before turning to focus her eyes directly
forward and ignoring the drunken lord behind her. That’s why she doesn’t see that though he is slumped in
his seat, his eyes are clear and focused, unlike most drunken people.

A while later, Muen Sunthorn improvises boat songs of his poetic composition, and sings them to the tune
of familiar folk songs. His manservants sing along as his back-up chorus. Their boisterous singing is
heard all over the river bend, announcing his wayward behavior. Recognizing the rhythm and melody of
the boat-songs, folks on both banks of the canal spontaneously chime in. Cherm rows actively in sync
with the rhythm of the poems and pushes far ahead of the two accompanying boats.

While finding Muen Sunthorn’s rowdy behavior objectionable, Kate is all ears because this traditional
“boat-song” is a novelty to her in this life. But ever observant, her discerning eye observes that some folks
react with disapproval and weariness at the sight of the drunken aspiring poet. Not until they reach Klab
Canal does the commotion die down. At the pier in front the estate, the tall man who previously was
unable to walk on his own, disembarks without assistance, showing no sign of intoxication.

She follows him with her eyes and automatically extends her hand to be helped in disembarking. Absent-
mindedly, Muen Suthorn takes her hand in his. Kate hauls herself up to the pier in a split second. The
warmth of the touch electrifies her, as she is pulled toward his thick chest automatically. The scent of
homemade perfume and fragrant oil and the soft supple body are so intoxicating that Muen Sunthorn is
momentarily stunned. He lets go of her hand and walks in haste to the house, leaving her behind without
much ado.

Kate feels annoyed that her intended has hurried off so briskly, as if he finds her repulsive.
A crackpot indeed! He walks away so fast that Kate wonders, is he chasing after his lost buffalo or
something? What the heck! Hey, why can he now walk so straight and soberly? She frowns quizzically. A
moment later the other two servant-boats dock, just as Cherm finishes roping up his boat.

“Wait, do not leave yet, everyone.” Kate calls after the servants who are ready to carry the parcels up to
the house. She grabs her money sack of bia shells, pours out the contents on to the pier and separates
them into six piles, equally. Then she invites each of them to take one pile.

“I give you all the same amount. It must be about a hundred bias each. Though it is not much, please
consider it your payment for accompanying me on today’s expedition. Do not forget to carry what we
bought up to the house, please.”

At that, Kate walks towards the house happily. Today, she visited three different destinations. She got to
see the market pier where goods from junk ships are sold, many farangs and non-Siamese folks, and their
ways of living and dressing. What a day! And who would think that just one baht can go such a long way?

The six servants stand speechless. They put up their palms to wai in appreciation but their mistress has
already turned toward the house. After collecting their pile of bias in an all-purpose cloth and tying it
around their waists, they still cannot quite believe what their eyes and ears have seen and heard today.

“Phin, has your mistress eaten anything out of the ordinary today?” Cherm asks Phin in a soft tone. “She
has become so kind and as brave as a most fearless man. Her manner of speech is also sweet and
gentle, even though it sounds somewhat weird.”

“Ever since she recovered from her illness, milady has changed a lot. It is probably the effects of the
Krishna-Kali spell that turned her around in such a good way.” Phin replies, nodding in agreement with
Yam who grins widely.

“I am certain of that,” the servant Muang continues. “With a mistress like this, I can go to any length, high
or low, to serve her. She has my complete loyalty now.” Muang is especially ecstatic as his wife has taken
ill. Local herbs alone are only keeping her going for a while longer, and her chance of survival is slim. But
with some of the bias in his hand, he will be able to buy her more potent medicine.

“Let us go up the house, Phin. And you, Wan and Yod, help me carry these things up there,” Yam says,
assigning tasks to the group.

“Of course, we will.” Having wrapped their shell money and tied a knot to secure them, the six servants
carry the purchases to the house in high spirits.

The appreciative vibes permeating the air reach into Kate’s heart. She halts her walk for a moment
thinking it must be the cool, refreshing breeze from the canal. Strangely, she feels light, calm and peaceful
throughout her whole body. After washing her feet, she walks up the stairs to the house, not realizing that
her generous actions are good karma in themselves and that the merit of these good deeds reverberate
positive energy to herself and to Karaket.

The central pavilion in the house is empty. Kate sees Lady Champa sitting at the low table near the cotton
upholstered partition. With a few maids in attendance, she is busily stringing garlands for tomorrow’s
offerings.

“Oh! You are you back, Karaket. What did you get today?”

“A lot, madam. I bought some imported satin for you too.” Phin and her gang are scurrying up to the
house with the purchases.

“My! Such a lot of packages you have there.”

Kate picks a roll wrapped in oil paper that she bought from the Convent public pier market and presents it
as a gift for Lady Champa.

“Satin, madam. Embroidered Camellia, um…pudson flower, design. It is very beautiful, madam, and I
thought it suits you well.”

“I thank you for thinking of me. Where have you been to find the imported silk?”

“The Convent public pier market, madam. Farangs in droves…er, plenty of farangs, madam.”

“You went there indeed? Go and take a bath, Karaket. Or it will be too dark. And come to have dinner
together.” Lady Champa glances towards her son’s room before looking down at the floral arrangement at
hand. Kate grasps that this means the next person in line for the bathing pier would be Muen Sunthorn for
sure. Hah! She wouldn’t be Kate if she missed the opportunity to give him what his bad behavior has
earned today. Just wait and see. She will take time bathing so he must wait and wait.

Kate swings her legs in the water leisurely until dark. She glimpses his lurking shadow in the distance.
He must be impatiently wondering when she will finish. This thought puts her in such a good mood that
she chuckles out loud many times over.

“It is getting dark, milady,” Yam urges. “Please come up on the pier. If it gets too cold, you might get sick.”

“I don’t feel cold at all. I want to stay a while longer.”

“You are not in good health, milady. You could get sick from a long bath.” The worry in Yam’s voice
softens Kate into agreeing to come up to the pier. After changing from the bath cloth and walking back to
the house, she crosses paths with the tall man wearing a bathing cloth. She tries hard to withhold her grin
when she sees his long face.

At bedtime, Phin explains the household structure to her. Lady Champa is the royally-bestowed wife. She
is royalty herself as her mother was one of the lesser concubines of the late King Prasatthong. She
married Phraya Hora when he was a Jamuen or Chief Royal Page. He has two sons by her, Jamuen Sri
Sitvivitbovorn and Muen Sunthorn Deva, and many children by his many servants and slaves in the
compound. They keep to themselves and avoid wandering into sight. Upon Phraya Hora’s behest, each
family has a separate house in the compound. The number of houses in this estate totals fourteen.

“Wow! So many. And are there clashes and altercations among them, Pi Phin?”

“There are some, milady. But Lord Phraya is kind and very generous. Whatever he buys for one
household, he gives everyone all the same. The old cook in the kitchen told me that since Jamuen Sri
went in exile to Nakorn four years ago, Lord Phraya has rarely gone down to visit any of those houses.
The concubines are getting by as they are. They are sufficiently fed and clothed. And they are so lucky to
have some furniture and accessories as they do. The ones who bore him children come up here to report,
from time to time, on the well-being of those he has sired. It is entirely at Lady Champa’s behest as she
has full discretion.”

“That’s good enough. At least Uncle is respectful of Aunt as his first wife. By the way, do you know if
Jamuen Sri has a wife, Pi Phin?”

“I do not, milady. I have never asked anyone. Yam and I followed you from the North to live in this house
only a year ago.”

“And how old is Muen Sunthorn now? Does he have a lot of affairs and little houses?” Phin and Yam smile
shyly before answering.

“Lord Muen is twenty-two years old, milady. He was ordained into monkhood when he became of age two
years ago.” Kate understands this old custom in Siam of becoming a monk for a short period of three
months, especially during the rainy season. But in the era Kate has grown up in, it is practiced mostly in
rural areas.

“Twenty-two! Wow! He is gigantic and looks older than his age. Incredible!” The two handmaids laugh and
almost spill the betel they are chewing. Phin remains eager to elucidate household affairs for her mistress.

“He may have some flings and affairs elsewhere, I presume,” Phin continues. “He is such a handsome
man. Old servants told me he grew up to be more good-looking than his brother. However, he has never
acknowledged anyone as his concubine. I have not heard any mention and there are no households of his
on the compound, milady.”

“Well, if he is promoted to Phraya, will the King not bestow him with a wife?”

“If he already has a proper one of high birth, the King is unlikely to give him a new bride. Except, of
course, upon request. And if the King does act on this matter, the former wife, however high in birth, must
become secondary, by default.”

“So if I should happen to marry…um, to start a household with Muen Sunthorn and one day he is
promoted to Phraya and acquires himself a royal bride, it looks like I must be demoted to playing a second
fiddle, must I not?”
Phin and Yam find the question quite peculiar, but they simply nod and sympathetically draw long faces.
Their interrogator heaves a long sigh. It is indeed hard to be born a woman in these days. Such an abject
life. Damn it! The men of the olden times are infamously promiscuous and have wives and concubines like
octopus has tentacles. Really!

“Shall we better take ourselves to the nunnery? Then we do not have to endure a life of being second. I
don’t even want to be the first among many.”

“How can an unmarried woman talk like that, milady?”

“And is there anyone in the capital who takes only a single wife?”

“Not a single lord, milady. Because aristocracy has annuity to live on, they can have as many wives as
they can afford. The more the merrier; all the more fortunate. Monogamy is only seen in commoners and
slaves like us. We barely have the means to sufficiently support ourselves. Polygamy, with more mouths to
feed, would starve most of us!”

“Economic reasons, eh? Well, we’ve prattled …um, chit-chatted at length. I’m tired now. Let’s call it a
night. If I have any more questions, I’ll ask you tomorrow.”

“Yes, milady. Better go to sleep. Tomorrow you have to get up early to go to the temple.” Her eyelids
become heavy but before finally passing out, she still hears the two handmaids whispering as they plan for
tomorrow’s temple outing.

The next morning Kate wakes up not long after the handmaids. She goes out to wash her face and brush
her teeth. A while later, she sees the two handmaids walking straight at her with the bathing gear in their
arms.

“A bath at this time? No, thanks. It’s too cold.”

“You have to, milady. So you can be perfumed up for going to the temple. You will see a lot of people,
your elders and everyone else.”

“Can’t we do dry-cleaning? Face washing and teeth-brushing should do fine.” With fog still hovering over
the waters, she fears the morning chill of bathing in the canal.

“No, you cannot, milady. You must appear your best at the temple. Cleanliness both makes you
presentable and is the pious thing to do. That way you will gain much merit.” The handmaid’s soothing and
persuasive words finally win her over. She walks briskly to the pier. The maids keep her on land only
briefly. Though the canal water is chilling at first, it warms up quite quickly and is warmer in the water than
standing in the chilly air. Kate dutifully follows her maids’ instructions. Bathed in the first light of day, then
dried and wrapped in a blanket, Kate walks with a trembling chin and chattering teeth to the house.

After helping her dress, Phin drags a bunch of keys to unlock a big chest and pulls out woven trays
containing red pouches. In the pouches are gold and silver jewelry--necklaces, rings, bangles and
shoulder chains.

“Wow! Is this our treasure trove, Pi Phin?”

“These are all there is left, milady.” The maid’s long face surprises Kate.

“All there is left? There used to be more?”

“Formerly there were two chestfuls, milady. Now there is barely half a chest of contents. I was to blame for
not taking good care of your possessions.”

“Well, where have they gone then?”

“It is a good thing that you have forgotten all, so you need not bear old grudges. Since the deaths of your
father Phraya Ramnarong and your mother Lady Pudchib, your relatives swooped in on you like vultures.
You were too little to protect yourself. What could a ten-year-old girl do to fend for herself? It was four
years later that Phraya Hora found you being cheated and swindled to such a destitute state as you are
now.”

At that, Kate comes to a conclusion on why Karaket was so mean. She had to fend for herself, fighting with
many grown-ups who took advantage of her left and right, when she was little. This made her into who she
was. In spite of Phin’s comment that little is left, the jewelry in front of her is quite substantial by Kate’s
standard. And this is not to mention the money in different denominations in the tiabs. Given the standard
of living at this time and place, this must make Karaket very well-endowed. A poor little rich girl, so to
speak.

“Forget it. It has long passed. What we have here is quite a lot, really. If I put them all on, people would
think I’ve gone out of my mind.”

“Do you want to wear gemstones or diamonds, milady?”

“Gemstones are fine. If I lose diamonds in wearing, it will be such a shame.”

“You should be seen fully dressed up when you go to the temple, milady.” Yam makes her case timidly as
she would rather see her mistress wearing diamonds. Temple going is an occasion to display one’s
wealth. It will let the busy bodies know that her mistress did not come empty-handed, but has a lot of
valuables with her, lest she be looked down upon as orphaned and destitute. Moreover, this is the first
time her mistress will be seen in public and in the eyes of upper-class city dwellers. She must make a
good first impression.

“Fine. Give me a small set, then.” Kate humors her maids as she knows they mean well. Phin and Yam
grin in delight before choosing a necklace, rings, bangles and a shoulder chain so their mistress will make
her public debut in full splendor.

Looking at her reflection in the mirror, Kate feels astonished beyond description. Cut by Siam’s finest old-
time lapidaries, and set in almost pure gold, the diamonds catch every ray of light and sparkle with
brilliance. Together with the way she is dressed in a chib-na-nang tube skirt and a cross-shoulder sabai
top, she looks straight out of the paintings of literary figures of the past.

After getting dressed, she meets everyone else at breakfast before leaving for the temple. Today is an
observance day, which is a holiday. Phraya Hora and Muen Sunthorn both have no official business at the
palace, so they join the merit-making expedition.

Everyone goes down to the pier to embark on the boats. She looks at the flotilla of seven boats with
interest and delight. Besides passengers, the floating convoy must transport uncooked rice and dry goods,
prepared meals of cooked rice and fish in covered talums, as well as all the paraphernalia necessary for
temple rituals. Kate sits in the same boat as Lady Champa.

After being scented with homemade perfume five times over, she smells so good. Her face is nicely
powdered and her clothes are chosen carefully in vibrant colors. Lady Champa herself is very well-dressed
and fully accessorized. The only marked difference is in the hairstyle. She wears her hair short-cropped as
most older women, unlike Kate who has long hair like most young women. The temple that Lady Champa
takes Kate to is called the Old Ayodhya Temple. She orders the servants to speed up their rowing before
turning around to explain to Kate.

“This temple is where my sons Sri and Dej were both ordained. It is an old monastery built in the reign of
King Songdham. It must be nearly a hundred years old now. You have never been here, so you will see it
with your own eyes today. Children of most aristocratic peerage are ordained here.”

“I see.”

After coming out of the Klab Canal, the boats veer left and head north. Kate smiles with delight. Yesterday
she went right, today she will see new sights. It will be another pleasant boat ride. Towards the intersection
with the big river, she sees a huge dock with big ships of assorted sizes on the left. She cranes her neck to
look at the place until the boat goes past the fort on the corner.

Another amazing sight captivates her attention. On the right a cluster of glittering spires rise high above
the city walls. The golden, enameled tiled roofs with gilt tiers and spires catch the near-dawn light and
glitter spectacularly. It looks indeed like the city of angels.

“The Grand Palace is very beautiful, is it not?” Lady Champa turns around to look at the breathlessly
excited Kate who speaks smilingly to her.

“Beautiful indeed, my aunt.” On the left she sees a big and beautiful ordination hall of a monastery which
looks quaintly familiar. Kate exclaims softly when she remembers that it is one of the better-known temples
in modern-day Ayutthaya, the Na Pramane Temple, in its newly-built state.

“Right on the river and in the open like this, one can see the spires of the Grand Palace so clearly, so
magnificently,” Kate ruminates to herself. “And that was why old Ayodhya was such a perfect location for
the Burmese gun attacks and ransacks. Alas, shy of a hundred years from now, the splendor of Ayodhya
will be no more! Well, all things are impermanent, aren’t they? So are people and places.”

“What did you say?” asks Lady Champa.

“Oh, I was just admiring the beauty of the Na Pramane Temple, aunt ma’m.” She can’t help but feel sorry
that a hundred years from now this beautiful palace will be ablaze and two hundred years later all that
remains will be debris and ruins.

If she lets on what she knows to people in this day and age, will they be able to protect the nation from the
Burmese invasion and prevent the national catastrophe? Can she intervene in the course of history? On
the other hand, she’s afraid that instead of believing, they would think her insane. And for what it’s worth,
she might be flogged to death. Whoa! And if by chance they believed her and succeeded in the act of
prevention, Bangkok would not have become the capital of Siam and things would have unrecognizably
changed in her modern time. Would the changes be good for the Thais at large? Whoa! the mere thought
brings another round of stress.

At the temple compound, many boats are already docked, with many more arriving. Everyone is busy
unloading what they brought to the temple as offerings, and arranging their clothes in place before walking
in. Greetings come periodically from people all around, either already sitting or just arriving. Kate raises
her hands to wai them as she is introduced to one after another in the crowd. All are so elegantly dressed.
She cannot help but marvel at the wealth of the nation at this time in history. That’s why there have been
rumors until her own days that, at the fall of Ayodhya, people dug holes in the ground to bury their
treasures for fear of Burmese plunder and pillage. Lo and behold! Just look at how opulently people dress!

Everyone in the compound scrutinizes Kate, frowning and grimacing at her very sight. A few wear too
obvious looks of sympathy. It must all be because of rumors either about Karaket’s horrid behavior or her
insanity. How tiresome it is for Kate to be such a spectacle!

The unrelenting resentment hits Kate hard. Casting her eyes towards the two handmaids, she sees them
facing downward, avoiding all eyes, looking even more awkward than she. When she finds a vacant spot
where she can lay down her offerings and settle in, she sits immobile, composing herself and presenting
only a neutral facial expression to conceal her inner turmoil. Above all, she will not make a scene here.

But people all around gossip in full view. They speak like an aside on stage, hand covering their mouth
while glancing towards her. It is so humiliating and depressing. The buzz of these fighting bees quiets
down conspicuously when a group of newcomers walks into the sermon hall. Kate turns around to look
with interest at who would have caused this awed reaction. She finds the newcomers to be a distinguished
man and a woman about Lady Champa’s age, followed by a good-looking young woman. The convoy of
servants behind them looks more prestigious than anyone else’s here. When the middle-age new arrival
sees Lady Champa, she smiles broadly, but it vanishes at the sight of Kate.

“Karaket, and you showed up at the temple too!”

What a way to greet someone! I’m no ghost, you know, so why can’t I show up at the temple? All she does
in response is silently raise her hands to wai the two elders primly and properly, in a most ladylike manner.
Out of the corner of her eyes, she sees Muen Sunthorn greeting them with a wai too. His stern eyes soften
and sparkle when he sees the young lady behind the elderly newcomers.

Oh, his sweetheart is here! Such a sweet look in your eyes, my dear khun pi!

“Lady Nim, come and sit close together, please.” Lady Champa calls out. Phraya Hora and Chaophraya
Kosa also greet each other cordially.

“How are you, Lady Chanwad? Have you recovered from the shock?” Phraya Hora asks in a kind voice.

“She has, sir,” the mother answers in place of her daughter. “But my daughter still weeps over the death
of servant Daeng from time to time. Now we must have her learn swimming. It is imperative that she
become a strong swimmer. Should there be some more mishaps, she will be better prepared to survive.”
She ends by throwing a side glance at Kate with such hatred that Kate feels gut punched.

“The Krishna-Kali spell makes no exception for the culprits, ma’m.” The calm voice of Lady Champa
reminds Lady Nim, a.k.a. Lady Kosa, of what she has obviously forgotten, and the latter’s harsh eyes
become softer upon gazing at Kate.

Kate wants to give her Aunt a standing ovation!

 Now Lady Kosa turns to speak to Kate. “I have never seen you out of the house compound. I have heard
you often come down with fevers. Are you well now?”

“I am very well, ma’m. I must owe it to the Krishna-Kali spell, perhaps.” Kate raises her voice for everyone
else to hear and smiles lightly and innocently. Hopefully, the name of the Krishna-Kali spell is potent
enough to clear her name.

Lady Chanwad glances at the young woman who used to look at her with such hate and feels a bit
startled. Those eyes now look straight into hers with curiosity, but without the previous hostility.

The two elderly ladies chitchat softly before turning silent when the monks begin their chanting. The
lengthy chant makes the devotees ache all over as they shift on the floor. After offering food and
paraphernalia, it is time for the monks to take their morning meal. Kate hears Phraya Hora addressing the
man, his junior by age but senior by rank, by the name of Khun Lhek. Kate becomes all ears now. Kosa
Thibodi…that’s right, Kosa Lhek is still alive. Unbelievable!

From what she has read, prior to Phraya Kosa Pan’s first diplomatic mission to France, his brother Kosa
Lhek died. Then, the younger brother was promoted as the successor to his elder brother’s position. All
this means is that Choaphraya Kosa Lhek here has not so many more years left in his life, Kate
contemplates.

After the pre-noon meal, the temple-goers gather and take their meals together before socializing and
waiting for the sermon to begin. They engage in friendly conversation. Even Muen Sunthorn is heard to
chitchat with Lady Chanwad. In the midst of this easy socializing, Kate feels isolated and lonely. Now she
wants neither the thinness nor beauty of this body. All she wants is to return home into her chubby body
and see her grandma and mom who love her. Homesickness and longing to be with her family pierce her
heart so deeply that her almost ever-cheery eyes begin to well up with tears. How badly I wish to go
home!

She is a stranger in this place and time, and worse still, she is a pariah here. All eyes that look upon her
seem reproachful and critical. She feels overwhelmed -- how will she ever make up for Karaket’s
horrendous behavior? On top of this, she holds secrets about the fate of Ayodhya that cannot be divulged
to anyone because no one in their right mind would believe her. She sinks into the worst depression of her
life.

“Milady.” A soft call from Phin breaks through the blackness. Her loyal servant’s round, sympathetic face
could not be a more welcome sight.

“What is it?”

“Shall we go for a walk outside? When the monk is at the pulpit, we can come back to listen to the
sermon.”

“Good idea.” Kate makes a move to get up but gets a reminder from Phin.

“You must ask permission from her ladyship Champa first, milady.”

“Aunt ma’m, may I go for a walk outside for a while, please?”

“You may.” After giving the permission, Lady Champa continues to chat with Lady Nim. Kate rises and
walks discreetly, avoiding the crowd, with the two handmaids. She walks to the inner pavilion by the canal,
not so far off, and sits down on a plank bench on the waterfront.

“Milady, please, do not take it to heart. The death of servant Daeng at Chaophraya Kosa’s house has been
the talk of town, because next to the King, the Chaophraya is the most powerful person in the kingdom. On
top of that, his first wife, Lady Nim, used to nurse King Narai’s daughter.”

“I was not thinking about that at all.” Kate puts on a brave smile. Soon enough, she knows that the power-
that-be will vanish in a blink. And if she is not mistaken, with the demise of the patriarch, his wife and
daughter must inevitably lose their prestige.

“Pi Phin, is Chaophraya Kosa’s birth name Lhek?”

“That is right, milady.”

“Does he have a brother called Pan?” Her voice sounds vague and indefinite, making Phin and Yam
sneak a look with unease.
“Yes, milady. They say Phra Visut Sunthorn, or commonly known as Khun Pan, is very shrewd. Soon he
may become a minister like his brother before him.”

“Do you know, Pi Phin, anything about the King’s commission for his first envoy on a junk ship journey to
France?”

“Yes, I do. Everyone in the capital knows that, milady. It is was rumored throughout Siam even. They left
on the first lunar month, quite recently.” Kate acknowledges it with a nod. As far as she knows, the first
mission did not reach its destination because the ship capsized en route. The second was not a success
either. But the third, headed by Phraya Kosa Pan, proved a remarkable success.

Kate feels drained by her complex dilemma. What good does her foreknowledge do when she cannot
share it with anyone? And she may have to witness Chaophraya Kosa Lhek’s premature demise without
being able to forewarn him. She sighs forlornly, gazing at the bright sky and pondering to herself. “Why
was I put here after all? Please take me back home.”

“What did you say, milady?” asks Phin.

“I want to go home. I am homesick. I do not want to be here.” Big drops of tears fall on her hand. The weir
is broken, and a flood of tears, which she had restrained from inside the sermon hall, rushes down.

“Please, milady, do not weep.” The soft-hearted Yam lets herself cry more loudly than her mistress. Phin is
also teary as she consoles her mistress.

“If I…if anything happened to me, how would you two manage, Pi Phin and Pi Yam?”

“How can you say such a thing? Milady has to live forever to be our refuge,” Phin protests.

“No, Pi Phin, you know better that it is impossible. We are born to age, to fall ill and die. Even younger
people are seen to die prematurely before older ones.”

“Do not say that, milady.” The two handmaids cling to each of their mistress’ legs. They all weep profusely
and nonstop until Kate who started the trio of crying feels her tears have drained out. She instead speaks
comforting words to her handmaids. No matter what, she must endure her present state and live like this
for a while longer. She must do everything she can to get by in the hope of being able to return home
some day.

A familiar male voice is heard from behind. “What are you doing here? The monk is already at the pulpit.”
Kate turns around and sees Muen Sunthorn. Seeing tears on her cheeks and in her eyes, he is
speechless.

“Why are you crying?” His question makes Kate turn her face and wipe her tears dry, in haste, with her
fingers and sabai cloth.

“It was nothing. I was just homesick.”

“Let us go in to listen to the sermon.” His softening voice irritates her somewhat. She feels ashamed to
have him see her at this moment of weakness and angry at his tone of voice. The last thing she wants
from him is pity.

“Come, Pi Phin and Pi Yam. We are missed at the sermon.” Instead of flirting with his paramour Lady
Chanwad, he makes time to come after me. How obnoxious! Her irritation turns to anger directed at him.

Her sarcastic and arrogant remark makes him follow her with his eyes in puzzlement. Thinking that this is
her old, egotistic habit of thinking only about herself, he feels annoyed again.

He volunteered to his mother to come after Karaket, feeling sympathy that on her first outing she was the
subject of such heavy gossip in plain sight. Had he known that he would have to endure this petulant
manner and speech, he would have asked a servant to come after her, instead. What a nuisance!

CHAPTER NINE
The Rowboat Detective
In the late afternoon after the return from the trip to the Old Ayodhya Temple Kate feels more at ease.
Merit-making in dedication to Karaket and servant Daeng has put her mind and those of the two
handmaids at peace and lifted their spirits. After her long cry, Kate has resolved to live this life as best she
can – in a time she calls her personal history of the Dark Ages.

Back at home, it is leisure time. The young maids and old manservants help to carry assorted musical
instruments to the space near the central pavilion. After testing their instruments, they play joyful numbers
to entertain Phraya Hora who sits leaning on a cushion next to Lady Champa who has ordered fruit and
sweetmeats be served for refreshments. Slave concubines give their patriarch a rub and massage on his
arms and legs, while others fan him in the balmy weather of the day. Even Muen Sunthorn sits with
servants massaging him while he engages in conversation with his mother. It looks like a perfect family.
Phin and Yam themselves massage and fan Kate.

Not until late in the afternoon do they scatter. Phraya Hora orders the servants to bring a wooden mother-
of-pearl-inlaid table to the middle of the pavilion and sits working with his son, while Lady Champa goes
down to the kitchen to supervise cooking.

“Pi Phin, what do I usually do in my free time?”

“Lying down, milady.”

“What! Lying down, eh?” Oh, lazy Karaket earned her lady aunt’s disapproval. She did it all to herself.

“Yes. You are not in good health, milady. You cannot help Lady Champa in the kitchen. You were very
frail even when you were in Songkwae.”

“I will become an invalid then. I shall go down for a walk in the garden.” At that, Kate walks downstairs with
the two handmaids trailing closely behind. When she steps down the last rung of the teak staircase, she
puts a brake on herself because a man in a loincloth rushes in to kneel, palms together, red-eyed and all
sweating.

“Is Lady Champa in, milady?”

“She is. What is the matter? Why are you in such a haste?” Kate asks.

“My name is Wong. I am a servant in the house of Lady Saiyud, who was Lady Champa’s aunt. I was
ordered to inform Lady Champa that Lady Saiyud just passed away.” He has to wipe his overflowing tears
with the back of his hand.

“My goodness! Wait here. Pi Yam, please bring him some water to drink. Pi Phin, come with me to the
kitchen.”

Kate urges Phin to hurry up and show her the way to the kitchen, where she finds Lady Champa busily
supervising the cleaning and cutting of vegetables for cooking.

“Aunt ma’m.”

“Why, Karaket! What are you down here for?” Kate finds herself reluctant to break the bad news but
braces herself to repeat what she has just heard.

“A man servant...um, Lady Saiyud’s servant by the name of Wong…is here to inform you that Lady Saiyud
has passed away.” At that, color fades from Lady Champa’s face and she stumbles as if fainting. Kate
rushes in to support her at the same time as her handmaid Prik.

“Aunt ma’m!” cries Kate.

“Oh no,” Lady Champ cries out. “I just visited Aunt Saiyud recently. And now she’s gone. Did Wong say
where her body is now?”

“No, he did not. But he’s waiting at the front of the house, Aunt ma’m.” Color returns to Lady Champa’s
face, and she lets Kate support her up to the house. There, she breaks the sad news to Phraya Hora,
pointing out that she must leave immediately and will be away at the funeral rites for seven days. Then,
she goes to pack in preparation for the long journey to Lopburi, with Kate coming in to help her pack.

“Karaket, I have to be in Lavo during the next seven days. My aunt Saiyud raised me since I was little. I
owe her a debt of gratitude as if she were my mother. You stay here and do not cause trouble, mind you.
Prik will take care of the household in my place in the matter of meal preparation. You have nothing to
worry about.”

Kate smiles awkwardly but her heart is warmed by the mixture of thoughtfulness and warning. Even with
the death of a senior family member to face, Lady Champa is still concerned that her niece may cause
trouble. Karaket’s behavior must have been insufferable!

Kate sends the lady and her two accompanying servants off at the pier. She sighs deeply and walks back
to the house, crossing paths with Muen Sunthorn in a casual shirt with an all-purpose cloth on his waist,
followed by Cherm. It looks like they are going out. She pays no mind to them but walks straight up and
sits down to watch Phraya Hora scribing and making a copy of some book.

“What are you doing, Uncle sir?”

“I am making a copy of Chindamani to give to the Wat Yai Chaimongkol temple. I find other scribes’
handwriting not up to my standard.” The kindly man pauses from his work to answer her question.

“Chindamani…Oh, yes. The first textbook of the Thai...um...Siamese language.”

“Are you aware of it?”

“This book is from your own authorship and penmanship, is it not?” she asks.

“Your words are very weird.” The old man frowns and stares at her, making her nervous and trying to
make some lame excuses.

“Um…After my recovery this time, I seem to be forgetful, Uncle sir.”

“Is it so? Your understanding is correct. This textbook was initiated by the King who commissioned me to
write it. You certainly must remember that I am the King’s chief Advisor.”

“Yes, Uncle. May I read it, sir?”

“Can you read?”

“I should be able to, if the writing is not too difficult.”

“Your father must have taught you to read and write, eh? That was wise of him. Female offspring of
peerage should have some knowledge of letters.” He hands her a dark-colored book, which she takes in
her hand and finds it to be of black paper. She cranes her neck to look at the pencil that Phraya Hora is
writing with and sees that it is of white lead. Despite a hundred questions that come to mind in an instant,
she bites her tongue and sits down to read Chindamani. She smiles with satisfaction.

I can read it fine, ha! What a surprise!

The textbook is very interesting because it includes the many types of versification and how to write them.
Examples are given for illustration together with charts. It is easy to understand, though the penmanship
has such a dizzying, flourishing style. Some letters of the alphabet require a wild guess to match with the
modern equivalent. However, they bear enough resemblance to be recognizable. There are only 38 letters
in this ancient alphabet, instead of the 44 of use in the modern day. Although some vowels are placed in
different order, all in all it is a pleasure to read.

“Do you have other books too? Books with stories, perhaps.”

“I have some poetry and verses in many forms of versification. Do you want to read them?”

“Yes, sir. It’s boring to stay idle with nothing to do.”

“The books are in the library. If you want to look for some to read, you are welcome.” Phin grins widely
and discreetly as she recognizes that normally the library is out of bound for anyone else except to the
patriarch and his son. Even Lady Champa enters only occasionally to clean up.

“Yes, sir. I thank you, Uncle sir. You are so kind.” The old man looks at the flattering smile with
compassion, as he has tended to take pity on her from the start. Even though he feels a little surprised
with her attitude and speech, it is a pleasant surprise and he feels at ease.

“If you would like to study some versification, I shall be glad to teach you.”
 “Um…I might not be good at it. Actually I would love to lessen your burden in copying the book, but I know
for a fact that my penmanship will be a sorry sight.” Just reading makes her dizzy enough. If she should try
penmanship, she will use up the whole eraser in no time. And her modern handwriting will certainly give
contemporary students of Chindamani a lot of headaches.

Kate enjoys reading Chindamani until it is too dark to keep reading. Phraya Hora has already stopped
working and has gone down to bathe at the pier. She is next in line. After bathing, she comes back on the
house just in time to see the return of Muen Sunthorn. He reeks of whiskey again.

“Super! No exception to get drunk! Not even on an observance day!” Kate mumbles to herself while
casting a look at Phraya Hora who seems to accept his son’s wayward behavior very well. He calls out to
his son, inviting him to dinner in the normal tone of voice.

“Go and bathe, Dej, so you can join us at dinner.”

“Yes, Father.” His eyes glance towards her in a bathing cloth covered with a large cloth walking into her
room, but do not even acknowledge her presence.

“Good grief! If I had known that he was coming back, I would have played in the water longer, just to keep
him waiting.” Kate mutters her vengeful thoughts as she hurries to her quarters. When she comes out, she
finds that the central pavilion has been readied for the family meal. Flickering torches and lamplights
create an aura of magic that fascinates her.

In this first meal without her, Lady Champa’s absence is palpable. Although the lady doesn’t seem to like
Kate much, she serves as a middle ground – an intermediary who initiates conversations with her husband
and son. Without her, everyone eats in silence. The verbal exchanges are sparse and mostly man-talk.
After dinner, the company breaks up quietly and everyone goes to their own rooms.

The next morning, Kate steps up in place of Lady Champa to head the morning ritual of giving alms to the
monks, with Prik as her assistant. Prik must have the position equivalent to the modern-day housekeeper.
At first, Prik looks at her disapprovingly, neither scowling nor smiling. But when she notices that Kate does
not act superior or speak abusively as she used to, Prik warms up and makes cordial conversation. On the
contrary, the smiling Kate engages them in conversation politely and sweetly like a young girl curious to
learn new things.

“Is this vegetable edible? It’s not morning glory, is it?” Kate asks when she sees Prik ordering a young
kitchen helper to pick up leaves from a vine which looks like morning glory, but has dark, hairy leaves.

“Fresh pria-krong is not edible, milady, but its leaves can be shredded, soaked, squeezed and seasoned to
be left standing until it thickens like jelly, milady.”

“Oh…this is how they made jello in the olden days.”

“It can be served either as savory or sweet dishes, milady.”

“Interesting!”

Some days Kate visits the kitchen, but she still dares not do much there. Back at home in her days, she
was the sous-chef under Chef Grandma Nuan. The more she sees the goings-on in the kitchen, the more
she misses her old folks. Right now Grandma is probably waiting to make the delectable cho muang
dumpling for her in vain. What’s happening to her body now, she wonders? Only keep it alive, please.
Hopefully, one day she will find a way out of Karaket’s body and even if her own body is in a vegetative
state, she must be able to find a way back in.

Phin and Yam keep urging her to serve a wet towel, tea and sweetmeats to please Muen Sunthorn
always. And day after day, he keeps ignoring her. She’s now quite used to being brushed aside. Although
upset initially, she has now learned to act dutifully while laughing secretly at the faces of the handmaids
who flip from full-gear support to total glumness and disappointment upon their mistress being rejected.
Over the past four or five days, Kate keeps puzzling about her khun pi’s daily return from work reeking
deep in whiskey.

“Is he drinking to win a trophy or something?”

“What did you say, milady?”

“That Muen Sunthorn, of course. He would die of cirrhosis at a young age.”

 “You should not say such a thing, milady. It is as if you put a curse on him. If people overhear you, you
can get into trouble.”

“Very well. But I don’t get it. He’s a pathological drinker. How can Lady Chanwad have feelings for such a
drunkard? Hmm… there’s something bizarre in this…” What Kate can’t help wondering is that he comes
back home reeking in alcohol yet every other day he is soaked in sweat too. Surely, she cannot contain
her curiosity.

“Cherm!” The valet starts at being called when he comes out of Muen Sunthorn’s quarters.

“Did you just put away the royally-bestowed cloth? Is Lord Muen hanging out with his drinking companion
as usual?” With this volley of questions, Cherm can only get down on his knees and laughs like he doesn’t
know what answer to give.

“Well, laugh as you will, but I asked you questions, and you must answer.”

“Yes, milady.”

“Where is he drinking today? At the Convent public pier market as before?”

“No, milady.”

“Hmm…I miss Miss Mali and I want to give her a visit. Any day Lord Muen goes there, you have to bring
me along, Cherm.” The valet is confounded by her request.

“Um…I do not think I can do that, milady.”

“Why not? You have to go back to fetch him anyway. All you do is take me along to see Miss Mali and
then come back together with Lord Muen. We can do that without wasting his time by all means.”

“You have to ask permission from either Lord Phraya or Lord Muen before I can do that. Otherwise I will
be chastised.”

“All right. I will ask permission from my uncle.” This card is not difficult to deal. Phraya Hora is kind and he
will surely give her permission.

“By the way, where is Lord Muen drinking today?”

“Um...Um...” The look of guilt in this honest servant makes the “pariah of Ayodhya” chuckle.

“Never mind. You do not need to answer if you don’t want to. You can go now.” Like a prisoner being
released from shackles, Cherm sighs in relief before kneeling off to a distance and striding away from the
house.

“Pi Phin, can you row a boat?”

“I can, milady. I row very well.”

“Super! Can we follow Cherm in a boat?”

“What!” Phin screams in shock. Yam slaps her chest with alarm as well.

“Follow me, quickly. C’mon!” Without waiting for an answer, Kate runs down the stairs, followed by the two
handmaids who look like they would prefer to die instead. At the pier, they plead breathlessly to stop their
mistress.

“Milady, please! This cannot bode well.”

“Tell me, do you prefer to row in tears or with dry eyes? Hurry up you two. Cherm’s boat almost reaches
the canal mouth over there.” Kate steps on the boat, so driven by curiosity she forgets her fear of flipping
the boat and urges her handmaids to be quick. Given no choice, Phin and Yam board the boat with much
hesitation before syncing their rowing and steering after Cherm’s boat.

“Good! Two rowers are faster than one surely. We can catch up with him in no time.” The passenger, who
has no rowing skill, evaluates the situation while gathering her thin sabai and tucking it in against the wind.
She has had no time to prepare for this spontaneous outing, so she did not put on an inner blouse. She
only has a huge satin sabai to cover herself. Out of the Klab Canal, they start to look around for Cherm’s
boat. Rowboats all look alike to her. Yam spots it first and yells out. The two handmaids hasten their
rowing to catch him.

“Whoa! Now we speed like a race boat. Pi Phin and Pi Yam, you row past Cherm and stay ahead of him,
so he won’t notice he’s being followed.” Movie experience tells her that good detectives on surveillance
always overtake their mark as if they are not tailing him. However, because row boats have no brake, by
the time they notice that Cherm has pulled over at the pier on the right before reaching the floating market
at the mouth of Kujam Canal, Kate’s boat has passed it and almost reached Pompej Fort. The two
handmaids turn their boat back, afraid of the whirlpool at the so-called Sunken Junk Ships Village where
junk ships often capsize. Their only passenger who is also commander-in-chief of this boat sits oblivious to
the imminent danger. Her mind is only on the matter at hand, which is to follow Cherm who just
disembarked and is walking into a temple.

“What is the pier at which Cherm disembarked called, Pi Phin?”

“The Buddhaisawan Temple pier, milady, at the mouth of Kujam Canal.”

Arriving at the Buddhaisawan Temple pier, Yam disembarks first, and helps Kate to step up next.
Meanwhile, Phin holds on to the stern to steady the boat and then ties the rope over it and points in the
direction of Cherm. Kate runs after him, hiding behind shrubs as much as possible. The two handmaids
run after her while wiping sweat from their brows. As they walk further, they seem to be in an orchard or
deep forest beyond the temple’s perimeter. And they have lost sight of Cherm’s back. They stand
disoriented.

“Where did he go now? Is there a drinking joint around here, Pi Phin?”

“I cannot know, milady. Let us go back now.”

“How can we? We don’t know yet where they are.” Kate insists.

“Milady, please! Should Lord Muen find us here, we shall be heavily chastised.” Her whispering warning
turns quiet as there is some noise in the distance.

“Pi Phin and Pi Yam, do you hear what I hear?”

“We…we do, milady. Is it a ghost there?” The fearful Yam asks in a trembling voice.

“What ghost can come out in broad daylight like this? Let us follow that noise onward.”

The noise sounds like thudding of something heavy. Thud-thud-thud and clanking of iron. The nearer, the
louder. What a surprise! Out of the bushes, the source of the noise reveals itself. Good Lord! Those six-
packs! Those muscles! My oh my! This is definitely a bodybuilder competition - or something.

“Hey, where are you from?” A male voice calls out from behind, startling the three women. Kate turns
around abruptly. At the sight of him, she yells out his name.

“Ruang!” The man who received the address is stunned and speechless.

“Do you know me?” Muen Ruang stares at the sweet face of the lady in front of him, dumbfounded. His
present thought is that she is so divinely beautiful, a perfectly endowed woman of stunning beauty, perfect
in all facial features—lips, neck, brows, cheeks and chin. She can melt any man’s heart on sight. Without
the company of the two plain-looking servants, he would mistake her for a sprite, surely.

“Hey! Are you…?” Kate exclaims and approaches so close to him that he is taken aback and recedes in
confusion.

“You are not Ruangrit.” If it is really Ruangrit, he has changed a lot – especially his hairstyle, a shaved
head leaving only middle-parted tresses on top., He has black teeth, dark skin and is much more muscular
than her Ruangrit. His bare chest captures her eyes even though she already fell for him in another
faraway life.

“My name is Muen Ruang Rajbhakdi. It is common knowledge that my birthname is Ruang. I am the son of
Phraya Visut Sakorn. What is your parentage, young lady? How did you end up in this place?” Muen
Ruang asks with much misgiving. He is aware that this place is charmed to hide from trespassers’ eyes.
Without permission, no one can possibly enter the charmed perimeter.

“I walked in. We followed the man called Cherm in here...um, sir.” Moments earlier, her heart missed a few
beats at suddenly finding the man of her dreams here but now it is back on track. She starts to feel relaxed
with him when her heart plummets again upon hearing a familiar voice from behind.

“Karaket, how did you turn up in this place?” The weak-knee’d Phin and Yam drop to the ground
immediately. Kate nearly wishes she could do the same, but she restrains herself.

“I…um…I…” No word comes out of her mouth. Guilty as charged, Your Honor. Kate keeps her head down
at being caught red-handed.

“Karaket…is this lady your intended, Dej? And you said…” Muen Ruang walks around to stand beside his
friend and closely eyes the woman in front. “And you said she was not beautiful. If she is not beautiful, no
one else in the entire Ayodhya is. She is like an angel walking the earth.” His twinkling eyes never leave
Kate’s face for a single moment.

On her part, Kate cries aha to herself and looks back at the gaze of her sworn enemy. This prig bad-
mouthed me with his buddy, criticizing me for not being beautiful. Ha! I’m not letting it go. But for now…

“Go back home now! As for you, Cherm, you truly deserve heavy flogging.” His command comes with an
impending sentence to his valet. Cherm darts forward with severe alarm. On seeing Kate, he reacts as if
he saw a ghost. He drops on his knees glumly.

“Cherm did nothing wrong. I am to blame for this. I followed him without his knowledge.” Kate defends him
fiercely as she does not want to be the cause of trouble for anyone else. Muen Sunthorn’s handsome face
turns red and green with rage. At a time like this, no one dares to counter him. Yet this lady who is his
house-mate defies and challenges him when she should be utterly silent.

“Patience, Dej” The black-teethed, muscular version of Ruangrit tries to calm down his friend.

“What is the matter?” a serene voice asks.

Kate turns to see who is speaking before sighing. And here comes, scene after scene, another character
out of a vaudeville, I presume.

Now even the two Muens drop to their knees, while she remains the last one standing - not knowing
better.

“Master!” The two men call out simultaneously as they greet him with a wai. Master is an old man with a
long white beard. Tall, muscular and sinewy, he looks robust despite his white hair and beard and an aging
face. He is clad in a white robe, not unlike the robes worn by Phraya Hora and Muen Sunthorn on the day
she arrived in Karaket’s body. She decides to follow suit and drop to her knees.

The eyes of the Master, as clear as perfect glass balls, shine brightly when meeting Kate’s. The
unfathomable depth and darkness of his black irises do not merely scrutinize take in her outer appearance
but rather read her to the profound depth of her soul.

“You passed through the charm. You are no ordinary being, girl. Follow me.” The Master’s kindly but
authoritative voice makes the two men look up unexpectedly. However much their suspicion, they know
too well that this is not the time to intervene. Their upbringing tells them that, unless spoken to, the
younger ones should not initiate a conversation.

Kate rises and follows the elderly man in white robe as if she has no control over her body. She is
perfectly conscious of her actions, though. All rise and follow in droves. Phin and Yam walk while
practically hugging each other tightly. The atmosphere of the forest seems different from natural forests. It
is chilly and dead-silent as if it were timeless. No birds and wildlife are seen anywhere.

Upon their arrival at the weapon-training arena, all able-bodied men halt their drills and stare at the
intruders with suspicion. On seeing the Master, they revert to their exercises. As far as Kate notices, the
men are being trained in sabers, long swords, short swords, clubs, poles and boxing. They soon come to
a bamboo shack with a raised platform. Everyone climbs up to sit on the bamboo porch covered with reed
mats.

The Master speaks first. “This woman has no malice in her mind, Muen Sunthorn. Do not worry. She is
merely curious and inquisitive as an intellectual person. She is in search of truth and knowledge. Or do you
not have faith in my invisibility charm?”

“Because of my complete faith, Master, I was surprised by her intrusion.”

“That is because…she is not from here.” His word is understood to mean Karaket is originally from
Songkwae and that the Master’s charm has limitations. But Kate is agape.

“How is it possible that you know?” she wonders aloud.

“Karaket, it is not your place to speak up and when you do, speak with reverence.” Her critic always
remains her critic. Kate throws a look at her intended before turning to gaze at “the Master” with utmost
curiosity.

“You can call me Master White-Robe, girl. Have you ever meditated?”

“I have, Master. My grandmother had me sit in meditation every day before bed. But since I came to live
here, I haven’t done it.” Kate’s answer makes the two handmaids in their prostrating position frown in
confusion. Their mistress is not a pious person; she rarely goes to the temple, and even making alms
round offering is a once-in-the-blue-moon occurrence, so meditation must have occurred in her dreams.

“The severity of your case is beyond imagination,” the Master continues, acknowledging that what has
happened to Kate is not the natural order of things. “The mind has no bond, only the soul does to have
come this far. If you should commit help her, please see it through to the end. Do not abandon Karaket,
please.” So far, only Master White-Robe and Kate comprehend the enormity of his word.

“Even if I want to abandon now, there is nothing I can do, sir.” Kate answers meekly. The only way she can
come up with to leave Karaket’s body is suicide. And that is simply unthinkable.

“Do not think so far ahead of yourself. You shall yet find, fix and get over with things beyond your ken. All
right then. Take this and learn it by heart.” His big hand pulls an old booklet from his shoulder bag and
hands it to Kate. She looks down to read and finds only two sentences in old Pali. “Did you get it
memorized?”

“I did, sir.” Citti cittam; kappiyam mahacitti. Piece of cake!

“Before this mantra, you must recite three rounds of the namo incantation. You need not say it aloud for
anyone to hear. Now say it in your mind, visualizing the letters as when you meditate with a Buddho
mantra and scrolling the word Buddho continually.” Kate makes as if to recite the mantra.

“This mantra, although very short, is very powerful, depending upon the purity and focus of concentration
of the reciter. If you should find yourself in a dreadful situation, say it mentally and it will give you
mindfulness. Should you want to escape from a dire situation, this mantra shall conceal your body and
prevent the enemy from seeing your physical form.” His voice is heard in her mind without him moving his
lips. Kate is wide-eyed and speechless, which makes the white-robed old man chuckle.

“Bah! Instead of reciting it as instructed, you just sit and stare with your mouth open!”

Kate shuts her mouth before shutting her eyes and follows his instructions. In an instance, she hears a
wonderstruck gasp from all around. She opens her eyes and looks down at herself. Utterly in awe, she
does not see her body. Her body has disappeared into thin air. She can see through it to the reed mat she
is sitting on.

“In a real situation, you need not shut your eyes, you know. Only hold on to a mental image.”

“Exactly. If I shut my eyes running from enemies, I must bump into things and fall over. Then I must be
caught in the act of escaping. Haha!” Kate retorts mentally, but Master White-Robe laughs out loud before
putting a bite of betel and areca into his mouth. He continues to chuckle at the lady in front of him. A
moment later, her opaque body reappears in full size.

Super! Kate now realizes that magic and sorcery and witchcraft -- all the what-have-you of the occults
recounted from generation to generation -- really exist. She is experiencing it right before her very eyes.

“So do you have other spells, like lock-picking, turning a tamarind leaf into a wasp, or transforming a
buffalo into an arrow?” asks Kate, rattling off spells from the repertoire of voodoo she has read about.

“I do. I can make a bite of betel and areca fly too.”

“Wow! From what I’ve heard, there is one spell that puts people to deep sleep too, isn’t there, sir?”

“Yes, there is.”

 “Well…that can be horrible, you know. What if you fall asleep and someone violates you. Yuck! What can
you do?” Master White-Robe laughs, spilling areca spit from his mouth, which is an usual sight for his
pupils who tell legends that the Master is more ferocious than a harrowing tiger. Truth be told, it is
inconceivable to see the presence of a woman in this place, let alone in good camaraderie with the Master.
It is simply incredible.

Muen Sunthorn frowns slightly with little understanding of what is going on between the two of them, not
the least their verbal and mental exchange. Yet, he is smart enough to come to a conclusion that Karaket
must have something in common with the Master, or as old saying goes, they share certain good karma.
Moreover, the Master has accepted her as his pupil. She must be his very first female pupil too. It eases
his mind somewhat. Perhaps his suspicion of her guilt of masterminding the sinking of Lady Chanwad’s
boat is unfounded. It must have been someone else who was aiming to hurt Chaophraya Kosa, he now
presumes conclusively.

Muen Ruang looks with fascination at the bold manner and the dauntless speech of the lady in front of
him. His thick, curled lips spread into nonstop smiles which show dimples on his dark cheeks. He finds her
manner and tone of voice compellingly attractive. She casts a spell on him like a beautiful nightingale. He
would be better off if she were not his best friend’s intended. Her noble birth can make him proud to have
her as his first wife

“Your suspicion of Muen Sunthorn must be cleared up by asking him. I will not have a hand in it.” The
Master suggests.

“What is your suspicion of me?” Muen Sunthorn asks in his usual grave tone.

“I suspect…um…wonder why you get yourself drunk every day until it has become the talk of town, khun
pi? And I wonder why you do not appear drunk like a drunken man. It looks like a show, rather…um...like
you want to be seen as drunk by everyone else. When you return home, you do not seem to be drunk,
though you reek of alcohol, no doubt.”

Muen Ruang laughs hard with his shoulders bobbing up at the set of continuous questions. He looks at
his friend with sparks in his eyes, wondering what such a quiet man who lives an ascetic life shall answer
to those questions. His friend Dej does not disappoint.

“I uphold the Five Precepts.” Those who wait to hear his answer nearly fall backward.

“That’s it? Is that all you can answer, khun pi?” asks Kate.

“How else do you expect me to answer? You are clever enough to think for yourself. And do not speak and
spread nonsense. This time I forgive you for overly prying, but do not conduct yourself in this way again.
Take leave from the Master now. Cherm and I will escort you back home.” He seems to distrust her
openly, lest she stray off-course and wander about. Muen Sunthorn has to make sure to drop her off at the
house. Obligingly, she bows to Master White-Robe and takes leave of him.

He nods to her kindly and hands her three pieces of eight-strand black ropes without a word. Kate takes
them from his hand and has no clue at first, but then she smiles broadly and tells Phin and Yam to extend
their hand before tying their wrist with the rope, one each. Then, she asks Phin to tie one around her wrist
before leaving the shack.

CHAPTER TEN
Kosa Lhek and Kosa Pan

Kate casts a look at Muen Ruang as if they have some unfinished business. Believing in reincarnation, she
wonders if this Muen Ruang might possibly be her friend “Ruang” or “Ruangrit” in another life. Or
scientifically speaking, Muen Ruang might be Ruangrit’s great, great, great, great, great, great grandfather
as they bear incredible resemblance and identical name. Her smiling glance at him makes Muen Ruang
grin complacently.

“Dej, can I come along too?” At that, Muen Sunthorn’s calm composure turns even more contained.

“What harm can you do? Come along if you must. Did I put shackles on your legs?” And he fumes off
suddenly. His calm mind is stirred up. That Karaket, ha! Shame on her for being such a flirt. Even his best
friend caught her vibes. He knows too well that his friend loves joviality and teasing. Since puberty he has
had a houseful of slave wives. He may not be culpable on this matter, though. The woman looked at him
with such twinkling eyes.

Muen Ruang looks at his friend’s attitude and laughs to himself. Wonder if his resentful reaction and brisk
walk-off are because of jealousy or anger, or maybe both. If it’s jealousy, ha! What fun! And he said he
disliked the girl. But who can know anyone else’s mind better than the person himself? That Karaket is
such a heart-stopper. It is already a wonder that Muen Sunthorn has resisted the temptation after living in
the same house for a year without moving forward.

“I am seeing you off at the pier here. Is that all right? I shall walk straight back home from here.” Muen
Ruang holds his ground.

“That is fine by me,” is his friend’s stand-offish reply.

The tall, muscular fellow, no less tall and muscular than his friend Dej, remains standing to see the two
boats off at the pier before starting to walk back to his house next-door to the monastery. Ah, he says to
himself, no need now to find his friend any other woman for a wife. This Karaket is a perfect match in her
looks, birth and intelligence. Her manner of speaking may sound peculiar. Though she is chatty, she
speaks no nonsense. It is quite amazing that Master White-Robe seems to be fond of her. She is indeed
some extraordinary girl.

Meanwhile, Kate boards the boat and reminds herself of Muen Sunthorn’s word about his upholding the
Five Precepts all along. She knows they include no taking of life; no taking what does not belong to one;
no sexual misconduct; no untruths; and no alcoholic or substance abuse.

“The Five Precepts…that must exclude drinking.” She stares at the rowboat ahead of her, only half-
enlightened. The other half of the question is why? Why does the man in the boat in front of her feign to
be an infamous, talk-of-town drunkard? Disembarking at the pier, she catches up with him.

“Wait, please. I want to know.” Her big staring eyes put him at a surprise attack disadvantage.

“What is it that you want to know?” he asks.

“Why do you have to pretend to be drunk?” Kate asks forthrightly.

“It is not your business to know.”

“But I’m curious…um...does Uncle know about it too?” When she can’t pry open his mouth, her strategy is
to allude to Phraya Hora. This comes as a total surprise to Muen Sunthorn. Now he surmises what’s on
her mind.

“Do not think for a moment that you will get the answer from my father.”

“And why not? Is it classified information?” Kate drags her voice teasingly, but what she sees is a stunned
shock on his face. “Well…then it must be an official secret.”

“You are so…so very devious. All right. All of you, go wherever you need to go. Do not follow us up to the
house until I summon you. Karaket, follow me.”

Kate smiles slyly to herself, as her curiosity is about to be satisfied. The three servants stare wide-eyed
again, as they watch their master and mistress walking up to the house.

The small pavilion near Karaket’s quarters is the venue Muen Sunthorn has chosen for their meeting. He
sits down and takes a deep breath.

“Go ahead and ask me what it is that you suspect? I shall answer what I can.”

“The reason for your drinking like a dipsomaniac is for people to regard you as a good-for-nothing, isn’t
it?” Muen Sunthorn looks at her lovely face in surprise. He did not expect her to get it right at the first shot.
Man! His silent gaze is so sharp and penetrating that it unsettles her.

“That is correct.” Another sigh signals a decision-making moment. Kate waits for him to continue. “You
know I have a mere rank of a Muen, whereas my brother who has been in royal service since a young age
was promoted to Jamuen at the age of twenty, having enjoyed the King’s favor. Because of his closeness
to the King and because he outwitted someone, he was falsely implicated and was exiled to a remote
province far from home. My father took it hard. He suffers tremendously day in and day out. He did not
want my brother to go into royal service in the first place.” Muen Sunthorn’s preamble is extensive, going
back to the root cause.
“Because he had astrological readings predicting Sriprat to have a short life, did he not?” Kate asks as she
remembers having read the legendary tale somewhere.

“Do you know about that too? Oh, my father told you about it, did he not?” Kate merely smiles, as if
conceding to his conclusion. “My father was too afraid to read my fortune and future. He did not want me
to go into royal service. But I wanted to take up this career path against his advice. Khun Pan…um, Phra
Visut…vouched for me and promised to take care of me himself. Therefore, I work in the Department of
Finance under Phra Visut and Chaophraya Kosa.

“Khun Pan and Khun Lhek, the famous brothers!”

“Khun Pan and Khun Lhek are pupils of the same master as you and I. So they pledged to my father to
have me under their wings.”

The newest pupil of the Master, which makes her a younger classmate of the famous historical brothers,
Kosa Pan and Kosa Lhek, as well as the man in front of her, remains speechless for a long while before
slowly nodding repeatedly.

“Oh, I see. I see. Because of the fear that someone may try to fabricate evidence against you out of envy,
just as your brother Jamuen Sri before you was accused, you have to act debaucherously so no one will
think you are their rival. Is that right?” Kate summarizes.

“It is not merely for that matter. Some of it is classified information which I cannot share with you in its
entirety. You are but a woman. You are not supposed to have knowledge of the affairs of the state. Only
keep in mind that the Master, Muen Ruang and I wish to be seen as pathological drunkards. That is all
there is to it.”

“Pathological drunkards…” Pathological drunkards! The term rings familiar. She has a vague memory of
reading some chronicles about pathological drunkards, but that memory is so elusive it is infuriating to her.

Muen Sunthorn looks at the profile of the woman who seems lost in thought. He is aware of his shifting
feeling toward her. It is not that he has never talked with her, but their past conversation never showed the
woman’s good sense. However, he does not know if it was because the Master has taken her under his
wings or because of the bright, intelligent eyes that caught his in curiosity that he decided to let her in on
his secret.

And their discussion reveals that she has brains no less sharp than anyone. She is perspicacious and,
perhaps, too shrewd. He is even surprised at himself. Today he has conversed with Karaket more than all
the time they had spent together in the past whole year.

“Karaket.”

“Yes.” Kate starts when Karaket’s name is called.

“You are beginning to go out. I do not know if your manner of looking at other men is a habit or a slip of
mind. However, it is inappropriate by all means. If that behavior is seen by anyone else, they will criticize
you for impropriety, as my father’s niece, behind your back. A woman who is a flirt is a disgrace to this
family.” At that, the tall frame rises from the floor and walks to the central pavilion, leaving her to absorb
the full meaning of this advice.

“Gosh! That prick! That Muen Sunthorn accused me of flirting? Damn it! That man and I simply can’t have
one good conversation without a derogatory remark. Instead of being hit on the head then patted on the
back as the old adage goes, he pats me on my back, then hits me on my head. What a jerk!” She hears
him call his valet loud and clear. Though she wants to get up and pick a fight with him, she knows that it is
not the right thing to do under the circumstances.

“Flirting, damn it! When did I flirt and with whom? This guy surely is biased to a fault against Karaket. He’s
surely out of his mind.” The sight of the two grinning handmaids approaching is so funny that her anger
abates.

“What’s the matter with you, Pi Phin and Pi Yam? All smiles and beaming from ear to ear, both of you. Is
there anyone hitting on you?” Kate teases the two servants who receive it with a funny face.

“What does ‘hitting on’ mean, milady?”

“It means wooing.”

“Whoa! There is no one, milady. We are spinsters who will become your dependent old maids until the
day we die.”

“Be my guest. And I will put you in my will in case I have to be gone, so you will have something to live on.”

“What do you mean? Where will you be gone? And what do you mean by your will? What will is it?” Phin
is a fast learner; she picks up the habit of firing questions in no time. Kate laughs at the questions. The
naïve Yam laughs along without making much sense of it. She feels at ease having seen her mistress and
Muen Sunthorn engaged in a long, cordial conversation.

There seems to be some excitement in the household. A servant came up to report on something to Muen
Sunthorn. Phraya Hora heard it and came out of his bedroom. A while later, a group of visitors come up to
the house. The ever-curious Kate walks over to see the goings-on. Without much ado, Chaophraya Kosa
speaks up first.

“Something important has happened, Phraya Hora. A foreign junk ship that just arrived into port informed
me that our junk ship on Siam’s first diplomatic mission sank in a storm near Madagascar. First Envoy
Phra Pipat Rajmaitri, Second Envoy Luang Srivisarn Sunthorn, Third Envoy Khun Nakorn Vichai and
everyone on board were killed. No survivors were found. Your prognostication comes true so accurately.”

“That was what I said would happen,” replies Phraya Hora, venting both frustration and anger. “I told the
King that we should wait another four years to send a mission. But that farang advisor did not believe me.
He encouraged the King to send a mission immediately. Our people went to their unfortunate deaths. It is
infuriating.”

Kate stands, wide-eyed, listening before turning to order the servants to get some tea and sweetmeats for
the visitors. She glances at Lady Chanwad who has accompanied her father and smiles at her to foster
friendship.

Everyone sits down on the reed mat at the central pavilion. Greetings and wai-ing go around respectively
and hierarchically. The guests sip the tea they are served. Lady Chanwad lifts her eyes to look at Muen
Sunthorn before turning to find Kate smiling at her. Her big eyes open a little wider and she smiles back
tentatively.

“This is the business that I brought to your house and wished for your help. I also brought my brother
Khun Pan with me.” Chaophraya Kosa cuts to the chase.

At that, Kate turns her stare at the future Phraya Kosa Pan with interest. He is a tall man who carries
himself proudly and has eyes of an intelligent scholar. He is himself gazing at her with interest.

“Lady Karaket, is it not? Your beauty precedes you. Have you recovered from your ailments? I have
never seen you around previously whenever I paid a visit here. You were always ill-disposed and stayed in
your room.” His greeting turns every pair of eyes to Kate.

“I am well now, your lordship. It must be the blessing of the Krishna-Kali spell, I figure.” She takes the
occasion to exonerate herself from being implicated for the sunken boat incident.

“Her physical health has recovered but her mental health must be somewhat off, your lordship Phra Visut.
Her speech thus sounds peculiar.”

Needless to say, the accuser of her ailing mental health is none other than Muen Sunthorn. Kate throws a
hostile glance at him and sees Lady Chanwad’s sweet eyes looking at him. Kate has to keep her temper in
check. Ha! Double standards. Plain and clear. Lady Chanwad looks at him with saccharine eyes and he
merely smiles uncritically. He does not seem upset as when he accused her, Kate, of flirting. A real jerk,
he is!

“What do you have in mind that I can help? Pray tell me. If it is not over my head, I shall do my best to
help.” Phraya Hora cuts off the fuming feud by inquiring into the purpose of the visit.

“I shall advise the King that my brother Khun Pan is a highly knowledgeable and competent candidate to
serve as our envoy on this historic mission,” says Chaophraya Kosa. “He will need some time to learn the
foreign language. I shall ask that the next mission be held back for four years as you have prognosticated.
Do you think that it is a reasonable proposal?”

Kate is all ears. She does the mental math. That would be B.E. 2229, or A.D. 1686. But another important
event crosses her mind, which is the demise of Chaophraya Kosa before that date. She looks at the
middle-aged man with a heavy heart. How can she warn him of his impending premature death?

“It makes very good sense, indeed,” replies Phraya Hora. “Khun Pan is a wise scholar. Besides, by his
actions, he has made it known that Siam is not without shrewd men. I shall put in a good word to His
Majesty. My only fear is that that farang will sabotage our plan.”

“And I would like your permission to have your son Dej in the position of Third Envoy too.” Silence drops
right after the statement-cum-request of Chaophraya Kosa. Muen Sunthorn’s sparkling eyes look at Phra
Visut, a.k.a. Khun Pan, with gratitude. He knows for a fact that the man, who is his superior, must
nominate him for this position. Phraya Hora heaves a long sigh when he looks at his son’s face and knows
what’s on his mind.

“For the sake of the nation, if you think my son is right for the job as Third Envoy, I shall not object to the
proposition.” The answer brings smiles to everyone’s faces. Out of the blue, Muen Sunthorn turns around
to tell Kate in a serious tone of voice.

“Karaket, since my mother is away and women should not stay and listen to official business, please leave
us and go into your room now.”

“Lady Chanwad is a woman and she can stay and listen. So why can’t I?” It would be unlike Kate to
condone such inequitable treatment. This guy is using double standards again! Only his paramour can
stay and listen. Bull!

Muen Sunthorn and Phraya Hora make as if they don’t believe their ears at Kate’s protest. All through the
past year, whatever came from the mouth of Muen Sunthorn was treated as sacred words that Karaket
followed without argument.

Chaophraya Kosa and Lady Chanwad find it hard to react too. Phra Visut is the only one who chuckles in
his throat.

“Lady Chanwad knows everything but you, you would find it boring listening to our discussion,” Muen
Sunthorn reasons.

Well, he seems to be thinking for everyone else. How considerate! Kate sighs. She is so mad she knows
not what to do to get back at him.

“And I know nothing of it? I have more than an inkling of the diplomatic mission to France. I also know
something about the jealousy in the royal court and plots to get rid of the King’s favorites. But all right then,
if you do not want me to stay, I shall not stay. But before I leave, may I say something to his lordship
Chaophraya Kosa first?” Everyone is dumbfounded at what they hear.

“What would you like to say to me?” asks the Chaophraya.

“In the current position you hold, you must deal with farangs, in trade and commerce, finance and taxes
and tariffs. You must realize that there are people envious of your power and want to bring you down. Lady
Chanwad’s boat incident may owe to this reason. That time it was your daughter who took the blow, but
next time…um…that’s all I can say.” Kate was so preoccupied with giving the older man a warning that
she let it slip all the way. Seeing the shock in everyone’s face, she withdraws it by leaving, as she was
earlier dismissed.

“Wait, Lady Karaket.” Phra Visut stops her from leaving the scene. Kate puts up an innocent face and
turns to meet his shrewd eyes.

“Your lordship?”

“What do you mean by what you say? Did you learn anything from anywhere?”

Now I’m screwed!

“I did not learn anything from anywhere, your lordship.”

“What she said was out of insanity. Do not believe anything she said, sir. She talks too much without any
base of truth. As no one has taught her any manners or protocol. How can a junior say anything like that to
a senior?” Muen Sunthorn’s admonition is like putting oil on the embers of a fire.

“Whoa! And you will know how truthful this insane lady’s word is. I merely attempt a speculation.
Whatever the truth was or is, whatever will happen from now on is beyond my ken. Indeed, anyone with a
little brainwork can infer that the boat-sinking incident involving Lady Chanwad was out of the ordinary.
People may speculate and blame me for it. Only I know how untrue that is. And why can’t I suppose that
someone is looking to harm Chaophraya Kosa’s family. But surely my word is unreliable because I am
insane.” She subtly leads the listeners to suspect the boat tipping incident is part of a larger plot, but not
without a jab at Muen Sunthorn, despite being fully aware that Karaket and her lackeys were behind the
incident. She deftly flips the matter over, in order to offer a warning to Chaophraya Kosa that his life might
be in danger.

The two prostrating handmaids are trembling in dread as they know what really happened, afraid for
themselves and for their mistress. All they can do is to keep their heads down.

“And I believe that the person who is at the center of the rumors of the incident at the Convent public pier
market is really you.” Phra Visut remarks.

What! Rumors?

“Rumors? What are they in regard to, your lordship?” Kate walks back to sit down right by the scholarly
Phra.

“In regard to your verbal exchange with Luang Sura, young woman.” Phra Visut answers.

“What happened?” Muen Sunthorn and Phraya Hora exclaim simultaneously as they turn to Kate who
acts as if she has swallowed the bitterest plant in a large chunk. Intelligence in the olden days is quite up
to par. The incident occurred just a few days ago and it has reached the ear of a high-ranking official.

“This lady was rumored to speak a foreign language so fluently. She put Luang Sura in the crosshairs and
made him flee the scene in a haste. He was the laughing stock of all who witnessed it.” Phra Visut replies
to Phraya Hora before turning his curious eyes to Kate. “Did you learn the language from some
missionaries?”

“Um...something like that, I may say, your lordship.” In secondary school she went to a convent with
Catholic nuns who taught her French. At least, there is some truth in her claim. It is certainly not a
shameless lie.

Phin and Yam sneak a glance at each other. They know too well that their mistress has never studied
anything, let alone the Siamese language which she can only speak as her mother tongue. However, all of
a sudden, she turns out to be a reading companion with Phraya Hora and she speaks a foreign language
fluently. They can only guess that these baffling changes have resulted because of the Krishna-Kali spell.

“Were you converted?” asks Phra Visut.

“No, your lordship. I am a devout Buddhist.” Kate replies.

“Luang Sura has tried so hard to persuade His Majesty to convert, unsuccessfully of course. But he has
not given up trying, I presume. Of what nationality were the missionaries who taught you?” Phra visut
continues.

“They were Englishmen and Frenchmen, your lordship. I can also speak some Spanish and Japanese, not
too fluently but enough to go around and ask for food.”

“What do you say? Why did you have to ask the farangs for food?” Muen Sunthorn inquires with such
seriousness that it makes Kate smile.

At your wit’s end, eh, Lord Muen?

“It is only a figure of speech, khun pi. It means that I can survive in those foreign countries. It does not
mean that I really go around asking people for food,” explains Kate.

“In three or four years, Muen Sunthorn and I may have to speak French. If we take lessons with you, do
you think you can teach us?” asks Phra Visut.

“Um…that would seem difficult, your lordship. I am not good enough to teach anyone. I only know words
that are strung together. A diplomatic mission should require much better linguistic proficiency. I think
taking lessons with farang missionaries would be the best option. I can be your interpreter, though.” Kate
declines the teaching proposition quickly and makes a counter proposition herself promptly. She knows too
well that the language she has learned four hundred years from now has evolved so much. Vocabulary or
syntax may cause misunderstanding in international affairs. The best solution should be to have farangs of
today give them lessons.

“Is that so? These farangs are always soliciting us into conversion and they bother me a lot. I have
declined so many times and they still have not given up. Perhaps it is due to their relentless pursuit that
they gain remarkable progress on many fronts, as Luang Sura told us.” Kate merely smiles in consent.

“If there is nothing else, may I be excused from your further discussion? I would rather go downstairs than
stay idle in my bedroom.”

“Wait, Lady Karaket. Please bring Chanwad with you. My daughter must be bored to death listening to the
men discussing official business.” The friendly voice of Chaophraya Kosa Lhek lifts Kate’s morale a bit
higher. At least, she has chosen the right path in warning him, against the risk of being accused of insanity
or ignorance. It looks like now Lady Chanwad is believing that Karaket had nothing to do with the tragic
boat incident, as she obligingly follows her father’s instruction without reluctance. Kate nods and smiles at
her before leading the way downstairs.

After the two ladies and handmaids are all gone, Phra Visut speaks up.

“This lady Karaket is such a rare beauty. More importantly, she has sharp brains, and is highly intelligent
and wise. I only wish she were a man, so I would ask permission from Phraya Hora to have her working for
me in royal service like Dej. It is a pity that she was born a woman.”

“I should like to apologize on Karaket’s behalf, your lordship. Since she has recovered, she is a changed
person in manner and speech. Such bold words she spoke as if there were a curse on you.” Muen
Sunthorn feels the need to lend an excuse for the lady in question. He admires her way of thinking though,
as it is in line with his thinking. He is confident now that Karaket had nothing to do with the boat incident.
However, he is afraid that the elders will blame her for behaving in a manner that is so unladylike.

“That was not what she meant, my nephew,” says Chaophraya Kosa. “Karaket said the right thing. I am
aware of being the target of envy in the court circle. All considering, the people who serve His Majesty
closely, besides Phraya Hora, are only myself and Khun Pan. Having shared the breast from the same
woman since infancy, how could we not be close? My mother Chao Khrok is aware of this, so she keeps
warning me to beware of jealousy.” In public, Khun Lhek, Khun Pan, Phraya Hora and Muen Sunthorn
address each other by their respective ranks, but privately, they treat each other like close family. And, in
fact, they are all distantly related.

After that, the gang of four discusses strategies and plans for the future, domestically and internationally,
especially the imminent diplomatic mission to France in not so many years to come.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The front garden is now a familiar place for Kate as she has been here for a walk many times over the
past few days. She leads the way ahead of Lady Chanwad in a good mood. Seeing some green baby
mangoes, fruits the size of baby’s fist, her mouth waters. She turns around to ask her companion.

“Lady Chanwad, shall we have green mangoes with a sweet fish-sauce dip?”

“What are green mangoes with a sweet fish-sauce dip? I only used to have them with chili and salt dip.”

“Great! Then I shall make it for you. I guarantee it’s scrumptious.”

“Scrumptious?”

“Excellent, great-tasting, incomparable, that is. Pi Phin and Pi Yam, pick some mangoes, please. Only one
cluster is enough. About ten fruits, I guess. And follow me to the kitchen. Let’s go, Lady Chanwad.” Muean
and Boon, Chanwad’s handmaids, look at how Kate leads their mistress by the arm with caution. Muean
has seen Lady Karaket at her worst and has warned the new handmaid Boon, who is Daeng’s
replacement.

At the kitchen, Kate calls for fish sauce, palm sugar and shallots before walking over to harvest some chilis
herself. When she comes back, she cleans them and peels and slices shallots swiftly. Prik and other
scullery maids stop what they were doing before and stare in amazement, as they have never seen Lady
Karaket in the kitchen before.

After cutting up green chilis she picked by her own hand, she mixes the ingredients in a pot adding some
shrimp paste and simmers the mixture on a slow fire, sprinkling a few dried whole chilis for a zesty taste as
she had seen Grandma Nuan do. Phin and Yam come to the kitchen and start peeling the green mangoes
and cutting them into thin slices as instructed. Soon they have three platefuls.

“Too much of this will make you run, so we’ll share it with others. Nang, please send a plateful upstairs to
entertain the visitors. These two platefuls I shall have with Lady Chanwad.”

Lady Chanwad has had her eyes on the flurry of activity from Lady Karaket and is quite surprised. Lady
Karaket is behaving in the extreme opposite of how she acted in the past. Though somewhat paranoid,
Chanwad follows without protest.

“After your recovery this time, you look completely different, Lady Karaket.” Her innocent question is
posed because the speaker is dying of curiosity.

“So I was told by everyone.” The sassy girl leads the way to the riverfront pavilion.

Phin grabs a reed mat and lays it down before Yam puts a tray of mangoes with a sweet fish-sauce dip on
in the middle. Kate divides the dip into two bowls and hands the bigger plate of mangoes to the servants.

“You take this plate of mangoes and this bowl of dip and share them with Lady Chanwad’s handmaids.
Oh, if you have an unstoppable dysentery, do not blame me for it. So eat moderately and consider
yourselves warned.” Then, Kate digs in without much ado. To the onlookers, this snack must surely be
mouth-watering! Lady Chanwad cannot resist the temptation for her first try of this new dish. And bingo!
She can’t seem to stop too.

“Lady Chanwad, how old are you?”

“Seventeen. Did you not know my age?”

“Sorry, I forgot. Ever since my recovery I seem to have forgotten a lot of things. It must be the Krishna-Kali
spell that made me forget.” The old pretext is used again with effect, because Lady Chanwad and her
entourage seem to soften. They continue chitchatting with more ease.

The pleasant atmosphere by the canal is relaxing. They enjoy their afternoon camaraderie until it gets
darker. Then they move up to the house. Servants are carrying trays and talums containing food and
setting out the dinner. The four men who had moved inside to the study and were deeply engaged in
ongoing discussions have come out to sit on the floor for dinner. Phraya Hora seems to be in a good mood
when he speaks up.

“These past four or five days, my wife Champa is not home. Having meals in the company of three is quiet
and lonely. Today we have Khun Lhek, Khun Pan and Chanwad for dinner together. It must be more
appetizing for us. After dinner, shall we amuse ourselves with a poetry contest?”

“That seems appropriate for the occasion. I have wished to do some poetry with Phraya Hora for
amusement for a long time now. Lately, we have hardly had the pleasure of such diversions.” Chaophraya
Kosa accepts the challenge with delight.

CHAPTER ELEVEN
The Moonlit Night

After the scrumptious meal, savory dishes are replaced by dessert plates. Then slates and pencils are
sent for and distributed to everyone, except Kate.

“Karaket, are you not playing with us?” Phra Visut asks in surprise.

“She has never played it, sir. I wonder if she can compose verses.” Muen Sunthorn simply cannot drop
the habit of insulting her. How infuriating! Though pissed off, Kate knows too well that she is simply not in
their league when it comes to poetry.

“Then listen for a while. When you get the knack of it, someone as smart as you, Karaket, will be able to
enter the game.” Phra Visut is confident in his character judgment.

“Or you can go back to your room now.” Her pouting is so amusing that the chuckling Muen Sunthorn
cannot resist another stab.

Kate is not someone to let the in-your-face insult go unanswered.

“I have never played it, but if there are charts or something that illustrate the versifications with dead
syllables or rhyming, so I have the general idea of composition, I may be able to join the play, sir.” Her
mouth precedes her ability this time. Surely she must be too overconfident and assertive. Her command of
vocabulary of the day is so limited. She’s not sure if they would get her choice of words or contemporary
mindset.

“Um…a klaun verse might suit me best, sir, as it has no rule for word tonality.” Knowing this is the easiest
form of poetry to compose, Kate initiates the suggestion to give her some leeway to participate. Klaun is
probably something she can deal with.

Lady Chanwad sneaks a look at the young man and young woman engaged in argument and lowers her
eyes to hide how she feels. Previously Muen Sunthorn has never behaved in this manner. Usually less
than condescending, he ignores Karaket or shows no interest whatsoever. But now his eyes meet hers all
the time and the way he teases her is unfamiliar, even frightfully so.

Initially when Chanwad learned that Karaket was his intended and would share the household, she was
very concerned. But the few times the two women met, Chanwad knew that her fear was unfounded. She
had really nothing to worry. Lady Karaket was just a temperamental, brainless woman. However, after her
recovery this time, she has become a new person, possibly a threat to Chadwad’s hope for the future with
this eligible bachelor.

The prim and proper Lady Chanwad buries her angst and apprehension deep inside. Hope glimmered just
the day before, but now it has died down.

“May I give a first try?” Lady Chanwad volunteers in a non-intrusive voice. She writes down how she is
feeling at this moment in the khlong form of versification. It comes from the hurt and despair. The sky is
darkening after sundown. Servants are lighting torches around the perimeters of the house. Lamps are lit
brightly enough to let her see her own handwriting. The golden torchlight and lamplight cast a soft,
soothing illumination to the pavilion.

Kate looks at the young woman with her head bent down to write a poem with much fondness. She
perceives Chanwad as a perfect lady with impeccable manners. She notices that Muen Sunthorn also has
his eyes on Chanwad. She can’t help but feel what a perfect couple they would make. He is a handsome
man, better looking than any of his contemporaries. Even his jovial friend Muen Ruang cannot outshine
him. Although he acts aloof, he is hot in a way, Kate must admit. Chanwad is the epitome of the ideal lady
from the past. No wonder Karaket was fatally jealous. Besides her looks, Chanwad is well-versed. She is
accepted to play alongside cultured men in a poetic competition. She is certainly no ordinary woman.

As Kate observes and appraises Chanwad favorably, she is unaware that under the glowing lamplights,
her own sweet face catches the eyes of another onlooker. Muen Sunthorn stares at her absent-mindedly.
She was once a woman he despised and resented. But now his feelings are gradually changing. He is
certain that she has changed for the better, without guiles, without pretense. And he now feels at ease with
her. The river breeze blows in from time to time. The satin sabai she wears across one shoulder catches
the wind along the curvatures of her body. A soft and sweet feeling seizes his heart irresistibly.

“I am ready to go, sirs.” Chanwad calls out, turning all eyes on her.

“At sundown, the moon reveals her dim face

With glimmering light on the firmament.

She is shrouded behind the passing clouds

As I, alas, who know my place as an earthling.”

The poem full of hurt feelings makes Muen Sunthorn frown a little, but he smiles to compliment and
encourage the composer.

“It is beautiful. May I take it from there?” Muen Sunthorn spends much less time than Chanwad did in
response.

“Before sundown, the fireball hides his face behind clouds

Chattering birds are returning to their nests

The moon reveals her face from behind the clouds

All the stars in the sky are no match to the moon.”

Aha! What do I hear now? They are indeed courting via poetry! Kate listens intently to the poetic
repartees. She is aware that Chanwad was feeling hurt. Muen Sunthorn sounded like he commiserated but
somehow didn’t go all the way to reassure her. Kate is reminded of a moon poem quoted in a novel by a
famous contemporary author, which she traced back to the original in Kanok Nakorn by Prince
Pittayalongkorn and memorized it by heart. May I borrow it for use on this occasion, please?

“Lady Chanwad, listen here please.” And Kate recites a poem:

“It’s easy to look up at the sky and down at earth when one finds nothing up there

Searching for the moon as one’s company on the ground in those glittering black eyes

The moon on earth is beyond reach; the moon in the sky shows her face constantly

The moon in those beautiful eyes cannot be found in the moon in the sky.”

Her poetic recital earns everyone’s attention. All eyes are now on her, which makes Kate’s heart race. Did
I go against ethics? I just plagiarized a famous author. Dumb me!

“Your poem is beautiful. Indeed, it exceeds our expectation.” Phraya Hora utters a surprised compliment.
The pirate Kate is relieved. Now that she caught the gist of it, she can think of a few other poems in Khlong
Lokanit by Prince Dejadisorn. If she were to compose herself, she would struggle till morning to even finish
one of her own.

I’ll have to keep some in spare in the event that Muen insults me again.

From then on, more moon poems are composed with Kate excusing herself in subsequent rounds. The
crescent moon up high is their muse. They just need to look up in the sky to find inspiration. Not until the
moon rises high do the visitors bid farewell. Chanwad smiles cordially to Kate with a sense of growing
friendship. The poem everyone thinks Kate composed is obviously in Chanwad’s favor. She asks Kate to
see her off at the pier. Muen Sunthorn accompanies the guests to the pier too, without Phin and Yam
following as usual, as both have dozed off on the spot already.

Torchlights lining the footpath illuminate the way to the pier. Kate waves goodbye to the convoy of
departing guests and looks up at the moon which seems larger than the one in her modern days.

“I just noticed that the moon here is so big.”

“Why! You have come to live in the city for so long and you have never looked up at the moon?”

“Never, sir. It makes me want to sing.”

“What song do you have in mind? A boat song?” The innocent question makes the new age girl laugh and
put on an act like a skillful karaoke singer.

“The waning moon glimmering at the end of the sky

Looks weary and gives half its shine

A lonely night is melancholic with half a moon as if you are yearning.”

She does not sing in her full voice, yet in the quietude of the night it reverberates over the canal bend. Her
beautiful, though unheard of, song so captivates Muen Sunthorn that he stares at her unblinking. After the
song is over, Kate is conscious of the strange look in his eyes. She swallows and feels blood rushing all
over her face.

“Uh…I’m tired. May I retire to bed now?”

“Sweet dreams.” His lengthening voice seems gentler than usual, so she turns around to look in disbelief.
Her eyes meet his twinkling eyes which reflect the torches at the pier. He seems to be smiling so warmly
and sweetly that she hastens to tell herself her eyes were deceived. Then, she darts toward the house as
if running away from something unknown yet palpable.

The tall frame of Muen Sunthorn remains standing, hands behind his back, looking up at the beautiful
moon in the sky, with the lingering sound of her singing in his ears.
 The next morning, Kate rises early for the morning alms offering, then she comes back up for the three-
person breakfast as usual. Last night’s incident is like a fleeting dream. Observing Muen Sunthorn, she
finds him as calm and composed as on any other day. Perhaps his sweet, endearing eyes and the
enchantment of the night before may only have owed to her singing about the moon, which bears
Chanwad’s name, ‘painted by the Moon’, which implies glowing beauty.

Kate feels more at ease after Phraya Hora and Muen Sunthorn leave for work. She busies herself by
surveying the compound of the house, starting from the area furthest from the kitchen which Phin and Yam
have said is the cluster of houses of Phraya Hora’s concubines. Before reaching her intended destination,
something else catches her eyes. She stops delightedly at the sight of two elephants swinging their trunks
about in a tall shed while two servants feed them. What a wonderful sight!

“There are elephants too!”

“They are royally bestowed, milady. There are also two pairs of horses of indigenous and mixed breeds.
You have never taken a walk this far, so you have not seen them. When your father was promoted to
Phraya, he was given elephants for the rank too.”

“Oh, can we ride on elephant back?” The rascal girl is always looking for some action.

“Ride on the elephant back, milady? A howdah must be attached first to sit on.” It looks like a lot of work
for the servants to install a howdah just for a joy ride. Thus, she redirects her interest to smaller animals.

“What about the horses? Can I ride?”

“Horses! No lady rides on horseback, milady.” Phin and Yam seem worried, recognizing that their mistress
wants to ride these animals so badly.

“Shall we wait for Lord Muen to teach you how to ride? These servants are only good at feeding and
cleaning after them. If you fell off the horse, you could hurt yourself seriously.” The handmaids’ advice
makes sense, so she merely sighs and looks at the animal expectantly. Later, then!

Leaving the elephant shed and stable, Kate sees a cluster of houses not so far apart.

The houses are built of teak wood, looking a lot better than the bamboo houses of most common folks.
They are small detached houses but with no veranda, rather like bungalows in her day. Children are
running around. Naked, young girls wear genital covers made of polished coconut shells. Only a few wear
one of silver. Yam and Phin help her identify which ones are Phraya Hora’s daughters by which
concubines. Grown up girls wear sabais just like she does only of coarser cloth, not of satin silk as hers.
Some boys wear slit-shoulder pullover shirts and some are shirtless. They act humbly and acknowledge
her by wai-ing, each one of them.

She can’t help but heaving a long sigh. Only because they are not of the first wife, the children of a
Phraya are inferior to her who is his niece. And if Karaket was not the daughter of the first wife, her fate
might too have been one of a homeless vagabond without anyone one to care for.

“Pi Phin, did my father have many wives and children?”

“Plenty, milady.”

“And where are they now?”

“They are children of slave and servant wives. After Lord Phraya passed, they all scattered all over. I do
not know where they are, milady.”

“Do these children have education?” Kate inquires.

“For the boys, Lord Phraya has them rowed to school at Wat Yai Chaimongkol Temple, milady. But it is
not compulsory. Anyone who does not want to, he does not force them. For those who go to school, he
usually sends for them to report on their studies regularly, and if he is pleased with their progress, they will
be rewarded with gold jewelry.”

“Is this the domestic practice of every household in Siam?” Kate is curious.

“It is like this everywhere, milady. Although not as highly regarded as the children of the first wife, their
livelihood is much better than children of commoners and slaves, milady. They do not have to work, and
some may even have their own slave servants. If any concubine gives him more than one child, she will
get a new house or new furniture. Lady Champa is generous and impartial and looks after them equally
well. The servant and slave concubines at this estate live comfortably, milady. Lady Champa is kind. I
have heard that some other first wives are mean, and children of concubines are not as well taken care
of.”

“Mmm…What a life! If the husband cannot take care of his own issues and leaves it in his first wife’s hand,
he should not have so many concubines. I feel sorry for those innocent children and those concubines.”
Kate remarks.

“Getting to be concubines, at least they have a chance to live comfortably. Being slaves for life has no
chance of such comfort. Any woman slave would be more than willing to move up to the status of a
concubine. Not to mention Lord Muen, milady. These women always pin their hopes on the slim chance
that he will take notice. But they wait and wait in vain. Lord Muen does not condescend to consort with any
of them. He has never so much as cast a look at them from the corner of his eyes.” Yam explains with
confidence as she has gathered reliable information from her predecessors about Muen Sunthorn’s
possible dalliance among domestic workers.

“Ha! That does not sound so unthinkable. Even with me he is such a snob…uh…he does not cast his
precious look. He must only have eyes on someone else.”

“Do you mean Lady Chanwad?” Phin puts a long face.

“That is possible. Or maybe some other highborn lady. I think a man like him has no eyes for domestic
workers. He must only look at his peers.”

“However, those ladies must include milady. Soon Lord Phraya will no doubt express his wish for tying the
knot between Lord Muen and milady.” That speculation makes Kate think hard and long.

If Phraya Hora really insists that Muen Sunthorn and she should marry, the wedding will be inevitable
despite their feelings towards each other. And if it happens before she can find a way out of this body, it
will be as if she took advantage of having Karaket’s husband for her own. And if the marriage is
consummated, no doubt she may be stuck in this place. Or if she can leave this body, how will she be? His
handsome face pops in her mind’s eye. Nonetheless, if possible, she would prefer staying single for as
long as she can.

“Hmm…The future is yet to come. There’s no use projecting what is not here. I’d better take a look around
the place.” She starts to take a short cut to the cluster of houses at the back. Everywhere she looks, she
finds greenery. Trees are lush and abundant. Blossoming trees, fragrant and non-fragrant trees as well as
perennials of assorted varieties. She breathes in a lungful of pure, refreshing air and spots five or six tall
trees with ripe pods full of white fluffs which have fallen all over the ground.

“Kapok trees.” Kate recognizes the tree.

“Yes, milady. There are plenty here and a dozen more on the other side.” Kate’s eyes sparkle. She is
reminded of the hard mattress and pillow she sleeps on. Her bedding items are so coarse and stiff, even
the blanket is just a thin silk.

“Pi Phin and Pi Yam, can you find someone to harvest some kapok for me? Get a lot, please, as much as
you can gather.”

“What would you do with it, milady?”

“I will make myself a new mattress, pillow and bolster. I want to sleep on soft bedding.” Since it looks as if
she will be around a while longer, Kate decides to live in as much comfort as possible.

“Why should we make beddings, milady? We can buy some easily.” Phin suggests.

“They are not soft. I don’t like them. I wonder why people here like to sleep on hard mattresses. Pillows are
so hard too. I prefer soft ones.” A command from the mistress must be complied by servants, so Phin and
Yam recruit some domestic help to harvest ripe kapok pods on the ground. Some children of slaves find it
fun to help, so they manage to fill many basketfuls. Then they walk up to the house and place them in the
pavilion outside Karaket’s bedroom.

Kate cuts fine fabrics into the shapes of a pillow and a bolster as in her modern days, and larger pieces for
a mattress and bed sheets, and cases for the pillow and bolster. The sweatshop launched on the very first
day of her arrival now resumes its operation with increased female labor. Kate orders the servants to
remove kapok from the pods while supervising the work of the seamstresses. When they take a break
from the assembly line, Kate orders some sweetmeats from the kitchen staff for everyone. Her well-fed
factory workers resume working diligently until everything is nearly done.

Muen Sunthorn walks up to the house with a feeling that something is amiss. Today he did not find the
sweet face of a lady welcoming him home as usual with a terracotta teapot, teacup and sweetmeats. His
calm face betrays a little disappointment. A glimpse from the corner of his eyes acknowledges the
movement of a sylphlike girl looking left and right amidst servants working busily on something.

He strides over to get a close look and sees Karaket in the middle of supervising servants removing fluffy
kapoks from their pods and sewing.

“What are you doing?” He startles Kate, before she turns around to look.

“Are you back already? I am making a mattress, a pillow and a bolster.”

“Why do you have to make them? Why not buy them at the mattress market?”

“Well…they are not what I want, really. Better to make them as I like.” Muen Sunthorn frowns but seems to
get what she means.

“I am thirsty.” She bats her eyelashes and turns to look at his handsome face before turning away to
scrutinize the work in a servant’s hands.

“You should quench your thirst by drinking water, then. Pi Phin, hem this part too, please. Wow! You are
such a terrific seamstress, Pi Phin.”

The tall gentleman stands confused for a long while, trying to cope with his being ignored.

“I…shall go now.”

“Of course.” Kate accepts it without so much as turning around to look. She is supervising another servant
to stuff kapok into the sewn pillow. “Do it evenly. That’s it! Don’t make it lump up. And do not forget the
corners.”

After Muen Sunthorn walks off, she remembers her daily routine. Kate turns to look at him and can only
see his back disappearing into his bedroom.

“Goodness! I completely forgot.” The shock of forgetting turns into a laugh. No doubt, that Muen has
gotten used to her pampering. That’s why he came over to ask for drinking water. Well! When I present my
face, he acts disinterested. But now that I stay away, he walks all the way here to ask for it. Phin’s and
Yam’s strategy of infiltrate and rule, moving forward little by little without notice until the whole is occupied,
is remarkably effective.

She glances at the servants who are busily sewing and laughs soundlessly to herself. Poor guy! Look how
he walks, crest-fallen, into his room. Actually, Muen Sunthorn has his share of cuteness, despite his big
mouth. At least, unlike most men of this era, he doesn’t see servants and slaves as roadside flowers that
he can pick and discard at will.

Kate asks a servant to bring her a set of tea and carries it to his bedroom. Cherm, who is sitting outside
waiting for his next order, looks at her and knocks on his master’s door.

“Lord Muen sir, Lady Karaket brings you tea here.” As if he were expecting this, the door swings open
immediately.

“Tea, khun pi. I heard you are thirsty.” Kate smiles and hands the tray over to him. He takes it without any
expression and shuts the door at once as if afraid of her barging in or invading his privacy. Kate’s smile is
switched off instantly.

“What! What on earth is the matter with him?” Kate muses annoyingly.

Phraya Hora appears from the library and glances at her. He walks over to sit on a big reed mat. Like
well-trained domestic workers, the servants dart in to fan him and to serve him tea. Kate sighs tediously at
the person inside the room, before walking over to look at the bedding work, which is almost all done. The
kapok-workers carry the baskets of empty pods down the back stairs of the house.

It is nearly dark when everything is done to her satisfaction. She goes down to the pier to take a bath and
sees from a distance the procession of food-carriers bringing dinner to the house. After getting dressed,
she sits waiting with Phraya Hora at dinner. A while later, Muen Sunthorn comes out of his room, fully-
dressed without taking a bath or changing into his usual house attire.

“Are you going somewhere, Dej?” Phraya Hora asks.

“I have some business to tend to, Father.” His eyes turn to look at the sitting lady. Eyes meet eyes and he
sees a full degree of curiosity in those lovely eyes. Since her recovery, Karaket has been eager to know
everything. He laughs to himself before walking down the house accompanied by Cherm.

What business does he have outside? And he has to go after dark too. Kate keeps her curiosity
contained. The more she sees how disinterested Phraya Hora has reacted, as if it were nothing out of the
ordinary, the more curious and suspicious she becomes. She intends to wait until he returns to interrogate
him.

Long after Phraya Hora retires into his room, Kate is still waiting outside, sitting, standing and pacing
about on the verandah, looking at this and that. Prik carries a flower basket to the house and supervises
other servants in stringing garlands for the alms round offering the next morning. Prik sneaks a curious
look at the sylphlike lady who cranes her neck looking at the pier from time to time while engaging in the
chore at hand.

Muen Sunthorn sees to it that Cherm turbans his head before leaving Klab Canal. So does he. Today’s
business is rather risky. It will create an uproar and lay blame on the foreigners who are looking to take
advantage of his country. The thought of it puts him in a good mood. Now Ruang or Muen Ruang must be
waiting at the pier in front of Buddhaisawan Temple. Astrological signs point to the most auspicious
moment for the task as just before midnight. Fun can begin pretty soon.

His strong arms pull himself up to the pier before ordering Cherm to wait right here. Muen Sunthorn joins
his friend who seems no less excited. The two trek across the fields past bushes and trees toward the
mouth of Kujam Canal where an upturned boat has been prepared at shallow waters for the specific
purpose. Moonlight which is not so bright and just barely enough to light the way reminds him of another
moonlit night when he heard a beautiful song from those lips.

“Dej, why are you so absent-minded tonight? The river waves are coming. Do not let me steer the boat all
by myself.” The voice of Muen Ruang jolts him awake and he puts his hands to work the oars faster. He
brushes off the memorable moments of the other night from his mind. At Sunken Ship Village in Bang
Kaja, the boat slows down and floats quietly in the dark. At this late hour, the waterway is clear. Most of
the folks are already in bed.

The oars remain suspended above the water surface ready to row. When they are put back in action, the
boat goes past Panancherng Temple to the destination where it stops. The rowers keep the boat in place
by pulling at riverside branches at Suanplu Canal where there is a short cut to the front of the Portuguese
Community. A while later a small rowboat is approaching. The tall frame of Luang Sorasak joins them. The
three greet and pay respect to each other before walking toward Suanplu Canal, hiding themselves in the
dark.

“Dej, is the time right for action?” Laung Sorasak asks, stepping over some creepers towards a Western-
style building behind the Japanese Community.

“Better wait a while longer, Lord Luang.” Muen Sunthorn looks up at the moon and nods to his
accomplices with a soft short sound from his throat. The three light up torches, one after the other, and
throw them into that building. Then they recede toward the point where their boats are, waiting for the fires
to blaze. They back up gradually when smoke blows in their direction. Not until the fire is in full blast do
they run back to their hidden boats and row back to the mouth of the Pasak River, laughing
conspiratorially.

“It serves them right! The farangs will be enraged.” Luang Sorasak is so pleased while he rows alongside
Muen Sunthorn and Muen Ruang.

“This time they will surely blame the other side as they are already feuding.”

“Uncle Khun Pan is so shrewd to have initiated this strategy. I thank both of you who went all out on this
matter, staking it out, and seeing it through to the end.” Luang Sorasak compliments his accomplices.

“Yes, sir.”

“My father must be waiting to hear of this,” says Luang Sorasak. Phra Petraja’s son. “Let us part ways at
this point.” Feeling bold and victorious, Luang Sorasak digs in his oars toward Baan Kaset Canal,
shortening the route to his house near Dusit Temple.

Despite their longer route around the city, Muen Sunthorn and Muen Ruang feel no exhaustion. They keep
looking back at the flaming red sky behind them with satisfaction. They row past the floating market before
turning into Kujam Canal. They get to shore and say goodbye to each other. Muen Sunthorn goes on foot
to the Buddhaisawan Temple pier, gets into his boat and commands Cherm to row back home.

He reiterates his previous order that Cherm keep quiet about the night’s activities no matter what. Cherm
complies and heads home. Muen Sunthorn dismisses Cherm before walking up to the house. He is very
surprised to find someone sitting wide-eyed looking at him at the central pavilion.

“Why are you not in bed now? What are you doing here?”

“Waiting for you, khun pi.” Kate walks near him and smells something like smoke. She looks at him more
suspiciously.

“What did you do, khun pi?”

“You are really prying into someone else’s business. Go to your room right now.” His admonition makes
her hold her head up high.

“Now that you are back home safe and sound, I am relieved. Do not forget that Uncle and Aunt have you
as their only son in the house. Your brother Jamuen Sri is far away in Nakorn. If you do not take good care
of yourself, Uncle and Aunt may have something to be sorry for. All right! Now that you are home, I can go
to bed.” Kate speaks at his face fearlessly before leaving for her bedroom. She is stopped by a big hand
grabbing her arm.

“Wait! Are you worrying about me?” His voice becomes gentler, eyes fixed on her lovely face. Surprised
by his move, Kate blinks and tries hard to conceal her real emotion.

“Who says so? I was worried for the sake of Uncle and Aunt, rather. Let me go. I will retire to bed.
Tomorrow I have to get up early for alms round offering.” The soft torchlight that shines directly in her eyes
is neither as soft nor piercing as the twinkling in his eyes. The modern-age girl in the guise of this ancient
lady of the past finds her heart aflutter. She twists her arm off his grip and storms off. The man who follows
her with his eyes smiles ever so gently. No one would ever recognize him in this mood. Muen Sunthorn
walks into his room, changes into a bathing cloth, goes down to bathe at the pier and strolls back up. He
lies in bed waiting for morning to come and with it, the big news in the city resulting from Operation
Midnight.

CHAPTER TWELVE
Promotion

Muen Sunthorn’s tall frame walking to the house so early in the day startles Kate, who puts down her book
to take a better look. He is followed by some distinguished guests whom she recognizes as the handsome
Phra Visut and the jolly Muen Ruang. She greets them with a wai and cannot but ask for Phraya Hora.

“Where is Uncle? Isn’t he back with you?”

“Father has to remain in royal audience. His Majesty commanded him to co-compose some chan poems.
You may leave us now. We have some official business to discuss.”

“Why the haste for official business, Khun Srivisarn Vacha?” The different address is bewildering for Kate
who looks around for the addressee. Not until the three men chuckle, their eyes on Muen Sunthorn, does
Kate realize that that title belongs to her khun pi who has been newly promoted. Siamese peerage moves
up the ladder from the ranks of Pan, Muen, Khun, Luang, Phra, Phraya to the topmost-ranking
Chaophraya, and recipients may be given different names altogether when promoted. In in this case,
Muen Sunthorn Deva has become Khun Srivisarn Vacha.

Phin and Yam grin from cheek to cheek at the good news.

“Now your intended is no longer a Muen,” comes a teasing voice to Kate. “He is promoted to a Khun. And
if he were sent on a diplomatic mission overseas, when he returns, he might be promoted to a Luang. Are
you not glad for him?” The speaker is none other than Muen Ruang. Not only does he resemble her friend
Ruang physically, his character no different.

“Khun Ruang Rajbhakdi, you are relentless. You are only good at teasing.” Her intended’s half-laughing
voice announces his friend’s new title to Kate, who serves tea to the men while chuckling softly.

“What have you both done, sirs? Was it about what happened last night?” asks Kate.

Phra Visut slaps his knee loudly upon hearing Kate’s question: “Bull’s eye! Khun Srivisarn, what did you do
to have gotten caught by Lady Karaket? Do you know about the British warehouse too, Lady Karaket?”

“The British warehouse? What about it, sir?” Her confounding, innocent question lets Phra Visut realize
his misstep. He merely smiles and shakes his head.

Khun Ruang takes to task summarizing the account in a leisurely manner, his eyes fixed on her lovely
face: “Last night the British warehouse was burnt down and the property was severely damaged. The
British reported to the King, implicating the French in their suspicion.”

Kate connects the dots before looking at the three men, in wide-eyed disbelief. “Last night…Oh! I get it
now. The fire at the British warehouse certainly puts the French in a difficult situation, does it not? Now the
French will be the villain in everyone’s eyes.” All eyes are on the lady speaker with admiration. Not so
many words went around and she nailed the truth exactly.

“It serves them right. Neither the French nor the British mean well for us,” The former Muen Sunthorn and
current Khun Srivisarn asserts. “They only come in to take advantage for themselves. Wherever they are,
they act like leeches. For all we know, all the farangs may intend to colonize Siam, every one of them.”
Khun Srivisarn’s speculation becomes serious and shrewd. Kate merely nods in consent.

“The promotions have nothing to do with last night’s incident, Lady Karaket,” explains their superior, Phra
Visut. “It is because Khun Srivisarn’s service is needed in the mission which I will head in a faraway
country. And we will have to learn French in haste to master the language. As for Khun Ruang, he is
reassigned as assistant-treasurer in charge of the army’s recruitment of the Northern Region.”

“The Northern Region?” asks Kate.

“Songkwae, your birthplace, you know?”

“Why is he sent so far away? And when does he have to leave?” Even if he is not indeed her friend Ruang,
hearing that he will leave the capital makes her feel like she is losing a close friend.

“Do you not wish for me to leave?” The dallying Khun Ruang makes a move at the lady forthrightly. At this,
Phra Visut chuckles while sipping his tea and the new Khun Srivisarn keeps his usual calm and collected
composure, concealing his annoyance.

“I will not be away for a long time. I shall be back in a month’s time. After having taking stock of able-
bodied men enlisted in the army, I shall be stationed in the capital as before.” Khun Ruang smiles
flirtatiously. He is so delighted that the lady takes interest in him.

“I see.” Kate acknowledges his plan for the near future.

“From now on, Khun Srivisarn will have to learn how to read and write French at the Saint Paulo Church
with me. And you too, Lady Karaket. Did you not volunteer your service as interpreter for us?” The high-
ranking official reminds her.

“Yes, your lordship. I will certainly be there.” Kate rushes to accept his invitation with a broad smile. Most
Christian churches are in expatriates’ communities and these communities are bustling in trade and
commerce. It seems like there are lots of things for her to see. What’s more, she can make frequent visits
to her new friend, Miss Mali - a prospect that delights her.

“I shall no longer bother the three of you. Please feel free to discuss your official business.” At that, she
crawls on her knees off the raised platform of the pavilion and nods to her handmaids to follow her down
the house for a walk around the compound to see how servants and slaves are working, as usual.

The commotion at the servants’ pier catches her interest. She walks down to watch many children having a
good time playing and jumping into the water. Seeing many kids throwing something up on shore, she
approaches to take a closer look and finds piles of huge, palm-size prawns.

“Pi Phin, are there a lot of prawns in the canal?”

“They are plentiful, milady. They perch on rotten wood at the pier. Prik must have sent the children to catch
some for cooking a soup dish, milady.”

“Can they be easily collected like that? I did not notice them at my bathing. If there are some left from
Prik’s soup dish, may I have about twenty?”

“What would you want to do with them?” Phin asks.

“I want to cook them, of course. Is there a grill in the kitchen?”

“Yes, there is.”

“Super! I shall make grilled prawns with a scrumptious seafood dip. Ooh! Just the thought is so mouth-
watering! I want to have Korean-style BBQ too.” The former Kate, the gourmand, re-emerges.

“What is Korean-style BBQ, milady?” Phin asks naïvely.

“Well, thin slices of pork or other meats are placed on a hot grilling pan until cooked. We eat it with a dip.”

“There are pans in the kitchen too, milady.” Yam assures her.

“Not that kind of pan. That is a wok. It would be nice if we could go to a blacksmith to have a grilling pan
made.”

“That can be done, milady,” Phin says. “Talad Noi Market near Pompej Fort has some blacksmiths.
Whatever the shape of iron you wish, they can make it to order. There is pork for sale too, if we do not
want to go through the trouble of killing a pig.”

“Excellent! Let us go there then, Pi Phin. We should place an order and whenever it gets done, we can
pick it up and cook Korean-style BBQ. Let make another kind of barbecues today in the meantime. Get
some pork and marinate it. Then skewer it with cherry tomatoes and pineapples cubes on bamboo sticks. I
guarantee it will be a hit.” Her past culinary instincts are at work now. In her view, Karaket’s body is very
thin, too scrawny perhaps. So! She needs fattening up.

“We do not eat pineapple, milady. They say it will gnaw at the intestines and stomach. Even iron pans, its
juice can corrode.”

“That’s old school thinking. We can grill the pineapple, and the sour taste will turn sweet. Another thing, it
will tenderize pork and meat. I shall show you how to cook. But I need to ask permission from my khun pi,
do I not?”

“Yes, milady, so he can order some servants to guard you. Highborn ladies should not go to the market
unescorted by manservants, lest something bad should happen and there is no one to protect them.’

“I get it.” It sounds quite discouraging. Asking permission from Phraya Hora seems easy enough, but from
her khun pi! Don’t know how much sarcasm she will have to go through. He is so erratic these days.

Kate has not walked up the stairs yet when Phra Visut and Khun Ruang come down.

“Well, are you leaving now, sirs?”

“We are. Do not forget tomorrow. After having tended to official business, I shall send someone to fetch
you to the Church.” Phra Visut tells the young woman before heading to the pier. Khun Ruang who walks
behind him merely smiles at her before boarding the boat.

Khun Ruang looks like a spitting image of Ruang, Kate tells herself. Even their rascal smiles. Mmm…I so
miss him!

Her friendship with Ruang goes back a long way, and they see each other almost on a daily basis. Being
apart like this makes her miss him being around. However, her feelings toward Khun Ruang are entirely
different from those she has for her friend Ruang. Now when she looks at Khun Ruang, there is no secret
tormenting desire as when she sneaked a yearning look at her friend Ruang. Perhaps these two Ruangs
are completely different people, or perhaps when she is in Karaket’s body, feelings take on an entirely
different perspective.

“However you elongate your neck by craning,” comes a mocking remark from her khun pi, “Khun Ruang
would not turn around his boat.” She swirls around to trace the source of that sarcasm and there he is,
standing on the foot of the staircase. While tempted to return his cutting comment in kind, she knows that
she must win his permission to go to the market. Instead, she sends him a sycophantic smile.

“My dear khun pi!” The tall frame is taken aback when she darts at him.

“What do you want?” He asks with a voice as stern as his face. But Kate no longer finds him intimidating -
she knows that he only puts up a front to fend off people.

“I wish to go to Talad Noi Market, please. I would like to have a grilling hotplate made.”

“A frying pan? There are a lot of frying pans in the kitchen,” is his reply.

“Not just some ordinary pans. It’s a new type of a cooking hotplate,” she insists.

“You must make a drawing of it and I shall have a Chinese blacksmith make one for you. A lady should not
wander around outside. Otherwise you can create a scandal that becomes the talk of the entire capital. Or
are you no longer afraid of scandals?” He offers an alternative to escorting her to the market.

“When have I been afraid of scandals?” She says defiantly.

“You were weeping so loudly in the temple. What was I to think?” His sharp eyes are fixed at her lovely
face knowingly. He did not believe that the reason she wept in the temple many days ago was nostalgia. It
must have been because she was upset and frustrated by the criticism and accusing eyes of the temple-
goers. Her tears so softened his heart and he cannot help but sympathize with her still. Now he is
convinced that she was falsely blamed for the heinous crime and felt all alone against everyone’s
indictment.

“How smart of you!” She can’t help but retort with irony and recites the famous Lokanit poem every Thai
schoolkid of her days knows by heart, in a resounding voice.

“Stop the fire from emitting smoke

Stop the sun and moon from shining

Stop age and turn it around

Once you can do so, you can stop scandalizing.

“One cannot stop people from scandalizing. One can only be conscious of one’s own action.” Holding her
head high, the millennial girl reiterates the gist of the poem so confidently he has to shake his head.

“The poem is beautiful but your manner of making such eyes is inappropriate.”

“I did not write the poem. I only recited what’s in my memory. As for my manner, it has been like this since I
was born. I cannot help it. And regarding a drawing, I would like to do it but when I draw a pig, it is so
easily mistaken for a duck. So I’m afraid my grilling hotplate would readily be construed as something
else.” Her artistic dilemma makes him laugh out loud. Phin and Yam are so palpably glad that their
mistress has now become a favorite of Khun Srivisarn beyond belief. It must be because that black thread
around her wrist given to her by Master White-Robe.

“After your recovery, you seem to be thinking of nothing but going out, do you not? All right, today I have
free time. I shall take you out.”

Wow! Such a big stroke of luck! If it were Ruangrit obliging her wish like this, she would jump up and hug
him.

“Nevertheless, you must sketch it into some shape and then you can explain what you need to the
Chinese blacksmith. At least, that will get you what you want. Go and get yourself ready. I shall be waiting
at the pier.” Khun Srivisarn takes long strides to the pier while Kate goes up to change her clothes and get
some money for the outing in a joyous mood.

The slender figure in covered-up clothing walks down from the house, followed by the two handmaids who
act like they are so weary of the way their mistress is dressing. However they try, Karaket is adamant and
insists on wearing a blouse under the sabai, as she did in her previous outing.

Khun Srivisarn sweeps his eyes over her clothes in satisfaction. Did Karaket know that her glowing skin is
so captivating to men? Look at his friend Ruang. He could not take his eyes off her. It is so infuriating. His
indifferent eyes keep his mind in check before stepping onto the boat. He calmly watches Karaket
awkwardly embark, without trying to help her.

Three boats with the same group of bodyguards as before shove off from the pier. She sits towards the
bow, beaming with delight at this rare outing opportunity that has unexpectedly come her way.

“Cherm, enter the capital via the Chakrai Noi gate. I shall take the lady to buy some stationery first.”

“Stationery?” repeats Kate.

“That is right. I can see how you like poetry and singing. If you compose one on the slate and erase it, it
will be lost forever. Better to write in a notebook to keep. In addition, I shall need some stationery for my
French lessons.” He states his plan for shopping.

“Oh…good thinking, indeed.” The chance of detouring to the stationery market delights her. As for writing
in notebooks, she gives no mind to that as she knows that these papers cannot last to her days anyway.
They will either be eaten by mites or burnt down over the course of the next centuries. What’s more
important to her is that she needs to learn to read and write better in today’s style of the alphabet so her
handwriting will not stand out as such a deviation from the familiar.

Only a few meters past the Chakrai Noi Gate, the boats pull up at the pier on the right- hand side. Baan
Dinso is a long a big road with shops on both sides selling slate-writing pencils of black lead, white lead,
yellow lead and colored stone in a gradation of colors, from dark to light. Kate is fascinated as she
browses and buys. Most importantly, all purchases are sponsored by Khun Srivisarn. She can now fully
appreciate the happy shopper’s adage that the happiest shopping comes when it does not come from your
own pocket.

After pencil-buying, they cross the bridge to the other side, walk past the yellow robe market where she
was the other day, and come to the Baan Samut, or notebook village, where dry goods and groceries are
also for sale. Phin and Yam call this kind of market “pasan,” a Siamese-sounding derivation of the Persian
“bazaar.” Piles of notebooks, bound by raw thread and loose papers of off-white and off-black colors, are
on display. They choose what they need for use with pencils of white lead and black lead.

The paper she sees is not so thin, though thinner than the wrapping paper. The texture is finer than today’s
mulberry paper though not quite as smooth. She thinks that the manufacturing process must be similar to
hand-made mulberry paper, but the pulp must vary in color and texture, perhaps due to different trees.
Again, she does not need to pay for any of her purchases.

With stationery shopping complete, they cross the bridge back to the pier and re-board the boats.
Leaving the city walls, they row straight on to Pompej Fort. Once there, they turn left into the Nai Gai next
to Pompej.

“Why is it called Nai Gai Gate?” Kate asks her khun pi, wondering of the meaning of the word “gai” which
means “chicken.”

“Besides pork, Chinese men in Talad Noi bring chicken for sale too. It is the largest market for poultry in
the city, live and slaughtered on the spot.”

“What! And whichever live ones you want, you just point at them?” This sounds like a horror story to Kate--
to have the power of deciding on life or death for living creatures.

“That is right, ” replies her khun pi.

“Why! How can we eat them after seeing the chickens blinking at us, begging for their lives?”
“Chicken and duck at Talad Noi are known to be very tasty.” He tempts her with the taste.

“Whoa! How palatable that sounds!” The sarcasm comes with her weary look at the pens full of quacking
fowls. She doesn’t mind buying dead chicken and duck, but having to be the one who orders their death
sentence is too much. Kate imagines that she would be unable to put herself through the meal without
thinking of the animals alive and moving. Past the poultry market, squeaking sounds abate and are
replaced by the thudding sounds or iron mallets.

Khun Srivisarn walks into an alley followed by Kate and his retinue. The narrow passageway is lined with
white-plastered row buildings. Passing some ten similar shophouses, he turns into a gateway which looks
like the front entrance she has seen in Chinese period movies. Inside, it is a large blacksmith workshop full
of earthen jars. There are three big furnaces on each side, all of which are manned. A big arm bars her
from stepping further toward the excruciating heat.

“Wait here.” Khun Srivisarn walks into the building and comes out with a medium-height, muscular Chinese
man wearing a long braid. He is topless and wears only a pair of long trousers and fire-proof leather boots.
He has a slate in his hand.

“His lordship said your ladyship wants to have a cooking pan made. What kind of pan do you have in
mind?” Kate grabs his pencil and draws what looks like a shoddy version of the Korean shabu-shabu
hotpot as she remembers. The man must have some experience of this thing, so he asks a few questions
and seems to understand what she has in mind.

“A thick hole-riddled pan surrounded by water-holding receptacles for oil spill and a high heat resistant iron
pot. Is that right?” asks the blacksmith.

“Correct. Do not forget holders too. Better make them of wood for handling when hot,” she explains.

“It will not be forgotten,” he gives a confirmation. In addition, Kate orders two 12-inch diameter cylindrical
earthen cones as well as supporting iron-wrought tripods and a huge earthen boiler.

“What are the cones? What do you want to do with them?’ asks Khun Srivisarn.

“They are for filtering water,” is her reply.

“Filtering water? What for? Alum can be used for sediments to settle and water is good enough for
consumption. Why would you want to filter it?” He tries to understand the method of water filtering.

“You certainly ask a lot of questions. Let me show you how to filter and filtered water is cleaner than using
alum. This boiler is for boiling water after filtering. I have it made big and thick so it won’t break easily and
can hold a lot of water. We leave the boiled water to cool down and then we pour it into a covered jar.”
Everyone there, master and servants, looks curious. But she finds it difficult to explain that the all-purpose
canal water is likely to be contaminated with germs, septic and all. Suffice to say that filtered water will be
cleaner and can prevent some illnesses. Everyone nods in consent without really understanding what she
means.

Looking at her with suspicion and thinking she must be somewhat insane from the Krishna-Kali spell, Khun
Srivisarn lets her off the hook by reason of temporary insanity.

“From here, can we stop at the public pier market of the convent?” asks Kate.

“Why would you want to go to the convent market? You got everything you wanted from here, have you
not?”

“I should like to visit someone I know there, khun pi.”

“Who do you know there? There are only farangs there.”

“A farang she is. You know her too. I promised her to visit often and it is very near here. I do not want to
break my word with her.”

“I know her too? Who can it be?”

“Miss Mali.”

“Oh, that little Indian lady.”

“That little Indian lady…what a cute way to call her. Miss Mali said you once saved her father from an
unfortunate disaster.” Kate explains.

“And how did you make acquaintance with her? You were only there for a short time.” He inquires with
much curiosity.

“Her father was bullied by Luang Sura’s lacky. I helped him out. That’s how the rumor about my argument
with the farangs got started.”

“You certainly know how to get yourself into trouble, do you not?” He mumbles but orders the servants to
row the boats to the Convent public pier market. While docking at the pier, another boat is leaving the pier.
It carries a farang who stares at Khun Srivisarn with hostility. Kate glances at his blue eyes and recognizes
him as Luang Sura.

“Khun pi, that guy is Luang Sura. Why did he gaze at you like that? As if he had some grudges.”

“How can we know the mind of a farang? You cannot be suspicious of everything you see.”

“Well…this is something suspicious, you know. Instead of looking at me with a grudge for having
humiliated him once, he glared at you instead.”

“This Luang is never resentful to women. He keeps women at his houses in the capital and in Lavo.”

“You know him too?” He merely nods. His sharp eyes hide a sly smile under lowering lids. Even if that
farang nobleman working under French jurisdiction is either suspicious or certain that the fire at the British
warehouse was Khun Srivisarn’s faction’s doing, that farang has no evidence to prove it. Serves him right!

After disembarking at the convent public pier, Kate heads straight to the rafting shophouse of Miss Mali,
smiling at the startled young woman.

“Surprise! I am true to my promise of visiting. I came to place orders for kitchen utensils at the Talad Noi
Market, so I’m giving you a visit. How have you been? Are you all right?”

“Lady Karaket! Oh! Muen Sunthorn!” Miss Mali’s bashfulness at seeing her khun pi makes Kate blink
unexpectedly.

My! This newly appointed Khun is certainly hot!

“Now he is no longer a Muen. He is promoted to a Khun. I just saw Luang Sura a while ago. Did he cause
you any trouble?”

“The Luang did not come for trouble. He came as a customer. Since the incident that day, he has visited
my shop almost every day, mostly to buy stuffs.” Miss Mali explains slowly, glancing all the time at Khun
Srivisarn who stands gracefully to the side. Kate feels worried.

Now Karaket, you sure have so many rivals. That Lord Khun has all the more reasons for being uppity!

“Is Luang Sura courting you?” The blunt question from Kate makes his eyes glance at the speaker, while
Miss Mali blushes.

“You speak impudently. Even Miss Mali is more prim and proper than you are.” His admonition is clearly
aimed at her. Yet she pretends not to hear it. She shakes Miss Mali’s arm curiously.

“And what did you do? Did you turn him down?”

“I am in trade. How can I turn down a customer? Also….” Mali’s voice seems to trail off.

“If Luang Sura or his men are pestering you, do not be afraid,” Khun Srivisarn reassures the farang
woman, “Phraya Visut, my best friend’s father, is in charge of all trade. He can certainly issue an official
warning against such actions.” He calms her down gently in case she is being harassed, which she finds
so flattering.

The conversation which follows goes on for a long while with Kate’s initiating one question after another.
As the sunlight becomes softer, Khun Srivisarn reminds her of the time.

“Karaket, it is late afternoon now. We should head back home. You talked a lot. Are you not thirsty?” His
joking jab at his intended turns Miss Mali’s fair-skinned face paler. Her eyes glance at Kate’s lovely face
vaguely.

“Yes, we should leave. I have barbecues to make, or the pork we bought will smell. I shall take my leave,
Miss Mali. I shall come to visit you often because my khun pi must be around to study French at the Saint
Paulo Church every day.”

“Really, my lord?” Her sparkling eyes endear her to Kate who feels irritated toward Khun Srivisarn for no
reason. Two pretty ladies have a crush on him at the same time.

“Really. And I shall accompany him and act as interpreter in French during the initial period.” Kate answers
in his place.

“Oh, yes.” The farang lady acknowledges.

Miss Mali’s shapely eyes look at him admiringly and longingly. Only moments after, she sighs. Social
status and race are insurmountable. It breaks her heart even more that Khun Srivisarn’s manner is so
gentle and kind but obviously he has no eyes for her in the least. However, his endearing look toward
Karaket, his intended, is heart-breaking.

Fanik the Indian joins her sending off the visitors. After they have left, he puts his arm around his
daughter’s slim shoulder.

“You must make up your mind now, my daughter. Cardinal Pallu is expecting your answer anytime soon.”

“I do not love that man,” replies Miss Mali.

“It is only a matter of time. Living together as man and wife, love will take its course. Moreover, he
promises to make you his first wife. Do not fantasize on another front. A Siamese lord will never make you
his first wife. You are no match for a nobleman. Lady Karaket has it all, beauty, brains and birth. I am afraid
you have no hope at your heart’s desire, my daughter.”

“I know. I know.” Repetition merely confirms her heartbreak. The father only sighs and shakes his head
sadly. The matter of the heart is not something you can either advice or criticize.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Lovelorn

As soon as the rowboat turns left, another boat passes by, and the large wash sets it off-balance. The
vortex at Bang Kaja pulls down the small boat and though Cherm steers fiercely to one side, it capsizes.
The passing boat races right past without stopping to help. Shrieks from the two handmaids on the two
following boats are heard loud and clear. All eyes turn to them.

“Karaket!” The deep voice of Khun Srivisarn calls out. He is relieved to see a small head bob up over the
river surface. Kate can barely move her legs to stay afloat because of the entangling tube skirt. She
stretches out her arms to gather up the constricting cloth and free her legs to kick better. When she turns
toward the voice of the caller, she screams out in shock.

“Khun pi! Look out!” Another rowboat rushing past does not turn its bow in time to avoid the bobbing head
of Khun Srivisarn. It hits him hard above his ear. He sinks below the water.

“Lord Khun!” Cherm calls out in panic. He dives down toward his sunken master. Yod, Muang and Wan all
leap from their boats to rescue their master. The inadvertent hitter is in shock and trembling too, calling for
help while himself rushing to join the diving party. Karaket manages to swim ashore, with her handmaids’
boat just behind her. They rush toward her but their mistress is frantically scanning the water from her land
perch.
Passing rowers pull the empty boat ashore and gather around to excitedly watch the rescue. Frequent
accidents in this area happen mostly to small junks, not rowboats like this.

Accustomed to water transportation for hundreds of years, the city dwellers have never seen a rowboat
capsize in front of their very eyes. Bystanders on shore gather to discuss the accident, and several
eyewitnesses curse the rower of the boat that passed too closely causing Cherm’s boat to flip. Worse yet,
the first rower never even turned around to see the consequence of his action. And no one is familiar with
the face of that rower.

Kate spots Cherm popping up from the water. To everyone’s relief, he drags an unconscious body ashore.
The handsome face is pale, his eyes closed tight. Cherm recites some mantra and blows his breath upon
the head of his master. Still, he remains lifeless. His pale face becomes waxen.

“Lord Khun!” Cherm sits on his knees and has his fellows flip the body of Khun Srivisarn face-down. He
presses a knee on the back of his master’s abdomen until some water comes out of the mouth. Then he
flips the body over, face-up, and blows on his head. Still Khun Srivisarn has not come back. They look at
each other with red, panicked eyes.

Alarmed, Kate darts to the lifeless body.

“Khun pi, Lord Khun, come back,” she pleads. Her hands grab his shoulders and shake violently but in
vain. Still no response. She bends down to put her ear at his heart and is heartened by faint heartbeats.
She puts her hand at his nostrils and feels no breath.

“Why aren’t you breathing, damn it!” Her cussword pulls everyone’s eyes on her. Many are shaking their
heads thinking it is a hopeless case as his face turns more and more green. Kate panics when she hears
someone say it seems he won’t make it. She decides on the spot to try a modern regimen of resuscitation.
“All right! Consider this life-saving. Damn you, Lord Khun! So strong you can kick a horse dead but you are
helpless just being hit by a boat.” Kate mumbles with a long grave face.

Despite her utmost reluctance, Kate knows what she needs to do it to save a life. She inhales air deeply
into her lungs a few times. Keeping him face up, she tilts his head back til his chin juts upwards, then she
places her mouth on his, blocking his nostrils with her fingers and blowing air into him. She notices his
chest swell slightly from the corner of her eyes and feels hopeful. She does it again, trying to sync it with
the rhythm of breathing. The cold lips that touch hers overwhelm her in grief. If anything bad happens to
Khun Srivisarn, she would not forgive herself for having craved that grilled pork dish.

The crowd holds its breath, and their collective anxiety obliterates noises from all the onlookers, including
the calls from the two handmaids who have their eyes covered with their palms, yet who still peek.

Others are in an uproar. “How grotesque! What an abominable disgrace!” Some onlookers hoot, while
other swallow a big gulp at a sight they abhor but cannot seem to turn away. As long as they have lived,
they have never seen any couple kissing so blatantly in public.

The mouth-to-mouth resuscitation slowly forces enough living breath into the still body. Gradually, Khun
Srivisarn’s chest rises just slightly. But the life-saver remains unaware that he is slowly reviving and
keeps blowing air through his mouth and into his lungs. Then his mouth moves. Though he is gasping for
air, to onlookers it looks as if he is kissing back, especially with his hand holding her head close. Alert and
alarmed, Kate pushes off from his lips and feels a surge to her heart when seeing his awestruck stare.

“Oh! You are back. Finally!” After the initial shock, Kate heaves a sigh of relief and suddenly realizes the
reactions from the crowd.

“What a pity! Such a good-looking girl kissing a man in broad daylight!” The voice floating in the air
enrages Kate. “It wasn’t a kiss, hey! I save a life the farang way…mouth-to-mouth resuscitation. Don’t you
get it? You fossil ignoramuses! Dinosaurs from Jurassic Park!” The crowd starts to withdraw and disperse,
not daring to meet the eyes of the lady fiercely defending her actions. Her wide-open eyes glare angrily at
the remaining onlookers, one by one, until they look away and walk off thinking this woman has gone
insane. Some of them recall that she was the lady who talked back at the farangs. Not one of them dares
to exchange words with her.

There is no need for her to be told that this incident will be spread by word of mouth like wild fire, even
more so than her verbal exchange with Luang Sura.
“Gosh! Trouble never seems to leave me alone. This time big, gigantic, gargantuan trouble too. What a
huge nuisance!” Turning to look at Khun Srivisarn, she realizes that she has just given him her first kiss.
Blood rushes to her face instantly.

“Like I said, I was saving your life. You did not breathe yourself.” She makes an awkward excuse and
lowers her eyes when he does not answer. The oarsman who hit him comes back to inquire after his
condition. They exchange a few words and when Khun Srivisarn says he’s fine, the guy is relieved and
rows off.

The servants are all blushing and avoiding the eyes of their master and mistress. They merely take their
places on the boats, anxiously waiting to leave the scene as fast as possible. Muen Sunthorn gets on his
feet but wobbles from the concussion suffered from the severe blow. Kate tries to get over herself.

“All right! Nothing more damaging than it already is!” She helps her khun pi board the boat before finding
her own balance to step down in it. She now gets the knack of embarking and disembarking from the
unsteady barge, feeling quite lucky that she has a blouse on. A mere sabai would probably fall off and get
soaked to transparency.

Khun Srivisarn gazes at the woman sitting in front of him in confusion. When he opened his eyes, who
was that translucent woman he saw superimposed on Karaket’s body? Her face bore resemblance to
Karaket’s, yet it was not her. Translucent yet distinctively clear to him. Her eyes reflected all the stars in the
sky, making her the most beautiful woman in the world. Most importantly, he had a feeling of acquaintance
to her, though he was quite sure he had never seen her in this life. Fluttering butterflies surged though his
veins. Or, was this but a fanciful hallucination from the concussion he just suffered?

The manner and speech of the woman in front of him are different too. So different it seems to be a
different person. And definitely not a possession by any kind of spirit. Otherwise, Master White-Robe would
not have trusted her so much. But if she is not Karaket, then who can she be?

Finally, the boat returns home. “Can you manage to get up to the pier?” she asks. His expressionless
stare makes her nervous.

“I am all right. You should change your clothes and go down to the kitchen. I hope your cooking is
palatable enough.” At that, Khun Srivisarn strides toward the main house without waiting for anyone, as
usual.

“Hmm! A mouthful of sarcasm as before. Hey, Pi Phin and Pi Yam, why are you standing coyly there? Your
clothes are soaking wet. Go quickly to change them.” The two handmaids, still unable to delete the mouth-
to-mouth visual image from their memory, meekly follow their mistress.

After a change of clothes, the three women go down to the kitchen. Phin makes fire with charcoal upon
Kate’s command while Yam sits down and slices pork and prepares cherry tomatoes.

The pineapple cluster near the concubine houses has fruits of many sizes, and Kate chooses a greenish
yellow one, and peels off the thick skin. The pineapple is neither too ripe nor raw. Just right for cutting into
pieces without breaking.

Yod, Wan and Muang help to cut off a bamboo rod, split and sharpen into brochettes as instructed. The
kitchen maids put down their own food preparation to look curiously, having never seen such peculiar way
of food preparation.

“All right. Marinate the pork with salt, sugar, black soy sauce, ground pepper and the minced pineapple, Pi
Yam. No need to put in much seasoning because I will make a separate sauce. Too bad we don’t have
tomato ketchup. I’ll have to use seafood sauce together with the grilled prawn dish.”

Beautiful large prawns, grilled medium-rare and turning red, are transferred onto a wooden tray and lined
up in a row. Kate pounds garlic with fresh chili and squeezes in lime juice, mixing in some sugar and salt.
She taste-tests to suit her palate before putting a lid on the sauce jar, leaving the sauce to supervise the
skewering of pork cubes, cherry tomatoes and pineapple chunks on bamboo brochettes. Then she
instructs the kitchen maids to grill them while she and her handmaids go up to the house to change into
bathing clothes and go down for a bath. After a while, the barbecue grilling turns up a plateful. It is also
time for dinner from the kitchen to be served, so a convoy of plates and dishes are carried up the house.

Kate comes out of her room after grooming and powdering, just as dinner is being brought up to the
house. Phraya Hora looks at the unfamiliar dishes with suspicion. Khun Srivisarn also looks at them with
distrust.

“Barbecues, sirs. Here are grilled prawns. And seafood sauce in the jar.” Kate explains.

“What did you say? Babaku…Sipud?” Phraya Hora repeats tentatively the words he hears.

Kate laughs delightfully having heard English pronunciations from a real Siamese like the King’s advisor.

“It is barbecues, Uncle. It’s grilled pork with cherry tomatoes and pineapple cubes. And the sauce is
seafood sauce, Uncle.”

“Is it salty as water from the sea?” Khun Srivisarn takes his turn to ask.

“You try it and tell me. Although it doesn’t look much, as much as I can do under the circumstances, I
guarantee the taste.” Kate takes to task, removing shells from the prawns as shelling was her department
at the dinner table with Grandma and Mom. The sweet taste of grilled prawns dipped into the spicy
seafood sauce is an immediate hit. Now the two men of different generations dig in to peel the prawn shell
themselves. The succulent barbecued pork is also flavorful with the right blend of sweet pineapple and tart
tomatoes, made more delicious by the spicy seafood dip. The usual Siamese fare is almost untouched as
they dig into the grilled dishes with zest. Everyone’s appetite seems to double as they all ask for a second
helping of rice.

“You have something to show off as a cook too. I have never tasted such dishes before. Whose recipes did
you take from?” asks Phraya Hora.

“Um…I was at the Convent public pier market and I saw someone in the neighborhood cook the dishes. I
just wanted to give it a try.” Finally, she’s found a reasonable excuse. Life gets more difficult finding the
right excuses for every novelty.

“Today…” The sudden mention of today makes Kate’s heart plummet. She is reminded of what could be a
big scandal. “I took Karaket to place an order for a new kind of cooking pan, Father. And we spent some
time at the Convent public pier market.” She sighs secretively in relief at the end of the sentence but
begins to hold her breath again with his continuing account. “At the bend near the floating market, the boat
flipped, Father. And I was hit on the head until I passed out and almost drowned. Fortunately, Cherm
dragged me to shore and Karaket helped to bring me back.”

“Oh…” exclaims Phraya Hora.

“Well, khun pi, you do not have to thank me. It was really nothing.” She feels the urge to put a brake to his
mouth before things come out in the open.

“It is better to have him learn from me than to hear from someone else. Karaket made use of the
knowledge she learned from the missionaries to revive me, Father.”

“Oh….” repeats Phraya Hora.

“She breathed air from her mouth into my mouth, Father.” The word mouth sounds infuriatingly redundant.

“Oh…What!” The loud exclamation by Phraya Hora is answered by Kate’s unwitting laugh. She winces,
and her face bends down to receive full-scale admonition. However, Phraya Hora remains speechless and
contemplative. Finally, he speaks up slowly.

“It will not be long before the incident becomes the talk of town. What do you think we should do, Dej?”

Why! Kate looks at the Phraya, puzzled. The action was solely her own. Why is the decision-making on the
possible repercussion shifted to him just like that?

“I think of starting a household, Father.” The word from his mouth strikes like thunder.

“What! Gosh! There is no need to go so far, sirs,” interrupts Kate. “Scandals are mere rumors. If we pay
no mind to them, what would we have to be afraid of? Moreover, I made a loud and clear announcement at
the market there that it was done to save his life, that it was no disgrace or shame. The matter may not get
out of proportion that should require…starting a household.” The new-age girl who doesn’t care for smear
campaigns intervenes at this point as she has no prior intention of marrying him.

“Keep your mouth shut, Karaket.” The person who has never scolded her once since her arrival tells her off
in a grave tone as if he was anticipating this moment, the moment his son makes a proposal in regard to
his favorite niece, without his initiation.

“This matter is for grown-ups to discuss and not for you to interfere. Dej, if you are not willing, would it be
better if you only get betrothed for the time being?”

His son responds with momentary silence. He wanted to marry her altogether, but his father offers him an
alternative with some lee-way. If he should speak out his mind forthrightly, he fears she will think himself
less, so he pretends to neutralize his expression and agrees with his father.

“That will be good, Father.”

“In that case, let us wait until your mother comes back and we shall discuss the matter further. We shall
have more to weigh in regarding the scandal. If the situation turns out to be as Karaket said, maybe we will
not have to put you into a position against your will.” Phraya Hora pretends to heave a long sigh before
turning to Kate.

“Karaket, I thank you very much for reviving Dej. Don’t you worry. If it will tarnish your reputation, I shall
have Dej rectify it by marrying you. Any woman with this damaging scandal will not be able to marry off. No
man will want her for his wife.”

Hmm…Kate mutters to herself -- depressed. The generation of old never listens to the YouTube
generation like herself. On the other hand, the two handmaids nearly jump about hugging each other
rejoicing in their mistress’ turn of fortune.

Khun Srivisarn has both good looks and great prospects coming his way in his career, under Chaophraya
Kosa and Phra Visut’s wings. Lady Karaket, their mistress, will have a glorious future!

Kate walks into her bedroom drained of her usual zest. She sighs too many times. Who would think that
her craving for grilled pork would land her with a fiancé and most likely a future husband?

“Milady, this time Lord Khun initiated the move himself. We only have to wait until her ladyship Champa is
back from Lavo and milady will be officially betrothed. We are so relieved.” Kate glances at the two
handmaids and heaves another sigh.

“Fiancé…whoa! As good as it gets anyway. Just a fiancé. I hope the betrothal goes on forever.” Kate lays
on her side dejectedly with her back to the two handmaids in dejection. Distress mounts and overwhelms
her. She remains dazed in bed. Since she was little, she has always thought that she would marry for love.
It comes so unexpected that she is being forced into engagement like this. She couldn’t even open her
mouth and argue her case.

All the more distressing, Khun Srivisarn has hated her from the start. How can they be happy together in
marriage? Although they are on better terms now, he still has Lady Chanwad. And Miss Mali seems to
have feelings for him too.

“What a headache!” She exclaims.

“Milady, things have come this far, so why should you give yourself a headache? Everything is the result
of predestination. If you and Khun Srivisarn were not meant for each other, even after your betrothal, you
would not be together.”

“It is true. Maybe I was predestined to be here.” In a flash, she thinks of Muen Ruang. Who knows if
predestination or whatever it is has led her here to meet the black-toothed, muscular version of her friend
Ruang? And betrothal can be broken of course. It doesn’t seem too difficult to break it off. A smart person
like her must be able to think of something. After giving it some thought, she feels more at ease and able
to smile again.

The next morning, after staying idle with nothing do until lunchtime, a manservant from Phra Visut’s house
arrives and, palms-together in a sitting position, tells her to go to Saint Paulo Church. Kate is promptly
ready to leave, with stationery and all. She follows the servant with Phin and Yam who always keep her
company wherever she goes.

The French lesson with the missionary, Pierre Langrois, goes very smoothly. Besides First Envoy Phra
Visut, Second Envoy the middle-aged Luang Kalya and Third Envoy Khun Srivisarn, there are nearly 20
other students in the class, all of whom were handpicked to go to France and study some Western
expertise so they can return to help develop the country as King Narai expects and Chaophraya Kosa
helps planning.

Kate is the only woman allowed to be in the class and acts as interpreter to facilitate communication.
Actually, the class seems fine without her as Monsieur Pierre has been in Ayodhya for 12 years as
missionary. So he can communicate quite well in the Siamese tongue.

At first meeting, Monsieur Pierre Langrois expresses his surprise by the strange accent and divergent
syntax in Kate’s verbal communication, but he attributes the idiosyncrasy to the level of education of her
teacher, which makes her speaking skill odd.

Given her intelligence and inquisitive nature, he can’t help but talk her into the main mission of
Catholicism he was sent here for. After class, he begins his conversion attempt in Siamese.

“You seem to know about our language and God so well. The missionary who taught you must be very
glad if you should come into the Lord’s embrace.”

“I am well aware of it. But my missionary teacher did not force me to convert.” The calm reply and mere
smile from the white-teethed Siamese woman who looks different from most Siamese women makes him
realize she is a difficult case to convince. It may be better if he defers the solicitation to the bishop who is
very persuasive and if he succeeds in converting this lady, it seems likely to attract upper-class Siamese to
their faith. This is a subtle way of religious advocacy.

“In a few days we will hold a big event here. I should like to invite you to meet Bishop Pallu, so we can talk
more.”

“It will be my great pleasure, sir. I’m looking forward to talking more with you, Monsieur Pierre.” Kate
answers graciously.

Walking off at a distance, Luang Kalya voices his resentment. “They are always soliciting us into
conversion.”

“Be patient, Lord Luang. We want to gain knowledge from them, so we must put up with their solicitation.”
Phra Visut provides a big picture of the situation.

“So I thought, but I can’t help feeling annoyed at times. Lady Karaket, do not fall for the farangs, mind you.”
Luang Kalya warns her.

“Yes, your lordship.” Kate smiles in consent and they all walk to the pier to make their way back home.

“Khun Srivisarn, you should have regular tutorials with Karaket to keep up with the French class. And I
shall find time to join you too, so that we too can learn French faster. Moreover, you must be very careful
because your boat incident yesterday was surely not an accident.” Phra Visut gives his last word before
boarding the boat. Khun Srivisarn bows in consent and goodbye.

After seeing Phra Visut and Luang Kalya off at the pier, Kate turns to him.

“Khun pi, Phra Visut said the boat incident yesterday was not an accident. Who does he suspect, do you
know?”

“It is not him who suspected. It is my suspicion rather. Do you remember the attitude of Luang Sura?”

“Oh, do you mean to say that….?” Kate conjectures.

“Do not say anything yet. The matter should not be mentioned in public. Let us return home now.”

“Oh! Wait, khun pi. Do not embark yet. Shall we pay a visit to Miss Mali now?”

“It is already late today. Let us call it a day. There is still plenty of time to come.”
“Well, have you never put yourself in her shoes? She must be expecting our visit today, knowing we will
take a lesson at the church.” She starts to persuade him so eloquently he merely sighs in resignation.

“Then suit yourself, but I shall visit Khun Ruang at the corner opposite the Pompej Fort.”

“Hey, has Khun Ruang not gone off to Songkwae?” asks Kate.

“Not until next month.”

“Oh, and…you think of going to the place where our boat sank yesterday? Do you not find it
embarrassing?” Kate mumbles.

“I did not kiss anyone. Why should I be embarrassed?” The twinkles in his eyes are met with a quick
glance before turning away.

“And you keep reiterating that. However, please come to visit Miss Mali with me first, because she is
looking forward to seeing you more than me.” Her tease makes him frown and he looks incomprehensibly
at the lady in front of him.

The suspicion in what he saw yesterday is back again. Normally Karaket would be small-minded and very
jealous. She used to be verbally abusive when Lady Chanwad came over to visit. But now the woman who
is in the body of Karaket behaves differently and seems quite uninterested in him. It seems like what he
saw was not due to his dazed vision.

Such a thought sets his heart ablaze. It comes as a total shock. He feels a hollowness inside as he starts
to realize that he can no longer take her for granted. However, his inherent calm keeps his emotions in
check. He walks to the floating shop of the Indian Fanik with Kate without protest.

Miss Mali’s beautiful eyes sparkle when she sees the tall figure walking straight toward her. The light soon
disappears from her eyes, though, when she is reminded of the susurrus rumors of yesterday’s incident—
that Khun Srivisarn and Lady Karaket did some grotesque, unthinkable thing at the river bend. Part of the
rumor says it was a farang way of life-saving. Some even say that Lady Karaket possessed a power of
blowing life into a dead person and extended Khun Srivisarn’s life.

“Your face betrays you and tells me you heard about yesterday’s incident, Miss Mali.” Kate strikes first
before shaking her head wearily at the speed of news traveling in this city. “I merely saved his life the
farang way. I don’t know how far it can go. If rumors get worse, I shall have to become his fiancée soon.”

“Fiancée!”

“Well, if the rumors are overwhelming, my uncle and aunt will not let it go. They are afraid of the
impossibility of marrying me off. They must give me away to my intended instead. But you do not have to
worry. Siamese lords can take as many wives as he wishes. It is customary.” Her matter-of-fact statement
has different effects on the listeners.

Khun Srivisarn groans at her bold and uninhibited comment. He has an inkling that this woman must have
come from a place where men and women are equal, which would explain her assertive, forthright manner
and speech. It must also be the reason why she is so smart and quick-thinking that sometimes he finds it
hard to catch up.

“I shall take a look at the merchandise inside the shop, Miss Mali.” Kate is all smiles as she leaves Khun
Srivisarn with Miss Mali so they have some time together. She believes that love is a beautiful thing and
she wants to give them a chance.

Miss Mali remains speechless at what she just heard. The flickering hope is nearly extinguished on the
spot. She arrives at an important issue that requires decision-making.

“How are you, Miss Mali? Did you do well in trade today?” Miss Mali feigns a smile in response.

“It was fine, sir. We have had customers all day.” Her sad, longing eyes look up to him who takes no
notice.

“Is that so? Miss Mali, I shall leave Lady Karaket in your care while I pay a visit to Khun Ruang at the bend
over there for a while.” At that, his eyes glance into the shop before ambling through shops and crowds to
see his friend who is putting on his act for public eyes for a higher scheme.

Phin, seeing that Khun Srivisarn has left and her mistress Lady Karaket is inside the shop, makes herself
heard by Miss Mali while seeming to talk with Yam.

“Even though a Siamese nobleman can take many wives, he can only have a single first wife. Hence, he
needs to choose well for a suitable lady like our mistress who is high-born as daughter and niece of a
Phraya, not any merchant from other countries. Do you agree, Yam?” Cherm, Muang, Yod and Wan who
stay behind as Karaket’s bodyguards are all smiles at Phin’s rhetoric that is so possessive of Khun
Srivisarn on Karaket’s behalf.

“Yes, absolutely. Only someone like milady and Lady Chanwad is a suitable match as first wife for
Siamese lords.” Yam follows the initiative of her friend Phin in a general term without knowing its exact
purpose.

“Yam, why did you have to mention Lady Chanwad?” Phin admonishes her friend for the wrong move.

“Why! Lady Chanwad is the daughter of Chaophraya Kosa, mind you. If he had had no intention of a
matrimonial tie, he would not have brought her to Phraya Hora’s house on business so frequently.” The
innocent Yam argues with such naïvete that Phin shuts her up with a pinch.

Miss Mali can put two and two together and rightly guesses the handmaid’s intention. Her sad eyes
become harsher with indignation while realizing that, besides Lady Karaket, another lady looms as her
insurmountable rival. It is high time for her to make a practical decision regarding her future life. The
proposition from Bishop Pallu seems like a wise solution. Her social status will be rasised and it is a self-
sacrifice for her family and also a declaration of true faith. The Lord will be pleased with her decision and
this must surely be his will.

Kate is not quite done with her browsing through the merchandise in the raft-shop when Khun Srivisarn
returns in a sober state and without reeking of alcohol as usual.

“Well, today you are not drunk. You must have a more important business to tend to.” Her tease is a
fragment of her imagination that runs larger than reality, assuming Khun Srivisarn’s speedy return was
owing to his desire to be with Miss Mali.

“What important business are you talking about? My business is to take you back home. Let us board the
boat. You and I must take a bath or it will be too dark and my father will be waiting to have dinner with us. It
is not proper to keep our seniors waiting. Miss Mali, Karaket and I shall leave you now.”

“Yes, your lordship.”

“And we shall come again, Miss Mali.” Mali merely nods in acknowledgement. Lady Karaket’s sincere
attitude gives her a good feeling beyond jealousy. She is also trying to come to terms with the harsh reality
of a life ahead in which she will have to give herself up.

Back at home, the all-smiling Kate walks behind the highly popular bachelor Khun Srivisarn to the house.
She is reminded of a famous poem by Sunthorn Pu. She pesters him in a teasing voice.

Abstention can lead to sobriety

But lovesickness is hard to resist

Substance fades off the next morning

But lovelornness stays day and night.

“What poem did you just recite?” He turns around to look in puzzlement.

“A poem for someone who has both Lady Chanwad and Miss Mali.”

“Is it so? Did you forget someone else?”

“Who? Are you involved with some other girl too?” She asks, wide-eyed.
“Look in the mirror.” At that, he chuckles and, hands together behind him, walks into his bedroom, leaving
her frowning and trying to follow his logic.

Who can it be? Look in the mirror…Her eyes widen further when she realizes that her tease comes around
to herself.

“Ha! This guy! A man of few words, ha! But all his words count! No wonder he’s got fan clubs everywhere.”

She walks into her room laughingly, unperturbed by being wooed as she thinks it is merely a witty
repartee, and not meant for real. She does a quick change into her bathing gear, hoping to beat Khun
Srivisarn, so she can get back at him again by lingering at the pier and letting him wait and wait, as usual.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Bazaar Tour

The solemn face of Lady Champa who sits on the low table by the partition makes Kate so uncomfortable.
She keeps glancing at the person sitting on the floor beside her and shifting her position.

“I was away for a few days and much has happened. Dej, why did you not keep a good watch on her? You
let her quarrel with some farangs, and it became the talk of town. How can a woman be allowed to raise a
rumor of drawing a dagger to fight the farangs? And this shameful disgrace too. I am so humiliated I do not
know where to hide my face. Your promotion to Lord Khun leads you nowhere.”

Kate keeps her head down and feels a certain small sense of satisfaction that for once, she is not the
target of all criticism; instead, the blame was shifted from herself to Khun Srivisarn entirely. On the other
hand, she cannot help but feel sorry for him, knowing too well that the task of keeping her in check,
according nobility etiquette of the day, is next to impossible.

“Please forgive me, Mother.” The grown man being reprimanded by his mother keeps his head down and
makes not a single argument in his own defense, knowing well that any comment can only add to her rage.

“Karaket, you are truly a handful to deal with. Soon after recovery, you put on public shows everywhere.
What shall I do with you? It seems I must confine you to the house without letting you out to create more
scenes.”

“If you please, Aunt ma’m! I did not intend to create such uproars. The argument with the farangs is untrue
and grossly exaggerated. It was a mere verbal exchange and I did not have a dagger, surely you know
that. It was only that the servants were afraid I would be attacked by the farangs, so they drew their
daggers in defense of me. That’s all there is to it. It is true that I cannot stand seeing someone being
bullied. So I merely vouched as an eyewitness for the Indian Fanik.” Khun Srivisarn glances sternly
towards her as if to make her hold her tongue. However, she is so confident that she was in the right that
she pays no mind to him. She is more afraid of missing the opportunity to go out again.

“As for the scandalous disgrace, all I can say is…without my intervening, your son, my intended, will
certainly…” The audacious girl leaves the blank to be filled in by her listeners.

“I did not ask you to plead your case,” Lady Champa rebukes Kate. “Why should you explain yourself?
You must undergo a big reform in your manners. Look at my son, sitting still and remaining so infuriatingly
silent.”

Kate is truly crestfallen now. Lady Champa’s temper is extraordinary. Now Kate wonders who has the
most say in household matters? Instead of the patriarch, Phraya Hora, it could well be that Lady Champa
holds absolute power.

The elderly man sighs deeply and shakes his head wearily. He is hesitant to bring up the betrothal again,
but there seems to be no other solution to this humiliating matter.

“We shall have to do as your uncle wishes. And as Dej’s fiancée you shall have to learn proper behavior,
so that by the time you start a household yourself, you will be the wife whom Dej will not be ashamed of.”

Her word is a household decree. Kate is inescapably enrolled in a finishing course on the manner and
speech befitting a lady including personal composure, and training for floral arrangement, embroidery,
culinary skill. She is under supervision every morning. After lunchtime, she is permitted to join the French
class because the request is from Phra Visut and Lady Champa cannot refuse. In the evening, she holds a
tutorial for Khun Srivisarn and the diplomatic mission.

The news of the betrothal of Khun Srivisarn and Lady Karaket has drowned out the scandalous talk about
what happened on the riverbank after the boat flipped over, but the tale of her quarrel with farangs has
spread far and wide and morphed into a completely different story.

In the few short weeks that Kate has come to live in Karaket’s body, the name Lady Karaket has gone
from being completely unknown to the talk of the town, from north to south, with new angles, additions and
even fabrications. Some now insist Karaket is a man who was jealous of his wife named Miss Mali and
stabbed some farangs with a dagger. Kate cannot help but bemused that her gender has changed in the
tall tales because no one outside the city can believe that such bold actions could be taken by a woman.

In the middle of one night, Kate moves in bed with a feeling of heaviness. Over the past few days, she has
felt odd, though it is not uncommon to her. She bends over with a severe cramp in her lower abdomen and
feels some fluids flowing out. She calls out loudly, “Pi Phin, Pi Yam!” The two handmaids rush in
immediately, knowing it is not yet time to get up.

“I have my period.”

“What period do you have, milady?” They don’t seem to understand her.

“The thing women have every month,” Kate thinks how best to explain her condition.

“Oh, menstruation. Stay put, milady.” No longer alarmed, the servants are relieved that their mistress’
yelling stems from a normal monthly occurrence in women. Phin goes to the wardrobe chest, bends down
to pick up a large piece of clean, used cloth and folds it into a long strip and then folds in into another long
strip of cloth. She shows her mistress how to wear them as milady seems to have forgotten how.

“Is that how sanitary napkins are made? And I thought coconut husks are used.”

“Sanitary napkins? Coconut husks? How so, milady? This is a menstruation pad. You put many layers on
and if you soil your sarong, you must change it. At this time of month, you wear a red sarong, so possible
soiling cannot be spotted too obviously.” Phin explains while seeing to it that Kate wears one properly.
Then she places another sheet on the mattress and she and Yam go back to sleep.

Laying on her bed, Kate wiggles restlessly in discomfort. The old-style sanitary napkin is so thick and big it
feels awkward.

“Whoa! What trials for women of this day and age! So thick and big! I’ll have to walk astride. Well, what
the heck! It’s actually better than how I had imagined. I heard they used coconut husks in the old days. It’s
so hard living in ancient times.” Kate tosses and turns for some time before she can fall asleep from sheer
exhaustion.

The next morning after getting dressed, she is prepared to go out as usual, but the two handmaids yell at
her loudly.

“You do not need to go out. You stay waiting in your room for a few days.”

“Waiting for what?” Phin looks at her walking gait, legs apart, and grimaces, finding it hard to explain.

“You are having menstruation. You cannot do anything well. Today you must refrain from going outside.”

“Why?! But I have training to attend, haven’t I?”

“Call it off, milady. If you walk bow-legged like that, you will start new rumors about you. And you will
embarrass yourself if you soil your sarong out there.”

“Indeed! So women in menstruation cannot do anything, can they?”

“They stay indoors, milady, without going out of their private space.”
“Well, be it as it may.”

“And if someone asks you, never say you are menstruating. You say you are riding a horse, so you must
stay in.”

Kate giggles at the insinuation. She is not really embarrassed as periods are what all fertile women have.
But Phin took it on herself to go out and let it be known that her mistress is ‘riding a horse’. Lady Champa
receives the news with a nod of acknowledgment.

“Then tell Karaket to take a rest. Today she need not train in stringing garlands. And if she has a
stomachache, you find her some medication too.”

Once Kate is told that today she is allowed to play truant from the finishing course, she feels it is a fair
exchange for her personal trouble. Supervising the kitchen staff is her forte. She enjoys cooking and
tasting. A few days into that lesson, she passes with distinction. But stringing flowers and embroidery are
more cumbersome. Although she can do some from Grandma Nuan’s teaching, it is far from her favorite
thing. Her handiwork comes out badly for the most part. But her aunt who is soon to be mother-in-law is
relentless in her encouragement.

“Keep doing it every day and it will get better.” The design of embroidery is local flora on unbleached
calico. Lady Champa teaches her to do intricate needlework as in weaving.

“If you can do fine, I shall have it made into a cushion case for worship.” The older woman states a clear
purpose to motivate Kate.

Lady Champa now feels much more at ease, seeing the change in direction that her future in-law is taking.
Previously, Karaket would refuse to touch anything. Whatever she laid hands on, she felt exhausted and
faint. The scent of flowers nauseated her. The smell of cooking proved debilitating. The only time she
looked refreshed and up and about was at meals and when she expected the return of the man she has a
crush on. Karaket was such a nuisance, truly!

But now she takes to task whatever she is assigned to do. Although she cannot do everything well, at
least she gives it a try. Her manner of speaking is bold but tinged with fawning and respect. The
daughterless matriarch has become less lonely having Karaket around. Despite her curious and inquisitive
nature, she is not as much of a handful as feared.

Even her son Dej’s attitude toward Karaket has changed. From resentment and indifference, he has
become calm, finding no fault with her as before. Phraya Hora’s mood has improved now that he does not
have to act as a buffer as before.

“Bonjour! Comment allez-vous?” Kate makes a show of an overblown French accent, which likely would
irritate a French ear, in her tutorial lesson for Khun Srivisarn.

“What did you just say?” he frowns. “Your intonation is dreadfully stomach-churning.”

“Well, my dear khun pi! The farangs speak with an over-the-top gusto which may seem pretentious to you.
But by mimicking them, that’s how you learn their tongue.”

“Can we just make it understandable as we must? I cannot put on such a pretentious accent as what you
just did.” He states his case clear and simple, which makes the tutor giggle. She tones down her
exaggerated French accent in compliance with his request. Putting her palm under her chin, she sits
watching him taking notes and repeating the same sentence over and over. He is, so serious that she
can’t help but smile.

“You are working hard at it.”

“The mission I will be dispatched for is the affairs of the state. Whatever I can do on behalf of the country I
shall do to the best of my ability. Learning to speak in their tongue will open our eyes to their world, and I
have to represent the Siamese people in a way that foreigners do not find us contemptible.” As it turned
out, Khun Srivisarn’s studiousness and dedication proved to be rewarding. No wonder Siam’s diplomatic
mission has been highly regarded up until her modern times.
Khun Srivisarn observes the faraway, contemplative behavior of the woman in his company with some
misgivings. Her thoughts are often far-fetched and it annoys him.

“Tomorrow Monsieur Pierre has to go and oversee the new printing press at Lavo. He is not available for
class. Do you want to go to the market? I shall escort you.” The word ‘market’ is magical to Kate’s ears.
As a scholar of art history, the chance to observe the Ayodhya livelihood and art objects is not to be
missed, for they will age into much studied antiques in her days.

“Yes, let’s. Um…what market shall we visit this time?

“Do you want to see some jewelry? If you do, I shall take you to the silver bowl market and Cheekun
market near Mahathat Temple. And we can walk along the palace wall near the Defense Pier to the Na
Wangtra market where there is a bazaar selling groceries and some exotic merchandise.”

“Yes, let’s go there. How very kind of you, khun pi!”

“I see that you have not been out for many days. I would like to take you on a tour of the capital, so no one
will look down on you as an ignoramus from backwater.” At that, he looks down at his notes to study the
sentences again. He smiles secretively when he hears Karaket telling her handmaids to prepare for the
expedition tomorrow.

A long while later, there is commotion downstairs. Then a servant comes up to report that the Chinese
blacksmith at Talad Noi is here to deliver custom-made merchandises. Kate hurries downstairs in
excitement. The Korean-style iron hotplate is almost exactly what she had in mind. All that needs to be
done is to try using it. As for the terracotta cones and their iron bases, she has the servants carry them to
the kitchen. Servants and slaves crowd in to look at the exotic kitchen instruments, including Lady Champa
and Khun Srivisarn.

“What are they for, Karaket?” he asks.

“I shall make a water filter. The canal water is not clean sometimes. With body discharge direct into the
waterways, it’s unsanitary. When we have depleted the large jars storing rainwater for consumption, we
can use the filtered water for boiling and drinking.” Kate explains.

“Why should we go through such difficulties? We just shake some alum in the water, and sediments will
settle.” Khun Srivisarn still has sanitary questions.

“Not all impurities will settle. There are tiny specks that can cause illnesses if we drink the contaminated
water. It needs filtering and boiling to kill the germs.”

“What are the germs? I have never seen any.” He is still curious.

“They are very, very tiny and invisible to bare eyes. But they can make us sick, just by drinking canal water.
And it goes on and on until it becomes an epidemic.”

“If they are very, very tiny and invisible to bare eyes, how do you know they exist?” Kate finds Khun
Srivisarn’s question hard to answer, so she parries with him instead.

“There is no harm in taking cautionary measures, is there? A thing which is invisible does not mean it does
not exist, does it?” Now it’s the questioner who is at his wit’s end.

“Well…you are peculiar. Since your recovery, you think and act so differently from others. That is why they
have rumors about you.” Lady Champa mumbles but she does not want to argue or protest because what
Karaket said is true. There is no harm in taking cautionary measures.

Lady Champa walks up to the house, but Khun Srivisarn remains standing, hands behind his back,
observing Kate and her filtering process attentively. Seeing her placing materials she acquired in layers
over layers, with kapok at the bottom, he cannot stop being curious.

“Why do you put kapok at the bottom?”

“Kapok is the finest filter. Then it’s charcoal. Charcoal absorbs smells of mud, weeds or other stuffs in the
water. As for these large and small pebbles, they trap sediments. As well as these course and fine sands.”
She pours the materials she mentions into the terracotta cone in their respective order. Then, she has a
servant fetch a pail of canal water and pours it into the cone. Water passes through into an earthen
receptacle underneath. The murky canal water passing through the filtering process changes.

“Water is indeed clear.” He declares after inspection.

“Right on!...um, of course! There are many layers of filtering materials. I guarantee it is totally odorless
too. But for best results we must boil it and leave it to cool down. And it will be drinkable and safe.”

“And what about these iron pot and pan?”

“The pan must stand with the curving grill on top. We merely put red hot charcoals into the stove on this
terracotta tray. When serving, we put meat on the riddled grill, and the heat from the charcoal will cook the
meat on the grill. We put some water around the pan and cook vegetables to boil. Vegetables cut the
grease from meat and prevent indigestion from grilled meat. We use a great-tasting sauce as seasoning.
And yum!”

“The sauce as you made the other day?” He gulps remembering the mouthwatering taste.

“Yes, but you need to be cautious of indigestion. The solution is simple enough. You just eat a lot of
vegetables, which helps immensely.”

Khun Srivisarn is absolutely certain that the lady in front of him is no spirit of any kind, neither sprite,
sylvan, ghoul, nor ogre in disguise. He has used all kinds of magics and spells well known for their
potency, to ward off and guard against demons, but this lady is totally unaffected. He is also certain that
she is not Lady Karaket too. But what or who she is he has no idea and no desire to know. He only wishes
she continues to be Lady Karaket as she is now. His mind is made up, and he will not alert her to his
suspicion.

“I shall visit Khun Ruang today. We set a meeting at the Ban Chine market.”

“Ban Chine Market, where there are theatres, is it not?” Kate’s curiosity is immediately aroused.

“Do not give me sparkling eyes. I shall not bring you along today. It is inappropriate for a lady to visit this
market.”

“Poof!” She exclaims disappointedly.

“Why should you complain? Tomorrow you shall get to see the silver bowl market and the palace-side
bazaar. I am leaving now.”

She looks after the tall frame walking off with a look of determination. Ha! Little do you know Kate, she
promises! There will come a day. She will never forfeit even a slim chance of visiting this Ban Chine
Market.

The next day, rowboats from the same group tour go into the city walls and take short cuts via small canals
into Phraram Swamp. The boats moor at the Phra Mahathat Temple pier. The two masters and six
servants walk through the temple into the zone called the silver bowl market. The place is bustling with a
crowd of traders and customers. Besides silverware and upmarket merchandises, it is close to the
Cheekun Market of jewelry trades and the market of talum and footed trays, which are also luxury goods
as well.

As before, Kate looks at the roadside shops in excitement. She quickly sees that most shoppers and
passersby are well-to-do and well-dressed, unlike the bare-necessity buyers and sellers at other markets.
They are fully accessorized too. This must be the equivalent of Siam Paragon Shopping Mall in modern-
day Bangkok.

Food and eateries are aplenty here too, selling old Thai sweetmeats and Chinese preserved fruits in syrup.

“Further up is the market for husked and unhusked rice. I figure you do not want to see, do you?” Khun
Srivisarn asks.

“Let us see the silver-bowl market, Cheekun market and container market first. By the way, what is the
price of husked rice in the market? How much is a bucket?”
“Rice is sold for one pai a bucket. For unhusked rice, the price is a little lower.” Khun Srivisarn answers
without much thought, his eyes on the pretty face of the woman who is doing math while she talks.

“Two pai equals to one feung. Eight feung is one baht. One baht gets sixteen buckets. Wow! One baht can
buy such a lot of rice.” Kate bends down to look at the bamboo tray lined with a velvet cloth carrying cloudy
gems set in silver or gold settings in old designs. There are long shoulder chains, hair pins, and bangles of
many sizes. They are quite a spectacle for her, ranging from bead necklaces, rings, loose gems. Besides
wrist bangles, there are plenty of anklets. Most shop owners are either turbaned Sikhs or some Siamese-
looking merchants who speak Siamese with an accent.

“Rubies and gemstones are mostly from the wagons of the Pra Tabong Khmer merchants. You can choose
whatever you like.”

“Hey, do you mean to say you will pay for me?” Kate, the free loader, is quick to ask before buying.

“It does not look as if I will go under if I pay for what you want.”

Sugar daddy! Kate laughs at his reply but she does not choose any item. All she does is browse and walk
around curiously.

At some jewelry shops, she sees silver genital covers for little girls too. There are diamonds-set shoulder
chains and all sorts of accessories with gemstones or diamonds. Water bowls, spoons, silver dippers,
silver trays, silver talums, black nielloware bowls…they all have exotic designs that need to be scrutinized
closely by the art scholar’s eyes.

“Most designs do not look Siamese, do they?” she asks.

“These items sometimes come from Indian junk ships. Some designs are Siamese and some Indian. We
can also have them custom-made. Phraya Choduek Rajsetthi who was Chief of the Left-bank Harbor
trade, used to have silver talums, gold-paint talums and gold trays custom-made with Chinese camellia
designs.”

“I see.”

Shopping until late afternoon, Kate buys a little bit of this and that. Especially at Wangtra Market where
they sell dry goods and sweetmeats, she purchases samples of everything she wants to taste. At first, the
servants are hesitant to receive the food items she offers, and Kate must insist. Soon they are enjoying
enjoy eating every one of the desserts. At Kate’s initiative, they give their legs some rest at intervals under
shady trees.

“You are indulgent to the servants.” Khun Srivisarn remarks out of the blue.

“How so?”

“Usually no one pays a mind to the accompanying servants. Less so with sharing food like you did.”

“Why! They came along to look after me. They put up with my whims and get tired with me, why can I not
repay them some?” Knowing full well that at this time in history, slaves and servants are looked upon as
cattle or working animals requiring no more attention than being fed twice a day, Kate nonetheless cannot
help arguing her case.

“It is not that you cannot, but nobody does it. That is all.” Khun Srivisarn explains calmly.

“Then I am the pioneer.” Kate announces proudly, making him chuckle along.

“I guess so. You will have to go back home soon.”

“Why! And what about you, khun pi?”

“I shall go to the drinking joint at Cheekun Market.”

“Let me accompany you there too.”

“That is not possible. I set it up with Khun Ruang. You already passed by the Cheekun Market.”

“I would like to see Khun Ruang too.” His face turns solemn immediately. “No. You must board the boat
and go back with the servants. When men hang out drinking, there is no place for women to be there.”

“What! You will abandon me again. That time at the Convent public pier market you gave me permission
to come along. This time I shall walk around on my own like before, please. I can wander around
tirelessly.”

“The business will take quite a long time. I want no one to worry about.” He insists.

“What business do you have there? Just to be seen in public drinking. That’s all.”

“Not just to be seen in public drinking as you think. Do not pester me. If you do not listen to me, I shall not
bring you out next time.” At his final word, Kate takes her loss in silence.

Down by the boat, Kate merely runs her hand in the water, pouting at the man who is walking off and lets
Cherm do the rowing. Shortly after, her eyes sparkle with a thought.

“Cherm!” she calls the rower.

“Yes, milady.”

“Pull over at the Ban Chine Market pier,” she commands.

“What, milady!”

“The Ban Chine Market. Do you hear me now?”

“But…Lord Khun…” Cherm is reluctant.

“No buts. If you do not pull over, I shall jump off the boat at the Ban Chine Market pier. Just watch me.”

Cherm knows too well how spunky she can be. He saw it with his own eyes…her feisty argument with
farangs and her mouth-to-mouth resuscitation of his master. She can do unthinkable things and she may
not be bluffing now. If something happened with Phraya Hora’s niece jumping off board, he would take the
full blame. All he can do now is obey the order-- or rather the threat-- by pulling the bow toward the Ban
Chine Market pier.

The servants on the other two boats are in disarray at seeing their mistress disembark at the pier. They
can only follow her lead and do the same.

“Milady! Why are we disembarking at this pier?” Her handmaids ask.

“I want to see the Chinese opera theater. I want to see the Chinese community.” She announces loud and
clear.

“But this is not a place for ladies to walk around, milady.” They protest.

“What are you afraid of? We are here with so many manservants. Let it be known that you guys cannot
protect me.” At that, she walks briskly into the market.

It is not like there are no women here among the trading business, customers, vendors and residents.
However, the deeper Kate walks into it, the more eyes are on her as if she were from outer space, for a
simple reason that a long-hair high-born lady is a rarity in the inner market. The nearer the brothels the
fewer the women. Mostly men are here to have a good time.

The Ban Chine Market is not so different from other markets, only leaning more towards Chinese-made
products which include lamps, statues, carved wood and mother-of-pearl inlaid tables and boxes of all
sizes. There are quite a lot of shoppers. The houses are either made of brick and lime in the Western style
but roofed with corrugated tiles in the Chinese style or made of wood with Chinese carved screens and
hanging lamps.

Deeper into the market, she sees teahouses and buildings with narrow allies in between. A few tired-
looking women sit by the entrance gate. They leave their sagging breasts bare in public view without
covering with sabai or breast wrap. Heavily-powdered faces cannot hide dry, desolate eyes in some
women. But others flirt with the sinewy men walking behind Kate

At the bottom of the market, there is a shrine situated not so far from the den of iniquity. Kate’s curiosity is
now satisfied after the survey of the infamous zone of Ayodhya. She turns back to retrace her route, but is
intercepted by a few Chinamen in long braids who block her way.

“Who are you? Such a beauty walking in this market.” A voice asks while he lecherously surveys Kate from
top to bottom.

“What is your business who milady is? Back off now.” Phin manifests the nature of a cubbing tigress and
steps up to stand in the way of his lustful eyes, followed by Yam who stands covering Kate.

Cherm, Muang, Wan and Yod draw their dagger ready to engage. All of a sudden, many more gangsters
pop up from behind the wall of the narrow alleyways and surround Kate’s party, which is obviously
outnumbered.

“We can have a nice conversation. Why must you act threateningly like this?” The response from the lady
surrounded by bodyguards of male and female servants draws laughter from the hoodlums.

“A nice conversation should come with a kiss or two from you, sister.”

“You lowlife bastards! Your mouth is asking for toothlessness, so you will have no teeth to chew shit.” Phin
calls him the worst names she can think of, enraged by the fact that her mistress is belittled. She is
bloodily hit on the mouth by the Chinese man’s big hand.

“Pi Phin!” Kate rushes to help her handmaid who fell in front of her. Seeing blood, she gets so enraged
she cannot keep herself in check.

“You cunt! You attacked the weaker sex. Do you think you are so cool? You effeminate gangster!” Her loud
cuss word draws the attention of passersby. Now there is a crowd of rubberneckers watching the scene,
though they keep a distance for fear of collateral damage.

The man who slapped Phin starts to approach menacingly. Cherm rushes in to intercept but too late! The
tough milady now sees the Chinese giant as a Siamese mouse. She lifts her tube skirt and swings her heel
directly at the groin of the bully before closing in and grabbing his arm in a twisting motion at the joint. She
uses a jujitsu move learned in judo class when she had the body of a chubby girl.

These martial art moves, initially learned for the purpose of losing weight, now becomes more nimble in
the lean body of Karaket. The attacker screams out loud, doubling over. Kate quickly returns into the circle
of her bodyguards when she sees the gangsters start to close in. She can fight a one-on-one combat but is
not stupid enough to engage a group of able-bodied men. The scene has not developed into a melee yet
when suddenly the crowd breaks with an uproar as a new group of people part the throng.

A pair of eyes in the newcomers stares straight at Kate in awe. He was in time to witness the hand-to-hand
combat where she put down the big guy in a matter of seconds. His elegant manner betrays him as an
Ayodhyan lord, with a retinue of uniformed soldiers in period costumes of a TV historical drama—red-
muslin front-opening shirt and red trousers with a decorated pattern.

“What is the matter?” The nobleman inquires.

“Luang Sriyod! Um…nothing is the matter, your lordship.” One of the men steps out of the group and
kowtows to the person he addressed as Luang Sriyod, who has dark facial features like an Indian or a
Middle-eastern. He frowns before moving forward to Kate’s party.

“Is there anything I can help with, lady?”

“Nothing, my lord. If you please, only have these people stand aside and let me leave.” Her plucky reply
draws a faint smile from Luang Sriyod whom Kate recalls from history books as being the forefather of the
modern Bunnag family whose ancestors came from Persia.

“Your wish is granted. But please tell me what your parentage is. I am not familiar with your face.” He
continues to make a conversation.

“I am Phraya Hora’s niece. My name is Karaket.” A susurrus is heard from all around. Apparently they have
heard rumors of her previous daunting feat. They did not expect her to be a slim and drop-dead gorgeous
as she is. They would not have believed it had their own eyes not witnessed how she kicks and twirls and
engages until her opponent flies to the ground. Even the group of bullies who started messing with her
could not believe what they saw. They hardly expected what looked like an easy green prey to turn into a
predator in the blink of an eye. Moreover, as it turns out, she is the niece of Phraya Rajkhru, chief Advisor
of the King. They all run amok to escape punishment.

“Fortunately, I have official business overseeing this trading zone. Otherwise, you may need to lose more
sweat over the matter.” Luang Sriyod continues.

“I thank you very much. I should be returning home now, your lordship.” Kate excuses herself.

“Wait a little while longer. Let me escort you back to your house. So you will have more protection.” He
knows too well that there is no way she will be touched by the earlier gang, yet he wants to make a better
acquaintance with this tiger-like beauty, though he has also heard words that she is engaged to be
married.

“That is very kind of you, your lordship.” Out of danger, Kate begins to think of the impending
consequences. This incident is bound to become another scandal. It will be impossible to keep her
unauthorized outing at the Ban Chine Market a secret. Soon enough, today’s happening will no doubt
reach the ears of Khun Srivisarn, Lady Champa and Phraya Hora. In all likelihood, she must be grounded
and confined in the house until further notice. She sighs heavily with a long face.

And all I wanted was to see the infamous brothels of the past. Whew!

CHAPTER FIFTEEN
The Portuguese Community

When rumors of the incident at the red light district reach Lady Champa’s ear, she grabs smelling salts and
balm to stop herself from fainting. And indeed! The story has grown in scope with layer upon layer of
exaggeration. The version Lady Champa hears has Lady Karaket, Phraya Hora’s niece, putting down more
than twenty brothel bouncers with her bare hands! They lay toppled in disarray at the feet of this female
martial artist! The rumor claims Lady Karaket defended herself single-handedly, and she is now the sole
action heroine with no mention of Luang Sriyod’s intervention.

“And all I did was throw down one Chinese hoodlum. Unbelievable! Soon I shall be legendary for killing a
buffalo with my bare hands, no doubt,” Kate grumbles to her two handmaids.

She casts her eyes downward and looks contrite in a ladylike manner as Lady Champa issues her decree:

“You are forbidden to go out to the markets until rumors shall die down. Even attending the language class
is out of bound. You must just stay at home and do some tutoring for Dej and other lords.” Her deep
obsidian eyes shine sternly, bearing much resemblance to her son’s, as she looks directly at the trembling,
prostrating servants on the house terrace.

“The slaves and servants who went along with Karaket must bear the severe punishment of caning.
Juang, bring me some canes.”

Shocked by the severity of her Aunt’s decree, Kate rushes in to their defence.

“The servants were only following me. They did nothing wrong, Aunt ma’m. The one to blame is myself. I
coerced them, even threatened them, to go to the Ban Chine Market. If they did not obey my order, they
would be punished too. They merely followed my order. How can they be whipped for my fault?”

“Karaket, you just keep your mouth shut.” Phraya Hora has risen in the pavilion to stop Kate from making
her case. He stands by his principal of not interfering with his wife’s decision in all domestic matters.
 “I cannot stay silent, Uncle sir. If someone must be flogged, it will have to be me.” Lady Karaket’s word
stuns all present, especially the men and women servants under the sentence.

“Milady, be quiet, please! Be quiet!” Yam’s tears flow profusely. The fear of her mistress getting hurt
exceeds that of being caned herself.

“Pi Phin, Pi Yam, Cherm, Yod, Muang and Wan, you all tried to stop me. None of you wanted to disembark
at that pier. It was I who was stubborn and insisted on it. How can I let you be punished on my behalf?”
The pugnacious and usually cheerful girl lets big teardrops fall on the plank floor.

“If you insist on taking the punishment, then so be it. There are six servants, so you take six lashings for
them. What do you say?” Lady Champa deliberates.

Despite her tears, Karaket faces the punishment with her chin up. “That is fine.”

“Impudent! Insolent! Juang, give Karaket the floggings.” The servant Juang’s face loses all color. Having
seen Lady Karaket rising to the occasion to take the blame and punishment in place of her fellow-servants,
she is being torn in two by the explicit assignment for her to be the executor. Yet, an order is an order.
Insubordination is not to be tolerated. Her coarse hand from hard work trembles. She can hardly lift an
otherwise-light rattan whip high into the air.

“Mother, please!” Khun Srivisarn puts his palms together pleadingly, but his mother raises her hand to
stop him.

“Keep your mouth shut, Dej. If she walks away from this free of punishment, she will cause us endless
trouble. Karaket must learn to pay regard to others, and not always to act on her own whims without
thinking of consequences.”

The slaves and servants in the expedition party shake in fear for their mistress. The prostrating
manservants look up with red eyes. Kate bows down to receive her punishment and thinks that she will
remember to her dying day that it was her intransigent behavior that has caused such trouble for all well-
intentioned people involved. Her overriding shame tells her that her coercion of Cherm is no different from
slave masters of the day.

The sound of the rattan rod passing the air and hitting on flesh startles everyone. Khun Srivisarn turns
away from the sight of the thin figure jerking violently at the whip. A red line appears instantly where the
lash has cut into her naked skin uncovered by her sabai. His heart is nearly broken, his eyes fixed
pleadingly on his mother. Yet, the one who was painfully lashed remains silent, her lips biting hard to stop
a cry of pain.

“Please cane me instead, your ladyship Champa. I was the one who rowed to that pier. And I did not
protest Lady Karaket’s request.” Cherm crawls to bow at Lady Champa’s feet. Everyone knows too well
from experience how a thump-size rattan rod can cause sharp, searing pain upon hitting the flesh. Lady
Karaket’s breakable thin frame has never, until now, tasted a caning. It is highly unlikely that she can
endure more than three lashings.

The searing pain pierces right to Kate’s heart. Though she has heard Cherm’s false confession, she is so
debilitated by the first lash that she cannot utter a single word to rectify it. All she can do is sob violently,
overflowing in tears.

“Please flog me too, your ladyship. I am milady’s handmaid and I let her go up to that pier. It was a grave
wrong. Please do not cane milady. She is so small that she must be lethally hurt.” Phin sobs and trembles,
her loyal, tearful eyes fixed on her mistress.

“Juang, continue with the flogging. And do it like a real lashing. I can tell you did it half-heartedly. If you do
not do it right, I shall have you caned by a manservant.” Lady Champa turns her face away. In spite of
herself and how the loyalty of the servants and Kate’s courage have moved her, she must act decisively to
prevent future mishaps. If Karaket gets away with it, continues with her obstinacy and causes bigger
troubles than the current one, it may even be fatal. Juang wipes her tears before raising the rattan cane
again.

Before the cane hits the fair-skinned back, Yam and Phin dart in to protect it with their own bodies. They
receive the blow on their own backs where welts appear in long strips, especially on Phin’s as she was first
to cover her mistress. Yam was a little late so she got only the tip of the lash.

“Pi Phin, Pi Yam, why did you come in? Why?” Kate hugs the two handmaids tearfully. The pain of the
heart outweighs that of the skin. She sobs violently with tears on her cheeks. Her fingers caress the long
red protrusions on the two handmaids in sympathy and appreciation. Several soft-hearted servants who
witnessed the scene hold each other tight and weep with them.

Khun Srivisarn can no longer keep himself above the situation. He grabs the cane from the holder and
hands it to his mother.

“Mother, please, the fault of this matter can be traced back to me. All this happened because I had not
seen Karaket home safely myself. It was me who did not take good care of her. I am to blame for it, so let
me take the rest of punishment in her place, please.”

Lady Champa wipes her tears with the end of her sabai and looks away from the cane being handed to
her.

“Enough! These masters and servants are alike. Do whatever you want then. Override my command as
you will.” At that, her stout elegant frame steps away to her bedroom as she locks herself in complete
silence. But sincere pity for her niece breaks the floodgate. She needed to hold back her tears and brace
herself. Her matriarchy can only be maintained with an iron will and a strong arm.“Phin and Yam, take your
mistress into the bedroom. Anyone, go and grind some plai herb for Phin and Yam to apply on their
mistress.” Phraya Hora sighs sharply and pats his son’s shoulder before shaking his head pitifully at his
niece. He cannot help but feel proud of her courage and sense of justice. He can only hope that the
punishment she got today will make her think twice for whatever she will do in future.

The three women hug each other crying in the bedroom when they hear Khun Srivisarn’s voice at the door.

“Phin, Yam, come out to fetch the medicinal herb. Karaket, when you get better, go to ask forgiveness from
Mother. She is very sorry and lost some tears over the matter. But she meant well for you. The stuff in this
red pouch is what I bought for you. I saw you picking it up and putting it back many times over.” His gentle
voice makes her wonder what is in the pouch.

Phin parts the curtain, and when she steps back in, she has in one hand a lidded pot containing ground
plai and a small compress and in the other, a red velvet pouch. Kate has little strength left. The fat rattan
rod is to be reckoned with. It burns and sears all over her back even on one lashing. With unsteady
hands, Kate opens the pouch and finds the finely-crafted gemstone-set gold shoulder chain which she
indeed had examined a few times.

Kate tightly clutches the jewelry gift. She sighs deeply and a warmth rushes to her heart. Without Khun
Srivisarn’s intervention today, she may have snapped in two from the lashings.

Indeed, this was the business he mentioned besides a drunken show. This tiny string of gemstones is
slowly binding her heart to the gift-giver.

Within two days, the excruciating pain on her back slowly fades. Kate walks over to Lady Champa,
remorsefully admits all her guilt, and promises to obey all the rules set by her aunt.

“All right. Let bygone be bygone. Just keep this in mind and do not make new trouble. Is the wound
healed? Let me see.” Seeing the whip mark on her skin which has not dried up totally, she calls for the
crushed plai herb and applies it on her niece mercifully. All the while she keeps teaching about etiquettes
and behavior of a lady. Kate puts her head on Lady Champa’s lap with drooping eyes in acknowledgement
that this is indeed the era in which “Spare the rod, spoil the child” is held to the letter.

Khun Srivisarn takes in the sight with a long sigh. He promises himself that whenever Karaket is allowed to
go out again, he will never let her out of his sight. When Phra Visut hears of the incident, he merely
chuckles and dares not ask permission from Lady Champa to release her prisoner from house-arrest to
attend French studies at the Church as interpreter as usual.

Kate herself tries to behave the best she can, working hard in embroidery and sewing, as well as helping
to run the household and supervise the kitchen staff. She also makes the tasty dish of grilled pork in a
hotpot with her great-tasting sauce in an attempt to win over Lady Champa. Kate hopes that the matriarch
might soften and let her have the freedom of going out as before.
One evening, while she is tutoring Khun Srivisarn on some French vocabulary, he shares a big surprise.

“Oh…I nearly forgot that I have something to let you know.”

“What is it?” Kate asks.

“Miss Mali is getting married in the next two days.” He announces.

“What! What did you just say? Who is she marrying?”

What she heard is another preposterous piece of news, when he says: “Luang Sura.”

“How come? How is that possible, when she has …um…some differences with him?” She cannot finish the
intended sentence by saying…she has feelings for you. The evasion merely mentions the dispute they
once had.

“I heard that Bishop Pallu was the mediator who convinced her.” He elucidates.

“I am speechless. And how could Miss Mali give in?” Kate is still incredulous.

“Not everyone is as stubborn…as disobedient as you are?” He says crisply .

“Why! You do not have to be sarcastic and insinuating. Khun pi, please, I would like to see Miss Mali.”

“You cannot. Mother will not allow it.”

“Can you please put in a good word for me?”

“It may be possible to attend the wedding, as Luang Sura is in royal service under Chaophraya Kosa. If
you tell Mother that you are Miss Mali’s friend, she may let you attend. But it is highly unlikely that you go
now.”

“Then it will be too late. I was hoping I can change Miss Mali’s mind.”

“Do not interfere with Miss Mali’s life. I believe she has thought hard and well before making the decision.
Your friend is no fool.”

Kate looks at him annoyingly. Didn’t he know that her friend has feelings for him? If the Portuguese
Community were in the neighborhood, she might sneak out to see Miss Mali, but it is quite a distance
away. It takes a long time even by boat. She cannot find good excuses for that kind of long absence.
Especially now that Lady Champa keeps a close watch on her every move. This seems like a dead end for
her.

“Miss Mali…well, well, well! What is she possibly thinking?” She fumes.

“I have no idea. But she appears well-composed and graceful. She is suitable as the first wife of Luang
Sura. It took me by surprise as well. Luang Sura is promiscuous. He has affairs and relationships with so
many women, foreign and Siamese, but he has never acknowledged anyone. Now he is making her his
first wife.”

“Hmm…I feel sorry for Miss Mali. Coupled with that farang, they are not a good match at all.”

“Luang Sura is not too bad himself. He is an intelligent man.” Khun Srivisarn tries to give him justice.

“Clever and cunning, I say! He is so supercilious. As a white man, he must think himself superior to us.”

“Supercilious…a big word. You have a large command of vocabulary.” Khun Srivisarn comments.

“Oh, yes. I know some. You would be surprised for what I know.”

Her cheekiness loosens him up. She makes him laugh and never stops surprising him with what she
knows. Chatting with her is quite relaxing and has become his favorite pastime.
The next day, Kate’s wish has come half-true when Chaophraya Kosa and Phra Visut put in their special
request to Lady Champa.

“It has come to my knowledge that Miss Mali is a friend of your ladyship’s niece,” the Chaophraya says.
“Miss Mali is getting married to Luang Sura, a lord under my command. I should like to ask your
permission to have Lady Karaket attend the ceremony at Saint Paulo’s Church in the Portuguese
Community tomorrow. What will you say to my request?”

“What can I say? A wedding only happens once in a lifetime and they are friends. I cannot say no to it. But
this niece of mine is always looking for trouble. She may be a cause for embarrassment, sirs.” Lady
Champa answers.

“On the contrary,” the Chaophraya argues, “I think that Lady Karaket will be highly regarded as a
courageous woman, fit for being a niece of your ladyship and Phraya Hora.” At that, Lady Champa looks
down in contemplation.

It seems like Chaophraya Kosa no longer blames Karaket for his daughter’s boat-sinking incident. That is
why he praises her in so many words. To say the least, Karaket’s presence in the company of Chaophraya
Kosa may dissipate the rumor about Lady Chanwad’s boat incident. Then, when Karaket goes to the
temple, she will not feel frustrated by being looked upon as the culprit.

Thus thinking, she gives her permission for her niece to go out to meet the world again. Gaining a pass to
the wedding puts Kate over the moon. Then, half a day went by and Kate cannot stop complaining of the
preparations for the event. She was supervised by Lady Champa in cleaning up and scrubbing, in
choosing clothes and accessories as if she were the bride herself.

“Well, too many rounds of scrubbing already, Pi Phin. I am pale and green now.”

“Not yet, milady.” Phin quips. “This is a big event. They expect a horde of dignitaries. The ladies attending
the wedding, besides farang women in that community, are mostly married, except for Chaophraya Kosa’s
daughter Lady Chanwad and milady Karaket.”

“So my rival is Lady Chanwad, eh? She is an acquaintance, not a rival, you know.”

“No, milady. Give the public some nice things to talk about you, please.” Yam reasons.

“What? There are no nice things in the rumor about me, Pi Yam?” Kate cannot resist teasing her
handmaid.

“It is not like that, milady. But I want people to be stunned by your appearance. They must see how
beautiful you are. Lady Champa insists that you be a sensation.”

“Whew! As if I were a debutant in quest of a mate or the bride herself!” She complains but eventually
concedes. Well into the night, she spends time choosing clothes. Lady Champa comes in to make a
decision herself and also decrees that she not wear an ungainly blouse underneath. The accessories are
chosen for their value as well as for spectacular eye-catching effect. It seems to Kate that this is the right
occasion for a fully-clad costume party.

The next morning, Kate cannot believe her eyes when she looks at the reflection in the mirror. The
hairstyle that she found the most outdated and unfashionable in history starts to feel familiar and pretty.
Phin shaved and removed stray hair at the hairline and set parted wings definitively under Lady Champa’s
supervision. There was no way to refuse styling in the old fashion this time. Figuratively and literally, she is
drowned in the sweet smells of sandalwood oil and homemade perfumes.

The dark green shiny import satin from Persia with embroidered rose design wraps around her breast,
passes over one shoulder and drops to knee length behind, contrasting nicely with her glowing fair
complexion highlighted by a huge glittering diamond-studded diamond-shaped pendant. The shoulder
chain, upper-arm bangles, wrist bangles, ankle bangles, buckled belt and spired rings on pinkies and ring
fingers cannot be missed. The brownish-red print-design tube skirt is perfectly ironed and folded in the
chib-na-nang style, completing her celestial, otherworldly vision.

Her youthful face fully powdered gives a lovely glow to match the big, round, thickly lashed eyes, lovely
nose and red luscious lips. In short, she looks drop-dead gorgeous. After dressing her up, the two
handmaids admire their work; she is indeed more ravishing than ever!
 Stepping outside, she meets Khun Srivisarn. She cannot help sneaking a smile to herself seeing how
spectacular he looks. No doubt, like her, he must have experienced the same urging and threatening to
undergo the painstaking process of dressing up. The tall frame wears a long-sleeved, Chinese-collared
embroidered satin shirt in green, a shade lighter than her sabai, all buttoned up with gemstone-set gold
buttons. The brocade cloth he wears for breeches in a neatly folded style marks his peerage position as a
Phraya’s son, complete with a big ruby-set belt, a sparkling gems-set shoulder chain and cumbersome-
sized diamond rings on his pinkies and middle fingers.

His sharp eyes stare at Kate in admiration for a second before reverting to his usual self-composure. His
thick, nicely-shaped lips curl almost imperceptibly into a faint smile as he leads the way down from the
house.

The Convent public pier market is not as bustling in the morning as in the late afternoon, yet the harbor
import market is busier. Many boats are lined up mooring already when they arrive. A servant of
Chaophraya Kosa’s house is expecting Khun Srivisarn’s party and leads the way to the guest pavilion near
the Christian Church, passing through buildings and alleys in the Portuguese Community to the wedding
venue. Kate is impressed with the Portuguese Community’s well-planned zoning of clean and orderly
Western-styled buildings. Judging from the number of alleyways she passes through, she surmises that
this must be quite a sizable community.

At the ceremonial venue, male and female missionaries, foreigners and expatriates and mixed races of
Portuguese, French and Siamese greet each other before entering the Church. On the big table in the
middle of the guest area, bottles of wine are served with finger foods like sandwiches with somewhat
harder bread than in Kate’s modern age.

Missionary Monsieur Pierre Langrois greets them all-smilingly, admiring Kate at length.

“Go and sit in the allotted area, please. Chaophraya Kosa with his wife and daughter are waiting for you
there. Phra Visut with his wife and son are already here.”

The dignitaries are seated separately in a guest pavilion. Chaophraya Kosa is sitting on a low table next to
Lady Nim while Lady Chanwad is sitting, legs to one side, on the rug. Another low table belongs to Phra
Visut and his first wife Lady Luen, with Khun Suwan Rajbhakdi on the floor next to Lady Chanwad.

“There you are, Khun Srivisarn and Karaket,” comes the jovial greeting from Khun Ruang. The beauty of
Lady Chanwad and Kate is an irresistible sight for all male guests and hosts, not to mention Khun Ruang
and Luang Sriyod who keep the two ladies on their radar and feel lucky for being eligible bachelors without
first wives to weigh them down.

Kate sits wiggling restlessly for a while before making her way to Monsieur Pierre with a request.

“Monsieur Pierre, may I see Miss Mali before the church ceremony?”

“Of course. Follow me. She is now in the bishop’s private study waiting to enter the church. I heard you
two are good friends. She will be delighted to see you.”

The portly Missionary Pierre leads the way into the church, takes a side vestibule and points to a room
before withdrawing to welcome more guests. Kate passes a woman dressed in a white Western crinoline
hoopskirt, presumably a bride’s maid, walking out just as she enters. Inside, Miss Mali sits still for her
finishing touch, a beautiful rose pinned in her hair.

“Miss Mali.” At that, the lifeless doll comes to life as if awakened from a dream. She turns around abruptly
to look at the caller in excitement.

“Lady Karaket! I thought you would not be allowed to come. I heard you were grounded.”

“How could I not come? It is your wedding!”

“Leave us, please. And do not come back until I call you.” Miss Mali dismisses her Portuguese-Siamese
attendant who is helping to do her hair and walks over to grab Kate’s hand.

“You are not offended, are you, that I am marrying Luang Sura?”
“Offended? Of course not! Although I did not agree with you, I presumed you must have given it
considerable thought.”

“Yes, I thought it through and thoroughly.”

“Then, may you have lots of happiness and prosperity to come, Miss Mali.”

“Thank you very much. However things may change in the future, my respect and affection for you will
remain the same. Although I am marrying a farang under French extraterritorial jurisdiction, I was born and
raised in the land of the Siamese. I shall never forget it and betray Siam.”

Kate has a feeling that something is off here, so she asks: “What makes you say so?”

“Did you know that my father being half-Indian and brown-skinned puts our family in a contemptible status
that is no different from slaves --- disdained among farangs and scorned by the Siamese. Despite
Japanese nobility in our blood, we are but aliens in exile.”

Miss Mali is reminded of her grandmother Signora Ignes Martins’s story. Her grandparents met at sea on
the ship transporting a large number of exiles from Japan. Prince Yamada was a Japanese royal but he
was a God-fearing man, being the first Japanese to be baptized. His faith was so firm and unquestionable
that he abandoned his rank and noble birth and left his fortune behind, accepting a fate of banishment
rather than recanting. And why can his granddaughter Marie not likewise sacrifice herself to confirm her
faith in God?

“I say, please do not give it too much thought. Today is your big day. Although I have some prior aversion
to Luang Sura, I heard he is giving you full honor as his first wife. He must have tremendous affections for
you to give you such a recognition.” Kate gives a comforting word.

“It is not what you think.” Miss Mali explains. “The real reason was because Bishop Pallu saw me as a
devout Catholic. I am a descendent of a family with unwavering faith since my grandparents’ generation.
And Luang Sura is looking for recognition from the Christian Church. With the good word of Bishop Pallu
reaching the ears of the King of France, Luang Sura will certainly enjoy elevated prestige and greater
fortune.”

“You have such an in-depth analysis of the situation,” Kate says, “But why did you decide to be used by
him?”

Miss Mali forces out a laugh, her beautiful face paling. She decides to reveal a half truth, leaving out her
empty aspiration for Khun Srivisarn.

“Because I will use him too. In addition to social recognition and fortune, my father will no longer be
looked down upon. This must be the will of God. If he and I join hands, more people will be converted into
the arms of God. Only a few like yourself will remain hard and fast.” Kate listens to her rationale for the
biggest decision in a woman’s life and cannot help but feel so alienated.

“Life is so short, Miss Mali.” Kate shares her Buddhist wisdom. “Fame and fortune are but perceptions.
One cannot take them along after one dies. We should live this brief life as happily as we can, instead of
giving consideration to trivialities.” Miss Mali cannot reply readily. She pauses before laughing out softly.

“You always have a way with words and thoughts that catch me in surprise. It is true that life is short but it
is not easy to live it happily. You and I come from different backgrounds. Now, it is about time I must make
myself ready.”

“Whoosh! Then I shall wait outside. Quite a few people must be missing me now. They may interpret my
absence to mean that I am looking for more trouble elsewhere.”

Miss Mali’s paleness starts to redden up with a laughter at Kate’s self-deprecation and says: “Go then.”

Kate walks out to find the church filling up. She speeds up and sees Khun Srivisarn craning and frowning
as he looks for her.

“Here you are. Where have you been? Nearly everyone is going into the church for the commencement of
the service.”
“I had a conversation with Miss Mali,” Kate explains.

“And Dej thought you were up to more trouble.” Khun Ruang speaks laughingly while Khun Srivisarn
stands solemn as usual.

“And I thought I would be mistaken in that vein too,” quips Kate. “Let us move on to the church now.”

“Lady Karaket!” The call makes the three of them turn around. Khun Ruang and Khun Srivisarn are quite
surprised to see that the caller is Luang Sriyod. How and when did this lady become acquainted with
Luang Sriyod, son of Phraya Srinavarat who passed away four years ago?

“Well, Luang Sriyod sir. I did not expect to see you at this wedding.” Kate greets him.

“At first I thought my eyes deceived me too.” Luang Sriyod greets her and returns the respect of the two
younger and lower-ranking men.

“I am…a friend of the bride. How could I not attend?” Kate sounds like Luang Sriyod’s good acquaintance,
causing Khun Srivisarn to frown with misgivings.

“Then shall we go into the church together? The wedding is quite a big event with so many guests. I am
glad I see you today.” The Persian blooded Siamese lord looks at the smart and precocious beauty in front
of him with twinkling eyes. Lately she has been on his mind a lot, but there has been no chance of seeing
her again after that red light-district incident. Now with this opportunity, he follows her closely.

The seats assigned to them are in the middle of the front zone. It is perfect for the curious Kate to observe
all the goings-on at a wedding in ancient times. The church was built as a cathedral with stained glass
decorations. The centerpiece Crucifixion is right there before her eyes, lined with statues of saints and
martyrs. Most notable of all is St. Paul who has before him a brass cauldron of holy water mixed with
cherries, olive oil and herbs. Catholics enter the house worship by drinking from a brass chalice and
having the priest anoint their forehead in consecration.

Everything goes by so swiftly until the Indian Fanik, father of the bride, walks Miss Mali to the ceremonial
platform. Bishop Pallu reads a section from the Bible on married life, stating to the groom and the bride
their mutual responsibilities in their life to come.

“Will you take Constantine Phaulkon as your wedded husband from this day forward to have and to hold,
for better or for worse, for richer or for poorer, in sickness and in health, until death do you part?” The vow
being taken startles Kate who was earlier enraptured by the beauty of the service . She does not hear Miss
Mali’s consent.

“Constantine Phaulkon! Gosh! Miss Mali. Don’t tell me…” Kate’s barely audible whisper gets drowned in
her throat at the next statement of Bishop Pallu.

“Will you take Marie Guimar de Pina as your wedded wife from this day forward, to have and to hold, for
better or for worse, for richer or for poorer, in sickness and in health, until death do you part?” The
marriage vows draw tears from the eyes of many witnesses. Only one person in the impressive assembly
sits breathless, aware of the course of history. Kate is putting together in her mind the historical pieces.
She knows that Phaulkon is a Greek national under the extraterritorial protection of France and one of the
earliest farangs to serve in Siamese court. King Narai has given him some titles of nobility.

After the ceremony, guests gradually leave the church. Only Kate is immobilized and pale, as if she has
seen a ghost in broad daylight. Khun Srivisarn has to nudge her with a question.

“Karaket, what is wrong with you? Why are you sitting still as a mannequin?” Kate looks up at him blankly.
It happened so unexpectedly, so abruptly for someone who foresees the future of many people from this
age.

Kate walks like a zombie behind Khun Srivisarn to the front of the church. The bride and the groom are
surrounded by a small crowd of people who have eyes on the speaking groom.

“I thank all of you who are joining us on this occasion and thank in particular Chaophraya Kosa who has
always been kind to me. From now on, I shall let it be known that my wife shall no longer be addressed as
Miss Mali. I resent the name. And as my wife is no longer a merchant on a raft shop, she needs no easy
name for the Siamese tongue. Henceforth, she shall be known by her French name Tanquimar.” His
haughty declaration shows his possessiveness of Miss Mali and an obsequiousness toward France.

In a flash of absentmindedness, Madame Tanquimar’s pretty eyes glance towards Khun Srivisarn and
Kate. She starts to move toward them. But the big hand of her husband grabs her arm and restrains her.
His crystal blue eyes throw sparks to Khun Srivisarn. The woman in his grip stops short before looking
away, hiding all her pain inside. It is the first time Madame Tanquimar questions her own decision.

Kate watches what has happened and turns her eyes to Khun Srivisarn alarmingly. It looks like Phaulkon
knows that his new wife still has feelings for this young Siamese gentleman. However, the man in question
looks calm and unaffected.

“What are you looking at?” he asks calmly, not turning to look at her.

“Did you not see? Phaulkon acts as if he is jealous of you.”

“I have seen and known for some time, but I give it no mind. I have never felt for his wife.” So calm and
forthright that Kate can only feel sorry for Tanquimar.

What a love story! She steals a sigh, feeling what she just witnessed today is some form of black comedy.
As an aside, she is amused that Phaulkon has declared he no longer wished for his wife to have an easy-
to-pronounce Siamese name. What if that farang came to know that in the future, the Siamese still made
Tanquimar’s name pronounceable in their own tongue? She will come to be known by the palace-given
name of “Lady Tong Geeb Ma,” meaning Lady Golden Hooves and the inventor of Thai deserts derived
from Portuguese egg custards.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Love is in the Air

Monsieur Pierre Langrois walks over to whisper something in Bishop Pallu’s ear, pointing in the direction of
Kate. The Bishop merely shakes his head and explains.

“She is the niece of Phraya Hora. Most Siamese are believers of superstition and occultism. The more so
by Phraya Hora who is an astrologer. It is highly unlikely that he would permit his niece to be converted.”

“It is a pity, Your Grace. She is an intelligent woman. If she became one of us, it would influence more
upper-class Siamese into conversion.”

“What I need most is to get the King of Siam to convert. If so, a lot of people will follow suit --- royalty,
nobility and commoners. The Siamese will surely follow their monarch in conversion. I expect that
Monsieur Phaulkon will be able to persuade the King. With his wife Tanquimar who has abiding faith in
God, he has full support of the Church.”

“What Your Grace speculates is viable. The Siamese people hold their King above all else. But I really feel
sorry we cannot have Lady Karaket on our side.” Missionary Pierre Langrois looks at the woman in
question full of regrets.

Kate is still immersed in her thoughts. The more she thinks, the more incapacitated she feels. Her
existence in this significant historical era may be a total waste. All she can do is helplessly and silently
acknowledge what will happen. Despite her close friendship with the historical Tanquimar she can do
nothing to help her from her impending fate. This knowledge comes so unexpectedly. Before she knew it, it
was too late. Miss Mali or Tanquimar is already married to the doomed Constantine Phaulkon. Kate knows
he will live a glorious but short life when his brief career serving one king of Siam is cut short under the
next king. Although she knows Phaulkon will burn like a bright candle in the wind, she cannot intervene in
his fate. The best she can do now is to help her friend at the time of her husband’s downfall.

“An unutterable mouth is no different from an asshole!” Forlorn and frustrated, Kate keeps mumbling
profanity to herself.

“What did you just say?” Khun Srivisarn asks.

“Nothing, khun pi. I only feel that one cannot change one’s own destiny.”
“You say strange things again. We had better go home now.”

The two gentlemen, Khun Ruang and Luang Sriyod, who are big fans of Kate, accompany her to the pier.
After the boat has left the pier, the man who sat silently all along cannot resist a temptation to jab at his
companions.

“If Ruang and Luang Sriyod could take you home, they would have done it without hesitation.”

“Hmm?” She turns her neck to look at Khun Srivisarn’s face to gauge his mood and finds him quite angry.
What have I done again? And I thought I behaved perfectly, giving eyes to no one as I’ve been accused.
What’s wrong with this guy again?

“What a real pity that you are involved in a scandal with me! Otherwise our house will have frequent callers
and I shall not have to give myself in sacrifice.” Like tossing a match into a haystack, Kate burns so
furiously she can spit fire. What is it with this jerk?

“Even if I must remain an unwanted spinster, I shall not beg anyone to marry me. Not least to sacrifice
himself against his will. If you are unwilling, I shall tell Aunt and Uncle to call off the engagement.” Kate
fumes.

The man sitting behind is at a loss for words upon hearing that harsh pronouncement. He realizes it was
he who started the quarrel, but feels he is being possessed by a malicious spirit and is angry and agitated
at her conceited retort. He can only feign a harsh laugh.

“Poof! You speak as if you have no die-hard fans. Ruang and Luang Sriyod will be sorry if you become a
spinster. You have nothing to worry on that front. Only go around the capital in that sabai of yours, and all
men will flock to you in droves.”

“You are so right! But speak no more. I’m not in a mood to talk with you.” Kate shuts herself up and does
not turn around to look at him again. She pouts and curses to herself. At the pier, she walks swiftly to the
house without waiting for her handmaids on another boat.

Kate undresses in fury. Phin and Yam, noticing their mistress’ mood, hasten to help her remove the
jewelry and opulent accessories while fanning her to calm her down.

“Sacrifice himself…Ha! What a snob! No one is forcing him into a marriage against his will. He initiated it
himself. Good that Aunt stalls while having me trained in the finishing course before being betrothed. No
need for betrothal now. Just call the whole thing off!” The handmaids look alarmed by her declaration,
which makes her even more furious. She turns to take it out on them.

“What is it with you two? You act as if you just saw a ghost.”

“Milady, why should you be so angry? If anything, please calm down and talk it all out.” Although they have
no idea what caused the anger, they are aware of the fury on both sides.

With consolation from her handmaids, Kate’s irritation cools down, but not without hurt and heart-piercing
pain. If she could, she would leave Karaket’s body instantly, so she needn’t put up with her current
situation in this life, the least of which is Khun Srivisarn’s declaration that he has no desire to have her in
his life.

Over the passing days, the lady who usually pampers her khun pi by serving drinks and cold towels on his
return is nowhere to be seen. Despite the insistence of her two handmaids, she pays no mind. She avoids
him at all costs. However, Khun Srivisarn has his pride too. Since the day of the big argument, they have
not been civil, only dutifully carrying out tutorial lessons.

At the martial art workcamp, doing drills of sword-fighting, boxing and magic arts, Khun Srivisarn tries to
circle around and find out about the origins of the lady from Master White-Robe. He gives a full account of
the day she saved his life by mouth-to-mouth resuscitation. The Master pauses before remarking.

“Old karma has put this weird lady in the body of the deceased Karaket. How long she will remain here is
up to predestination. Have no doubt in her. She is not a demon in disguise. She is as human as you are.”

“And what shall I do with her? Can I make inquiry to her directly?”
“That will depend entirely on your choice.” The Master does not elaborate. He shuts his eyes so Khun
Srivisarn knows not to bother him further. He tries to process it in his mind and finally decides on keeping
mum. He fears divulging more could change a lot of things.

Flooding season is approaching and the two remain mutually indifferent. The one who is more impatient is
the young nobleman. After dinner, he notices some activities of flower-stringing going on in the vicinity.
Tomorrow is a Buddhist holy day which is a big observance day that occurs fortnightly.

“If Lady Chanwad is visiting today, she can help with stringing garlands. I heard she does it so beautifully.”
He mentions.

“Indeed. Lady Chanwad is so adept at stringing flowers. At the royal white elephants’ ceremony, the flower
work on the accompanying elephants’ heads, not the royal mount, was her handiwork, your lordship.” Yam
supports his remark innocently, but Phin, fearing her mistress will feel inferior, rushes in to compliment her
floral skill.

“Milady gets better by the day, your lordship. She can do it as well as Lady Chanwad.”

“Hey, Pi Phin, you almost have me convinced. How flattering!” says Kate half-laughingly, knowing only too
well that her handiwork is still far from perfect.

The tall lord acts as if he is looking at topiaries on the verandah and then calls his valet Cherm loudly.

“Cherm! Cherm!”

“Yes, my lord.”

“Tomorrow after the temple, Khun Ruang and I shall go to see the boat race. You get ready for that.”

“Yes, my lord.”

“It will be quite an event,” says Khun Srivisarn. “Boats from many villages will enter the race. Even His
Majesty himself will leave Lavo to see the race from the grand balcony.”

“Does the event take place at the Defense quayside, my lord?” asks his valet.

“That is correct.”

Kate who sits working attentively with flowers turns all ears. She mouths the word “boat race!” and turns to
look at the tall gentleman scrutinizing potted topiaries. Sighing sharply, she has pouted for a month and the
jerk never seems to try making up. Perhaps it’s time to stop pouting for the opportunity of watching this
upcoming boat race.

While she was lost in thought, Khun Srivisarn has walked off to sit chewing betel and areca at the central
pavilion. After learning that he is in the next diplomatic mission for France, he has chewed betel and areca
without a dash of red lime. He also has had his teeth whitened in the farang style. Now his black teeth
have reddened and seem to turn white in time for his voyage to France, the dates of which had been
astrologically pinned down by his father Phraya Hora for auspices.

“Pi Phin, Pi Yam, will there be a boat race tomorrow?” asks Kate.

“Yes, milady. There will also be a night festival at Phraram Temple where sand will be transported to the
monastic compound, where we can build sand stupas for worship. Temple-goers can take respite by doing
meditation communally. Monks will hold continuous sermons throughout the night, while boat racing takes
place at the Defense quayside.”

“Why does it take place at the Defense venue? And why the nightly festivity at Phraram Temple?” asks
Kate.

“They say the venue can accommodate royalty if they choose to make merit together with commoners as it
is in proximity to the Grand Palace. The Defense quayside is the closest pier to the Grand Palace.”

“And if I…um…want to see the event?” The two handmaids halt from the work in hand at once and look up
at their mistress alarmingly. Her bold, unruly feats are still haunting their conscience. However, seeing her
intent, innocent look, they soften up and suggest the most practical approach.

“If you want to see it, you must ask permission from Lord Phraya, who will consult with Lady Champa.”
Kate grins widely as she devises the strategy for her next move. She must find a way to persuade Phraya
Hora, who will then put in his good word on her behalf to his wife, who will no doubt assign her son as
Kate’s escort. This way she doesn’t need to lose face by begging her khun pi to take her to the boat race.

Having seen quite a lot of markets, now her sightseeing target turns to temples. There are innumerable
temples in Ayodhya that she has seen in modern times. Temple building was so prolific it was said that rich
people in old Ayodhya built monasteries as playgrounds for their children to run around in. It goes to show
that families without their own family-sponsored temple are not really wealthy. The temples she has eyes
on are the ones that are still standing in ruins with their artistic traces surviving to her day, such as
Rajburana Temple, Chaiwattanaram Temple, and Phra Mahathat Temple. She expects to see some
wonderful architectural features in the temples before the Burmese ransacked them and burnt Ayodhya
down some 80 years from now.

She takes her chances during Khun Srivisarn’s bathing to approach Phraya Hora. She sits down on the
floor beside his seat and hands him betel and areca while introducing the subject.

“Is there a boat race tomorrow, Uncle sir?”

“Yes.”

“There is also a festival of bringing sand to the temple too, is there not?”

“Yes.”

“I have never seen such an event and festivity, and I would like very much to see them.”

Phraya Hora looks down at the fawning girl with pleading eyes and looks away at his wife before nodding
to his dear niece. The signal sends Kate walking contentedly back to her room to change for bathing. She
sends her handmaids to dust and clean near Lady Champa so they can eavesdrop and also let her know
when Khun Srivisarn is coming back up from his bath.

“Champa, tomorrow after merit-making at the temple, will you allow Karaket to see the boat race and the
temple fair?”

Lady Champa frowns back in reply. “She will be looking for more trouble, I fear.”

“Karaket has not gone out for a month now. When she came down from Songkwae, she was taken ill for a
whole year from relocation and change of weather. Now that she has recovered, we should let her see
more of the city.” Lady Champa glances at her husband and now understands why Karaket was handing
him betel and areca.

“All right. The last time she was permitted to attend Tanquimar’s wedding, she was very well-behaved. I
shall ask Dej to take her along tomorrow to see the boat race and the temple fair. But he must keep his
eyes on her all the time. The girl makes me nervous every time she goes out.”

Thus the matter is settled to everyone’s satisfaction. At dinner, Lady Champa breaks the news to her son.

“Dej, on the upcoming festive event, may I ask you to take Karaket with you to the boat race and the
temple fair?” His eyes shine brightly for a moment when he looks at his mother, but he keeps his calm
composure when giving a reply.

“Will that be good, Mother?”

“You keep a close watch on her at all times. Karaket, do not be naughty this time. If you should cause
another trouble, you will be grounded for a year to come.” Kate bows down in consent and smiles at her
dinner plate. Mission accomplished!

Khun Srivisarn sees her smiling face out of the corner of his eyes and laughs to himself. Gotcha!

The next morning, after the merit-making, the temple-going boat convoy parts ways at the pier of the Old
Ayodhya Temple. The elder group, with Phraya Hora and Lady Champa, goes back home on the southern
route, while the young group, with Khun Srivisarn and Kate, heads westward into the city gate, followed by
two boats of Lady Chanwad and her retinue. Both banks are crowded with excited spectators waiting for
the race to begin. Many long rowboats take up their positions along the Defense quayside. Judging from
their spirits and oarsmanship, the race will be close.

“Wow! They are all so muscular. Can’t place my bet on which boat to win.” Kate says to herself.

Khun Srivisarn’s party has taken the riverside area under a jambolan apple tree not very far from the
Defense quayside. All spots near the palace forts or pier forts are taken up by locals and foreigners who
crowd in excitedly to see the race. “Is it too hot, Chanwad?” Khun Srivisarn asks the beautiful woman
sitting flat on the reed mat on the river bank. In a move to warn her, Phin gently jerks the sabai of her
mistress who remains standing and eagerly craning to see everything.

“Milady, please sit on the reed mat. Join them.”

“What? I would like to see who’s who in the crowd.” The handmaid sighs. It looks like milady cannot
outscore Lady Chanwad today.

“Hey! Those are Luang Sriyod and Khun Ruang, are they not? Look, Pi Phin! Luang Sriyod and Khun
Ruang are in the race.” She insists they look at the two bare-chested oarsmen. That Luang is tall, dark and
handsome like a mixed-blood Persian-Siamese, but to her the man nearer to her stands out even more
remarkably. She waves to them vigorously to catch their eyes, but they seem to look the other way. She
needs to stand closer to the water, but the grassy bank is so soft and slippery that she trips and nearly falls
into the river. Fortunately, the man close to her had his eyes on her, so he rushes to grab her slim waist
just in time while bystanders hold their breath.

“Karaket, can you stay put and not dance about?” His strong arms pull her close to him while he scolds
her. She puts her hands on his chest to balance herself after the close call and looks down guiltily.

“Please forgive me. I did not mean to.” Her remorse touches him. He was irritated and envious by her
enthusiasm over the boat race with Luang Sriyod and Khun Ruang in competition, but now that he feels
less angry, his arms around her waist loosen slightly. It has been long since they talked so closely like this.
His reproachful eyes glitter with sparks.

“If I had known that you would be this excited with the competitors I would have entered the race myself.”
On hearing him whisper in her ear, she starts to stiffen and blush in his arms. He lets her go quickly seeing
that they have become the target of attention. He puts his arms behind his back and explains.

“That long boat is the representation of urban noblemen, captained by Luang Sorasak.”

“And how come you are not in the race?” Her curiosity erases the past month’s detached uppity attitude
that she has cultivated.

“We are in different departments. The boat race belongs to the Administration Department. I am under the
Finance Department, so I am not involved.”

“I bet on the nobility’s boat. It will certainly be the winner.”

“You seem so confident.” Kate nods. How can she not cheer for the noblemen? Besides having some of
her acquaintances on it, the boat is full of muscular rowers. All of a sudden, something crosses her mind.

“Wait! You said Luang Sorasak, did you not?”

“I did.” Her eyes become wider before craning to look at the nobility’s team in disbelief. If she is not
mistaken, this Luang Sorasak will become…King Sua!

“Is this Luang Sorasak’s birthname Dua?” She needs to ask for certainty.

“Yes. And do not tell me you know him too.” Afraid that Karaket might have done another yet-unknown
feat, he must disclose his fear.

“No…No, I do not know him. I only have heard of his name.”

“Luang Sorasak is a son of Phra Petraja who is an orphaned son of the minor wife of Lord Ampai, who was
the father of Chaophraya Kosa and Phra Visut. Luang Sorasak’s mother was a concubine of His Majesty’s.
She was rewarded to Phra Petraja after his victory over the battle of Chiangmai.” Khun Srivisarn gives a
long explanation without knowing that the listener knows too well and even too much!

Lady Chanwad looks painfully at the two talking cordially together. Although she knows that the betrothal of
Khun Srivisarn and Lady Karaket has not taken place yet, it may not be long from now. She has invested
her heart on Khun Srivisarn for so long, encouraged by expectations of her parents who wanted to tie the
knot and went as far as taking her on frequent visits at Phraya Hora’s, despite awareness of his intended
housemate. Chanwad has really not prepared for this.

She sees more clearly now that Khun Srivisarn certainly has feelings for Karaket. It is too obvious for
anyone’s eyes. Karaket used to be so envious and verbally abusive of her, that Chanwad believed she
was the malicious perpetrator of the boat incident. Even Khun Srivisarn seemed to have washed her off his
hands. But now the table hs turned. Though Karaket seems ambivalent, Khun Srivisarn looks at her
possessively and yearningly even when in close conversation with Chanwad. What is she to do? The
daughter of Chaophraya Kosa remains still, sighing deeply.

The race is about to start. Karaket’s excitement pulls her close to the ten servants whom she instructs to
cheer the nobility’s team in unison. Khun Srivisarn observes her move with interest, but he lets her have
her way seeing how joyous she is in the crowd.

The commotion dies down on both riverbanks as the race is about to begin. The loud yell of the referee is
heard throughout the bend marking the start of the race. All race boats shoot out the starting point like
arrows from bows.

“Go-ooo Ruang! Go-ooo Sriyod! Go-ooo Sorasak and Win Win Win Nobility’s team! The shouts in unison
from the ten excited cheerleaders who are jumping up and down excite other race watchers and they join
in the yelling. No harm, no rules and no one to stop them. The cheering is all based on good fun. Khun
Srivisarn grimaces as if he ate some sour fruit, but then chuckles and goes along with the crowd. The
cheering is heard by the noblemen in the race and gives them so much moral support that they dig in and
row at full steam.

In the beginning, the boat of sea villagers takes the lead by half a length. But as the boisterous cheering
motivates the lords, the men row with incredible speed and strength. Closing in toward the finish line, the
two boats run neck to neck. With the finish line in sight, the nobility’s team surges forward past the flag in
the middle of the river to win.

“Whoa! Yes! Yes!” Kate raises her arms in victory and cheers until hoarse. Her excitement is no less than
when Thailand won the World Championship for women’s volleyball. Somewhat aghast, her two
handmaids hold down her arms and give her a soft warning.

“It is unladylike, milady. Unladylike.” Now Kate is aware of her overboard gesture. Fortunately, the crowd is
still relishing the victory so no one pays attention to her weird, modern-day move. She wipes the sweat off
from under her chin and walks over to sip water prepared by the handmaids.

“Whew! I am so tired and thirsty.”

“You should be tired. I saw you jump and dance nonstop and you yelled so loudly. No wonder you must be
so thirsty.” Khun Srivrisarn’s teasing remarks come with a robust laugh.

“Do not put it on me alone. I saw you yelled deafeningly as well.” Kate teases back.

“Let us go home now. Take a bath and have dinner, then I shall take you to the temple fair.”

“As you wish!” An outing and a good exercise completely melt her icy grudge over him. All she wants is to
take a bath and to go out again to the temple fair. Khun Srivisarn turns to Lady Chanwad.

“Chanwad, I shall see you off at your house. Let us board our boats.”

“Yes.” Lady Chanwad consents and follows his instruction obligingly.

Near dusk and after dinner, Kate, powdered and perfumed up, waits for Khun Srivisarn at the central
pavilion. In the meantime, she makes preparations for the night’s festival where attendees build sand
structures on the temple grounds. She has instructed the servants to make decorations for sand stupas,
cutting and gluing kite paper into a chain and folding another piece in a big star shape, for the spire of the
stupa.

When Khun Srivrisarn arrives, she hastens to get up and asks the handmaids to gather up and bring
along the hand-made decorations. She follows him to the pier. Torchlight illuminates the compound, even
before darkness descends. Lights from afar mark some celebratory event and water traffic is unusually
bustling for night time. Many boats are lining up in the Phraram Swamp. Sounds of chanting boat-songs
and dueling contests and piphat orchestras are heard all over the place as they disembark.

Her khun pi explains. “There are Khon masked dance drama and Lakorn Nok theater in outdoor
performances. I know you will love to watch.”

“Lakorn Nok? With all-male performers?”

“That is correct. But let us put sand in the temple first. Where is the clean sand we brought from home,
anyone?” Some ten servants who volunteered eagerly to come along to the temple fair carry baskets of
sand into the temple ground. Some carry small banners made of multi-color kite paper attached to bamboo
sticks.

The servants empty piles of sand and douse them with water so they are ready for building sand stupas.
In a festive mood, Kate does not wait to dirty her hands and construct a sand stupa with the help of Khun
Srivisarn and the two handmaids. Other servants build their own stupas. They are not quite done when
Khun Ruang calls from afar.

“I knew you would be here. May I join you in building your stupa?” Without waiting for permission, he
pours the sand he brought near Kate and makes an extension of her stupa. Khun Srivisarn is quite taken
aback, but makes no objection to his friend’s imposition.

“I saw you were in the race today, Khun Ruang,” says Kate.

“I know. I saw you too, Lady Karaket. I heard you shouting my name as well as Luang Sriyod’s and Luang
Sorasak’s. I knew it was your idea organizing the shouts.”

“Did you? Good.”

“If not for your cheering, the nobility’s team may not have won over the sea villagers’ team.” Knowing well
that he is flattering her, she cannot resist beaming.

“Luang Sriyod got a good laugh because he could guess too that it was your doing. I also invited him to
this temple fair because I knew you would be coming. You would not miss such a festivity for the world.”

“Indeed I nearly missed it.” Glancing at Khun Srivisarn who remains nonchalant, she adds ingratiatingly. “I
have my khun pi to thank for this outing. Otherwise, I must now be sitting quietly at home, forgotten and
forsaken.” Khun Ruang’s laughter improves the mood, and even Khun Srivisarn can’t help chuckling at
Kate’s words. Karaket’s speech certainly sounds different from the way she used to speak, yet she
communicates well.

Lady Chanwad’s party arrives soon after. Seeing so many helping at one spot, she sets up a new spot of
her own for building a sand stupa, with the help of her servants. A while later, Luang Sriyod comes to peek
at the activity and shoots a smile to Khun Ruang who nods to him and raises his hands in a wai.

“Is it too crowded at this spot?” Luang Sriyod asks.

“You had better join Lady Chanwad’s spot. She still needs some help.” Kate makes an innocent
suggestion not realizing the hidden meaning that when young people in love build sand stupas, they make
mutual merit that will have repercussions for their future together, and forgetting Luang Sriyod’s faith in
Islam. She goes back to decorating her sand stupa as best she can.

The two gentlemen who help Kate with the sand stupa look at each other as they are well aware that
Luang Sriyod comes from a Muslim family and he cannot engage himself in activities of another faith. His
ancestor was the Persian Sheikh Ahmad and the family had been the sworn enemy of Chaophraya Kosa’s
bloodline. Not until the demise of Phraya Srinavarat, the son of Sheikh Ahmad’s younger brother, did the
family feud dissipate, leaving but slight traces of old friction. However, Karaket knows nothing of the family
animosity and has gone so far as to suggest Luang Sriyod join Chaophraya Kosa’s daughter in building a
sand stupa.

The two handmaids, when first allowed to join in their mistress’ spot with Khun Srivisarn, were so
delighted, knowing that the joint merit-making of stupa-building is the equivalent of making alms offering
from the same rice bowl. The merits gained will send the couple off to a joint destiny in their reincarnated
lives to come. But with Khun Ruang joining in as a third wheel, they couldn’t help but feel some concern.
And when Luang Sriyod was sent to help with Lady Chanwad’s party, and they don’t know what to think
now. All they see is Luang Sriyod obliging their mistress’ suggestion. He squats down over there without
helping out with the sand building, while his eyes are trained on Karaket instead.

Kate’s sand stupa is now finished, adorned with a lotus petal shaped base—she instructs her assistants to
make it meticulously—with paper banners and stars and wax candles prepared from home. She steps
back to admire her handiwork with satisfaction. But in moving backward without looking, she bumps into
the slight frame of Lady Chanwad, who is thrown off-balance and lands on the chest of Luang Sriyod, who
opens his arms automatically to embrace her.

Chaophraya Kosa’s daughter turns bright red with embarrassment. She glances up to meet the half-
Persian nobleman’s eyes and quivers. She knows that their families had differences in the past, so she
finds herself in a most awkward situation to be this close to him. However, the robust lord feels the
electricity and is smitten by her doe eyes. Both hearts miss a beat and are still shaken as she quickly
pushes away from his chest.

“I am sorry, sir. I lost my balance.”

“Never you mind, Lady Chanwad. Are you all right?”

“I…am not injured.”

“I am glad. And forgive me for not being able to help you build the sand stupa as it is against my religion.
All I can do is to stand guard and protect you from harm’s way.” Chanwad tries to hide her face and
conceal her affection. She has not been this close to any man alive. They exchange another look, and both
are totally flushed. Kate who has unwittingly flamed this romantic interest offers her help.

“Will you let me help you? My stupa is finished.” But there is no responses from either man nor woman.
Kate looks alternately at Luang Sriyod and then Lady Chanwad, puzzled by their weird reactions. She
turns to look at the other stupa being built by the servants and sees that Khun Ruang has now moved on
to help out at some other girl’s stupa. Only Khun Srivisarn remains standing, hands behind his back,
surveying the activities around them.

“Khun pi, let us walk around. I should like to see outdoor theatrical performances. I would love to see what
they have at a temple fair like this. And I am hungry too.”

“You were so excited that you lost your appetite at dinner. Which explains your present hunger. Let us go
then.”

“Lady Chanwad…” She makes a move to call her friend but his hand covers her mouth before she can call
out. “Hmm? What is it?”

“Let us not bother her. Luang Sriyod can take good care of her. Let us go.”

“Uh...and what about Pi Phin and Pi Yam…?”

“Your Pi Phin and Pi Yam must wish to stay behind with their friends for this festive occasion. Let us go,
just the two of us.” His hand grabs Karaket’s wrist and pulls her onward. Phin and Yam look away
intentionally as if they saw nothing to compel them to follow their mistress. But as the couple walks away,
the two handmaids nudge each other while giggling with delight. And happily, they join the sand stupa
building with their peers.

For the rest of the evening, Khun Srivrisarn glues his eyes to her lovely face and sparkling eyes. He keeps
a close watch and buffers her body so she is not roughly jostled in the crowd. He indulges her with all
kinds of goodies. This night, her every wish is his command.

On the boat trip home, the small boat glides slowly through the river, as instructed by the master. The
huge full moon illuminates the night, casting a soft nocturnal light over the passengers. Such cool breezes
and a quiet, soothing ambience! Happiness comes from the rhythmic sound of oar splashing in the water.
The fresh smell of the river mingles with the sweet scent of dillenia that perfumes Karaket’s body at the
bow. Khun Srivrisarn can’t help but wish that this halcyon moment would go on forever.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
C’est la Vie!

Two days later, Kate hears news of a number of servants falling ill. They suffer from shivering and
debilitating fever and cannot get up to work. Some kitchen hands have such severe symptoms with
hyperventilation and body aches that they remain bed-ridden.

“What? What is wrong with them?” asks Kate.

“They have the jungle fever, milady, with shivering cold and whimpering.”

“Malaria?”

“What did you say, milady?”

Kate gives no answer but goes on inspecting the surrounding areas of the kitchen and servants’ quarters.
She finds some pools of clear water at the bamboo clusters before the water flows into the canal. They
look like breeding grounds for jungle mosquitoes. On the ground, she finds coconut shells containing water
with mosquito larvae and swarms of mosquitoes flying about. Underneath the raised kitchen on stilts it
looks like there are lots of house mosquitoes and malaria-carrying mosquitoes. She quickly instructs
servants to get rid of all the water filled coconut shells so they don’t cause more illnesses like dengue
fever.

“Pi Phin, please look to it that all coconut shells and broken crockery are overturned so they don’t hold
water. Any spots on the ground that contain water, find some sand to fill them up. All utility water jars need
to be covered. Do not let the mosquitoes spawn. And crush some lemon grass and put it all over the place.
Lemon grass is a mosquito repellent. Also light some fires to drive off mosquitoes.”

Hearing her instructions Khun Srivisarn is curious.

“Do you think the current fever is spread by mosquitoes?”

“It looks so. The rainy season is over and we have a lot of rain water caught on the ground all over the city.
Would you mind if I bought mosquito nets for all the servants?”

“We have scores of servants in the household. If we should buy for all of them, it would take quite a lot of
money.”

“If grown-ups catch the fever, they may have some immunity to heal themselves, but young children will be
hard to survive. I think it is a form of making merit. I shall buy mosquito nets for them myself.”

“Immunity?” He finds the word puzzling.

“Um…I mean human ability to defend against the disease.”

“All right! For the sake of merit-making, I shall join you in this humane deed. Perhaps in the future we
may…” He swallows the rest of his sentence while she leans forward to hear it. But Khun Srivisarn has no
intention of revealing his secret wish for their future together. He merely finishes the sentence in his mind:
that they may not be separated and that they have joint karma in the next lives to come.

“Can you go and ask for some quinine from the farang priests at the church?” Kate suggests.

“What quinine?”

“Quinine is an herb that comes from a tree bark. The farang priests should have some to spare for us. I
shall write it down on paper for you. It may cost you some money as I assume it must be quite expensive.
Without this medicine, there must be some deaths for sure. Nearly all the domestic help is infected.”
Khun Srivisarn has long stopped wondering about Kate’s knowledge. He agrees to help her acquire the
materials and medicines as she requests. He even helps to boil some medicinal herbs diligently.

“Monsieur Pierre gave an instruction that if any servants urinate in blood, we must not give them this
medicine as it may kill them.”

“I shall have Pi Phin ask around. I hope no one is at that stage yet.” Kate is all seriousness. The servants
and slaves receive mosquito nets and medicines with overwhelming appreciation. They can’t stop praising
to the moon the magnanimity of their masters! All over the capital, no other masters would give a damn
about the well-being of their domestic slaves, considered to be their property with a value of cattle.
Fortunately, no one has reached the stage of urinating blood and most are caught in time at an early
stage. Some have contracted the disease previously, and they are not in lethal danger.

Kate takes the work to heart and hand, actively supervising the hygiene of the slaves’ quarters. She
enforces the rules on potable water and usable water and takes whatever precautions are necessary on
health threats. Better safe than sorry.

After the malaria outbreak has been managed effectively in the household, news of such benevolent
masters spreads, and Phraya Hora’s household has commoners come in droves to sell themselves into
slavery. The patriarch must turn down some offers, as he knows too well that some commoners are just
trying to escape conscription and evade taxes and tariffs on their land. Others are merely too lazy,
spending time so idly from day to day. Feeding these people would only be a waste of rice. However, he
basks in the newly earned reputation of his household’s generosity on account of his son and his niece.

The second Siamese diplomatic mission to France is dispatched with the missionary group returning home
from Siam. This time only one envoy by the name of Khun Phichai Vathit journeys westward with Frère
Vachet as his interpreter. Their objective is to test the waters and to see what will be required in the future
if a more formal delegation is to be sent to France. Everything seems to go so smoothly that Kate can’t
help wondering what lies in wait after this period of political calm. Chaophraya Kosa is the person she
most worries about now.

“Vous êtes sûr que notre plan va réussir?” (Are you sure that our plan will be successful?)

“Oui, j’en suis sûr. Tous les éléments son prêts. Cette fois-çi Praya Kosa ne peut pas eviter la punition.”
(Yes, I am sure of it. Everything is ready. This time Choaphraya Kosa cannot escape punishment.)

“Si Praya Kosa est renvoyé du poste de Tresorier, notre commerce sera Florissant.” (If Chaophraya Kosa
is removed from the post of Treasury, our commerce will flourish.)

“Exactement, et moi, je serai peut être encore plus proche du Roi de Siam.” (Exactly, and myself, I shall be
closer to the King of Siam.)

“Si c’est comme ça, ne m’oubliez pas.” (If so, do not forget me.)

“Comment pourrai’je vous oublier? Nous sommes déjâ dans le même bateau.” (How can I forget you? We
are already in the same boat.)

The full-waisted, pregnant woman stops short when she hears what sounds like a grave discussion in
French. Months after her marriage to Phaulkon, she has fast picked up some conversational French. It is
not too hard for a person who speaks Portuguese as her mother tongue to master another Indo-European
language. Despite being barely a whisper, Tanquimar is within earshot and overhears it all so clearly.

She arches her brows pensively, and steps back quickly and quietly from where she was standing, to
escape being caught and suspected as a house spy. But the conversation has burdened her heart.
Chaophraya Kosa is the elder brother of Phra Visut’s, superior officer and relative of Khun Srivisarn’s. She
knows that what she has heard can never bode well for the person in question. Despite the ambiguity, it is
enough for her to wish to act on the knowledge.

“I am five months along and I have not seen my parents since I left home. Now I miss them direly. I wish to
ask for your permission to see them. Please have someone accompany me to the capital.” Phaulkon holds
his wife gently and lovingly. Touching his nose on her cheek, he says pleadingly.
“If you are gone, who do I have to hold in my arms?”

“I feel ill at ease, physically and mentally. If I see my parents, I am sure I will get better.”

“It is only unfortunate that, under the circumstance of my being a target of suspicion in the recent burning
down of the British warehouse, I must remain here serving the King of Siam. While His Majesty is away in
Ayodhya, I am responsible for supervising construction of the new fort in Lavo. Otherwise, I shall
accompany you to your parents.” Her eyes lighten with satisfaction before she moves away from his chest.

“I assure you I will not be gone for too long before I return,” she promises.

“All right. But take good care of yourself and the baby in you.”

“Yes.” Tanquimar thanks him and walks away to make preparations for a long journey. His blue eyes focus
on her contemplatively. The paranoia in his eyes recede when she turns around to look at him. He turns
his back to her and lays down on his side, hiding his scheming eyes from her.

Nearly a year into their marriage, Tanquimar has performed her wifely duties impeccably. However, deep
down he always feels that she has somebody else. He only hopes that his overwhelming love for her will
shatter the walls between them and make her love him entirely. But it has been like dropping a rock into a
bottomless precipice. It seems like the rock never touches the ground.

Phaulkon’s promiscuity was notorious common knowledge before his marriage. He had had many affairs
and domestic relationships, with slaves and servants. But he has since neglected and released them from
their bondage, without visiting them because of his love for his wife. May his fear and suspicion be
unfounded! Please do not let his new determination for monogamy be shattered by those fears.

“Milady Karaket, a farang woman is here asking to see you. She waits for you at the riverside pavilion.”
The female odds-and-ends servant from downstairs informs Kate then leaves. Kate puts down the palm-
leaf book and, with widened eyes, it crosses her mind that the only farang woman she knows is Miss Mali.

She hastens down the stairs with the two handmaids by her side, who keep reminding her to be ladylike.

“Walk slowly, milady. Or Lady Champa will notice.” Though overcome by delight, the mere mention of Lady
Champa makes Kate slow down. She has not heard from Tanquimar for months. Only that she went to live
in Lavo with her husband who has become a favorite of King Narai in a short time, which is no surprise to
Karaket because of her foreknowledge of it.

The King has moved his residence to Lavo and only comes to Ayodhya once in a while to run the
country’s administration. Though Lavo and Ayodhya are not too far for travel, the fact that Tanquimar has
come to see her in private, refusing to come up to the house, speaks of something odd happening.

Kate grasps her friend’s arm with delight and steps back to look up and down the whole of her Miss Mali
suspiciously. She seems to have gained weight. But seeing her friend’s inspection, Tanquimar answers
with a laugh.

“I am five months pregnant, Karaket.”

“Really! And what is going on with you? How come you came all the way here?” Her questions are fired
rapidly in a set as before. Tanquimar smiles fondly seeing her friend has not changed even after these
many months.

“I miss you. That is why…” Tanquimar looks left and right before pulling Kate aside into the flower garden
nearby, out of sight of everyone else.

“And I came with a warning too. A few days ago, Desland Bureau, the representative of the French East
India Company, came to visit my husband. They talked about something in relation with Chaophraya Kosa.
I have a hunch that it does not bode well. I wanted to warn you to take caution. I know that Phraya Hora
has a close relationship with the Chaophraya, so I came to see you.”

“Oh, my! Is it happening now?” The exclamation makes Tanquimar blink suspiciously.

“What did you say?”

“Um…it was nothing. I thank you very much for having made the effort to come over and inform me of it,
even in your pregnancy. Did you come all the way from Lavo?”

“Yes, I used the pretext of homesickness and missing my parents so much. I did not want it to be known in
a wider circle, so I came in the company of only two handmaids.”

“You took a huge risk. If your husband learns of it, you must surely be in trouble.”

“You have nothing to worry on that front.” The indifference toward her husband Phaulkon tells Kate that
the couple still have trouble in their relationship.

“As far as I know, he loves you very much, does he not? He even abandoned all his concubines for you.”

Tanquimar looks downward and evades the question by changing subjects. “I heard you cannot go out yet.
Are you still grounded?”

“I can go out to some festivities, but I am under house arrest, I suppose.” Kate admits.

“Is that so? You must be wayward as always, I guess. Karaket, this is all I came to tell you. I must be
leaving now. I do not want my visit to be noticeable.”

“Yes. Good luck, then, Mali.” The woman who is walking off stops when she hears her old name. She turns
her face to smile, and Kate sees a faint shadow of tears in her eyes, but it disappears swiftly as Tanquimar
turns toward the pier. Kate cranes her neck to look at the rowboat leaving with Tanquimar and her
handmaids before inhaling deeply. Despite her conviction that history cannot be rewritten, she remains at
the riverside pavilion, waiting for Khun Srivisarn to return from work.

When the party of Khun Srivisarn, Phra Visut and Luang Kalya disembark at the pier, they are quite
surprised to find Kate waiting with a worrying look.

“A while ago, Mali came to visit.” Kate announces at once.

“Well…when did she come over from Lavo?” Khun Srivisarn asks.

“Mali had news to tell. She said her husband Phaulkon was planning on a plot that might harm
Chaophraya Kosa.”

“What plot, Karaket?” asks Phra Visut.

“Mali did not say explicitly, only said for us to be cautious. I would anticipate a conspiracy to implicate him
falsely.” Kate had not read historic details of this event in her modern days. She only has a rough idea of
what happened and can only convey Tanquimar’s information to warn them.

“If so, I shall not attend the language tutorial today.” Phra Visut is quite alarmed. “I shall head directly to my
brother’s to warn him. You can go on with the study group without me. Perhaps Tanquimar may have
misheard it because I would not expect Phaulkon to have the courage for it.” Despite this conjecture of
denial, his hasty parting gives everyone concern.

“That farang again! Is his mind only set on ruling the country?” Luang Kalya is both stern and harsh. But
before the party can move into the house for the French tutorial, a manservant storms in.

“A servant from Chaophraya Kosa’s came urgently and asked me to inform you that some soldiers carried
an arrest warrant for Chaophraya Kosa. He is just now being escorted into the palace.”

“What? Why did it all happen so fast?” Kate exclaims alarmingly.

Khun Srivisarn and Luang Kalya rise abruptly and rush to the pier, ordering servants to take them by boat
to the Grand Palace in haste.

Kate waits restlessly for more news to come. She refuses to have dinner, letting Lady Champa know that
she will wait for Phraya Hora and Khun Srivisarn to return first. Late into the night, the two men walk up to
the house completely exhausted.

“What happened, sirs?” Given her foreknowledge, she feels utterly dismayed. Are her subtle warning and
Tanquimar’s intervention all in vain?

“Chaophraya Kosa was dismissed from his position as Treasury and Chancellor, and is sentenced to one
and a half rounds of flogging.” Phraya Hora speaks slowly while sitting down and accepting tea from the
hand of Lady Champa.

“There is evidence against him from some witnesses --- farangs and conscripted commoners. They
testified that he accepted bribes from peasants who evaded conscription for construction of the new fort.
Prior to this, he had objected to Phaulkon’s proposed allocation from the Treasury budget for the fort
construction. The objection went against His Majesty’s will.”

“How many lashes is there in one round?” Kate whispers to Khun Srivisarn.

“Forty.” He replies.

“Forty lashes! I got one lash and I almost died,” exclaims Kate. “Did Chaophraya Kosa take sixty
lashings?”

“It looks as if he will not survive this month.” Phraya Hora’s dry and weary voice turns every pair of eyes
on him. “I have read his astrological signs.”

His brief prediction is received with desperate moans from everyone present, as no one doubts his
accuracy in foretelling the future.

“It is inevitable. By now, his mother Lady Bua must have been informed. As she was His Majesty’s wet
nurse, he will have to visit her himself. The matter left the Palace with no choice. If he was not punished
for accepting bribes, the King would be regarded as prejudiced. Such disconsolation and despair for us
all!” The weight of utter desolation and grief has taken its toll on Phraya Hora, who seems to have aged
many years in a single day.

“You said my wife went to Phraya Hora’s house?” Phaulkon repeats absent-mindedly what he heard from
the servant he had assigned to follow and spy on Tanquimar.

“Yes, your lordship.”

“Leave me.”

“Yes, your lordship.”

Phaulkon leans back on the chair, eyes shut, and remains listless. He feels direly bitter and wretched.
Though he dotes on her, his dear wife does not love him back. Anyone in his situation must feel like
spitting blood. Five months along with his child, and she persists on meeting someone she loves.

As long as he can remember, he has endured all the hardships that life gave him. He came from the
lowest ladder of a laborer, doing all the menial jobs as part of a ship’s crew. Fortunately, he had enough
brains to plan for his advancement. He is blessed with an adeptness in linguistics and is a fast learner. He
found this bountiful country in the Orient and has worked his way up to his current rank of peerage in
Siam. He is self-made, hard-working and ambitious. His strength has never given in to anyone. But now he
must lose tears over someone who is the mother of his unborn child and who does not love him in the
least. How wretched it is!

He did everything in his power to please this woman. He even sent away his royally-bestowed wife, a
lady-in-waiting to the King of Siam’s daughter, to Songkwae, just to please his new pregnant wife,
Tanquimar. All he has of his former wife is his half-Siamese daughter born of her. Now it seems that
everything he has given up for Tanquimar is in vain.

“I must gain full power in this country. I shall use all my labor and brain to rein over this land. And we shall
see, Tanquimar. Between me and the man you love, who shall be more powerful? From now on, do not
think that I shall honor you as I did. Let us see how you feel when I as your husband does not care for you,
just as you do not care for me.” The greater his love for her, the greater his bitterness. Phaulkon opens his
eyes and vows to himself that he will stand tall. From this day on, Tanquimar will mean nothing to him.
His call for servant concubines is heard throughout the house. With long strides, he leaves the main
house to smaller living quarters that he had abandoned for some time. The first concubine he gets hold of
will certainly take his foul mood and sex drive. The table has now turned in this household.

In less than a month, as predicted by Phraya Hora, Chaophraya Kosa passed away. His body was brought
to Samanakot Temple, the restoration of which he and Phra Visut had jointly sponsored. King Narai has
been distraught and lost his appetite for many days on end. His Majesty orders a full funeral of the highest
honor in memory of his milk brother, who shared nursing from the same breast and was his playmate since
infancy.

Kate walks to the waterfront pier of the temple and sits down in contemplation with a heavy heart. This
period in history is much more terrifying than she thought. Rivalry, competition, plotting and scheming, for
fortune and fame, ruthless purges of enemies for personal gain and for a position close to the King…She
wonders for how long she has to continue witnessing these tumultuous times without being sucked into the
maelstrom. From what she has read in her other life, more turbulence is on the way towards the end of this
king’s reign.

“What is on your mind, Karaket?” asks Khun Srivisarn.

“Khun pi, I am thinking that here rivalry and strife are all around. How terrifying!”

“Rivalry and strife are everywhere, not only here, you know.”

“And must we put up with them?”

“Not that we have to put up, we must live and stay alive. Every life on earth must struggle for survival. To
survive, one must stay above and alert without slipping.” Kate looks at the handsome face awestruck. That
truism comes from a man of his relatively young age.

“Is that the aristocratic mindset? If so, it seems happier to be born proletariat or slave.” Khun Srivisarn
listens to her question and comment, then concludes with a heavy heart.

“Do not think so much, Karaket. Let us go into the prayer-chanting hall. By now it must be full of mourning
guests and well-wishers.” Kate follows the tall frame of this Siamese “aristocrat” into the nearby hall.

A small boy runs in front of Kate and bumps her out of nowhere. She grabs him to prevent him from
falling. His bright, curious eyes focus on her intently. She smiles at him.

“What do you say? Where are you from? What is your name?” asks Kate.

“Thongkam.” The childishly slurred pronunciation of his own name is so endearing that Kate takes him into
her arms and buries her nose into his soft, dimpled cheek.

“Thongkam, you bumped into the lady, did you not?” The chiding voice comes from a young woman who
smiles apologetically to Kate. She has known for some time that this famously picture-perfect beauty is
Phraya Hora’s niece and Khun Srivisarn’s intended. The rumors give her a formidable reputation, but the
real woman she sees in front of her is not as intimidating. She looks self-confident, brave, joyful and
plucky, not to mention that she is strikingly beautiful.

“Is he your son, Lady Duang?” In surprise, Kate asks the wife of Khun Suwan Rajbhakdi, a.k.a. Khun
Thong.

“Yes. My first-born petulantly nagged his nanny to come along. So we brought him even though this is not
the place and occasion for a child this young.” Kate lets go of the chubby arm instantly.

“Thongkam, father of Thongdee, grandfather of Thongduang, who is to become King Rama I.” Kate
breathlessly recalls to herself the family tree. Who would have thought she would hit the jackpot so
unwittingly?

Realizing that this boy Thongkam will be the ancestor of the Chakri Dynasty of the Bangkok Period, her
knees buckle, and she wishes she could bow before him in proper homage. Her feeling is entirely different
from the moment she met Phra Visut, knowing full well that Phra Visut, or Khun Pan, is the grandfather of
Thongkam. Perhaps it is because this boy will found the dynasty whose direct line of succession she
worships and feels in such close affinity in her other life.

She hastily leaves to lend a now-skillful hand in the floral arrangement work group for the seven-day
funeral rites. But still in awe, she continues to cast sideway glances at Thongkam.

“What is wrong with you, Karaket?” Lady Champa looks curiously at her niece’s weird behavior.

“I feel a little ill-disposed.” Who could be well-disposed in her position right now?

“It must be because of the crowd,” says Lady Champa. “Even myself, I feel a little dizzy. This is the last
night. Tomorrow is the cremation. You need not attend the final ceremony as all the dignitaries will attend
in honor of the deceased.”

“Yes, Aunt ma’m.” Kate gives a soft reply and is immediately relieved at not having to attend tomorrow’s
big event. She feels that she would be unable to restrain herself if she sees more future legends.

The cremation of Chaophraya Kosa is indeed majestic. Despite the confiscation of his assets, King Narai
himself hosts the stately event. The splendor of it is so admirably talked about as well as the fact that Lady
Chanwad and Lady Nim are not dishonored after the disgraceful demise of their patriarch.

Not long after, Luang Sriyod steps in to support the family and asks for the young woman’s hand in
marriage. His proposal is mutually agreed upon by all parties involved. Although Lady Chanwad is
required to take her husband’s religion and convert to Islam, she becomes his first wife. Her mother, Lady
Nim, takes up new residence at Dusit Temple with her mother-in-law who was the wet nurse of King Narai.
Unlike most other families who lose their patriarchs suddenly and in disgrace, they thus do not fall on hard
times.

On his part, Luang Sura, who was born Constantin Phaulkon, gets promoted to assistant minister, and is
bestowed the title and name of Phra Ritkamhaeng Bhakdi Srisunthorn Sena. King Narai appoints Phraya
Phra Sadej who has no skill in trade and commerce as Treasury, in replacement of the late Choaphraya
Kosa (Lhek), leaving the farang lord in his new assistant position to take full rein over the Treasury
department.

Upon her return to Lavo, Tanquimar orders the servants to unpack and inquires after her husband when
she sees no sign of him at the main house.

“His lordship is staying with Ku, your ladyship.” The answer gives her a little pause, realizing that Ku is, or
was, her husband’s slave concubine.

“May it please your ladyship Tanquimar, shall we send word to his lordship that you have arrived?”
Claudia, her half-Bengalese, half-Siamese handmaid, suggests.

“No. Let him have what he wishes for. It is nothing out of the ordinary when I am so big with child.” At that,
Tanquimar walks into her bedroom, paying no mind to her husband’s sex life. Her mind is so distraught
over the demise of Chaophraya Kosa that she does not know what to think. Her husband’s cruelty exceeds
all decency. He has plotted deviously to topple the very first man in this country who reached out to him
and gave him protection and support. And he has done it just for some trivial gains and power. What a
despicable man! And despite her effort to travel all the way to warn Lady Karaket, she couldn’t help the
Chaophraya.

Phaulkon himself is not overjoyed with the newly earned position. Lying with his arm on his forehead in
bed next to his concubine Ku who has fallen soundly asleep from exhaustion, he remains wide-awake.
Although, indeed, his initial intention was to undermine Chaophraya Kosa’s dominance over state affairs,
he did not expect the King of Siam to react so furiously at a corruption charge, completely put aside their
milk kinship, and pass an exorbitant sentence of 60 lashings.

Remembering Chaophraya Kosa’s kindness to him when he first arrived in this country, he feels ill at ease
and restless. But his mind works to rationalize the events in his own favor. Without the indomitable
Chaophraya Kosa, the Buddhist Siamese aristocrats’ force has diminished. The Muslim lords have little
influence on royal affairs, except for a few Persian officers in the Kings’ security guard. His hope, and that
of the Catholic Church, of turning Siam into the land of God, has moved closer to being realized. And once
this mission is accomplished, he is sure to have glory, material and immaterial, showered on him by the
grace of God.
 It must have been the will of God….the farang lord tells himself repeatedly to strengthen his will.
Tomorrow he shall go to church in the hope that he can get some peace.

The first son of Tanquimar and Phaulkon is born in early 2227 of the Buddhist Era, or A.D.1884. Phaulkon
is over-joyed, and harbors aspirations for his son to be as prestigious a nobleman as himself. The infant is
named George Phaulkon. With George’s arrival, his father spends more time at the main house. But when
his wife Tanquimar acts so normal and neither mentions nor nags about his sleeping out for many months,
he is incensed. He tries to provoke her jealousy by informing her of his plan for the day.

“Tonight I shall sleep with Ku.” Tanquimar barely skips a beat covering her baby boy with a blanket.

“Yes.” Her calm acceptance is like a dagger piercing into his old bloody wounds.

“Will you not reprove me for doing so?”

“I did not raise a question before. Why should I raise it now? Please do whatever you think suits you,
whatever makes you happy.” His big hand grabs her upper arm and pulls her to him violently.

“You have never taken interest in me, now or ever, have you?”

“Please do not raise your voice. Or the baby will be woken.” Phaulkon is red with rage. He drags
Tanquimar out of the nursery to his bedroom.

“What are you doing? Let me go!”

“I would like to know how long you can put up with it? How much longer will you continue thinking of
another man, rather than your own husband?”

“What did you say?” she asks in alarm.

“Do not think that I am clueless of what you think and what you have done. I am no fool.” Almost growling
in pain, he throws Tanquimar on the bed and hurls himself over her. A storm of jealousy and rancor drives
him into ruthlessly and mercilessly violating the mali or jasmine petals, as in her Siamese name. But the
jasmine is tearless, not even a single drop is shed. Her stoic reaction multiplies his rage and jealousy.
Phaulkon leaves the naked body doubled up in pain on the bed with bitter satisfaction and a declaration.

“From now on, I shall never touch you again. I shall not give you the chance of despising me. We shall live
together in mutual interest. And do not blame me for being heartless. It was you who started out being
heartless to me.” Phaulkon puts on his clothes and leaves the nuptial bedroom forever.

The aftermath of the night leaves Tanquimar pregnant with a second baby. Johan Phaulkon is born in the
next year. The two sons take after their father in having light-colored hair and after their mother in having
fair, yellow skin. Tanquimar never utters even half a word of her husband’s philandering life. The persons
who can make her smile are her two sons, her step-daughter by the royally-bestowed bride, and some
twenty half-Siamese, slave-born foster-children whom she adopted. No one can really know what is in her
mind when she sits, from time to time, gazing blankly into the void.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Betrothal

“Milady, Lady Champa has sent for you. She is waiting at the central pavilion.” Lady Champa’s handmaid
Juang announces after knocking on her door. The weather is cooler toward year end and it doesn’t seem
odd for Kate to wear a blouse under the sabai without mumbled criticism from her two handmaids.

The pavilion looks crowded today with so many residents and visitors, including Phraya Hora, Lady
Champa, Phra Visut, Lady Nim and most importantly Khun Srivisarn who turns to look at her with unusual
sparks in his eyes.

“Come and sit down, Karaket.”

“Yes, Aunt ma’m.” Kate’s prim and proper manner is regarded with pleasure in the elders’ eyes, especially
Lady Champa who feels particularly satisfied with her work as etiquette trainer. Kate turns her eyes to
each person present, giving them a polite smile. Khun Srivisarn seems to ignore her, so she ignores him
back.

Phra Visut opens a dialogue with a preamble. “My brother Khun Lhek’s stately funeral has brought
tremendous grief to all of us. Now that it is over, we as your elders have come to an agreement of your
future. With your father being my cousin and your mother being Phraya Hora’s cousin, it is time to tie the
knot and arrange a nuptial celebration for you.”

At that, Kate is taken aback and nearly faints. Her eyes train on the elders at the pavilion in disbelief. “With
whom, may I ask?”

“Karaket!” The admonition from Lady Champa makes the sassy girl wilt for a while, but the odd
contentment in her khun pi’s eyes, out of the elders’ sight, gives back her courage.

“With…khun pi?” she is hesitant to ask.

“And with whom on earth do you think? Did you make more public scenes with anyone else?” Lady
Champa finds her niece’s forthright manner and unbashful wide eyes both amusing and irritating. “I have
never seen anyone quite like you, a woman without shyness. Other women would have curled down on
the floor, not wanting to discuss such a matter, but you address it straight-eyed. If I did not think that all my
training has improved your behavior incrementally, I would not consent to Phra Visut’s proposal.” Her half
teasing, half exasperating comment confuses Kate even more.

“And what does Phra Visut have to do with all this, Aunt ma’m?” Lady Champa and Lady Nim bang their
own chest at the incredibly bold question. Phra Visut laughs heartily before answering.

“You nearly have no family alive. Only Phrya Hora is your next of kin. Phraya Ramnarong, your late father,
was my distant cousin of a younger generation. Now that you are to be married into his family, Phraya
Hora cannot represent the bride’s side as the groom is his own son. Do you get the picture now?”

Understanding the situation, Kate looks down and gulps air to calm herself as she realizes it will be hard to
avoid the nuptials. She has acted smoothly indifferent and not raised the issue over these months as she
did not wish to find so much attachment to this time and place.

Her heartfelt hope of returning home grows slim but is still viable. And in spite of her acculturation and
adaptation to this ancient lifestyle, her nostalgia for her own home, family and friends, Mom and Grandma
Nuan, remains buried deep, day in and day out. Every morning at alms offering, she is constantly
reminded of them. She has tried to blend in to this life happily by finding activities to engage in and by
going out to see things to fill the hollowness inside. However, she can see no way out of the situation so
she can return home to her own real self. Hope is diminishing by the day and perhaps it is possible that
that day will never come.

“The families are in agreement now. The date is set for the betrothal. Seven days from now there will be
the most auspicious time. At first, we thought of having a wedding, but I have checked the astrological
signs and found that it will be better to wait until my son Dej returns from France to hold the wedding.”
Phraya Hora concludes.

“The bride price will consist of ten chests of gold, two chests of diamond and gemstone gold jewelry, four
rolls of silk satin, ten stacks of white cloth and ten stacks of print fabric. Phra Visut has given approval to
these.” Lady Champa goes down in detail what will be given to Karaket by her khun pi’s family when they
are formally betrothed.

“As for the engagement paraphernalia and floral arrangements,” Lady Nim says smilingly, “I and Chanwad
will have them prepared and ready on the day. Over the next three days, you should pack your clothes and
accessories for the engagement and move over to Phra Visut’s house, in compliance with the traditions.”

The precocious girl listens to the plan drawn out and elaborated by her elders and remains in silent
resignation, knowing she has no say in all these nuptial arrangements. Now that the families are in
agreement with the big decision, with she, the stakeholder, in absentia, what is there left for her to say? In
this culture where seniority is held in high regard, someone of her age and gender is expected to say
nothing.

“Yes. Now that all arrangements are set, I must oblige.” Kate sneaks a look at Khun Srivisarn who grins
with delight at her acceptance without challenge. She can’t help feeling the contradiction. Now he doesn’t
object to it. What happens to the man who openly hated her guts? Is he now in love with her? Or does she
have to live Karaket’s life fully to the level of…Wow! The thought has turned her on…

Kate does some math in her mind on the timeline of events. It is roughly two years from now until Khun
Srivisarn’s journey to France and back in B.E. 2230 (A.D. 1687). As a fair person who does not want to
take what is now hers to have, Kate hopes that Karaket will come back to reclaim her body in time. But
when she sees the twinkles in the eyes of the man who is looking sideways at her, and remembering the
long precarious journey he must soon take, she shudders from a weird hollow feeling. When that time
comes indeed, she may be selfish and want to claim this body for her own for good, perhaps.

During the dry season of B.E. 2228 B.E. (A.D. 1685), dysentery with a fever spread all over the capital. A
large number of people died from food poisoning, especially riverside dwellers. It spread to residents in the
Grand Palace. However, the household of Phraya Hora’s escapes the scourge of the epidemic like a
miracle, owing to Kate’s hygienic measures on potable water. She keeps bragging about it all the way to
the new year.

“Do you see how effective my water filters work?” The modern-day sassy girl does not give up her sassy
bragging.

“Hmm…I think you should enter the civil service and work as Chief of Sakorn Kasem Department.” Her
fiancé’s comment comes laughingly while continuing to read a French book borrowed from Monsieur
Pierre. The weather at the end of the year is so chilly that they need a shawl to cover themselves, even
when the sun has not yet set.

“Is that a compliment or what?” Kate tries to get hold of the situation. Sakorn means Water and Kasem
means Happiness, but the speaker did not sound complimentary.

“As you wish,” is his reply.

“Hmm…Now that you can read French fluently, your linguistic nuance has become sharper by the day.”
Kate remarks.

“Who can be like yourself? Even without much reading, you are always sharp-tongued every time.” Kate
pretends not to hear the biting remark as her next goal needs Khun Srivisarn to accomplish.

“I want to see…um…what temple shall we see next?”

“You have gone to nearly all the temples available, now what other temple would you like to see more? I
think you probably see more of Ayodhya than myself, having accompanied my mother and my father on
their merit-making excursions as well. You are indeed the most curious person in the capital.” He adds.

“Then can we go outside the capital?” She takes the opportunity to advance her plan.

“Hmm…and you only think of sight-seeing. I shall leave for France in a matter of days now.” His serious
voice makes her wilt, but only briefly, before trying to persuade him again.

“I heard the servants say that the French envoy came with exotic gifts for His Majesty. And there will be a
display of the telescope to see the stars in the sky at…where is it to be…eh?”

“At the Kraisorn Siharaj Throne Hall and at Saint-Paulo Church on Chubsorn Lake?” He clarifies.
“Yes! I would love to see,” says Kate. “And by the way, we haven’t seen Mali for two years now. I wonder
how she is doing.”

“I heard that she is busily raising children, her own and children by other women,” Khun Srivisarn adds.
“She is praised for her kindness to servants and slaves, not unlike you yourself. You two make good
friends together.”

“Absolutely. Anyhow, I would love to see for myself how she is doing. I mean to bring her gold necklaces
as belated shower gifts for her sons. Please, please!” With that pleading voice, Khun Srivisarn knows that
he is bound to go soft on her again. He glances at his mother who is supervising the servants at choosing
flowers on the low table in front of her bed chamber.

“Maybe we can give her a visit. Shy of a month, the envoy mission comprising Phra Visut, Luang Kalya
and myself, including the men who will go to study in France, will depart on the French ships L’Oiseau and
Maligne with the French Ambassador Monsieur Le Chevalier de Chaumont. It seems befitting that we
make acquaintance with him. But we need to consult and ask permission from Phra Visut first.” Khun
Srivisarn makes a plan.

Kate grins in delight. Phra Visut is a kind gentleman. It is not hard for her to obtain his permission in this
excursion.

Lopburi, formerly known as Lavo, is a province which in modern times she has never visited. It is the
second capital of Siam at this time because King Narai alternates his residency between there and
Ayodhya. The noblemen who are required to have audiences with the King practically have their residency
in Lavo. Establishing this other royal city of residence is part of King Narai’s defensive strategy against
Holland, which is on the brink of colonizing Siam. The visionary King Narai has countered by using other
countries, like France, as buffers. But, as the proverb goes, a bad penny always comes back and the
Siamese lords worry that France could prove to be a boomerang on its way back.

Phraya Hora himself occasionally makes many days’ sojourns to Lavo for an audience with the King. His
work involves poetic composition and astrological readings for auspicious moments for royal ceremonies,
so he travels to see the King when he needs the King’s approval for a work in progress. King Narai’s
foster son, Prince Pi, is living by the King’s side and stays in Lavo practically permanently. Now Karaket
will be able to see for herself what Lopburi looked like three hundred years ago.

The distance from Ayodhya to Lopburi is not as far as Kate anticipated. The convoy of rowboats leaves in
early morning and reaches its destination at dusk, with a short break for a picnic-style lunch at a shady
spot.

Lady Champa sits on the same boat as her niece and entertains her by pointing at both sides of the river
as she often travels on this route to visit her relatives in Lavo. The two riverbanks are lush and green with
foliage. Monkeys, langurs, gibbons and marmots are seen throwing themselves from branch to branch
along the riverway. At some faraway spots, aquatic birds are swooping down on the water-brimming rice
paddies.

As an extension of Phra Visut’s party, the excursion consists of as few service staff as possible. Phraya
Hora has not come along as he is busy working on Samutkot Kamchan, which is to become one of the
oldest Thai literary compositions, based on the tale of a previous life of the Buddha. Only personal
attendants Phin, Yam, Juang, Cherm and Yod accompany their masters, and they travel light without much
luggage for the brief three to four day stay.

Their accommodation is situated on the River Lopburi. It is named Saiyud House after the late owner. The
house is obliquely across from the Royal Palace and not very far from the residence of the farang
Assistant Treasury Minister Phaulkon . The neighborhood consists of houses of senior aristocrats in
clusters for easy access and communication.

“The Saiyud House belonged to Grandmother Saiyud, my mother’s aunt,” Khun Srivisarn explains. “Since
her passing, my father has taken care of her household and all the servants and slaves, so the house is
fully staffed. This is my father’s residence when he is here for the King’s audience.”

“Oh! And…what about you? Do you not have to be in the King’s audience? I hardly see you journey to
Lavo at all.” Kate asks.

Khun Srivisarn responds with calm composure, though he is tempted to reveal the truth that because of
her, he has insisted on learning French in preparation for the diplomatic mission as a pretext to avoid the
whole mission relocating to Lavo.

“That was because Phra Visut, Luang Kalya and I had to study French,” is his simple answer.

“And where are we going for sightseeing tomorrow?” Kate asks.

“We cannot. Tomorrow the diplomatic mission to France will have an audience with the King.”

“And…what about me?” protests Kate.

“You stay with Mother for one day.” He makes plans for her. “Or you can pay a visit at Phaulkon’s. Only ask
permission from Mother first. His house is not far from here, within walking distance. You may ask one of
the servants here to show you the way. Miss Mali...um…Madame Tanquimar will be delighted.” Kate
beams happily at the green light she’s been given.

The next morning, with the men at the King’s audience, at which women have no business attending, she
asks permission from Lady Champa to pay a visit to Tanquimar.

“Do not look for trouble again. We are far from our turf.” Lady Champa puts down her embroidery to warn
her niece.

“Phin and Yam, take good care of your mistress. If you get into trouble again, your backs will be broken in
half this time by lashing.” The older lady warns.

“Yes, your ladyship.” The young lady and her handmaids promise softly before taking their leave.

The teakwood house at Lavo is half the size of the Ayodhya residence. Yet, it looks far richer than the
bamboo shacks of most commoners. It is not very spacious. Compared to Kate’s modern times, it is the
size of a vacation bungalow. Cherm and Yod escort the three women, with the late Lady Saiyud’s
manservant modestly leading the way. All servants in Lavo have heard with trepidation so many rumors
about Khun Srivisarn’s feisty fiancée. Walking past the long wall to the entrance gate with two guards on
post, Wong lets Karaket know that they have arrived at the destination.

“This is the house, Lady Karaket.”

“Thank you very much, Wong. Cherm and Yod, you wait out here. Pi Phin and Pi Yam, let us go inside.”
Kate states her intention with the guards that she is here to see Tanquimar, and one of the uniformed men
walks inside, returning soon with a house servant, who shows Kate inside. Phin and Yam inspect the
Western-style residence of Phaulkon in awe. At a safe distance from the house servant, Phin whispers to
her mistress.

“Imitating royalty…misfortune shall befall them!”

“What is in imitation of royalty?” Kate asks.

“A big building like a royal palace…No one else has the temerity of this farang.”

“Oh! Most farangs live in a brick and plaster house. They must be accustomed to living like this. On the
other hand, it must be used to entertain their peers. It gives Siam face as a modern country. Do not be so
critical, Pi Phin.”

“Well, this cannot be in good grace.” Phin still objects.

“I heard that he is one of His Majesty’s favorites, Phin,” says Yam.

“Yes. Miss Mali must live in comfort having a husband like him. Ingratiating himself for the King’s favor.”
Phin cannot stop badmouthing the foreign nobleman. She does not want anyone to outshine her mistress.
Kate merely shakes her head. In two years’ time her Pi Phin will realize how wrong she is.

The interior of the Phaulkon residence is decorated in the classical and neoclassical styles with ancient
Greek statues and Louis XIV furniture, which must have come with the European junk ships. Carved
wooden chairs, the patterns of which are an eclectic mix between the Occidental and the Oriental, are
upholstered with opulent beige velvet gold-embossed designs. Cabinets of intricately carved wood are
painted with botanical designs and trimmed in gold. Every piece blends well with the architectural style,
reflecting the good taste of the owners. Kate walks around inspecting furniture and decorations with
interest, assessing their historical and artistic values.

A Eurasian house servant leaves to inform her mistress of the visitor. A while later, Tanquimar comes in,
eyes sparkling in delight, carrying her first-born, one-year-old son.

“Mali, how are you?”

“I am fine. What about you? I heard you are already engaged with Khun Srivisarn.” A faint shadow of tears,
nearly imperceptible, dries up with the answer from Kate.
“So and so, Mali. Nothing to speak about. Is this my nephew? What is his name?” Lady Karaket remains
her same old self, taking care not to cause her friend pain or to rub salt in her wound.

“His name is George.” The proud mother answers.

“Oh...George! How ugly he is!” In keeping with custom, Kate uses a negative description for the baby so it
will not evoke jealousy and be taken away by spirits. Kate puts a small gold necklace on the toddler who
sits, sucking his thumb and fixing his eyes at her.

“Claudia! Clara! Is there anyone nearby? Come and take my baby now.” A while later a 13-year-old girl
comes and picks up George Phaulkon.

“Clara, take him to play with the other children outside.” The Siamese-Portuguese girl nods before walking
off, child in hand.

“Wow!” Kate exclaims. “She is so good-looking. Is she the Eurasian you adopted?”

“And you, Karaket, do you know about this too?” Tanquimar seems surprised.

“Your kindness is newsworthy all over the capital. I am glad for you. Altruism will repay you in the end.” At
least, it will help her in dire times to come. Kate only read the story of this historical lady with passing
interest, and does not remember exactly what happens to Tanquimar after Phaulkon’s death. She must
have had quite a hard time with the decline in her fortunes. All Kate remembers is that in the end this
Tanquimar will be in the palace kitchen staff and become famous for the desserts she makes. That this
skill will earn her a respectable position.

“I am glad you came. I am making some desserts for the children. There are quite a lot of them and they
are always nagging for sweetmeats. One cannot find many desserts and snacks in Lavo as in Ayodhya, so
I must make myself sweetmeats to please the children’s palate. I would like for you to try some and see
how you like them. They are my own inventions, which have not been named yet.”

Tanquimar takes Kate by the wrist and pulls her along. In the kitchen, which is a large building with a huge
brick oven, the sweet smell of flour, eggs, sugar and other baking ingredients is in the air. At the other
corner stand big wood-fired stoves on which sit brass curved pans with boiling liquids. Several kitchen
hands stir and flip pieces of dough in one pan, while another spoons a thumb-size egg-batter into a pot of
boiling syrup. Yet another streams batter from a banana leaf cone into thin threads in a pot of boiling syrup.
When cooked, these golden threads are lifted up by a bamboo stick and formed into shapes like tiny bird
nests.

“The desserts are made of duck eggs mixed with flour, just like at the Western bakery. But baked cakes
do not keep for long. I thought perhaps thick syrup can make it last longer, just as the Chinese prepare
candied fruits.” Kate’s mouth opens, about to say the modern names of the desserts she is familiar with.
Surely, that small circular cake is called…Gold Pinch.

“Hmm…”

“What do you think of them? This one has only duck eggs. I first made it with chicken eggs, but the batter
came out too thin. I had to add more flour, which did not taste as good. That one, which is poured from a
banana leaf cone needs no flour but uses a mixture of chicken eggs. The one in the shape of a teardrop is
like those in the Western bakery but contains less flour.” Kate sips tea in a tiny imported Kiangsi ceramic
cup and puts it down.

“They look appetizing, but the flat round egg cake is a little too plain. It may need more decoration.” Kate
comments with an ulterior motive. Gold Pinch doesn’t end up like this, Mali.
“And how do you think it should be?” Will this be an intervention in the invention of Thai dessert history if
she takes the liberty of pinching the small, palm-sized egg crepe. into a petaled shape on behalf of the
inventor herself? Kate’s mouth waters thinking the original dessert by the hand of the inventor must taste
great, so she picks up a piece, thinking of plopping it in her mouth.

Instead, she screams loudly. “Ouch! It is so hot.” The tiny, round piece falls from her hand and lands in the
nearly empty teacup. Bullseye!
“You should have waited until it cools down. Why so rushed to eat?” Tanquimar laughs at her friend’s
clumsiness. Children, house slaves and servants are taken by surprise to see her rare laugh, let alone a
mere smile on her face.

The small syrup-soaked egg crepe begins to sink into the tiny Kiangsi-ceramic teacup, and as it does, its
circular rim pleats itself, forming petal-like forms. This captures Tanquimar’s interest. She stares and
realizes that she has made a significant discovery!

“I know, I know!” She asks the servants to bring more tiny Kiangsi teacups and to put them side by side on
a tray. She presses the round, syrupy egg-batter on the rim and pinches it slightly and watches it curl.
Kate gapes at her friend’s ingenuity and grins widely.

You got it right, Mali!

“Without you, I would not have this beautiful-looking dessert.” Kate blushes with embarrassment. Has the
accident resulting from her gluttony spurred the now well-known shape of this famous dessert?

“Rim-pleated like this,” Tanquimar says in satisfaction. “But if I name it Gold Curl, it could be mistaken for
some Chinese dessert. What do you think if I call it Gold Pinch?”

“Good idea! Excellent idea indeed!” Bullseyes, my dear Miss Mali.

“The batter with more flour scooped by hand and dropped into boiling syrup should be called Gold Drop to
go with Gold Pinch. And the one squeezed through tiny holes from a banana leaf cone into boiling syrup
and picked up in bunches, how about the name Angel Hair?”

“No, why not call it Gold Thread?” Her tongue precedes her thinking. She slips out the name it is called in
her modern times.

“That is very well indeed. You came on the right day. Now I have names for these desserts as well as this
new beautiful shape of Golden Pinch.”

“Well, well!” Kate barely knows what to say. She merely laughs along. After that, the two ladies bring
themselves up to date on the goings-on in their lives. Then they move to the nursery to see Tanquimar’s
infant son.

“His name is Johann. He is such an adorable baby. He only eats and sleeps without much crying.”

“You had your two sons early and late in the same year. It will not be long until you get a daughter.”
Tanquimar is quiet before feigning a smile.

“I already have a daughter by my husband’s royally-bestowed wife. She is playing with the children I
adopted over there. Isn’t she adorable?”

“But a daughter of your own will be more beautiful and adorable, certainly - being from a mother as
beautiful as you are.” Kate says.

“How long will you be staying in Lavo?” Tanquimar changes the subject laughingly to cover up her own
domestic trouble. Of course, her marriage looks affectionate from the outside. But this is all a sham!

“Three or four days. I planned to see the Triple Pagodas and other royal residences. I heard they are so
beautiful.” Kate is excited about seeing new sights.

“They are indeed beautiful, yet incomparable to the beauty of Ayodhya.” Tanquimar remarks. “Ayodhya is
celestial. I may not be able to go out for a long while with my young sons. The French diplomatic mission
all stay in the building next-door, the one you walked past before arriving at my residence.”

“It must be tiring for you as a hostess, Mali.” Kate commiserates. “It is a pity I have to take my leave and
go back now. The sun is directly on the head. By now my aunt must be inquiring after me. I shall pay you
another visit before my return to Ayodhya.”

“Will you not take lunch here with me?” Tanquimar expresses disappointment.

“Another time! I did not inform my Aunt of it.” Kate looks at the angle of the tree shades outside before
saying goodbye and leaving the building with Tanquimar walking her to the front. When Kate and her five-
person party return to the Saiyud House, they find Khun Srivisarn waiting at the central pavilion.

“I am just thinking that if you were not back in a while, I would follow you to Phaulkon’s brick mansion.”

“Well…I was only there for a short while.” Khun Srivisarn rises while looking at the landscape outside
before speaking slowly.

“The farang priest at Saint Paulo Church said there would be a lunar eclipse tonight. God Rahu is eating
the Moon. The King will stay at the Evening Villa to keep watch on the sky tonight.

“Oh!”

“We shall be here another day tomorrow then make haste to return the next day. The Mission to France
must get ready to go in a few days. We shall board the farang ship with the French diplomatic mission.”

“Oh! It is so soon.” She can’t help feeling an emptiness inside. This good-looking man she sees every day
will be leaving in only a matter of days now.

“Today I shall take you to see the Triple Pagodas and tomorrow the Evening Villa and the Saint Paulo
Church. The royal halls in the palace is inaccessible, but you can see it from the outside.” He sketches his
two-day itinerary.

“That is fine. At least I can see something.” Kate is happy with it.

“Let us take our lunch and we shall go out. I ordered a horse for the outing.”

“Horse!” Kate grimaces as if she is taking a bitter medicine.

“It will be too tiring if we go on foot. Lavo has no crisscrossing canals to travel by boat as in Ayodhya.”

“But I do not know how to ride on horseback.” Kate protests.

“That can be solved.” Khun Srivisarn answers.

“Yam and I cannot ride as well, your lordship.” Phin hastens to speak up, looking pale.

“Who said you shall come along? Two people is more compact for a city tour on horseback. A party with
servants can only slow us down.” The master deliberates.

Kate bats her eyelashes with a lack of confidence. Since she came into this era, she has never been
without Phin and Yam by her side. And if she refuses his offer, it is such a pity. Being in Lavo, or ancient
Lopburi, without seeing it. It would be such a waste traveling all the way here to just breath its air and
leave.

Over time, Kate recognizes that Khun Srivisarn has changed his attitudes towards her. There have been
looks and speeches that insinuate deeper meanings. Nonetheless, his calm composure and the fact that
he has not hastened to get married makes her think that perhaps she is imagining this. People may regard
her as a sure thing for Khun Srivisarn. Even Khun Ruang is careful not to come between them. Karaket is
nearly twenty now, and at this age she will miss the last train if she does not board one soon. No wonder
everyone thinks they are meant to be together.

“You are looking at me intently. Do you have anything to say?” Even with his question, she continues to
gaze at him contemplatively.

His good looks are now more to her standards. Now that his teeth are whitened and his hair longer, he is
definitively gorgeous from a modern perspective.

In all honesty, it will be a pity to let such a hunk slip through her fingers. She has nothing against this man
at all. In fact, she likes being near him and feels comfortable with him. But somehow, there are so many
unresolved issues which keep her from thinking of him romantically, the most important being her acute
awareness that the body she is in right now belongs to someone else. And it is not for her to take.

“Will you stare into my intestines and guts?” He stares back and laughs, his cheeks a little flushed when
looking into her daunting and unabashed eyes.

“Eh? What did you just say?” Kate wakes from her daydream.

“Let us eat. Lunch has been set for us for some time.” He suggests.

“And…what about Aunt?”

“Mother has already eaten. She could not wait for you.”

“Yes.” During lunch, Kate inquires after his meeting with the French diplomatic mission.

“They brought many unusual gifts which pleased His Majesty. The Jesuit priests and Monsieur Le
Chevalier de Chaumont are very nice. They seemed to put Phra Visut in high regard.”

“Lord Phra is so handsome and graceful. He is highly intelligent and very affable.” Kate is in agreement
and chimes in her praise. Khun Srivisarn stops his hand that is putting a bite of rice into his mouth. He puts
it aside, rinses and wipes his hands in all calmness despite something boiling inside.

“Yes, he is handsome and graceful. That is why he has as many as twenty-two wives.” He is aware that
this lady disapproves of polygamy in Ayodhya peerage. She often makes comments on several occasions
when she sees households with servant and slave concubines.

“What! Twenty-two! My oh my! And how is he able to divide his time among them? The very first ones must
find it distressful.”

“I do not know. I am not one of his wives.” The man speaks with a poker face before he gets up to prepare
for an outing downstairs. The woman who is in the middle of having lunch nearly chokes.

“Gay marriage is far too ahead of the time and age, I’d say!” She mumbles her wisecrack and smiles to
herself before getting up from her lunch in preparation for the upcoming excursion.

CHAPTER NINETEEN
The Lavo Expedition

A horse of foreign breed stands tall in front of the house. Kate widens her eyes, gulping back the anxiety
overtaking her. She is dressed for the outing in chongkraben breeches and an underblouse, with hair
folded into a neat bun. She looks at the horse nervously.

“Why is there only one horse here?” Kate wonders.

“You do not know how to ride. It will take some time before you can ride well enough. You better get on the
horse with me.”

“What! For real?” Wow! Riding with him on one horse! She feels like swooning.

“Do not tarry. Get on quickly.” A mean man’s always a mean man. Out of impatience, he grabs her waist
and throws her on horseback before taking the rein and dexterously swinging himself up behind her. Phin
and Yam are wide-mouthed watching the horse and two riders trotting off the beaten track. They turn to
look at each other all smiles and break into giggles.

Kate chastises herself for having just fantasized about getting married and their compatibility as a couple.
Now in close proximity, her body is a flutter. His strong arms brush at her body as if in a hug. His warm
breath tickles next to her ear and cheek as he exhales. Feeling flushed and starry-eyed, she barely notices
the roadside and villagers on foot and on wagons along the way. Riding double on horseback is not a
common sight, and many passersby gape at the couple, sure that this intimacy is between husband and
wife. That suggestion causes a rare smile on the face of the male rider.

The horse trots at a moderate speed but slows to a walk as they near the site of the Triple Pagodas. As
soon as the horse stops, Kate jumps off without being helped down. Seeing her fiancé’s calm,
expressionless face, she feels relieved and relaxed. However, she is somewhat embarrassed by her own
fluster, which upsettingly was not mutual. The unease of their physical intimacy lifted, Kate promises
herself that she will learn how to ride upon return to Ayodhya.
The Khmer-style pagodas that rise up in front of her grab Kate’s attention. Her eyes widen as she scans
the three towers standing side by side and connected by stone covered connecting corridors. As far as
she remembers this monument was built in the Bayon style in the reign of Khmer King Jayavarman VII,
about four hundred years before the time she is looking at. The laterites are in a better condition compared
to what she has seen in modern times.

Kate explores the site. The central pagoda houses a Serpent-shaded Buddha. To the right is the statue of
the Bodhisatva Avolokitesuvara, or Guan Yin, and to the left, a statue of Pratya Paramita, the Perfection of
Wisdom, both from the Mahayana branch of Buddhism. The architectural style is a traditional mixture of
Buddhism and Brahminism. Perfectly-shaped laterite arches rise into spired pagodas. Kate is moved by
the deeply-rooted Buddhist faith at the time that has inspired construction of this monument.

This area is practically uninhabited and sparse with visitors. Nearer to the palatial grounds that they rode
past, Kate saw more houses and marketplaces, but this place feels quite deserted and is overgrown with
trees and weeds.

After surveying the entire area and entering each pagoda, the two re-mount their horse and ride to
Chubsorn Lake, which is in fact a large pond. In the middle, there is a large building linked to the mainland
by a stone causeway. Kate notices that the roof of the one-storied white-washed brick-and-mortar throne
hall glitters with gold-ceramic tiles. An earthen levee next to the building holds back the waters from the big
pond.

“Do you see that?” Khun Srisrivarn points at the building. “That is the Kraisorn Siharaj Hall, or Evening
Villa. Tonight officers, members of the royal household and state visitors from France will have an
audience with the King to watch the lunar eclipse with the new telescope, which the King of France has
gifted to the King of Siam. Over there is the Sakaew pond with a levee connected to the city by a water-
distribution terracotta pipeline, like underground aqueducts. The farangs from France and Italy supervised
the construction using Western technology. Truth be told, many of the Western technologies are very
useful.”

“Indeed!” Kate chimes in.

“Nearby there is a gate into an elephant corral with earth mounds surrounded by three tiers of lumber
walls,” he continues. “The log gate on the forest side opens for female elephants to lure their male
counterparts into the corral.” The corral gate is built with masonry construction into a splendid Medieval-
style arch. The walls are made of arm-length size timbers designed in maze-labyrinth arrangements that
any mammoth will find hard to break out of.

“And when is there an elephant corralling?” Kate asks excitedly with the hope of seeing the rare art of
catching wild elephants.

“Do not get yourself excited. Elephant corralling is not an easy task to perform. It is only undertaken by
trained mahouts under the responsibility of the department of Elephant Ministration, currently in the care of
Phra Petraja who is not stationed in Lavo. So there may not be an elephant corralling for you to see so
readily.”

“Phra Petraja!” Could he be the same Phra Petraja who is to become the next King?

“Yes. Phra Petraja,” he explains, “the father of Luang Sorasak whom you saw at the boat race.” Kate tries
hard to contain herself, wondering if she is about to meet more of the big shots of the era again.

“On the way back, which is not too far from here. I shall take a little detour past Saint Paulo Church. Do
you want to look inside?” There is no way Kate will miss the opportunity.

“Yes, certainly!”

Saint Paulo Church has a tall octagonal observatory tower. She remembers that it is Thailand’s first
observatory and the second largest in the world at this time. Inside the church there are rows of
rectangular rooms built in a blended Siamese-European architectural style with tall, lotus-petal-shaped
arched windows and columns with Thai temple designs at the cornice and capitals.

The few priests and missionaries in the church all see the Siamese young man and woman walking in.
Only one comes up to greet them. When he knows the two visitors’ purpose, he welcomes them warmly,
serves them drinks and snacks, and also remembers to persuade them to convert.
“The sooner the two of you come into the open arms of God, the better for your soul.”

“I too have high regard for your God and if I am blessed there will come a day when I shall enter into his
embrace.” Kate speaks with an open mind. In her view, all religions teach people to be good.

“It is a pity that you do not reside in Lavo. But Ayodhya has many Christian churches where you can seek
refuge and study the Bible.” The priest says.

“Indeed. We thank you very much, Monsieur, for giving us a warm welcome. It is now quite late in the
afternoon. We shall take your leave and return home.” She has done most of the talking with the
missionary while Khun Srivisarn stands watching smilingly. At her conclusion of the meeting, she nods as a
signal for him to leave.

At some distance, he compliments her with a bit of his usual sarcasm.

“You spoke very well. You could almost charm him to sleep.”

“Well, he was hospitable and gave us drinks and snacks. How could I not appreciate his good will?”

“And I thought you had wanted to convert.” He jabs.

“Truth be told, profession of Catholicism is not a wrongful act. All religions teach people to be good. But my
religious inclination is firmly grounded in Buddhism. So I have no intention of converting.”

“That is probably because you have a propensity for freedom. You tend to do everything your heart
desires.” His summary of her character traits makes Kate look up to him in wonder. This man seems to be
reading her to the depth of her soul. Other men in this period may not say the word with such certainty.
Freedom is not associated with women in any way. Women are restricted by law and tradition. All over the
capital, it is only she who ventures out as no other women have. That is why people call her the insane
lady. “

May I ask you a question?” she asks. “Honestly. I hear a lot of rumors about me. I am called the insane
lady. Are you not affected at all by this gossip?”

“How should I be affected?”

“Well, you have to be the fiancé of an insane woman in their eyes.”

“Then I must be as insane as you are.” Khun Srivisarn chuckles, thinking of his own behavior which is also
out of the social norm. His conduct regarding dallying with women is above reproach. While people are
amazed by his ascetic life and his lack of relationships, domestic or otherwise, only he himself knows the
why behind his thinking.

When his brother Jamuen Sri was exiled from the capital, partly because of his wayward womanizing and
partly because of jealousy over his being the King’s favorite, he blamed it on his brother’s involvement with
women. Women always spell trouble, whether intentionally or unwittingly. To Khun Srivisarn, it is rare to
find women without feminine wiles and cunning. Not that he has kept himself a virgin all along. That would
have been impossible with a buddy like Ruang, one of the biggest womanizers alive. In fact, Khun
Srivisarn lost his virginity at puberty. But he never took any relationships seriously. Especially in his own
household, he has never touched a servant or a slave, however eager they are. Seeing the domestic
altercations and cat fights among his father’s ladder-climbing slave wives and concubines have kept him
even more aloof from domestic affairs than from social circles.

When Karaket arrived from Songkwae, his conviction about women was confirmed.

However, this lady, despite her outward appearance of Karaket, is totally different from the young woman
he first met. Her character is guileless, man-like and straightforward. Since the boat accident at Bang
Kaja, he has not had eyes for any other woman. Some confidants, like his friend Khun Ruang suspect that
Karaket has cast a spell to bind his heart to her. But as a conjurer himself, Khun Srivisarn knows that any
spell is not as potent as the relief and deep concern he saw in the face of Karaket when he finally opened
his eyes after her resuscitation attempt. He fell for her at that mesmerizing instant. Without question, this
spell that binds his heart to hers is irreversible.
“Well, well! That’s how it’s turned out! And I thought you would say that I was not insane.” Her sassiness is
still there but with a long face upon hearing that he thought she was insane too.

“You told me yourself, did you not? That people can say what they will and all that matters is what we know
of ourselves. And I am in agreement with you. Let us mount the horse and not dawdle and keep talking.”
His reprimand makes her follow him onward though still sulking and glowering.

On the return trip, the stiffening begins to relax whether due to her thinking or the horse slowing down.
She unconsciously leans on his thick chest and loosens herself up with the trotting rhythm. But thinking
that in a matter of days from now, Khun Srivisarn will depart on a long journey to a faraway land, an
emptiness begins to overtake her. She will not see his face for many months or maybe years to come. The
warm embrace is overwhelming and irresistible. Yet she puts up her guard as she cannot be certain of how
he thinks about her. His words two years ago remain etched in her mind: Their betrothal was an act of
“self-sacrifice” to protect her from public disgrace.

Khun Srivisarn slows down his horse. The sun is slipping below the horizon, and flocks of birds are flying
home to their nests. The cool breeze carries her scent to him, with their skin-to-skin closeness. He presses
his nose on her head of soft hair, his lips next to her skin. He wants to stop time and extend the moment to
eternity.

As days have passed, this lady has grown more and more important to his life and his heart. It is beyond
imagination! In another woman, he may have detected some coyness, some wiles that tell him he is not
imagining things in his favor. But this woman shows no signs of affection or feelings for him, and he can
only conclude that their betrothal is solely to protect her own reputation. He cannot bear the thought that
she is being forced into the engagement and marriage with no feelings for him. It is just unthinkable!

The next day, Phraya Hora’s household again sets off on a sight-seeing tour in the second capital of Siam
at the time. The party consists of practically the same touring members, except that Muang and Wan are
replaced by Wong and another manservant in the Saiyud household. After lunch, they go on foot along the
brick-and-plaster palace walls with sima-leaf or temple-boundary patterns on the rampart. Kate listens
attentively to their self-appointed tour guide.

“The palace has three different zones,” explains Khun Srivrisarn. The outer zone consists of the Dusit
Prasat, which is the throne hall with a four-sided square structure and a pyramidal roof. Inside the throne
hall is a window where the King holds audiences with state visitors. The walls are decorated with mirrors
and the ceiling is divided into four squares with gold floral designs inlaid with crystals from China. They are
very beautiful.

Next he points out the central zone which houses Chandrapisarn Hall, the administrative center where
official business is run. “And the inner zone is the Suthasawan Hall in which lady courtiers reside. The roof
is made of yellow ceramic tiles, similar to that of the Evening Palace that you visited yesterday.”

The palace walls that Kate sees are broken by arched gates, the roofs of which are four-sided as in a
traditional headdress. The gables are decorated with a lotus-flower stucco design. The building is so new
and beautiful yet, thinking of how they have been reduced to ruins in her time, she understands the
relevance of the Buddhist teaching of Impermanence so clearly.

Khun Srivrisarn has still more to point out. “Over there is a reception hall for foreign visitors, Prachoa Hao
Hall, the Palace Shrine, the Treasury Cluster and a Western-style reservoir on the northern side of the
palace. It is large but not as beautiful as the Grand Palace at Ayodhya, you know.”

Walking to the end of the palace wall, she sees a medium-size community. And of course, where there are
villagers, there is a marketplace. This one, though, looks unusual, with goods sold on wagons.

“Wow! There is a boot fair here too,” Kate exclaims.

“What boot fair are you speaking of? These wagons belong to traders from Pratabong in Cambodia.
Others come from Phichit and from Ayodhya. Without the convenience of water transportation, they travel
on wagons like this.”

“Ah, time for shopping…” She mumbles to herself and breaks away to survey the marketplace. She spots
food and silver jewelry sparkling with red rubies. Meat and vegetables are sold in another cluster. Some
wagons carry utility items but with a more limited assortment than found in Ayodhya. From the palace wall,
the market runs lengthwise toward the village. Many are simply shacks in front of the bamboo houses,
where the sellers live. Most of these shacks sell dry goods and rice grains.

Kate notices Westerners walking all over the place, mostly in military uniforms and armed with big rifles.
She turns quizzically to her fiancé who explains:

“The French Ambassador came with three or four hundred troops, armed with unusual and lethal weapons,
hand grenades, firearms and cannons. I heard that they have fallen dead in droves on the sea journey and
in Lavo. We assume that they are ill from contamination of the drinking water or from our local ale and
suffer dysentery to death. Some die of heat strokes. The surviving Western military outfit is weak and
ailing.”

“Well, foreign troops in our kingdom…did the Siamese lords not object to the threat?” asks Kate.

“We are much concerned. But three or four hundred are still controllable. And the King did not object. The
death toll has diminished the number of Persian mercenaries in the royal guard, so French troops came in
as replacements. Holland and Britain are not on good terms with us. If they see that we have some lethal
weapons on our side, they may not dare do anything rash.”

“That is so true,” Kate sighs. A land abundant with natural resources like Siam is always the target of
colonization by superpowers that want to gain advantage.

On the horizon, Kate sees a lot of activity. The earth walls look quite splendid, and the adjacent
fortification is full of construction workers doing their jobs.

“Construction of fortifications. Is this the new fort that caused Chaophraya Kosa’s death?” asks Kate.

“It is.” Khun Srivisarn confirms.

“It looks strong and fortified, but it will take a long time to build.” She comments.

“The King has a plan to extend the walls of the royal palace and to construct more forts at intervals.” He
elaborates. “It will need tremendous labor force and substantial expenses from Treasury. The main gate
you saw is called Victory Gate. I heard that if Dutch or British forces attempt to attack Siam, the King will
order all his lords here to stage the country’s defense. The fortified walls of Lavo will not be easily
penetrable. Ayodhya, in contrast, is not strategically defensible for attack as there are too many riverways
and canals to penetrate.”

“As the proverb goes, you win one, you lose one.” Kate offers her perspective. “Ayodhya is very
convenient and accessible for trading and travelling. But here Siam will have a fortified stronghold as the
King envisions.”

Khun Srivisarn is very pleased. If he said all the things he said to another woman, she undoubtedly would
find it hard to understand. But with this woman, she always gets what he says readily without much fuss.

“Let us return home. It is getting late in the afternoon.” He says.

“Can we stop by at Phaulkon’s house?” Kate asks. “I shall say goodbye to Mali.”

“Yes, we can.”

They turn and walk back along the palace wall. The air is cool and refreshing, so the late afternoon walk is
not tiring. At the entrance of Phaulkon’s residence, the guards at the front gate recognize them, and wave
in the whole party without announcement. At the front of the building, a man walking past them stops
himself and addresses them. He is none other than the owner of the house himself.

“Khun Srivisarn, Lady Karaket, I remember you. You are so unforgettable.” The greeting halts their entry
and they raise their hands in a wai.

“Are you here to see Tanquimar?” The house-owner asks.

“Yes, your lordship,” Kate replies. “You must be going out. I shall not interrupt you. May I go in and see
Tanquimar now?” She casually takes a chance at dismissing him before walking away from the man she
has no desire of seeing.
But Paulkon will not be dismissed. “It just occurs to me. The business I am going to is not so important. If
you wish to see Tanquimar, then please follow me.”

What a fickle farang! Kate rebukes him to herself. But she worries a little, looking at Khun Srivisarn’s stern
face. Phaulkon appears still very much jealous of his wife and this other man. He has given up his own
outing to keep his wife in check.

Tanquimar sees the large group of people walking into the building and reacts with sinking dread, for here
is the handsome face of the man of her dreams. On seeing her, Khun Srivisarn looks away uncomfortably.
Beside him, Phaulkon’s hands shake uncontrollably. He grits his jaw to restrain his rage. Even after the
passing years, and two sons with her husband, Phaulkon thinks, Tanquimar cannot forget her first love –
even though it was unrequited. Obviously, the man did not love her back in the least. What is he,
Phaulkon, to her then? He loved and cherished her but he is utterly worthless in her eyes.

Kate quickens her steps and intercepts Tanquimar. She takes hold of her friend’s arms affectionately.

“Tanquimar, I am here to take your leave to return to Ayodhya.”

“Hmm…” Tanquimar protests, “you mentioned you were staying for three or four days, did you not?”

“The French Envoy has made preparations to leave for France at an earlier date. So now my fiancé and I
must return to make preparations as well, as the Siamese Envoy will travel with the French back to their
country.” She uses the word fiancé emphatically, glancing toward Phaulkon with the intention of preventing
her friend from getting into domestic trouble. But the reference brings pain instead to her friend’s heart.

Tanquimar looks down momentarily, before taking Kate’s hands and giving her blessing.

“Have a safe trip. Whenever you come to Lavo, please do not forget to visit me.”

“I shall not forget.” After saying goodbye, Kate grabs the wrist of Khun Srivisarn who seems to be standing
cluelessly and pulls him along. Kate’s party has left the compound of the house, but Tanquimar remains
standing still. Phaulkon hits the table with a loud bang.

“Even until now, you are still longing for him, Tanquimar?” His angry accusation startles Tanquimar who is
clueless of his temper: “What did you say?”

“That Khun Srivisarn intended to hide behind your woman friend in coming here. He must want to see how
his former lover is doing.” Knowing full well that Khun Srivisarn has no such intention toward his wife,
jealousy nonetheless blinds him into making empty accusations.

Taquimar is steadfast. “What would people think if they heard you make that accusation? Would they not
think that Khun Srivisarn had wronged me and that I am a harlot? Do not compare others with who you
are.” She has never spoken up to his face. Now she stands up to her husband because the matter
concerns Khun Srivisarn. Phaulkon furiously jumps up. He raises his hand to hit her. However, Tanquimar
meets his eyes unfazed. She holds her head high and looks at her husband with deep hurt. Her reddened
eyes stop him short. He lowers his hand, turns abruptly and storms out.

“Whoa! I thought it would be a scene.” Kate says when they are out of earshot.

“What scene?”

“Did you not see Phaulkon’s blazing eyes? He was ready to hit us with lightning from his gaze.” Khun
Srivisarn laughs at the hyperbole.

“I can only hope that after we left, he did not vent his rage on Mali.” The millennial girl gives a long exhale,
feeling incapable of helping her friend.

“It is a domestic matter. Outsiders cannot meddle.” Kate heaves another long sigh. Domestic violence
must be a common occurrence in this day and age. Her eyes become wide with a thought that suddenly
crosses her mind. She stops walking and looks at her fiancé with distrust.

“If my husband should hit me, it would be the death of one of us, either I or he.” She whispers through
gritted teeth with such earnestness as if the violence were happening right here, right now. Her future
husband looks amazed. His long-lashed eyes look into those of the lovely woman who is speaking with
such damn seriousness, pretending to disbelieve what he has just heard.

“Can you behave yourself? You speak in such a foul language. If you should be obstinate, can I not lay
hands on you sometime? At least, I shall spank you a couple of times not to spoil you, and I shall lock you
up in the house and not let you go out for a while. That may serve you well enough.” At that he smiles
boyishly with all white-teeth showing, and steps up and away from the girl who looks like she is trying to
pick a fight.

“Blast you!” Kate blurts but with a laugh in her voice. This big, straight-faced guy can be so adorable and
cute at times.

Phin and Yam blush and blush, while the manservants grin widely as they stroll back to Saiyud House.

The next morning they all leave for Ayodhya. Immediately consultations and arrangements are finalized
for the long journey to a faraway foreign land. Clothes are already in place. What remains to be packed
and prepared are some dry goods for the sea travel. Their sojourn in France is expected to last one year.
They will have to return on the same trip with the next annual French diplomatic mission to Ayodhya.

Kate diligently sews a vest lined with soft, thick kapok and assigns Phin and Yam to make one each as
well. Her handiwork is nearly completed with only finishing touches and fitting it on a mannequin. Seeing
Cherm walk up to the house with a tray of the royally-bestowed clothes, Kate leaves her work and
assumes her daily task of handing a face cloth and serving a tea tray with sweetmeats to her betrothed.

“Let us go to sit at the central pavilion.” Khun Srivisarn suggests. “I have something to let you know.” He
does not take the tea tray but leads the way to the big pavilion. Kate follows with a sigh, criticizing him for
his standoffish, ungentlemanly manner. So incorrigible!

When she puts down the tea tray on the floor, he turns two tiny teacups up and pours tea into them. Then
he slides one cup to Kate and sips from his own. Now he knows how a gentleman behaves!

“Master told me he wants you to come to his hut behind the temple tomorrow.” He tells her.

“What is the matter, may I ask?” Kate wonders.

“He summoned all his pupils to assemble there tomorrow. He must want everyone to know all. There is a
matter concerning the voyage to France in the next few days. Phra Visut invited the Master to join the
mission. The Master said you may be able to give some good advice.”

“What?” Kate is wide-eyed.

“It is not that I do not trust you, Karaket, but the matter at hand is monumental. If you cannot do it, you can
excuse yourself. Tomorrow most of Master’s pupils will be present. Some are high-ranking noblemen. You
should consider well what you are going to say.” His expression and eyes reveal the weight of his worry.
Kate is at a loss herself.

“How…how can I be of help?” she stammers. The matter of the state at this time remains vague to her.
She does not even know how to get herself out of her own dilemma. And to be asked to help others…no,
not just that, to help the country in state matters. What good could she possibly do? It seems like a
meeting to brainstorm strategy, but what brain can she bring to the meeting?

“That is exactly what I meant when I said you could excuse yourself. Do not worry. If you are not up to it, I
shall give you a hand.” His strength gives her a stronghold of support. Her nervousness diminishes. She
also thinks to herself that her mouth is at her disposal. No one can make her speak if she does not want to
speak up. This matter at hand is no different. She can attend, listen, and take everything into account. If
she has no solution or good advice to offer, she will merely remain silent. As it is, women are not in high
regard to begin with, so, she thinks, expectations will be low. If she cannot give them what they wish,
there should be no harm in that.

“Tomorrow I shall come back for you, and we will go on to Buddhaisawan Temple together. What do you
say to that?” Khun Srivisarn asks.

“I am good to go, if that is what you want.” Kate feels less alarmed.
“Then it is settled. You can now return to do whatever you were doing.” Kate nods numbly before getting
up and walking off with the burden of the assignment.

Khun Srivisarn follows her with his look and feels a little heavy in his heart. He does not quite understand
why Master White-Robe has such confidence in Karaket.

Tomorrow, the Master’s pupils from all walks of life, high and low, will attend the assembly to discuss
significant matters of state. There are pros and cons for the prospering trade with the western world in
Siam. On the pro side, the country is fortified in wealth. But on the con side, the foreigners are here to
benefit themselves with no loyalty to this country. Now what was anticipated is beginning to gradually
creep in. If foreign influence cannot be contained, the country will be in turmoil. Hopefully, Karaket will not
let the Master down.

CHAPTER TWENTY
Display of Wit

The boat rowed by Cherm with Khun Srivisarn and Kate as passengers and another servant boat behind
them arrive at the Buddhaisawan Temple pier. Khun Srivisarn gives his hand to Kate and pulls her up as
the two handmaids watch with delight. They are told to stay and watch the boats. After all this time, they
are happy at last to see their mistress and her fiancé on an outing together and acting as a true couple.

Khun Srivisarn and Kate walk through the temple to the back yard. After a distance, the air around
transforms with a new vibe, which Kate recognizes as the charmed zone. Arriving at the structure, they see
many able-bodied men sitting on the open dirt ground in front of the open hut where two men wait. She
recognizes them as Phra Visut and Khun Ruang.

After customary greetings, Kate impatiently cuts to the chase by crawling on her knees to the Master.
She stares at him intently, hoping that he may engage in a mental conversation with her as he once did.
However fixated she is on him, he remains oblivious and continues to engage in small talk with Phra Visut.
She attempts to get his attention by audibly clearing her throat.

“What is it with you? Why do you keep staring at me?” the Master demands. The sassy girl grins in
delight. She has been in this era long enough to know that juniors are not supposed to address their
seniors without being talked to first. Now the Master has asked her a question, so she can now speak
freely to him.

“Why did you send for me, Master?”

“Bah! Do you not think of seeing me some time?” The old man answers with a question.

“Well…but my fiancé said I might be able to give my views. For what might my views be of use, Master?”
asks Kate.

“You shall soon know. Have patience.” The old man tells her.

“And what are we waiting for, Master?” The millennial girl wants to make the best of her time.

“For people to arrive,” Master replies. “I have so many pupils. In a few days I shall have to travel to France
with Khun Pan and Dej. It will be a long journey, and we need to be prepared and consolidate our
standing. Now you move to sit over there. It is unbecoming for a woman to sit opposite me.”

“Unbecoming, indeed! …every detail in life depends on propriety…sigh!” Kate grumbles to herself but
crawls obligingly to where he has pointed. She glances at Khun Srivisarn who does not so much as look
her way before crawling to sit by her side as if to supervise her behavior. He must be thinking that if she
says anything out of place, he can hush her in time.

Kate inspects the scene around her for a while before seeing a group of people making their way through
the crowd. The leading man who is the late Chaophraya Kosa’s age is greeted by wai-ing. Who can he
be? The second man in the group astonishes her…Luang Sorasak.

The other two men in the group are unfamiliar faces, so she diverts her sight and keeps her head down,
her heart racing and excitedly skipping beats now that she can guess who this aristocratic newcomer
might be. If she is not mistaken, the leading man must be Phra Petraja, who is to become the first king of
the Ban Plu Luang Dynasty.

With all in place, Phra Petraja and Luang Sorasak turn to watch Kate who starts to feel feverish.

“Is this lady the Master’s one and only female pupil and your fiancée, Dej?” The older man asks.

“Yes, my lord.” Khun Srivisarn replies.

“She is such a beauty, true to the rumor that you hardly leave your house and stay put. If I were you, I
would not want to leave the house too.” Luang Sorasak’s teasing remark ignites a round of laughter.

Kate recognizes herself as the subject of the laughter, though she cannot vouch for the comment. She
sees Khun Srivisarn going out constantly to the language classes and drinking sprees with Khun Ruang.
He hardly stays home all the time as Luang Sorasak has claimed. Everyone stares at the only woman in
the hut, craning their necks to catch her blushing with embarrassment. But, to their surprise, none of the
feminine coyness is there to be found, and they instead praise her calm composure.

“Not to compare with the house on the Takien Canal which is dried up time and again, Lord Luang. The
house owner Phraya Rajbansan must keep watch over the tides and gather his servants to stand watch
every day.” Phra Petraja laughs out loud and nods to Khun Srivisarn’s witty repartee.

“You know all the goings-on outside without having to leave home. Good, good!” Luang Sorasak laughs
awkwardly before searching for betel and areca in the tray to chew to cover his embarrassment. Kate
remains puzzled by this inside joke. “Has Takien Canal dried up? We saw it brimming with water when we
passed there today.” Her naïve question to her fiancé sends off another round of thunderous laughter. Kate
gripes to herself.

Are those betel and areca mixed with marijuana? They seem to find everything unfunny just simply
hilarious. Her mouth is itching to question Khun Srivisarn of the meaning of the joke, but Master White-
Robe puts an end to the tease.

“You have fun talking and teasing. All of you must know that a few days from now I shall depart on the junk
ship with Phra Visut and Khun Srivisarn. You all must continue with your martial training, upholding
precepts and practicing magical spells routinely. Do not slack off even without my presence. Although the
time is peaceful now, one cannot predict what the future will bring. All the more because there are so many
farangs in the capital. We never know when they shall make a move to take over our country.”

Kate listens to the Master’s parting speech. It didn’t sound like much but suddenly she realizes the
enormity and ramification of what she is a part of. She looks at the Master, feeling out of breath. Is she
being sucked into the historical vortex of a Resistance movement?”

The Master’s knowing eyes glance at her before shaking his head faintly and smiling kindly. Her trepidation
vanishes instantly. She sits listening to the discussion and collecting details and connecting the dots with
prescience.

“Right now what we are worrying about is Prince Pi,” says Phra Petraja. “The King’s son Prince Pi and
brother Prince Abhaithot are leaning toward France and Jesuit priests. They are on the brink of conversion
themselves. And that rascal Phaulkon is so brazen and insolent to dare solicit the King into conversion.
Fortunately, the King has no penchant for any faith other than Buddhism, though he leans toward the
farangs for their technology. I wonder why Prince Pi and Prince Abhaithot can be so persuaded when there
were no earlier signs of their interest in changing faith.”

“What if both of them have aspirations for the throne, Father?” Luang Sorasak’s assertion raises an uproar.

“That may be their motivation,” acknowledges Phra Petraja calmly. “They may think that the King is in
favor of farangs, and they want to lean on that side. Perhaps they need the Western armed force to
support them. If so, we have much to fear.”

“What are we going to do in that case, your lordship?” Khun Ruang asks.

Phra Petraja gives no reply to the question. Instead, he looks up at the Master, expecting him to give
counsel. It is common knowledge that the Master is an exceptionally powerful clairvoyant. Rumors have it
that he can see into the future with accuracy and without consulting any astrological signs. Now he merely
sits with eyes shut and with the foresight of what is to come.

“Karaket!” She starts with a jump on the call by the Master.

“Y-yes!”

“What do you think we should do?” All eyes are fixed on Kate. To acknowledge Karaket as the one and
only female pupil of the Master is already shocking, but now that he has summoned her to an assembly to
discuss the state agenda, they are even more astounded. And now he is asking for her view. Everyone sits
speechless and with grave doubt.

“What we should do...” Blimey! How can she put it so smoothly that they won’t suspect she is from the
future? And how smooth and diplomatic can she be when she has no idea who is who and which side
each is taking?

“Um…I think…” she’s trying her best to strategize, “it cannot be good if the two princes are leaning toward
the farangs. Based on our assumption that they are both aspiring for the throne, we should use that
motive of theirs to our advantage. We give them hope that we shall support each of them for their
aspiration and in doing so, we make them lean toward our side.”

Phra Petraja tries to understand her. “Do you mean to say….?” Please don’t ask me further…because I
don’t know what I mean. She has no idea whether Phra Petraja is aspiring for the throne at this point in
time. Or he may merely wish to prevent Western aggression and eventual occupation. Kate was just
speaking generally and focusing on interception on the farang front.

“What she means is to have us support Prince Pi and on the other hand support Prince Abhaithot
simultaneously in their aspirations for the throne. We should make it clear to both of them that we do not
favor the farangs, so Prince Pi and Prince Abhaithot will likely lean toward our stance. I am totally in
agreement with her view.” Khun Srivisarn cuts in to speak on Kate’s behalf and to the point too! Everyone
listens intently. Moments later, Phra Petraja slaps his own knee loudly.

“How noble! It is an excellent plan. We give each side what they are aspiring for. Only do not let them know
that we support both sides simultaneously, which should not be impossible as they are rarely on speaking
terms. When the time comes, I think Prince Pi should succeed as the rightful heir. He is the King’s son.
Though words go around that he is a foster son, the King is indeed his biological father.”

Kate becomes clear that in fact Phra Petraja does not harbor a treasonous plan. He seems to hate the
farangs to the bones. And…how did it turn out to be a civil war after all? Or is it that what Phra Petraja said
is just an act, as he also knows that, not only is Prince Pi an illegitimate son, but Luang Sorasak as well.
Luang Sorasak’s mother, Kusawadi, is former concubine of King Narai. When the King learned of her
pregnancy, he bequeathed her to Phra Petraja as royally-bestowed wife because the King wanted to
protect the sole right of succession to the sons borne of his Queen.

If this is an act, he is a great actor indeed. Kate looks down in contemplation.

History cites instances of King Narai’s paranoia over his sons, other than those borne of his Queens, vying
to succeed him. He tried to exclude their legitimacy by giving away his pregnant concubines as rewards to
the noblemen under him to prevent them, his sons, from claiming the throne by fighting against his rightful
heir. So far, none of his queens have given birth to a son. They all have daughters.

Prince Pi is the only son he summoned to serve at his side, although he is merely regarded as the King’s
foster son in the event that the King may happen one day to have a son from one of his queens. So that
Prince Pi cannot claim the right of succession. Paranoia and obsession have strong influence on the
matter of the state. Kate reflects and sighs quietly.

“I can now understand why the Master has taken you as his only female pupil. You are shrewd and a fine
match for your fiancé.” Phra Petraja compliments her while looking at Khun Srivisarn kindly and
patronizingly. He feels somewhat guilty for Phraya Hora’s family as his own blood sister Lady Sri Chulalak,
who is the King’s number-one concubine, was the cause for Phraya Hora’s elder son’s banishment from
the royal court.

Jamuen Sri had an affair with her, though the real cause of his banishment was court rivalry as he was the
King’s favorite page. An improvisational poetic recital in jest was taken as a clue for his secret affair and
reported to the King by Prince Pi’s closest servant. As a result, Jamuen Sri was banished.

“Um…May I ask one question, my lord?” Kate asks Phra Petraja.

“What is it? Go ahead and ask.”

“Um…in future what do you think a king should be like?” Her question sends a round of silence.

“My question is not from any doubt as to who should accede the throne.” She explains. “But since we are
discussing the future succession of King Narai, I am just wondering what kind of king should reign in the
future. That was all my intention of asking.” She is aware that the raising of the subject may be
controversial and put her in danger of treason, yet she could not stop her big mouth. The more so because
she is aware of being in the presence of the next two kings in succession—Phra Petraja will become King
Petraja and Luang Sorasak will become King Sua after him. She feels the urgency to speak up, otherwise
she will feel sorry for the missed opportunity.

“And in your opinion, what do you think the future king should be like, Lady Karaket?” Phra Visut asks
smilingly.

“I think the King must possess the Ten Kingly Virtues, my lords, namely, charity, morality, sacrifice, honesty,
gentleness, perseverance, non-anger, non-violent behavior, tolerance and justice.” She recites from
memory of what she learned in college of the Ten Virtues to be upheld by a good Buddhist king.

“What you said is apt, but how can we tell who has them or does not have them?” Phra Petraja comes
back with a question. At first, Kate is afraid to look straight in the faces of Phra Petraja and Luang Sorasak,
but now something has stiffened her courage and she meets their eyes.

“I may not be able to cite an example far removed from my limited experience. I shall take a case of what I
see. Suppose one day that farang lord Phaulkon was stripped of power, his wife and family would have to
go down with him too. Am I right or not?”

“Why should you bring up the case of that despicable farang? It is infuriating. He is unconscionable and
ambitious. Even Uncle Chaophraya Kosa Lhek went down because of him.” The rash Luang Sorasak
grinds his teeth in resentment and vengefulness, as his father Phra Petraja, Chaophraya Kosa and Phra
Visut were all raised by the King’s wet nurse, Lady Bua.

“But his wife and children have nothing to do with it,” Kate weighs in her opinion, to which Phra Petraja
argues:

“How can you say they have nothing to do with it? In good times, they all enjoy a life of comfort provided
by the husband and father.”

“Naturally. It is not their choice.” Kate argues her case. “All the more, Tanquimar is not in the position to
choose. Similarly, His Majesty’s sentence on Chaophraya Kosa did not pass down to his wife and children,
did it?”

“I see. You are a good friend of Tanquimar. So you put up in her defense. Did you not know that that farang
had the audacity to try to persuade the King to convert to their faith. Fortunately, His Majesty had no such
inclination. His reply was that Buddhism has continued for 2229 years and has been upheld steadfastly by
Siamese royalty. Therefore, it is impossible for him, as King of Siam, to change his faith. The farang
trembled in fear of the king’s wrath. It served him right. It was only due to His Majesty’s clemency that the
farang got away with such a bold digression. Or I would get better satisfaction from it.” Luang Sorasak gets
angrier as he speaks. He vents his rage at Phra Ritkamhaeng or Phaulkon in full steam and finds the
lady’s defense despicable.

“Be quiet, son. I want to hear her present her case.” Despite her fear of Luang Sorasak’s fury, she takes
the opportunity opened to her by Phra Petraja.

“Before the arrest of Chaophraya Kosa,” Kate reasons, “Tanquimar, in her late pregnancy, traveled from
Lavo to give me word of warning. Phra Visut was alerted and hastened to take precaution, but it was too
late. I think Tanquimar took it to heart. Usually a wife is supposed to be subservient to her husband.
Whatever he says is her command. Indeed men and women are equal as human beings. They have
feelings, happiness, pain and suffering alike. They have a mind of their own too. If she did not love the
country so much, she would not risk her husband’s wrath to travel and pass her warning through me. A
king who possesses the Ten Kingly Virtues will see it through and judge a person by his or her own merit.
Tanquimar does not deserve punishment for her innocence.”

“And what if it was a different scenario, Lady Karaket?” Kate is reminded of King Bhumibol in her present
time. She is so overwhelmed by his magnanimity that she continues citing endless examples of the Ten
Kingly Virtues. Luang Sorasak begins to see the validity of her rationale and slowly calms down. He is
surprised by the woman’s assertiveness; her face is unintimidated, without any trace of nervousness.

“In another scenario,” she continues, “one should take into consideration the overall picture with
equanimity. Buddhism teaches that intention counts in all matters. Even if the outcome turns out to be
wrong, we should cut some slack for non-intention. A good ruler makes good use of two kinds of power--
strongarm and magnanimity. While rules are to be enforced, leniency can win over the hearts of the
people. There is no need to exert military power because if the people are behind the throne, monarchy
has a firm base.” The end of her speech is followed by a dead silence.

“You are truly one female scholar in the masculine-dominated world. I am beginning to be jealous of you,
Dej.” Luang Sorasak comments with a clapping of hands.

“In the future if you have a wife who knows what you’re up to on all fronts, does it make you an enviable
man? I think not. It is rather depressing to me.” The jokester Khun Ruang is quick to quip, resulting in
another round of laughter.

Every time Kate reads historical accounts in this period, she finds Phra Petraja reprehensible. But now
what she sees is not what she had thought. Phra Petraja seems like an intelligent, thoughtful man who
listens to all sides of advice before coming to a conclusion. On the other hand, Luang Sorasak seems rash
and impetuous, but he is not vindictive. In fact, he is a rather open-minded and generous man who forms
his opinions based on solid reasoning.

All in all, it may have been that they listened to her attentively because she has the same master with them
all. Her eyes glance at Master White-Robe and see a glimpse of satisfaction as if he had planned all this.

Master is indeed someone to be reckoned with!

“Badmouthing your master is bad form, mind you, girl!” His unspoken voice in her head startles her and
she gazes downward to hide a smile.

A thought races through her mind. No one is entirely good or bad. Even Phaulkon must have some part of
his life that deserves sympathy, some impenetrable side of him.

On the return trip, the boat passes Takien Canal and Phraya Rajbansan’s boat dock. Kate is reminded of
the inside joke she missed at the men’s assembly.

“When you mentioned Takien Canal drying up, what did you mean?” Khun Srivisarn smiles so naughtily
that she has an inkling that maybe she shouldn’t have asked.

“Phraya Rajbansan has a beautiful daughter whom Luang Sorasak has fallen for. He often sneaks visits
with her. Although the Phraya knows it and puts up guards on his daughter’s room, he cannot prevent the
Luang.” Her fiancé explains.

“And why can’t he?” Kate wonders.

“Do not forget that Luang Sorasak is the Master’s pupil. He knows some charms and spells.”

“How could he use them for his personal gain? Wrongful conduct on other people’s wives and daughter is
in violation of the Five Precepts, is it not?” Kate protests.

“Yes. His powers can be deprived. Anyway, Luang Sorasak puts up with the risks. He also acts in defiance
of Phraya Rajbansan’s challenge. The other day, Luang Sorasak showed him the index ring his daughter
was wearing as proof that he had invaded the girl’s privacy. The story resonated all around. Actually,
Phraya Rajbansan has no objection to Luang Sorasak as his daughter’s suitor. On the contrary, he finds
him a promising young man. Soon we will hear of a wedding.” Kate does not know how to react to what
she has heard.

Damn it! Men of all ages, when they are together, cannot avoid talking dirty. But what’s more, she was so
naïve as to pop the question in the middle of it…How embarrassing!

“You spoke very well today. I hardly had anything to add.” He commends her.

“If not for the Master, I would not have spoken that well.” Kate responds.

“The Master is very fond of you.” He continues. “I am glad for you. Whatever he teaches you, keep
practicing it well. It will come of use because he teaches different things to different people, depending on
what will come up one day for the individual.”

“Yes, khun pi.” Even with her consent to his advice, Kate can’t help wondering. The invisibility spell she
learned from the Master…will it be of use? Invisibility! If you want to sneak out for an outing, that may be
all right. She is only afraid that her invisibility might give her trouble again, and bring pain to the innocent
servants. And what good will it be? She looks at the black eight-stranded rope on her wrist and shakes her
head with a sigh. No use thinking the unthinkable. She will know it when the time comes.

On the eve of the departure day of the Siamese diplomatic mission, Khun Srivisarn glances at Karaket so
frequently that she becomes self-conscious. His heart weighs heavier and heavier. On the one hand, he is
consumed with worry that with him being away for a long time she may change her mind and find another
man. At the large assembly at the Master’s hut, many men eyed her and were attracted to this ravishing
woman. On the other hand, if he speaks up and is rejected or despised, his whole journey will be ruined
by his own personal suffering.

“What is it that you want to say to me?” Her direct question puts him at a loss of words.

“Phin, Yam, go and find more tea and sweetmeats.” He sends her handmaids away deliberately and clears
his throat. “Tomorrow I shall be gone on a long journey.”

“Yes?” Her bright staring eyes make him speechless.

“……?” His usual outspoken voice becomes barely audible. Kate gets closer to listen to him, which makes
him withdraw defensively.

“What did you say? I did not hear you.” Khun Srivisarn rises from the floor and walks off to the railing fence
of the patio, which has some privacy. He nods for her to follow him.

“What is it with him? Is there something he wants me to do in his absence?” She mumbles, gets up and
follows him curiously.

“Karaket!” Kate looks up at his handsome face. She meets his sweet, glittering eyes under the torchlights
and does not know what to say. He grabs her upper arms and pulls her toward him in a tight embrace. She
feels like melting in his arms. His face on her soft hair, he repeats the same question in a whisper.

“Tomorrow I shall be gone on a long journey. Do you not have some token of you for me to keep?” Kate is
stunned and opens her eyes wider. A warm sensation rushes through her. She feels flattered and
overwhelmed.

Finally!...The tongue-tied guy can speak at last. He has feelings for her!

“Uh…and what do you want to have from me?” Sabai, a clothing item, a shawl…the endless list comes to
mind.

Sabai is so common. It is the thing that any heroine of a drama or novel tends to give to her beau. No, I
need to think of something original.

“What you use everyday. What you keep close to you which will remind me of you.”

Lingerie! No, absolutely not! Instead of being romantic, it will turn obscene, for sure. The sassy girl frowns.

“Something to warm my heart and remind me that you are waiting while I am away. And you shall not
change your mind.” Batting her lashes, Kate puts her hand on his chest and releases herself of his
embrace. She knows exactly what to give him as a parting souvenir.

“Wait here, please.” She walks into her bed chamber and returns with a big, soft pillow she sleeps on every
night.

“This is for you to sleep on. The weather is so cold there and if you happen to get some farang woman in
bed then perhaps when you lie down you will be reminded of me and may be able to restrain yourself.
Because if you do, I shall save myself for you too. I shall wait for your return. Are we in agreement?”

Her glowing face under the torchlights and bright moon is captivating. Despite her strange-sounding
promise, it is a promise he finds most pleasing. The honesty and determination he has witnessed in her
over the past three years give him confidence that she will be true to her promise. He inhales in relief,
taking the pillow from her and walks into his bedroom happily.

“Well…he got the gift and is gone! How unromantic this guy is! He should have kissed the pillow in front of
me and sent me a longing look. What a prig!” Kate sits down on the floor of the small pavilion next to her
bedroom, palms under her chin and continues her mumbling with a smiling face, realizing that tonight she
will have to sleep on the old, hard rectangular pillow.

In the meantime, Khun Srivisarn walks into his bed chamber, shuts the door for privacy and sits on his bed,
his hands caressing the soft pillow gently, smiling and laughing softly as if he has lost his mind. He puts
down the pillow and bends down and inhales the faint fragrance fully into his lungs, feeling the scent on
her cheek. Butterflies are fluttering inside, physically and spiritually. My dearest Karaket!

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Onwards

On the twenty-second of December, the year 2228 of the Buddhist Era (A.D. 1685), First Envoy Phra Visut
Sunthorn, Second Envoy Luang Kalya Rajmaitri and Third Envoy Khun Srivisarn Vacha depart Siam on the
return sea voyage of Louis XIV’s diplomatic mission. Monsieur Le Chevalier de Chaumont is the French
ambassador leading the mission that is heading back to France with the Siamese delegation. Besides the
three envoys, the Siamese party consists of twenty Siamese students who will receive a Western
education and Master White-Robe with his 16 pupils.

Among the luggage belonging to Khun Srivisarn, there is one item he refuses to let others carry---a big
package nicely wrapped in oil paper. When asked, he merely smiles lightly with a general reply.

“Something precious.”

Kate is not allowed to see him off at the harbor of his departure. She only waves him goodbye at the
residential pier. Khun Srivisarn tries hard not to look back. Not taking the sixmonth voyage into account,
the length of the mission is still tentative. Its main raison d’etre is to present King Narai of Siam’s missive
to the hand of the King of France Louis XIV.

The Maligne and L’Oiseau are large junk ships carrying merchandise and passengers. Monsieur Le
Chevalier has often looked with wonder at the white-bearded man dressed in a white robe. Although to the
French ambassador, the “master” is a most unusual inclusion in a diplomatic mission such as this, he has
been told that the man is an occult wise man who will see to it that the two ships reach France safely and
soundly.

The Siamese mission seems very respectful of this white-bearded man. The Siamese men are physically
robust, with the exception of two frail men who stay sick in bed from the start. Reportedly they are students
who travel to get an education in France. They are well taken care of and are seen walking wearily on
board. En route, the ships call at several seaports to replenish supplies and potable water.

The journey goes smoothly until the junks enter a strait approaching the harbor at Brest. Whirlpools and
hurricane-force waves crash over the decks, sweeping away people and goods not battened down. Two
sailors and the two ill Siamese students are swallowed by enormous walls of water thrown up by the
raging sea. Seasoned sailors, diplomats and students pray for their lives. Even Monsieur de Chaumont
beseeches his God to save this mission.

Only Phra Visut keeps his calm. He consults with that white-robe man. De Chaumont will never forget the
sight of the old master sitting cross-legged in the lotus position amidst the howling winds and towering
whitecaps slamming their junk. At the old man’s side sit ceremonial trays of offerings and paraphernalia of
the Siamese belief. Despite the monster waves tossing the ship about, the old man remains unmoved.
Finally, his obsidian eyes open and he gazes up into the sky.

From that instant, the ship feels like it is levitating and riding above the turbulent sea. The now smooth
sailing causes an uproar of wonder among crew and passengers. The Siamese sing praises to the old
man. Looking particularly superstitious to the Ambassador, the shrewd-looking leader of the Siamese
mission humbly pays respect to that old man: “Without the Master with us, our mission would not have
survived.”

But the old Master is surprisingly modest. “The auspicious time of our journey given by Phraya Hora was
our saving grace indeed. Otherwise we would have run into worse tempestuous seas. Those young men,
Ying and Kong, did not abide by my word in observing the precepts. They acquired ales to warm their
bodies and got drunk, so I could not save them. Now they are lost souls guarding the sea. How
unfortunate!”

“You tried to stop them but they would not listen. It must be their fate to die at sea, Master.” The First
Envoy remarks.

Despite knowing full well that a ship caught in a vortex is doomed to go under, de Chaumont and Frère
Vachet conclude that it is mere coincidence that their junk has pulled through miraculously safe. But history
will record that this sea voyage suffered the least losses so far in a journey between France and Siam.

Almost half a year after departing from Siam, in the late morning of the eighteenth of June in the year 2229
of the Buddhist Era (A.D. 1686), the two ships arrive safely at the harbor in Brest. The Siamese mission is
honored by a cannon salute led by Admiral de Clouseau of the French Royal Navy, who welcomes the
mission on behalf of the King of France.

Over the three years of French language lessons and tutorials, the Siamese diplomatic entourage has
learned the customs and traditions of the West, including table manners, etiquette and greetings from
Kate. As a result, Phra Visut, Luang Kalya and Khun Srivisarn do not react repulsively at the embracing
and kissing of their French hosts. To the wonder of their welcoming hosts, the representatives from the
King of Siam blend in and mingle well.

At the formal sit-down state dinner, the three Siamese envoys act impeccably and observe rules of
Western table etiquette to the letter, even with their woman trainer in absentia. But her absence brings
aches day and night to one of the otherwise stoic envoys.

Given the ease with which the mission has adapted to the French court, the French Jesuit Frère Vachet,
who acts as an interpreter, has little to do, except to give bits and pieces of cordial advice and to whisper
to the Siamese Envoys who is who, so they do not make clumsy faux-pas. All goes well, except that Louis
XIV is presently ill-disposed and no date has been set for the royal audience.

In the seventeenth century, France is an exotic country to the Siamese. The cities are full of brick and
stone buildings, while roads are paved with cobblestones. Horse-drawn coaches are seen everywhere.
Foods and diets are totally different from what the Siamese are accustomed to. Phra Visut is seen walking
around with a notebook and pencil, taking prodigious notes of all the things he encounters. At the end of
the day, he hands the notes to be copied by Khun Srivisarn in legible handwriting. For their parts, Khun
Srivisarn and Luang Kalya likewise keep detailed diaries. Frère Vachet, who accompanies them
everywhere, expresses his admiration for their attentiveness.

“These envoys from the King of Siam are working hard. They never let time pass in vain. In addition, they
are so shrewd and conversant that it gives me an easy task as their interpreter, unlike other missions from
most other countries.”

Monsieur de Chaumont nods in agreement. The news of the arrival of the Siamese mission is widely
known, and their civilized and gentlemanly manners give him face. The diplomats are so highly regarded
that their accommodations are better than those assigned to any previous foreign mission to France.

Without the appointed date of a royal audience, the envoys are entertained with sight-seeing and other
tourist diversions. They travel by horse-drawn coach to Orleans and Berny, where they are hospitably
welcomed by the provincial governors as the honored representatives of the King of Siam.

Back in Siam, Kate continues to learn and practice household supervision skills. “What will my aunt have
me learn to do today, Pi Phin?”
“I am not quite sure, milady. But she ordered the white clay last bought from Lavo to be dried up. It is likely
that today we make perfumed toiletry.” Kate sits down and touches the white powder in the shallow
baskets lined with a white gauze.

Since Khun Srivisarn’s departure, she has been forced to train in the home-school finishing courses full-
time while waiting for his return and their wedding on the auspicious day chosen by Phraya Hora. The
chores are not laborious but they have to be done repeatedly to acquire skill. She hardly has time to go
out these days.

A while later, servants and slaves are filing in with baskets containing perfumery and fragrant flowers of all
kinds. In the baskets are assorted ceramic bowls and jars filled with gum benzoin, cinnamon, clove, chalud
bark, nutmeg, brown sugar, Mansonia gagei and eaglewood, salve-like civet oil, betel leaf and kaffir lime.
There are also a stone mortar and pestle and a big, white, ceramic crusher. In addition, there are two items
of strange-looking, brick-colored earthenware that she has no clue regarding their functions.

“What are those, Pi Phin?”

“Takan and tuan, milady. They are for scenting.” Phin’s speculation proves right, after all. Today is the big
day for making toiletry and perfumery. Lady Champa walks from her bedroom to sit on the large daybed in
supervision.

“What I will teach you today is the making of toilet powder and perfumery. The scenting needs to be
repeated for three consecutive days, so that the fragrance gets absorbed and diffused with the powder.
Then scenting is enhanced by fresh flowers for three more days to last longer. You must remove the
musky odor of the civet scent with kaffir lime juice or chopped and heated kaffir lime peel and melt the
civet oil so we can mix it with powder. It will make the scent stronger and longer-lasting. Today and for the
next two days, I shall teach you the scenting process and then floral scent extraction. You try it now.”

Kate watches closely how the servants do it and gives it a try. The ingredients are crushed and pulverized
in the big stone mortar before bringing them to rest in a ceramic jar. This process takes up half a day.
Then, it is time to detoxicate the civet oil, which is a laborious job. The musky smell makes her grimace,
but she braces herself and continues on. A while later, she blends the oil with the earlier mixed ingredients.
The scent becomes sweet and more pronounced. The big ceramic bowl is used to contain the dried and
odorless clay powder. Then it is time to use the curious-looking tuan and takan. Both are placed over lit
fires for smoking the scent. Then, the procedure is concluded for the day.

“Tomorrow you repeat this procedure. At the end of three days, I shall teach you how to scent it with fresh
flowers,” says Lady Champa.

Over the next two days, Kate begins to do it with more skill and without having to watch the others. Her
diligence and curiosity please Lady Champa very much. At the end of three days, the herbs brought onto
the house are replaced by fresh flowers —jasmine, Damascus rose, bullet wood, saiyud, gardenia,
champak and ilang-ilang. The diffusion of the carefully-selected flowers is intoxicating!

“You have to torch the calyx of ilang-ilang first. Heat will release the aromatic oil and enhance its aroma.
And we shall need to use fresh, new flowers every day for three days, just as in scenting with herbs.” The
procedure is simpler than herbal scenting. All Kate must do is handpick the flowers, place them into the
ceramic bowl containing the previously scented powder and cover it with a lid. After three days, she opens
the bowls and finds the powder thoroughly infused with the floral scent.

“Now you crush some saffron and night jasmine stems with rose water,” Lady Champa explains. “Then
blend in the scented powder we have prepared with Borneo camphor. It will give you a cooling fragrance.
We can also use it in the hot weather, mixing it in a little bit of water to powder over the body. The scent will
last long, just like the toiletry you use every day.”

The blend of saffron, night jasmine stems and rose water turns the powder into yellowish color and retains
the lasting fragrance.

“It takes many days to make such items of toiletry, does it not?” Kate muses.

“It does,” Lady Champa confirms. “Now you can make it yourself. If you want to make it more pretty to
use, you must mix it with perfume like a thick batter. Put it in a banana leaf cone. Cut a tiny hole at the tip
and squeeze the mixture into pearls on a white gauze. Leave the pearl droplets to dry before putting them
in a glass perfumery jar of yours. It is called perfumed powder pearls.”
 Kate and the servants finish up dropping powder pearls from banana leaf cones and putting them in
separate jars. She hands one to Lady Champa proudly.

Lady Champa takes it smilingly and inspects by lifting the lid and smelling. She nods her approval.

“A woman on the threshold of matrimony must learn all the household chores. So she can give orders to
servants knowingly. She must be able to put the household in order, be adept in culinary arts, be thrifty and
careful in spending, be inventive and flexible as well as take care of how she looks in order to tie her
husband’s heart. These traits are the feminine charms. Do you grasp what I mean?”

“I do.” Kate agrees, though ingratiatingly. In her opinion, these powders are nice-smelling but if heavily
applied before going for a walk in the garden at dusk, Brrr! The cool fragrance will waft a long distance. If
those easily spooked by ghosts smell the scents from afar without a human presence, it would be too eerie
to imagine. Brrr!

A few months after the diplomatic mission’s departure to France, the Kingdom of Ayodhya witnesses an
event that came to be known in history as The Makassar Revolt. Although Kate is in Ayodhya at the time,
she learns of it after the fact since the uprising occurred in Lavo, the city of permanent residence of King
Narai.

The revolt was led by a Prince of the Makassars from Indonesia, goaded by the Khmer (Cambodians) and
the Champa (Vietnamese), who plotted to overthrow King Narai and seize control of the kingdom, raising
the King’s own brother, Prince Abhaithot as his successor. The rebels aimed to undermine the rising
dominance of Catholicism in Siam that has resulted from the good relations with France and the
aggressive advocacy of Phaulkon, currently Phra Ritkamhaeng, acting as the go-between.

The plot is uncovered when another Vietnamese Prince refuses to participate in the uprising, and instead
chooses to inform the powerful Phaulkon. With support of a force of French troops with better weapons,
Phaulkon swiftly suppresses the rebels. Eventually the revolt proves futile. For his successful
suppression of the rebellion, Phaulkon is elevated to Phraya Vichayen.

Although Kate has diligently studied under her Aunt for many weeks, she is becoming restless. After work
is completed and Lady Champa seems to be in a good mood, Kate seizes the opportunity for an outing. “I
heard that Lady Chanwad is with child and has severe morning sickness. I should like to make her a dish
of sour, green mangoes with a dip. What do you think of that, Aunt ma’m?”

“I shall permit you to go to Phra Chula’s house only. No wandering off elsewhere, mind you!” Her cautious
command is taken to mean permission. Kate grins broadly at the green light and yields to the restriction.

“Yes, Aunt ma’m, no wandering off,” she concedes. Now upbeat, the newly-released house captive walks
down to the kitchen to make her now-famous dip with green mangoes, as a morning-sickness antidote for
Lady Chanwad. Kate orders that green mangoes be peeled and sliced. In little time, everything is ready
and placed in a covered tray nicely wrapped in a white cloth. The excursion party consists of her boat and
two other servants’ boats. Without the presence of the male master, it is hard to determine the head of the
expedition.

It has been months since Kate has been out of the house on an outing. The news of the goings-on outside
has come from the only connection to the outside world, i.e. Phraya Hora. Even the recent uprising was
like faint smoke that vanished into the air from the swift countermove of Phaulkon or Phraya Vichayen.
Lately Phraya Hora has been ill-disposed, sometimes bed-ridden, necessitating Lady Champa to be by his
side constantly. The running of the household has thus fallen into Kate’s hand.

Even though Kate has become adept in most household chores and managing daily routines, Lady
Champa is still reluctant to let her go out freely. Supplies are procured by order to the servants. With little
reason to leave the household, Kate is especially delighted to get today’s go-ahead. Near the house of
Phra Chula, Lady Chanwad’s husband, Kate plans to do some shopping at the market and perhaps see
some temples. She will have to make sure that the servants keep their mouths shut. Better still, she will
have Cherm pier up at a distance from the destination.

Disembarking at the Ban Dinso pier, they make their way on foot over the bridge to the yellow-robe market
which is bustling with vendors and shoppers. Besides the nominal goods of the stationery market, the
place is littered with dry goods and street food. The distance is long enough for her to enjoy looking
around. Arriving at the residence of Phra Chula, surrounded by imposing walls befitting the status of the
owner, Kate feels so glad that her friend Lady Chanwad has married into this wealthy and prestigious
family.

Phra Chula first entered civil service as Luang Sriyod, an attendant officer of King Narai, in charge of
Siamese troops. He held the position equivalent to an army general in modern times. After his marriage to
Lady Chanwad, he cut down on travelling as provincial superintendent. Then came a vacancy in the
position of the Right Chief of Harbor. King Narai thus appointed him Phra Chula Rajmontri in charge of
Muslim trade supervision in alignment with his ancestral line.

Kate has only recently learned that Phra Chula is of Persian origin. His grandfather Sheikh Ahmad and his
father Aga Mahammad were influential personages in the Ayodhya of this period. The first batch of Persian
mercenaries were imported to supervise Muslims in the city. Having read about the family tree, Kate
recognizes that they are the ancestors of the Bunnag family which will exercise power and influence in
Thai politics and administration in the time yet to come.

Servants of Phra Chula recognize the caller and rush in to announce her visit to their mistress. Moments
later, a slim woman with a big, round tummy appears and welcomes her warmly.

“Karaket, what brings you here? I have not seen you for a long while. You there, go and bring tea and
snacks for my friend here.” Chanwad orders one of her maids.

“Yes, your ladyship.” At the servant’s reply, Kate beams at her friend.

“Your ladyship?” Kate repeats. “Does this mean that Phra Chula has been promoted to Phraya?”

“That is correct. The promotion was announced only yesterday.” Chanwad confirms.

“Congratulations! I am so glad for you, Chanwad..uh…Lady Chula Rajmontri.” Kate’s use of the Lady’s
official title brings a graceful smile from Chanwad.

“Not only my husband got promoted, but Tanquimar’s husband too. He is now Phraya Vichayen.” Before
she can elaborate further, the tall frame of Phraya Chula walks up on to the house, in time to hear the last
sentence of his wife.

“That is so infuriating,” he fumes. With a sideway glance to the servants in attendance, Lady Chanwad
dismisses them from the upstairs of the house as she knows well that what her husband is about to say
should not reach anyone else’s ear. Phraya Chula sits down on the floor next to his wife before taking the
teacup handed to him. He sips it slowly.

“Have you heard about the Makassar Revolt, Lady Karaket?” he asks.

“Yes, but it was only a flash upheaval, was it not?”

“It was the French oppression of the Muslims that caused the uprising. I know a thing or two about it.” He
offers an explanation.

“What about it, sir?” asks Kate.

“You know, do you not, that Phaulkon’s faction is thinking big. They want to turn Ayodhya into the land of
their God. Muslims or Buddhists shall not have a place to stand and breathe freely. The affair is too
complex to explain. The Makassar Prince was too hasty. He made a rash attack. Indiscretion by
conspirators alerted the King to the plot, leading to its suppression at the roots. It will be hard for the Prince
to rise again. It is only fortunate that the King did not succumb to France’s attempt to convert him to
Catholicism, despite his penchant to favor that rascal Phaulkon.” His grave expression is met with a long
sigh by Kate.

Soon the frustration of the Siamese noblemen will escalate. The more power Phaulkon consolidates, the
more the pressure and the sooner the upcoming big event in the future erupts. And the ensuing tragedies
are inevitable, as Kate is too well aware from her knowledge of Thai history.

“I can never stop myself kicking up a fuss, though there is no use complaining. Oh, two days from now, I
shall have to travel to Batavia (capital of the Dutch East Indies) to negotiate the conflicts in Surat and
Malacca. My wife is big with child and I worry about her. I should like to ask you to stay here with her while
I am away. What do you say to that?”
“That would be wonderful if you can come to stay with me until my husband returns. So I will not have to
be alone.” Lady Chanwad exclaims delightfully. Kate chimes along with a broad smile but then she stops
short when she is reminded of her aunt.

“You will have to ask permission from my aunt. I cannot make the decision on my own.”

“There is no need to worry.” Phraya Chula says. “I shall see you back to your house and ask Lady Hora
myself. And I shall make arrangements with my men to pick you up two days from now.”

The decision is mutually agreed on. Kate calls out to Phin and Yam to bring in the tray of delicacies she
prepared for her friend as was the initial intent of her visit.

On the twentieth of November, the year 2229 of the Buddhist Era, or A.D. 1686, Phraya Chula Rajmontri
starts out on a journey to Batavia, the present-day Jakarta, to negotiate the conflicts between the
Christians and the Muslims in Surat and Malacca. Before leaving, he successfully negotiates with Lady
Champa, which is why Kate is now lying and rolling on Lady Chanwad’s hard bed, chatting and enlisting
her as a companion for new outings in the neighborhood markets.

The residence of Phraya Chula is a teak house not unlike Phraya Hora’s. The differences are in furniture
and accessories. Here fresh flower arrangements are used for decorations as curtains, partitions and
sunshades, and are changed every two or three days. The first day of Kate’s arrival is a flower changing
day. So she gets to witness firsthand the much-praised handiwork of floral stringing and arrangement by
Lady Chula.

The lady of the house supervises as well as does some of the work by her own hand. Her lean expert
fingers hold a long needle and string flowers dexterously at an amazing speed. Even the servants’ hands
are more skillful than her Pi Phin and Pi Yam. No need to say that Kate’s handiwork is very basic. She can
only string flowers into a simple net for hanging. Chanwad’s intricate floral designs are true masterpieces.
Kate keeps admiring her hostess’ expertise in floral arrangement. Work starts in the morning and is done
by noon, after which servants hang them as house decorations that smell so good all over the house.

“I must say that the rumors I heard are indeed well founded. Lady Chula is an unparalleled expert in
flower arrangement. If I were to make all these beautiful arrangements, I do not know if I could get them
done in two days.”

“It is what I can do. I heard you are good at making some savory meals. Can you show me your cooking
skill and make some dishes for dinner? I can hardly eat anything. My mouth has such a bitter taste that I
feel queasy and sick.”

“I can certainly be of your service, though I cannot guarantee it will as good as what you’ve heard.”
Chanwad covers her mouth and laughs before getting up slowly from her seat. Kate rushes in to help her.

“Be very careful sitting down and getting up, mind you. Even at six months along, there is much to be
concerned with. You are so thin, only big at the belly.” She mumbles her comment while searching her
brain for food suitable for a woman suffering from pregnancy sickness and lack of appetite. Perhaps some
sour dishes, or a pot of not-too-spicy sour soup of tomklong or tomyum and one or two mildly spicy salad
dishes. That should boost her pregnant friend’s appetite. She will have to go as far as Talad Noi market at
Pompej Fort.

“I shall go to Talad Noi. You better stay in bed and get an afternoon nap. Do not come wandering with me.
It is quite far from here.”

“That is good. If I come along, I may exert myself too much and faint. I will only be a burden on you.”

“I am not afraid of your being my burden. My fear is that I may not be able to take good care of you. If
anything happens to you and the baby, I shall not have the face to meet with Phraya Chula when he
returns.”

“He will not blame it on you, please rest assured. He has often talked so highly of you. He said you are as
brave and bold as a man. My husband respects courage in people. It has crossed my mind that if you were
not engaged to Khun Dej, we might possibly share a husband.” Her calm voice uttered smilingly draws a
weird expression from the sassy girl’s face.
“You don’t say!”

“Truly! In all honesty, I have no objection to having you share my husband. I will not be jealous of you.”
Chanwad’s sincerity and rare friendship makes Kate cringe and she forces a reluctant smile.

“Thank you. But please do not go so far as to share your husband with me. I must pass on that.” Kate is
still shaking her head in denial as she walks away from the house of a lady from the past who sees
polygamy as a common thing. But Lady Chula knows that however many minor wives and concubines her
husband has, Phraya Chula has never gotten too involved with any woman besides her, his first wife.

Kate and her four followers shop for seafood, the specialization of Talad Noi, Seafood is very fresh here,
being caught at sea by night fishermen who bring their catch to shore in the early morning to be
transported on boat to Ayodhya while still live. At the market Kate visits, the fish are still wiggling about in
their containers. Surprisingly even to herself, Kate has no such qualms about killing sea life as she does
for live ducks and chickens. Perhaps sea animals do not scream in dread while being slaughtered. Or
perhaps they die too quickly to notice or they do not bleed so pitiably.

While they are choosing prawns at a fishmonger, Phin widens her eyes at a woman walking with a mixed
blood servant behind and calls her mistress.

“Milady! There is Miss Mali, milady.” Kate looks up to see Tanquimar, the current Lady Vichayen, walking
towards her.

“I am so glad. When did you come down from Lavo?”

Tanquimar sends her friend a smile in equal delight of this chance meeting. “My husband came down in
His Majesty’s company. I tagged along. Are you well? I am just thinking of paying you a visit.”

“I am fine. Now I am staying with Lady Chanwad. Her husband is away on official business, so I came to
stay with her for a few days.”

“I heard that Lady Chanwad is pregnant with her first child, is she not?”

“That is correct.”

Tanquimar looks briefly at her servant attendant and pulls Kate to walk along with her to the far side of the
Nai Kai Gate next to Pompej Fort.

“I heard that the French mission will return here with 600 strong troops.”

“Wow! What will they bring so many here for?”

“This is my grave concern. And I heard that the King is in frail condition now. The powers that be are
divided into factions. I heard that my husband is befriending the King’s foster son, Prince Pi. I have no idea
what his motives are.”

“Oh…you need not worry on that front.”

“Now Phra Visut and Khun Srivisarn are not in Ayodhya. If anything should happen, do you know who to
ask for help?”

Kate continues bluntly: “What do you think your husband is up to?”

“I do not know. But I feel ill at ease. If conversion of locals into worshipping our God comes with losses of
flesh and blood, it is certainly diverting from our cause. I am only afraid that my husband has no true faith
in God. He merely acts out of greed for power and wealth.”

“Are you aware, Mali, of what you are accusing him of?” Kate calls her by her maiden name after hearing
her fear. Tanquimar swallows and looks at her friend in the eye.

“I do not know. All I know is that I stand by the path of righteousness.”

“Is Phaulkon not treating you well?” At the bow of her small head without replying, Kate feels dismayed.
Her hands reach out to her friend’s in support.

“Do you realize that what you just said may be incriminating to your own husband?” Silence is the only
answer she can extract from Tanquimar whose eyes gaze out at the passing boats on the canal.

“All right then. Before the return of the diplomatic mission, we should be able to do something in the
meantime. If you can speak with your husband and persuade him into the path of righteousness, maybe
we shall have nothing to worry about.”

“Do you not detest my husband?” The forthright question makes Kate stop before sighing contemplatively
and replying.

“I am not of the view that any person can be all bad and vicious. People have motivations for their action.
We only have to open our mind wide to listen to their reasons. If we keep our mind narrow, we shall never
know what is on the minds of others. I want you to have a happy family life. You should talk to each other
and bring everything out in the open. Now that your husband is in power, you also share his good fortune,
which is a good thing, is it not? You worship your God. Your God speaks of love. He tells you to love even
your enemy. And the man is your husband. Maybe love can fulfill him and lessen his ambition. I want you
to think about it.”

Tanquimar’s tear-filled eyes meet Kate’s, with a heart too heavy to put into words. Finally, she inhales
deeply and asks:

“Do you also think that I am lucky to be married to a Phraya?”

“Why! What kind of question is that?”

“If I had remained true to my affection to Khun Srivisarn, I would not have been in this position, would I?”

Kate is puzzled by the question but also recognizes Tanquimar’s unwavering love for her fiancé. She
begins to feel a gap between her and this mixed-race lady.

“Now I am the Lady of a Phraya, while you are merely a highborn young woman. Have you ever been
jealous of me?” Now the sassy girl bats her lashes, not knowing how to react. Tanquimar’s voice is calm as
if being truly curious and not goading. At the spur of the moment, she feels her friend may be changing
course, but she has no idea in which direction. It will be inexplicable if her answer is no. Truth be told,
there is no jealousy involved because she can foresee Phaulkon’s downfall. Kate tries to answer the best
she can:

“If it were not you who put across the question, I should feel enormously insulted. But it was you, so I shall
answer honestly: Every man walks his own path. In your faith, it is God’s will and design. Your sense of
righteousness may immortalize you. Your name may go down in history and still be remembered hundreds
of years from now. And you should be glad if they speak well of you, should you not, Mali? Worldly
conditions of fortune, fame and praise come and go in a human life. They rise and fall and cease. Nothing
is permanent. This is my line of thinking. And do you think I can be jealous of you?”

Tanquimar is brought to light. The confusion and distress she has carried in her mind for years vanish in a
blink. She feels so light and free. However long the time that passes between them, this woman always
has some wisdom to share that fills her heart with joy.

“Fortune and misfortune, fame and disgrace…everything is impermanent, is it? What you said is rational.
God has a design for me. And if love can change my husband’s mind on his ambitious plan, I shall try my
best, because I do not want things to turn out that way.”

Phin, Yam and the other two manservants are approaching, with armfuls of purchases of the day. They
speak softly as if not wanting to interrupt.

“Milady, in a while the seafood we bought will not be fresh.”

“I should be back at Lady Chula’s house now. If you are not returning to Lavo during the next two days,
you can visit me at Phraya Chula’s. After two days, I shall be back home.”

“I get it. Thank you very much. You have been my good friend all along.”
Kate sends her a smile and waves her goodbye before boarding a boat at the Talad Noi pier. She cannot
resist turning back to look at the frail frame of Tanquimar who looks like she is carrying a heavy load on her
shoulders.

Tanquimar gazes out at the passing boats and heaves a sigh, softly whispering to herself.

“It would be nice if only I could steer my mind as easily as steering a boat.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Crossing Paths

The Siamese diplomatic mission arrives in Paris from Brest on the twelfth of August in the year 2229 of the
Buddhist Era, or A.D. 1686, two and a half weeks before the appointed date of a royal audience with Louis
XIV. They take up residence in Paris not very far from the royal palace. On the first of September in the
year 2229 of the Buddhist Era, 19 days after their historic arrival in the French capital, the three Siamese
Envoys are escorted to the throne hall of the King of France. Phra Visut, Luang Kalya and Khun Srivisarn
are dressed in the full uniform of the Siamese noblemen, long sleeved shirt with a robe and a Siamese ล
spired headdress over a third of a meter tall.

They salute Louis XIV on his throne and present him with a footed tray on which lays a gold box containing
the missive from King Narai to King Louis XIV. This is followed by diplomatic greetings and inquiries.

The hall is splendidly furnished in stained glass and multi-colored crystals with tall ceilings. French
noblemen and courtiers stand witness to the Siamese diplomatic mission in the French King’s audience.
French and Italian painters watch attentively, recording the historic scene for posterity.

The three envoys from Siam stay in France for six months, learning Western technologies and visiting
many sites in France before taking leave from Louis XIV to return to Siam. Before their departure, the
City of Brest commemorates the event by re-naming a street Rue de Siam.

Louis XIV appoints Monsieur Simon la Loubère as Ambassador, a French naval officer and 12 French
Jesuit missionaries including Guy Tachard and de Bess to lead the voyage back to Siam. The French
delegation is accompanied by 600 French military officers under the leadership of General Desfarges.

The warship L’Oiseau sets out to sea accompanied by four other warships armed with dozens of cannons
and a detachment of 600 soldiers. Phra Visut and Khun Srivisarn feel ill at ease while Luang Kalya is
outrightly enraged.

“Why are they bringing warships and cannons and so much artillery like this? Not to mention hundreds of
armed soldiers. Are they going to war with us?”

“I share your grave concern. I find them untrustworthy, carrying full loads of arms and artillery on five
warships. I fear it does not bode well.” Khun Srivisarn speaks in a soft voice.

“Including the existing troops, their military force in our country will total around one thousand. I wonder
what the French have in store. We have been away from Ayodhya for a year and have not heard any
news. I wonder how Ayodhya is faring. Master, do you think anything will happen?” Phra Visut consults
with Master White-Robe. The old man inhales and exhales deeply, his eyes locked on the horizon.

“What will be will be. Do not put your minds in worry. In a ship full of them, we should act in good faith and
trustfully. We shall plan our strategy upon return to Ayodhya.” The master’s word is final. Everyone
relinquishes their present concerns but keeps an eagle eye on their fellow-journeymen.

The ships leave Brest on the first of March, in the year 2230 of the Buddhist Era, or A.D. 1687, sail around
the Cape of Good Hope, pass through the Sunda Strait, stop at seaports at Bantam, Batavia, Bangka
Strait, and finally arrive in the Gulf of Siam on the twenty-seventh of September, B.E. 2230.

All the French warships moor in wait at the Bangkok delta with soldiers and armaments. Many have died
from diseases brought on by the change of weather and diets. From Bangkok, the Ambassador and
embassy staff, with a handful of military guards, go by junk ship to Ayodhya. They arrive at the capital on
the eighth of October, B.E. 2230.

King Narai receives the report of the return of the Siamese mission to France only days in advance.
Preparations for welcoming the new French diplomatic delegation include cannon salutes in the same
manner as the Siamese mission was received in France.

Phraya Vichayen, accompanied by his wife Tanquimar, are among the welcoming Siamese officials. At the
sight of the French ambassador and General Desfarges, and on hearing the size of the military force and
artillery that the French mission has brought, Phaulkon’s face is flush with exhilaration.

In contrast, Phra Petraja and Luang Sorasak are dismayed at the same report.

Laung Sorasak glances at the beautiful Tanquimar regretfully. The perfect blend of Occidental and Oriental
beauty in her person should not have fallen into the hand of that greedy, ambitious and cunning Phraya
Vichayen. He muses to himself: The beauty of a lovely flower is only depreciated when it adorns a cowshit
mound.

The news of the imminent return of the Siamese mission is nerve-racking for Kate. Khun Srivisarn’s
handsome face, which has constantly appeared in her mind’s eye over the past year, pops up again and
again.

“Wonder in what shape my pillow is now? Maybe it has rotted up.” The sassy girl mumbles sarcastically to
herself while lending a hand to Lady Champa in the kitchen. Today’s menu comprises all of Khun
Srivisarn’s favorite dishes. Even the servants and slaves are excited for his return.

“Last time Dej went to Mogul (India)—it was before you came to live here—he had not been gone long, but
he came back starving. This time it is a very long absence, so I shall make extra dishes of what he likes for
his selection.” Lady Champa adds ingredients into the cooking pot as she speaks.

“Has he been to another country before?” Kate is surprised as she has not heard of this India trip from him
before.

“He has…but only briefly. It was when he freshly entered the royal service. He must have been about 19
years old then.”

Before she can make further inquiry, Cherm walks over in long strides, his face beaming, and announces
in a loud voice.

“Lord Khun is here at the pier, your ladyship and milady.”

“That is sooner than I expected. Karaket, go and serve him tea and snacks. I shall carry on in here. Go! I
shall follow shortly.”

Green lighting all the way, dear auntie! Kate smiles reservedly but with sparks in her eyes. She walks
briskly up to the house with Phin and Yam who carry a tea tray and sweetmeats. Lady Champa takes her
hand off the stirring of the pot and smiles while turning to follow her soon-to-be in-law niece.

Just as Kate stops to collect herself, she sees the tall frame of Khun Srivisarn walking up to the house. A
gush of longing surges from her racing heart while she beams at her freshly-returning fiancé. His sharp
eyes glitter like stars at the sight of her. Kate catches sight of his arms holding tightly to the big oil-paper
wrapped package, and she bursts into uncontrollable giggles. His cheeks turn red in a flash but he keeps
himself in check and puts up an ambivalent face.

“Your complexion has become fairer, I can tell,” she remarks.

“Over there, there was not much sun. And the weather was very cold.” His strong arms still clutch the
pillow unrelentingly, even more tightly perhaps. The glitter in his eyes are now gone. Despite nearly two
years of absence, he has hardly changed. Kate’s nonstop grin begins to make him feel awkward.

“Let me go into my bedroom first and I shall come out to talk with you.” At that, he starts off past her to his
bed chamber. Then, he stops his steps briefly and speaks in his usual steady voice without turning around.

“I did not bring any farang woman and was never involved with anyone at all.” With that declaration, he
steps up and into his room. She stands dumbfounded for many moments before rushing to bite her own
lips to stop herself from screaming joyously.

“How very adorable!” Her face reddens, while she mutters and chuckles all to herself. Indeed, he is worth
all the time she has spent yearning for him every day since his departure. Not a minute has passed when
he reappears and walks over to sit opposite her. He fixes his stare on her. Several manservants are
bringing up luggage and baggage and piling them up near the central pavilion.

He stops his hand that is raising the teacup to his mouth and leans his head to the side with a slight frown
as he inspects the only woman to capture his heart.

“You look filled out and not as skinny as before.”

“Hmm…you mean I am fat?” The sassy girl looks down at herself in alarm. Has the obesity she shunned
and was willing to trade with anything come back to her?

“Not fat or chubby, but perfectly blooming and glowing.”

“Whew…my heart dropped from your comment. What about you? How have you been? Did you fall ill in
that cold climate?”

“I was fine. Thanks to your kapok-lined vest, I was warm enough and fine. I have a gift for you too.” A
carved wooden box of a European lettuce-leaf design is pushed toward her. Kate’s heartbeat races in
anticipation.

Perhaps a piece of jewelry worth eighteen hundred million baht. No, it can be a perfume. Definitely a
perfume. France is famous for its perfumery….

But inside the box she finds a notebook.

“Notebook!”

“Yes.”

“Travelling to the far side of the world…” Her voice is muffled in the throat…and this is what you get for
me…How romantically dumb could it be! Before its significance comes to light, Phraya Hora walks out of
the library, supported by Lady Champa at his side. Khun Srivisarn hastens to give his father a hand and
walks him to the central pavilion. Kate steps away to her room, puts away her disappointing gift, and
readies for a bath dispiritedly.

After Khun Srivisarn bows down to pay respect on his parents’ laps, he receives their blessings which
come with happy tears of a reunion. He catches up with reports of their well-being. Khun Srivisarn looks at
his father searchingly with astute eyes and notices his pale skin and frail body.

“Are you ill, Father?”

“On and off. But it is nothing serious, son. You do not have to worry. How did you do in the mission of the
state affairs?”

“Everything went along smoothly, Father. It must be quite comparable to the time when you went to
Portugal as Ambassador.”

“That time there was no one else, so I volunteered to go.” Phraya Hora laughs pleasingly when his son
honors his service by mentioning the mission he volunteered to at the beginning of the current reign. Then
the Phraya becomes more serious and inquires about pressing matters at hand. “Is there anything to be
worried about on this voyage of yours?”

“The worries are over the fact that France sent five warships full of armed soldiers with their embassy
delegation, Father.” The old man frowns and fixes his eyes on his son’s face. Then he nods slowly with a
sigh.

“In the two years you were away, a lot has happened here. There was the Makassar Revolt let by the
Champas from Vietnam, which was quelled by Tanquimar’s husband Phraya Vichayen. That farang begins
to exercise overpowering authority. He disrobed many monks, enlisting them for construction of the new
fortifications in Lavo. His Majesty’s health is ailing. He only asks for Phraya Vichayen and Prince Pi to
come for royal audiences. And now Prince Pi has already converted to Catholicism.”

“Is that so? I too noticed that Phraya Vichayen was so smug with General Desfarges. Things may turn
against our national interest, you know.”

“Phra Petraja and Luang Sorasak have expressed the same concern. Karaket heard from Tanquimar
about the French dispatching military troops and asked me to relay it to Phra Petraja earlier in the year.
Now the news turns out to be true. Everyone worries about the King. I am now hardly in his audience.
Even the literary composition of Samutkot Kamchan is delayed on account of my own illnesses.”

“You do not have to take it to heart, Father. His Majesty is well loved. Even the King of France has given
him the highest honor. Our diplomatic mission was received as if His Majesty himself were present.
Everyone is bound to fear and bow down to his might. We also have Master White-Robe on our side,
Father.” He tries to console his father, though he himself grows increasingly concerned. Now Phra Petraja
and Luang Sorasak must have already consulted on the state of the affairs with Master White-Robe. His
confidence in the master has assuaged his apprehension somewhat, but his heart remains heavy from
having seen how lethal Western weaponry is.

After dinner, it rains heavily and everyone scatters to their rooms. The downpour is unrelenting for a long
while before finally letting up. Kate slips out of her bedroom, thinking of sneaking to see if her romantically
dumb fiancé has gone to sleep. An indistinct figure in the shadow stands by the small pavilion outside her
room startles her by asking, “Why did you come out? The rain has just stopped.”

“What about you yourself? Why are you standing in the dark like this? Hmm…or are you missing me?”
Checkmate!

“I am here to look at the moon. No other corner gives a better view than here.” His manner is calm and
composed, hands behind his back, looking up at the bright moon in the clear, after-rain sky. Quite suave,
but without a smile on his lips.

“Was there no moon abroad? You must have seen it every night too. You miss me, just say it!” She steps
forward to stand beside him, imitating his gesture of hands behind her back, brushing her shoulder with
his, in a teasing cajole. She looks up at the moon too. Silence creeps in for a long while. No touching, no
spoken words, only two happy hearts that share their observation of the moon in the quiet of the night.

“There was not a day that I did not miss you,” he utters suddenly and slowly, before moving away, leaving
her blushing and smiling at the moon alone.

“Such an adorable rascal!” Kate thinks how perfect the moon looks tonight.

The next morning, Khun Srivisarn is summoned to a private audience with the King to read him the journal
of the visit to France as the mission’s scribe on behalf of Phra Visut. The report takes the whole day to
finish and meets with the King’s full satisfaction. Phra Visut Sunthorn is promoted to Phraya Kosa Thibodi
in charge of Treasury and Finance, while Phraya Sadej, the interim Treasurer, is moved back to his old
position in Administration. Luang Kalya Rajmaitri is promoted to Phraya Kalya Rajmaitri and Khun Srivisarn
Vacha to Phra Srivisarn Sunthorn.

All the long day, Kate cranes her neck waiting for her fiancé’s return. She becomes bored of waiting and
walks into the library to find some reading to kill the time. Looking around and searching about, she cannot
find a book she has not read. But as she glances up the cabinet, she spots a gold footed tray containing
an old-style folded Thai book. The book immediately attracts her.

“How could I have missed this one? It is placed so high up.” She stretches her arm all the way to reach at
the base of the tray and pulls it close to the edge. With increasing curiosity, she grabs the book to see
what it is. The instant she touches it, she feels a strong jolt of electricity run through her, and suddenly
passes out.

The newly appointed Phra Srivisarn steps up to the house to find his mother and father. He breaks the
good news of his promotion to everyone’s delight. His eyes search around but cannot find the woman of
his dream. He remains tight-lipped and refrains from asking after her. Only after he has bathed and
dressed does he hear a commotion and weeping from the handmaids who support Karaket’s limp body in
the library.
“What happened? Karaket!” Paying no mind to whoever is looking, he rushes to embrace the unconscious
woman with gut-wrenching alarm. He lifts the limp body and carries her into her bed chamber. His face has
turned ashen white. His trembling mother intervenes and gives orders to the servants.

“Go and fetch Luang Vejpakdi. Make haste! Tell him to come right away. My niece is gravely ill.” Yod leaps
down from the house to the pier and rows off with all his might in trepidation.

“Karaket!” Phra Srivisarn’s warm hands tightly grasp her small thin fingers. He is completely at his wits’
end. His pale, handsome face turns to look at his equally-alarmed father. Phra Srivisarn puts his hand at
the tip of her nose to feel her breath. When he feels faint air from her nose, his whitened terrified face
relaxes slightly.

Luang Vejpakdi, a Chinese medicine man, arrives. He feels her pulse, gives her smelling salt to inhale,
and feeds her an herbal concoction. Nothing revives her. The medicine man frowns and shakes his head.

“I have never seen such a case like this.. The breathing and the pulse are faint but regular. It is like a state
of hibernation. The body is warm, neither feverish nor chill. Prior to her passing out, did she eat or touch
anything?”

All eyes turn to Phin and Yam.

“We found her in the library, sir. There was a folded, old book in her hands and a gold footed tray toppled
by her side.” Phra Srivisarn is breathless. He suddenly gets up and rushes from the bedroom, returning
with his father.

“Thank you very much, Luang Vejpakdi. I shall have the servants feed her with the medicine you gave at
intervals as you instructed. Cherm and Yod, you give him a boat ride back.” Phraya Hora hands the
Chinese medicine man a feung in payment before stepping out of Karaket’s bedroom and into his own
bedroom. He comes back, clad in white. Phra Srivisarn does the same. Both of them walk into the library.
The young man picks up the footed tray, while the old man touches and stares at the folded book.

“Do you think what I am thinking?”

“Yes, Father.”

“If we recited the Krishna-Kali spell and Karaket came back as the same person she was 4-5 years ago,
what would you do?”

“Father!”

“It was not that I was unaware of it. This Karaket is not the same person as my niece. Considering the time
we have had with her, the girl is so lovely, and my affection for her even outweighs my love for my old
niece.” Phra Srivisarn grits his teeth. His eyes meet his father’s decidedly.

“I cannot endure having her lie lifeless like this, Father. If I have to risk losing her like that, I am willing. If
my Karaket never returns or if she returns as another person, I would vow to be ordained in monkhood for
the rest of my life. I shall not take any other woman as my wife.” A while later, the chanting of the Krishna-
Kali spell is heard loud and clear. Clouds of incense float in the air with the chill of passing breezes.

Kate feels like she is floating in the void. When she comes to and opens her eyes, she is in awe. The
grayish, dusky atmosphere seems familiar. Her heart sinks as she realizes that this is the place she was in
before she was drawn into Karaket’s body.

She can barely stand. The first person she longs for deeply is her lordly fiancé. She blinks repeatedly to
hold back brimming tears but they fall unstoppably.

“Not true! This is not true, is it? This is not real, is it?” Her tired voice whispers in disbelief. She braces
herself and gets up, walks, runs and leaps like a mad person, in the hope that the grayish sky will suck her
back to the place she just left. But all is in vain. She collapses on the ground, feeling exhausted and
unnerved.

By now has the man she left behind at Phrya Hora’s residence learned that she is no longer in Karaket’s
body? By now has the real Karaket repossessed her body? By now has her lordly fiancé learned that she
is no longer with him?

The sobbing echoes across this dimensionless space. And then, silence…fraught and heart-wrenching.
Letting herself sink in melancholy and despair to the depths of her soul, Kate finally looks up to grasp the
environs. In rage, she blasts out questions to try to grasp her fate.

“Am I dead or alive, ha? Who the hell can tell me? I have never done anything with malice to anyone. Why
am I thrown into this place? Do not ever do this to me! I won’t let it! I won’t!” She repeats her questions
again. Loud and clear. She does not have to yell and challenge for long because soon, a gold and purplish
light materializes into a body with a familiar face.

“Master! Did you come to help me? Please take me home, please! I…” At that, Kate pales again. Where is
her home indeed?

“Which home, girl?” Master White-Robe asks smilingly. It looks as if the aging face has become taut and
too brightly illuminated to look at directly.

“I shall take you to see something before sending you to the place you should be.”

A white light flashes into her eyes, blurring them until she has to shut her eyelids. When she reopens them,
she finds herself standing on a thorough fare, with sirens wailing and an unbelievable sight in front of her.
She witnesses the rescue operations for the driver and passengers of the horrific car accident. She
recognizes the foundation van and some of the faces. Casualties are transferred to the nearby hospital.
She feels herself drawn alongside her rotund old body.

Ruangrit sits up on the stretcher and grasps his shoulder. A paramedic approaches to inspect his
condition, pulls the dislocated shoulder back in place, and puts his arm in a sling.

“Please check on my friend there. She is in a black shirt and jeans. I saw her bleed from the ear and nose.
Please take care of her.” He tries to wriggle from the stretcher but is stopped by a nurse.

“Do not move, please. You need an X-ray in case you have some internal injury.”

“No, I don’t have any pain except on the dislocated shoulder. Let me see my friend please.”

“Let us check you up to be absolutely certain. Your friend is in the doctors’ hands now. She is in intensive
care. You cannot enter. When we check you out and you are fine, you can wait in front of the I.C.U.”
Ruangrit is calmed by the medical staff’s firm reasoning. Yet his eyes reflect grave concern.

“Ruang, do you see me? Ruangrit!” Kate leaves her old, fat body being treated in emergency and walks to
her friend and tries to speak with him. Nothing. He does not seem to hear her. Instead he walks right
through her body. Her sudden awareness that she is invisible to her best friend makes her heart drop.

Kate feels the pull to her old body. Her legs, about to step and follow Ruangrit, are restrained, so she
changes her mind and keeps watch over herself instead. Her condition looks to be pretty critical. Swift-
moving doctors and nurses call for epinephrine when the electrocardiogram flatlines and for a defibrillator
to pump her heart repeatedly. But it is to no avail.

Her ears are dead for a while upon hearing the doctor declare the word – “Dead.” She can’t even grasp
what it means. Her body is wheeled out of the I.C.U. Seeing this, Ruangrit bursts out in tears, tears she
had never seen from him when she was alive. All of the blood in Ruangrit’s body has drained from him. He
holds desperately to her lifeless hand hoping to transfer his warmth into her.

“Kate, you cannot die, please!” The excruciating pain in his eyes is unexpected. Her grief for him is
palpable and she bursts into sobs.

“Ruang…” Ruangrit’s eyes look as if his soul has been sucked from his body. She now realizes something
she never saw, however often she looked and longed for. His tall frame collapses on the gurney and he
showers kisses on her plump hand and weeps with tears of a broken-hearted man.

“I love you, Kate. Open your eyes, please. I love you. Do you hear me? Open your eyes now, please!”
Kate is stunned by this new discovery. Tears flow from her eyes unstoppably. She rushes to her old body
but is shoved back a distance. All she can do is look on.
A blinding white light zaps Kate. The scenery changes all around her. People in black stand with heads
bowed, trying to console Mother Sipang and Grandma Nuan. Ruangrit stands with a shaved head in white
robe, preparing for ordination into monkhood. The casket being slid into the funeral pyre has a black and
white photo of hers in front. It is unbearable. Mother Sipang weeps unconsolably as if her tears will turn to
blood. Her monk dad stands calm and composed with eyes deep in melancholy, not unlike Ruangrit in his
pre-ordination white robe. Grandma Nuan holds steadfast as a rock, holding her daughter and whispering
consolation.

“It is karma. She has earned as much karma to live as long as she did in this life. You have to get over it,
my child.”

“Why, Mother, why? When she was little, she lived while her twin sister died. Why was she made to grow
up for us to feel so much love and bonds and then to be taken away from us so young? Why, Mother,
why?” Sipang weeps unconsolably. Kate is pulled toward her mother. Her Mom’s words have struck her as
strange.

“Twin sister.” When did she, Kate, have a twin sister?

Again, the grieving sight turns into white, blinding light. The scene changes to a monk’s hut where
Ruangrit’s sighing parents are stepping out.

“It has been four years now, and our son has no intention of disrobing.”

“So be it. We must rejoice on his behalf.”

The couple have the look of peaceful resignation at their son’s determination to stay in the robe. They
drive off from the forest monastery. A self-controlled monk steps out of the hut. Kate watches him from
behind a veil of tears. Her sad longing feels no different from her heart-breaking yearning for Khun
Srivisarn. As she blinks to drive away tears, the vision of a man who appears superimposed on Ruangrit
makes her call out loudly.

“Khun pi!” A man in the costume of ancient Siam is superimposed on Ruangrit. The dual images bring a
sudden realization to Kate. The look in both men. Why didn’t she notice before that Ruangrit and Khun
Srivisarn have the same look in their eyes.? Even their character traits of concealing their emotions, which
she calls “dumb,” are alike. Only the faces and names of the ancient and modern reincarnations are
misleading. She was convinced, mistakenly, that Khun Ruang was her Ruangrit. The gold and purplish
light reappears. She sees Master White-Robe smiling broadly when he gives her a nod. Kate feels a flash
of electricity pass through her body.

Darkness suddenly descends together with that strange-sounding chant from faraway. Karaket’s glowing
body stands waiting for her in the midst of indefinite darkness. Kate flinches but cannot stop herself
complaining.

“Must be fun tossing me about and around…” Tears still wet her cheeks, and she feels vexed as she raises
fingers to wipe her chilly face with a feeling of exhaustion.

“Ketsurang, no, I must call you Sister.” Karaket greets her with such a sweet smile that Kate feels the urge
to return it. Kate’s sobbing sigh draws yet another smile…What will be will be!

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Because of Love

“Give yourself a break for lunch now, son. You have not eaten since yesterday and it is near noontime
now.” Phraya Hora walks over to warn his son for the second time.

“I shall carry on the chant, so the mantra will be unbroken. Come out and have lunch, please. Or your
mother will worry.” The voice stops Phra Srivisarn from his chanting the mantra.

“I do not have appetite in the least, Father.” As he turns, his profile is pale and his eyes reddened, yet he
remains excessively calm.
“Have tea and a bite or two of some sweetmeats. And you can come back to continue the mantra.” He
listens and thinks before getting up from the lotus position. His tall frame staggers almost imperceptibly. He
steps over the threshold and on to the central pavilion. Lady Champa is so glad she slides the tray of
dishes to her son while persuading him to eat. He takes two spoons of soup before putting down the
ceramic spoon. After sipping a tiny cup of tea, he gets up and leaves the lunch circle seated on the floor
and walks into Karaket’s bedroom.

His mother can only follow him with her eyes and a sigh. If anything bad should happen to Karaket this
time, she dares not think what will become of her younger son.

Phra Srivisarn kneels down beside the bed and takes her hand into his. His eyes are fixed on her lovely
face and his heart aches beyond words. Tears well up in his eyes when he bends down to whisper in her
ear.

“Come back, my dear Karaket. Do not lie so lifelessly for too long. My heart is breaking. Please come
back. Do not wander far off.” His thick lips touch lightly on her cheek before rising with a stoic countenance
and eyes shut. Then, he walks to the library to continue the recital of the Krishna-Kali mantra with a fierce
determination to bring his love back.

Kate looks hesitantly into the pair of eyes she has known for years.

“Do you want to reclaim your body, Karaket?” The other party smiles more broadly and shakes her head.

“I died, remember? How can I reclaim my body?”

“What do you mean? Do you mean to say that your body is dead now?” Despite having speculated on
how the future will turn out, now that the time has come, Kate still feels a deep hollowness inside.

“That is right. I died.” Karaket confirms. “I died four years ago when we met. Thank you very much, sister
Kate, for having made merit on my behalf all along and for taking care of my situation and looking after
Phin and Yam for me.”

“Never mind about that. Because it was as if I did it for myself too. Without warning, you shoved me into
your body. And how have you been yourself?” asks Kate.

“I cannot say I have been fine. But I am not as badly off as before. I committed a heinous crime. I took a
life, even unintentionally, but I caused death.” Karaket admits.

“I’m glad you are better off. Oh, yes…You call me sister. Are you really my twin sister?”

“That is correct. I have been your twin sister in many lifetimes. We were twins, even in the lifetime that I
was Karaket.”

“What!” Kate is dumbstruck.

“The lifetime that I was Karaket, you were my twin sister, but you died in infancy. And in your lifetime, I
was the one who died first from old karma. I had no chance of living to garner merit.” Karaket explains
slowly and smilingly.

“Gosh! How very complex! And what karma have we done together, that makes us born as twins, with one
outliving the other, alternately?” Kate wonders.

“That is unknowable for you. What good does it do you knowing? What good does it do you not knowing?
The more you know, the more it’s all over your head. What’s past is unchangeable. We were born over so
many multitudinous lifetimes that I will have to spend forever talking about it, if I must, and I cannot stay
that long. Let us say that the two of us have repaid our karmas. I have to repay my new karma in the next
lives to come. We are bound to meet again in one of these future lifetimes.”

“Hmm…do you mean to say you are going to be reborn, Karaket?”

“Not yet. Not until a long, long time.” Karaket moves her head ever so slightly as if she has heard
something, then sends a smile to her sister. “I shall have to go.”
“Where are you going? I still have a lot I want to know. After this, where am I going? Being reborn? And
what will become of khun pi? Was my friend Ruangrit really a reincarnation of khun pi?”

“You were reborn four years ago. Why and where would you be reborn anew? Khun pi and you are
soulmates across lifetimes. You are bound together to reunite in continuity. Even though there may be
some karmic interventions, you two will be together eventually. I must go now. Take care and be well!” With
that, the luminescent entity disintegrates before her very eyes. Kate stands dazed and stupefied.

“What is it with her? Coming and going as she pleases. And what did she talk about, being reborn four
years ago? Four years ago she thrust me into her own body. Bound together to reunite in continuity…
together eventually? What of it?” Kate scratches her brow in puzzlement, feeling somewhat dense for not
understanding Karaket’s parting words. Anyway, her melancholy is lifted somewhat, as she takes
consolation from and contemplates on what she has just learned.

“It means, in my rebirths, I shall see Dad, Mom, Grandma, khun pi and everyone else? That sounds fine to
me. Then dying is not a real parting.”

Despite being rather confident of her own conclusion, she cannot help thinking about Ruangrit and Khun
Srivisarn. She is lucky to have learned the truth of encounters, reunions and departures. But others,
Ruangrit and Khun Srivisarn included, know nothing of what she knows and they must be devastated by
her abrupt departures.

The Ruangrit she knew was a jokester, teasing, playful, outspoken and blunt. And he was so true to her
that he was ordained into monkhood, possibly for the rest of his life. And what about her khun pi? He was
quiet and determined. How badly he would suffer at her sudden departure is beyond her.

The chanting of prayers becomes louder. Kate turns left and right, trying to find a way out of this darkness.
She begins to step in the direction of the source of that sound.

All of a sudden, she gets sucked by an enormous pull. It drags her headlong. Dark vertigo envelops her so
that she needs to shut her eyes. The smell of incense and the sound of chanting become stronger and
louder, but her leaden lids make it hard to open her eyes. Her mouth and throat taste so bitter and parched
that she cannot even gulp down her spit.

When she opens her eyes slowly, she finds herself lying in bed, looking at the beamed ceiling. The
mosquito net hung above the bed is a familiar sight. The continuous crying is also a familiar sound. The
first thing that comes to mind is…I’m famished!

The weeping stops when the plump bodies of Phin and Yam lunge towards her.

“Milady! Are you awake? Yam, you hurry up. Go and tell Lord Phra now.” Kate frowns, not knowing which
Lord Phra Phin is talking about. Who can he be? And the thought that runs up in second place is…She’s
back! Hooray!

“Yeah!...” Her weak cry of delight triggers a spasm of coughing as she feels an irritation in her throat.

“Bring me some water to drink, please, Pi Phin.” Kate slowly pushes herself up. The bare feet touching the
cold, smooth plank floor gives her indescribable pleasure.

“Yes, milady. Wait a bit, please.” Phin is so overwhelmed that her hands tremble. But she manages to put a
teacup to the mouth of a person who had passed out for one full day.

“More! My throat is so bitter. What happened to me?” Then full memories of what has passed surge into
her head. She has no time to sort out the scenes she saw before she is interrupted by quick footsteps
coming into her bedroom.

Phra Srivisarn stops at a distance from the bed, gazing hesitantly. His heart races with anticipation. Kate is
aware of the past and present converging in the same person…the man she loves, lifetime after lifetime.

“Karaket!” His uncertain voice, the most familiar voice to her, brings tears to her eyes. Finally, she has
returned to him. And this is surely not a dream!

“And I thought we would never meet again. You look terrible, khun pi.” Her soft voice brightens up his
handsome face instantly. The manner of speaking cannot be from anyone else but his insane lady. His tall
frame moves to sit by her side on the bed and his arms pull her to his chest and hold her as tightly as he
can, his lips touching on her hairline and whispering some undecipherable sweet nothings.

Warmth surges through both bodies and minds like two rivers meeting in confluence. The thumping
heartbeat she feels in her ears as she presses against his chest is distinct and real. She is certainly not
dreaming! His hands hold her at arm’s length to survey her full length before he bends down to put his face
on her cheek in elation.

“You came back, my dear, dear Karaket.” The soft whispers on her cheek and the warm touch of his lips
put a blush on her pale face.

“Let me go, please.” She mutters with embarrassment from seeing the glittering eyes of the two
handmaids who bow down to avoid the privacy of the couple but keep glancing up coyly and intermittently.

“I am famished,” Kate declares, “with the kind of hunger that can eat a whole chicken!” She draws a laugh
from the happy Lord Phra which makes the two older people stepping in smile in relief.

“I am hungry too,” Phra Srivisarn chimes in. “Can you get up? If not, we can ask the servants to carry
some food to eat together in your room.”

“Then I shall have the servants send in lunch.” The voice instantly makes the two separate from each
other with embarrassment. Lady Champa turns around to smile at her husband Phraya Hora before
walking out of her niece’s bedroom delighted.

“Hardships and difficulties are all over now. One whole day without eating or sleeping.” His father’s remark
reminds Phra Srivisarn of something. He rises from the bed and acts as if to sprint away. Phraya Hora
grabs his arm tightly to stop him.

“Where are you going?”

“I shall destroy it all. If Karaket should touch it again, we may not have today’s luck, Father.”

“Think it out, son. How shall you destroy it? It may have repercussions on Karaket, son.” The warning puts
him into thinking. His contemplative eyes turn to Kate who stares from one to the other in confusion.

“I know what to do, Father. Please give me your blessing.” Phraya Hora nods slowly and takes his hand off
his son’s arm.

“Where is khun pi going, Uncle sir?” His kind eyes look on.

“He must take care of the Krishna-Kali scripture which caused your condition.”

“What!”

“Dej is afraid that next time you may not be able to come back to this body again, and he cannot let the
real Karaket re-take possession.”

“What! And you, Uncle…” Her secret is out! How could it be out when she thought she was the smoothest
operator?

“That is correct. I know that you are not the same person as you were. Everyone close enough all know.
Do you not, Phin and Yam?” The two handmaids nod while still bowing. In spite of their limited knowledge
and intellect, they have often discussed in private the transformation of their mistress. Over the years a
strange bond forged of love and kindness have overwhelmed their suspicion. They are whole-heartedly
willing and overjoyed to remain servile to this idiosyncratic, one and only lady – whomever she is.

Kate smiles meekly. All in all, she thought she was so smooth but it turns out people around her were
smoother. Look, they knew all along that she is not the real Karaket, and they kept mum for four long
years. Without this crisis, skeletons would have remained hidden in the closet. Stranger still, being
outsmarted does not bother her. On the contrary, she feels so overwhelmed, so loved. The feeling that she
is accepted, that she belongs in this place is worth all else.

Phra Srivisarn snatches the Krishna-Kali folded scripture and walks into his bedroom. He reappears
moments later with an iron chest containing the oil-paper wrapped book. Lady Champa is supervising the
kitchen hands in warming up lunch in the kitchen. She calls out to her son who is walking past hastily with
a hoe in his hand.

“Where are you going, son? Will you not take your lunch?”

“I shall be back soon, Mother.” He walk-runs off and disappears in the garden. After a long while, lunch is
ready to serve and is carried to the house. Her son returns sweating. He puts the hoe down near the
kitchen and says to Lady Champa.

“I shall go to bathe first, Mother.”

“Wait a little longer. Karaket is taking a bath at the pier.”

“Does she have strength to walk now, Mother?” He frowns.

“She was helped. It looked like she was enervated from not having eaten, rather than from being ill. Did
you hear her asking questions nonstop like she always does?” Her endearing voice is relieving to Phra
Srivisarn. He sighs with a smile that his mother is so glad to see on his face again.

“And he was promoted to Lord Phra! Wow! What great news!” The woman who speaks so happily puts out
her arms to be scrubbed by the handmaids. She giggles at the thought of her having gone without bathing
for one whole day and her khun pi did not mind making out with her. How powerful love is! It makes one
forget undesirable odors. On the other hand, she does not smell so badly with the long-lasting powdered
perfumery doused on her. And she finds out from Phin and Yam that Phra Srivisarn had neither eaten, nor
bathed, and not slept a minute since she passed out.

“Pi Phin, did I have a twin sister?” Phin’s eyes widen in shock.

“How do you know of that, milady?” Kate finds it hard to give a proper answer at hand.

“Oh, it’s like…like I have heard about it. Is it true?”

“Yes, it is, milady. I was only eleven years old when I heard that your older twin sister was a very pretty
girl, a spitting image of yourself. She lived to be a year and a half when her life was taken from us. So no
one wished to talk about it. And yourself, milady, you were very frail. But you have survived until now.”

Kate nods slightly. It means that she was born at this time too but she died at a very young age. In another
life in the modern times she was also born Karaket’s twin, but it was Karaket’s turn to die at infancy. And
when she died from that life, a miracle made her be reborn in Karaket’s body who died from this life. But
what caused the miracle to happen, she wonders?

She washes herself, thinking it is time to pay another visit to Master White-Robe. She thinks he is just the
person to satisfy her with the answers she is dying to know.

After a day of rest from her adventure of discovery, Kate approaches Phra Srivisarn regarding Master
White-Robe. They agree to visit him at his place behind Buddhaisawan Temple, and are granted
permission by Lady Champa.

“You should visit him. The Master just returned from abroad, his pupils should pay him respect and ask
about his well-being. Bring some fruits for him too. I shall have them arranged for you.” Acknowledging that
Karaket is the only female pupil of this master, Lady Champa is proud of her niece. He is highly regarded
for his wisdom and expertise in meditation. Even King Narai looks up to him, though he is not a pupil. The
King’s own occult master, Master Brahm, when he was alive, often spoke of this Master White-Robe.

“It is a pity that Luang Ruang is away on official business to Songkwae, so he cannot be with us to see the
Master.” Phra Srivisarn remarks.

“To Songkwae again? So often.” Kate acknowledges Luang Ruang’s absence.

“His maternal grandparents and relatives are from the North. Some are natives of Songkwae from birth.
Going to Songkwae is for him like going home. It is no wonder he travels there so often. I expect that in
future he shall be promoted to govern Songkwae.” Phra Srivisarn explains.

“That is good!” Kate’s exclamation is cut short as their boats have already reached the destination. No
sooner do they disembark than another rowboat arrives at the same pier. At the sight of the man who
comes up from the rowboat, Kate keeps herself in check, composed and modest.

“Are you here to see the Master too, Dej?”

“Yes, Your Lordship Phra Petraja.” The other party chuckles and returns Kate’s and Khun Srivisarn’s wai
gestures of greeting.

“Is Luang Sorasak not in your company today?”

“So you have not heard, have you, that my son Dua fled to Bangkok to escape from an anticipated
consequence yesterday?”

“Since I gave the King the full report of the mission, I got royal permission to furlough for seven days. What
happened, sir?” Phra Srivisarn asks.

Phra Petraja leads them away from their oarsmen before replying.

“Do you know that that shameless farang ordered monks and novices to disrobe and work in construction
for him, do you not?” Phra Petraja recounts the incident of Phaulkon’s abuse of power.

“I do, sir.”

“My son lost his patience when no one dared to cross that farang. When he saw the farang swaggering in
for the King’s audience, he addressed the issue forthrightly. The farang replied provocatively, saying the
job is an urgent royal decree. Monks had free time, doing nothing but chanting prayers idly. Better to
disrobe them and use them as labor force. At that, my son Dua punched him hard and knocked him to the
ground. He lost two teeth. Served him right. But Dua played it safe by not staying around for that rascal to
report to the King. We never knew what would ensue, as that farang is now enjoying the King’s favor.
Being cautious, I had Dua go downstream on a boat to Bangkok. We shall wait until the King’s anger blows
off and let Dua return to ask royal pardon.”

“Wow! What a champion for his brash behavior!” Kate asserts admiringly. The action of Luang Sorasak is
seen in some chronicles of the Ayodhya period as an act in defense of Buddhism, seeing that disrobement
was an attempt by the farang to bully those practicing the national faith. It is also hard to acquit him for
assaulting the King’s favorite.

“At a time like this, with suspicion and paranoia from all sides. I would not pay the Master a visit if not for a
grave concern. Rumors are rampant and frustrating. This applies for you too. If not necessary, you should
not attend the assembly of the Master’s pupils. We may be accused of gathering for insurgence.” Phra
Petraja advises.

“Are things as unnerving as that?” asks Phra Srivisarn.

“They are. The King will reside at the Grand Palace in Ayodhya for a short period, so I must consult the
Master regarding Dua and what we can do to mitigate his reprimand from His Majesty. After his relocation
to Lavo, things could drag on and not for the better.”

Arriving at the bamboo hut, they find none of the Master’s other pupils there. As Phra Petraja has voiced
his concern, the gang-up is under the radar, as no one dares assemble. Kate keeps an obliquely close
watch on the Master and finds him unchanged, neither older nor younger.

He must be quite set by aging now. The spunky girl hides a smile behind her straight face with this
mischevious thought.

“I am no useless old man, mind you!” Kate stops smiling abruptly and keeps her head down, realizing that
the Master’s has invaded her private thoughts again.

“Are you here for Dua’s matter, Lord Phra?” asks the Master.

“Yes, Master. What should I do?” Master White-Robe keeps his eyes downcast when he answers.

“Have Dua return from Bangkok and seek refuge at Dusit Temple from Lady Bua, the King’s wet nurse. Ask
her to ask the King’s pardon in his stead. If His Majesty knows the truth that the farang ordered the
disrobement of a large number of monks and novices, recruiting them as labor force for the construction of
the fortification, his anger will be calmed down because he is very fond of Dua too.”

“But that farang is enjoying the King’s enormous favor, Master. I am afraid that Lady Bua is unable to help.”
Phra Petraja is well aware that he is only the foster son of the second wife, not even of royal blood line.
Look at Chaophraya Kosa Lek, who was a biological son of Lady Bua of the Dusit Temple. Even the King’s
wet nurse was not able to save her own son from the royal-decreed punishment of flogging to his death.
Luang Sorasak as the king’s nephew is further off the line, and not even from his bloodline.

“Have Phraya Kosa accompany you to ask for help from your mother. And do not misread His Majesty. He
is fonder of intellects than of cunning. Whose son Dua is, His Majesty is well aware. Make haste and take
care of it. I shall be of no good on this matter if I come along. And do not come to me again. I shall no
longer remain here.” Master White-Robe concludes.

“Where are you going, Master?” Phra Srivisarn forgets himself and blurts out the question. In proper
etiquette, juniors are supposed to keep silent while seniors are talking. Not only are Phra Srivisarn and
Phra Petjraja shocked by the Master’s announcement, but Kate also. She looks up at the Master in
astonishment.

“Pay no heed to where I am going. And do not come after me. I come and go as I please. I have stayed in
Ayodhya for too long. In better times I might travel back to visit you some time.”

“But all your pupils are not yet informed,” protests Phra Petraja.

“Do not summon them. You know that at this time rumors are rife. We may cause suspicions and fear.
Make haste and go. Dua is waiting for you.” Phra Petraja bows down on the floor to pay respect to the
Master with his brows furrowed in concern. After the courtesy of saying farewell to Phra Srivisarn and
Kate, he leaves the hut and walks off.

“Are you really leaving us? Are you escaping the turbulent time here?” The woman with foreknowledge of
the coming transitional period asks with a sad voice. Having Master White-Robe around is more
comforting than having him leave Ayodhya at this time. In less than a year, chaos will reign over the
transition of reigns. What will become of people in Ayodhya, especially residents at Phraya Hora’s? How
will they be affected by political turmoil? Speculation is so scary.

“What will be will be,” is the Master’s wise word. “Why should you be so flustered? Have no fear. Your khun
pi will not go down easily. He was blessed from birth. He will receive everyone’s love. His enemies cannot
destroy him. With you by his side, he will be better off. At a fatal threat, you pulled him back to life,
remember? Even if it became scandalous all over the town.” Shot at by his verbal arrows, the two pupils
blush, not knowing how to react.

Kate finds it simultaneously embarrassing and funny before she reminds herself of the unfinished business
she wished to discuss with the Master.

“I want to ask…um…of the time I passed out.” Phra Srivisarn glances at Kate, waiting to hear what she
has to ask the Master. But before she can even raise her question, the Master replies.

“That man entered monkhood on your behalf and for his love for you. Together with the intense will of your
sister Karaket who solicited your help and the potency of the Krishna-Kali mantra, all combined into a force
that drove you to be reborn into this woman’s grown body. You were reborn four years ago. As your birth
was unnatural, you went through difficult times, but you have acculturated yourself well, have you not?”

“Um…and what about my mate?” asks Kate.

“That is the mating of souls in previous lives. You are bound to reunite in every existence, despite some
karmic intervention. Even the thwarted one resists taking another mating partner. Sacred Forces
acknowledge you two as a couple, which was the major cause for your being here. Go back now. I should
like to take a nap.” Master White-Robe puts up an annoyed face, hiding his inner smile.

The sassy girl beams with delight and bows before taking leave of him. She keeps on smiling still, with the
certitude that it was Ruangrit who sent her here to meet him in this life. The smile is stressful to the person
in her company.

“What man is it?” His calm question makes her stop short. She rolls her eyes, and shakes her head…No,
better not tell him. He was smooth enough to ignore the fact that she was not Karaket. Let it remain a thorn
in his mind.

“I ask you what man is it?” The cunning girl raises her brows in jest but does not utter a word. He grabs her
arm to stand face to face. She ogles him, but replies truthfully…if not completely.

“Ruangrit, my best friend.”

“He went into monkhood because you came here?”

Kate nods before turning around to continue walking. She smiles in satisfaction at his misdirected
jealousy. Phra Srivisarn slows down and ponders. Then he looks up at the slim figure leading the way.

“Ruangrit must look so much like Ruang. That was why you acted weirdly with him and you seemed to get
along with him instantly. Is it because of their resemblance in name and in physical appearance?”

“You are so smart!”

“He loved you.”

“Yes, he said he loved me.” Jealousy rises up in him. He tries to restrain it with an utmost force of will. And
he succeeds because when Kate glances at him, all she sees is his calm face. She can’t help feeling
disappointed…And I thought he would shake me and vent his anger. Now I am the one who’s upset!

“Are you not angry? Not upset? Not jealous in the least?” She retreats to walk side by side, brushing his
shoulder.

“Why jealous? What I heard was you died from that place and were reborn here. You cannot possibly go
back. And Ruang is so far away in Songkwae. You yourself are engaged to me and we shall soon marry.
The Krishna-Kali scripture is no longer with us. He and you were separated for good. There is no chance
of you seeing him again. So why should I be jealous? If I am, I will be the laughing stock of ghosts and
spirits who see what we are doing. Do not say anything nonsensical. Let us make haste. By now Mother
will be worried about our tardiness.” With his chiding, he speeds up his steps and leads onward.

“Well, well! Not as I would want it to be. So infuriating! He scored; I lost. Again!” Kate walks moodily with a
weary look. She is angry for her failure to provoke his jealousy and pissed at her inability to score a win
over this self-possessed man, just for once!

When her ire blows over, she can’t help but wonder about this mating of souls across lifetimes. It is so
unthinkable! Ruangrit entered monkhood over his love for her. Her twin sister Karaket wanted her to help
pull her from hell using the body she left behind for wholesome purposes. All combined and enhanced by
the potency of the Krishna-Kali mantra sent her to re-birth in the grown body of Karaket. And that force
drove her to meet with Phra Srivisarn, a.k.a. Ruangrit in her modern-time life, when in fact Phra Srivisarn’s
soulmate, i.e. she, had died in infancy.

Karmic configuration, strong will and the spiritual world…they certainly possess a sense of humor!

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
The Invisibility Spell

“How aggravating! That Luang Sorasak goes scot-free.” Phaulkon bangs his fist on the table in blazing
fury. He tendered his grievance at being assaulted to the King of Siam personally, and His Majesty did
nothing to his attacker. Instead, he himself was chastised for the recruitment and disrobement of monks
and novices for the construction of fortifications. And now he just heard that Laung Sorasak is no longer a
fugitive on the run for his life. It is more enraging than ever.

“Just you wait and see. One day I shall drag that Luang Sorasak to bow flat at my feet. And I shall skin him
simply for a diversion.” The servants and slaves in the vicinity all avoid his anger.

“Go and bring me a bottle of wine.” His physical and emotional pain seem to abate with large amounts of
alcohol in his veins. He downs chalice after chalice of wine, courtesy of the French embassy, until he
grows insensate and barely conscious. The attending servants all avoid being in his presence, knowing too
well that they should keep free of his rage. Phaulkon glances at the door of Tanquimar’s bedroom, where
their marriage was consummated, and feels even more agitated. They have lived in separation for a long
time and she does not seem fazed.

He stops downing the wine when Tanquimar walks out of the bedroom.

“How are you?” Her question expresses concern for his well-being after being wounded by the punches.

“Ha! And you think I deserve it, Tanquimar?” His sarcastic response makes her sigh long and tediously.

“Why would I think so? Do not be upset. You know too well who Luang Sorasak is. He is no less than
Prince Pi himself.”

“Yes, I know. But Prince Pi is many times weaker. And how can he stand in comparison with Luang
Sorasak?” Tanquimar pretends to ignore the remark. She changes the subject.

“Do you not know that Ayodhya is so good to us? The King is generous and broad-minded. He does not
discriminate against farangs and expatriates whatever their faiths are.”

“And what of it?” The inebriated man listens inattentively.

“I only think that we expatriates should be grateful to this land of our refuge. Do you share my thought on
this?” Phaulkon frowns and grimaces.

“What are you speaking of? You speak as if I were ungrateful to Siam.” The annoyance in his voice
pushes her to give up. She meant well and wished to talk her husband into his senses and persuade him
to give up his grand scheme. Finally, she speaks again out of frustration.

“I think I may be able to talk you into thinking that what you are doing is splitting the country into factions.
You dragged Prince Pi to your side and instigated suspicion on Prince Abhaithot and Luang Sorasak. The
two factions are suspicious of each other and put up their defense. The King is ailing but he still lives. And
you act as if there will be a change of reigns soon. Have you ever thought that His Majesty pulled you out
of the mire and paucity and made you his minister today?”

Phaulkon trembles with rage. He hits her hard on the cheek and stands threateningly with eyes flaring.
Her white cheek reddens instantly. Tanquimar feels such excruciating pain that she becomes teary. Her
reproachful and resentful gaze baffles him, and he is at a loss.

“You spoke beyond your call, Tanquimar!” He hurls the chalice from his hand and then the wine bottle to
vent his anger. The loud crash startles the retreating servants. They turn, not knowing what to do. No one
wants to get in the way of his temper. Tanquimar merely avoids him, walks back into her room, and latches
the door to prevent him from entering. Her two napping sons wake up with a start and cry for comfort.
Eventually, the mother and sons are hugging and weeping together in frustration.

The clicking of the western-style boots against the cement floor abates, which means that he has walked
away. Tanquimar draws a sigh of sobbing relief. At least, her husband did not follow up his threats against
her and alarm her sons by his fury.

“Karaket, I have tried, you know. I have tried.” Her soft mumble comes with tears dropping on the smooth
skin of her two sons.

Intoxicated as he is, he seeks something on which to vent his anger. The shame of hurting his wife earlier
makes him partly reckless and daring, partly hurt and vengeful. He did what he did not only to serve his
own ambitions, but also to lay firm foundations for his two sons and for his wife whom he loves dearly
despite the pretense of ignoring and overlooking her. This charade may fool others, but he cannot fool
himself. He is still in pain knowing that the woman he regards as his only family, something he never had in
his childhood, does not condone his actions.

His blue crystal eyes spot a delicate girl still in puberty. Phaulkon steps towards her and snatches the
trembling figure and wraps her in his arms before dragging her to his bed chamber in another wing of the
building. He ignores her trembling and fearful cry of protest. But his raging temper and inebriation drive
him to transfer his sexual drive to the body of this girl until the two lie side by side, asleep from exhaustion.
 Tanquimar washes her own face and her two sons while calling out to the mixed-race baby sitter whom
she adopted and raised as one of her own to come.

“Clara, where are you? Why do you not come and get your brothers? Claudia, did you see Clara?”

“Yes, your ladyship.” Claudia’s avoidance and appearance as if weeping causes Tanquimar to blanch.
She turns sharply toward the other wing.

“You keep watch of my sons here…” She gives an order with a trembling voice and steps out of the room
in the direction of her husband’s bed chamber on the opposite side of the building. The unlatched door is
ajar. Her trembling hands push it open. Upon the sight of a man and a woman sprawling naked, draping
over one another, she lets out a painful scream.

Tanquimar does what she has never done before. She lashes out and pounds on the supine Phaulkon
tearfully.

“How could you have done this? With Clara whom I have raised since she was little. I love her as my own
daughter. How could you have done this?” Phaulkon opens his eyes to see her in a flash. He is still under
the influence of alcohol, so the pain of pounding is merely a light touch on his skin. Thinking Tanquimar
would never land physical blows on him, he thinks he is dreaming and goes back to sleep.

“I have never objected to your affairs with any other woman. But why Clara? You overstepped the
boundary, Phaulkon.” At this moment she comes to the realization that she made a huge mistake. She
chose the wrong path in life.

Tanquimar glances at Clara who awakes with a scream and bows at her feet.

“Your ladyship, forgive me, I did you wrong.”

“You were not wrong, Clara. It was the lecher…the greedy for power…who did me wrong. I shall go away
to Ayodhya. Will you come with me, Clara?”

Clara bows down her head, weeping and sobbing. Since her childhood to puberty…she is not yet fifteen
years old…she has idolized the lordly farang who has her love and worship. She always looks secretively
at his elegant bearing and good looks. Now her deepest dream has come true. Can she throw it away
easily?

The silence of her foster daughter whom she loves as her own sends a shock wave stronger than a bolt
lightning to Tanquimar. She blinks rapidly. She has no idea when her tears dried up, only that her heart is
bleeding and aching from the discovery.

“I get it now.” Tanquimar leaves behind the trembling, prostrate girl and the unconscious man sleeping
beside her in bed.

Packages and bags of money are carried to the pier. Claudia carries George and Tanquimar holds Johan
tightly. Her red eyes appear vague and unfocused. The sound of the oars from two boats splashes on the
water. The cool vapor of the river and breezes touch her as if to caress and console, to relax and relieve
her woe.

“Go to my parents’ house in the Portuguese Community.” Her thin tight lips open just to utter that one
sentence. She remains silent all the way.

Kate bows her head to read the book in her hand and looks up intermittently to ask questions at points of
interest.

“The farangs shot into the muzzles of each other’s guns? How was that possible?”

“It was. The farangs organized troops in rows facing each other at a distance of several armlengths,
turning their guns on each other. Gunshots were fired loudly. But not a single one got shot at that close
range facing each other.” Phraya Kalya verifies in a serious tone.

“Hmm…I say, the guns were not loaded, rather,” Kate deduces. “Who would risk their lives like that?”

“Can unloaded guns fire so loudly?” Phra Srivisarn asks in surprise.

“Yes, it can. Guns produce a loud bang without being loaded because if they are loaded, the bullets may
hurt the other sides.” Kate confirms.

“What shall we do? I already gave a report of the journal to the King.” She grins at Khun Srivisarn’s worry
and replies.

“Never you mind that. The report makes them a good match with our side with our occult arts. My! I would
love to see what the faces of the King of France and the farang men looked like when the Master ordered
his pupils to stand in a row in front of the dud muzzles aiming at them.”

“Dej must be thinking of you. That was why he made this copy of the journal for you.” Phraya Kosa says
laughingly. So does Phraya Hora.

In elated appreciation, Kate runs her fingers on the carved-wood box that her khun pi gave to her with the
notebook. At first she thought it was just a blank notebook in a wooden box, when in fact it was his two-
year work trying to record all the things he saw for her to share his experiences. It is a gift she finds truly
precious.

“I know that you are the most curious woman in Ayodhya.” His teasing triggers a round of laughter.

“Well…” She exclaims but continues to read on while the men discuss the state of the country, mostly the
increasing power of the French.

In the evening, Kate goes down to help Lady Champa in the kitchen. Back up at the house, she finds a
robust, shirtless man bowing to give a report to Phra Srivisarn and all present.

“I followed Master White-Robe as far as Bangkok. Arriving at Bangkok Noi Canal on the western side, he
disappeared into thin air.” All the listeners exclaim in surprise.

“I kept watch and waited for two long days and two long nights there. I also made inquiry in the
neighborhood. Not a single person reported seeing the Master. The last everyone saw of him was at the
bank of Bangkok Noi Canal, your lordships.”

Phraya Kosa Pan nods in acknowledgment before coming to a conclusion.

“It must have been his wish then. Since ancient times, there have been mentions of unnamed masters in
white robes who have come to live among residents. After accomplishing some magical deeds, they were
seen walking away into thin air. Our Master White-Robe must be one of them. Let us take action as our
forefathers did. I shall report the incident to Phra Petraja and Luang Sorasak and ask them to jointly build a
temple at the spot and call it Temple of the Disappearing White Robe.” Everyone nods in agreement. The
temple is to become a joint project of piety and merit-making for the Master’s pupils including Kate.

“There is also news of Phraya Vichayen, your lordships.” The man adds.

“Hmm?...” Kate steps up to join the group, all ears, as news of Phaulkon might concern her friend
Tanquimar.

“Um…” Seeing an aristocratic lady approaching, the man is hesitant to give a report because the
discussion is a matter of the state which women are usually kept from.

“Speak up. This lady is my own niece.” Phraya Kosa Pan gives him permission to speak.

“This report comes from Lavo, sirs. It is about Phraya Vichayen’s act of lechery. He has taken Clara,
Tanquimar’s foster daughter, for his mistress. Tanquimar is so mad that she has left him and brought their
two sons to stay at her parents’ in the Portuguese Community.”

“What!” Kate utters a loud exclamation before sighing in distress. She wonders how her friend Mali is doing
now. She is in the gravest of domestic difficulties for a wife.

“And now Phraya Vichayen is in closer association with Prince Pi. He is also in regular contact with
General Desfarges in Bangkok. There is no knowing what they are plotting. We also heard that in a few
days General Desfarges is travelling up to Lavo with a number of his men.”

“I heard so myself. After signing the treaty on the privilege of the East Indian Trading Company, Monsieur
Cébéret, the first ambassador of France, left for France immediately, leaving the second ambassador
Monsieur La Loubère in position. We think that he must have inspected our country thoroughly before he
left. It is so despicable of them.” Phraya Kalya comments emotionally.

When dinner is ready to be served at the house, the robust man pays his wai farewell and walks off. After
dinner, the party disperses and all leave for their homes. Kate looks at Phra Srivisarn with sad, wishful
eyes. At a glance, he bows down to ask his mother’s permission.

“Mother, tomorrow I would like to ask your permission for Karaket to visit the Portuguese Community.”

“For what purpose is the visit? Why the Portuguese Community?”

“Tanquimar is staying there now, Mother.”

“I have heard of it too. This morning I heard they talked about it at the market. They said she had falling out
with her husband, is that right? That lecherous farang fornicated with her foster daughter. Karaket, do not
get actively involved with domestic matters in their family. Suffice with your word of consolation to her.”

“Yes, Aunt ma’m.” The Lady’s advice means a green light. Kate turns to nod smilingly at her fiancé and
feels so flattered. Now he knows what’s on her mind without speaking. He can read her mind and finish
her mental sentence. And how can she not feel flattered?

“The 25th of the twelfth lunar month is an auspicious day for your marriage. I shall organize a wedding for
you two, so that we wrap the matter up once and for all. You have lived in the same house for so long that
you have become fodder for scandals. Prepare yourselves for the coming wedding. Three days before the
ceremony, Karaket must go to stay at Phraya Kosa Pan’s house. He volunteered himself as the bride’s
host.” Phraya Hora declares his decision in a long speech that comes as a shock to Karaket.

“Yes…wedding?...marriage!” Her thoughts were focused on Tanquimar, and now her eyes bulge in
surprise. In a sideway glance at her fiancé, she sees him smiling calmly as if he had expected this.

“That is correct. I sent word with a mounted messenger to Sri at Nakorn. I expect he could travel to
Ayodhya and arrive two or three days before the wedding.” At that, Lady Champa beams in delight. This is
the best news for her. Finally, family will be reunited after so many years.

Kate makes a quick mental count of days and finds that in a month she and Phra Srivisarn will be married.
A strange feeling takes hold of her heart. The more so when she meets his gleaming eyes. Butterflies are
fluttering inside her. Phin and Yam keep grinning gleefully, though with downcast eyes. Their dream is
coming true at last. Their whole-hearted support does not go to waste, finally.

Kate walks into her room and sits down in an immobile position, thinking of the upcoming wedding day. A
wedding where she will not be a guest this time…It must be exciting and fascinating. She will get to
witness, first-hand, a traditional wedding of the long-gone time. She wonders if her khun pi must be smiling
on his bed and unable to go to sleep, just like her.

The next morning Phra Srivisarn rides with Kate on a boat to the Portuguese Community, but refuses to
disembark at the pier. His excuse is based on the claim that, should his visit reach the ear of Phualkon, it
might be misunderstood and misconstrued. So, Kate walks behind the Indian Fanik, Tanquimar’s father,
with Phin and Yam behind her.

At the sight of her visiting friend, Tanquimar is speechless and her face turns red with shame at the
thought that Kate must know of her disgrace.

“Mali.”
 “I did not succeed. I failed at talking Phaulkon to his sense. And now I cannot force myself to forgive him
too.” The tears in her eyes make Kate’s heart drop. She takes hold of her friend’s hands in consolation.

“Do not think too much, Mali. I just wanted you to try talking him to his sense. But if you did not succeed,
just consider it the inevitable. One cannot avoid one’s karma. And I understand well how you feel about
your domestic problem.” Her gentle, soothing voice puts Tanquimar in unstoppable tears.

“I have never imagined it could hurt this bad.”

Her word makes Kate blink in wonder. Thenher eyes flash at a thought.

“You…are in love with Phaulkon!” Her friend merely meets her eyes in sadness.

“It pains me in everything. My choice and his action. I am truly in pain, Karaket.” Tanquimar does not
answer the question, but keeps on repeating her woe, with gritted teeth cutting her lips. Kate realizes that
this was what her friend did to herself, over and over.

“Look, your lips are all cut and broken. Do not hurt yourself like this, Mali.”

“I want them to hurt more, so the pain in my heart can subside.” Kate sits down on a chair in a daze. She
knows that it makes sense that Tanquimar would love her husband after four or five years of marriage and
two children. Caring can easily turn to love. And in spite of a belated recognition on Tanquimar’s part,
perhaps the feeling may cause some change in the relationship for the better.

“Mali, why did you leave him? You should go back to Lavo.”

“How can I go back? I do not want to see Clara. She is so smitten with my husband.”

“What! Clara…is she the girl I saw two years ago?”

“Yes, now she is fourteen going on fifteen.”

“She is a child, indeed! Well, smitten as she might be, the person who counts is you. Nearly all Siamese
lords are polygamous, with pubescent concubines, much younger than their official wives. Your case is no
different. And you have known about his philandering all along, have you not? So what of this one girl?
Why can’t you have her under control?” It is entirely unbelievable that after 3-4 years of living in this
backward age, Kate has become so accustomed to the polygamous practice in Siamese peerage that she
can comfort another woman suffering from this circumstance. Yet here she is advising Tanquimar.

“And I raised her like my own daughter, Karaket.”

“I know. But she did not think of you as her mother. Do not think much about the others. Start to think for
yourself and about who you are. You are Lady Vichayen. You have to welcome and entertain many state
visitors. Right now, the French embassy is still in Siam. Phaulkon cannot host a stately function without
you. Do not let anyone have an opportunity of hosting by his side.” Kate’s word of advice comes so
unexpectedly for Tanquimar.

“Wash yourself and freshen up. Even if you do not think of your husband or of your duty as his wife, you
must think of your two sons. If you do not want to return to Lavo by yourself, I shall accompany you…um…
with the permission of Lady Champa, of course. And definitely, Phra Srivisarn shall have to come along. I
expect no problem from that as he and I will be married in the next month. And he is very indulgent to
me…hey, I’m not boasting, you know.”

Kate has everything planned, step by step, and when she sees Tanquimar blinking without comment, she
feels the urge to exert her importance. After alternating threats and treats, Tanquimar yields to Kate’s
persuasion and agrees to return to Lavo.
….................................................................................................................................
True to her expectation, Kate only needs to put in a few good words for Phra Srivisarn to indulge her, in
spite of his weary sighs many times over.

“You are such a fuss, do you know that? You mind too much of someone else’s business.” A sentence or
two of complaints, but the next morning he sits on the boat with Kate at the tail of Tanquimar’s convoy.
 Phraya Hora is ill-disposed, so he does not come along on this journey and Lady Champa needs to be by
his side to take care of him. Nevertheless, she gives an explicit instruction to Phin and Yam to look after
her niece closely, and not to give her much latitude to intrude on domestic affairs, even though she has
trust in her son’s fortitude and forbearance.

Arriving at Lavo, Kate volunteers to walk with Tanquimar and her sons to her home, having Phin and Yam
in her company. Phra Srivisarn refuses to come along as he is well aware that if Phaulkon sees him with
Tanquimar, he might be the target of that farang’s jealousy. Kate absolutely agrees.

As soon as they enter the residence, they find Phaulkon sitting amidst his surrounding concubines,
frowning and paying no mind to them. When he sees Tanquimar, he rushes toward her, but remains
flabbergasted and at a total loss.

His eyes looking into hers speak volume of his remorse. Then, he throws himself at her and wraps his
arms around her tightly.

“I wanted to come after you in Ayodhya but I had urgent business to run here, which prevented me from
traveling.” His words send the thin body in his arms trembling with emotions. He feels it and loosens his
embrace to look down at her with all the love he has in his heart. He kisses his wife passionately before
apologizing remorsefully.

“Please forgive me for being so drunk and behaving so atrociously. I shall never do it ever again and from
now on I shall not touch alcohol for the rest of my life.”

Kate stands smiling at the apologetic remorse of a man whose wife ran off and returned. Now she knows
that Phaulkon still loves her friend with all his heart. Other servants and slaves keep their eyes fixed on the
floor, too afraid and embarrassed to look. Phin and Yam utter a mental exclamation: what an abominable
disgrace!

“Karaket told me to come back and she accompanied me out of concern for me.” Phaulkon leaves his
eyes from his wife’s beautiful face and turns to look at Kate in stupor.

“Thank you very much, Lady Karaket.”

“Never mind. It’s all I can do. Domestic affairs have to be handled by communication and not by emotions.
Mali is my friend and I want her to be happy. I can tell that you love her very much. So please do not give
her any more grievances. Because if she runs away next time, I shall not persuade her to come back.” She
warns him so forthrightly and seriously that he cannot but smile back. The hostility in his eyes is
transformed into amicability.

“Oh! Next month, on the 25th, I shall be married at the residence of Phraya Kosa Pan. If you can come,
please have my invitation for you and your wife in advance.”

“If I can, I shall be there. But now you know that I must supervise the construction of more forts and city
walls. It will be difficult for me to travel.”

“Of course.” Kate did not expect to have Phaulkon at her wedding because she knows that his rivals, Phra
Petraja and Luang Sorasak, will definitely be there.

“I shall go and see the work in the kitchen and the household. I left for several days. It must be in a mess.”
Seeing that her friend is now possessed with the housewife’s spirit, Kate laughs and says goodbye.

“So I shall take leave of you. Now khun pi must be waiting at the house.” Kate wais Phaulkon, who
accepts her wai with the same gesture. He even walks with her and sees her out to the outer wall.

At the entrance gate, Kate sees a dark-haired, gray-eyed farang in a military uniform, surrounded by
armed men, walking in.

“Allons achiever les préparatifs de notre plan.” (Let's go and make the preparations for our plan.)

The French spoken to Phaulkon slows down Kate’s footsteps. Still within earshot, Phaulkon makes a move
for the man to shut up and approaches him.

“Ne dites rien, cette demoiselle comprend notre langue!” (Don't say anything, this lady understands our
language!)

The whispering arouses her curiosity. Kate walks slowly onward as if she has heard nothing. As soon as
she hears all the men entering the wall of the compound, she stops and turns around curiously.

General Desfarges no doubt. I heard he travelled all the way from Bangkok. Kate crosses her arms and
looks down and thinks. Her eyes catch sight of the eight-stranded thread on her wrist. She blinks
repeatedly before grinning broadly, recalling her superpower ability that has gone unused since.

“Pi Phin and Pi Yam, stay quiet. Wait for me somewhere around here. You can hide behind that big tree
over there. I shall engage in some intelligence. I shall be back shortly.” No sooner can the handmaids open
their mouths to stop her, Kate’s thin body turns to air. She has become transparent and blends with the
atmosphere all around. The two handmaids nearly have a heart attack. They are restless and look
searchingly. And all they can do is look at each other helplessly. Finally, impatience prompts them to run
and stumble along the way back to Saiyud House to report this perilous feat to Phra Srivisarn.

Kate sneaks inside the wall without alerting the security guards at the entrance gate. Seeing the arriving
visitors walking into the reception hall, she follows them in, keeping her footsteps as quiet as possible. She
hears the conversation in French well enough to make sense of it.

“Pour l’instant, en comptant les hommes que nous avions avant et ceux qui grâce a dieu ont surmonté
leur blessures, nous pouvons compter sur 800 hommes d’armes. Cela sera suffisant pour exécuter le plan
que vous avez prévu.” (For now, counting the men we had before and those who with the grace of God
have overcome their wounds, we can count on 800 men-at-arms. This will be enough to execute the plan
you have planned.)

“Voilà qui est bien parlé, plus de 800 hommes armés a nos cðtés, ce sera suffisant pour mettre en
déroute les partisans de Chowpha Arpaiyathot et Orkpha Pateracha. En ce moment, le roi du Siam est
souffrant, il n’a presque plus siegé devant ses fideles ces derniers jours. Mon plan pourra bientot
commencer.” (This is well spoken, more than 800 armed men in our hands, it will be enough to rout the
supporters of Prince Abhaithot and Phra Petraja. At this moment, the King of Siam is ailing. He has hardly
appeared before his mandarins in recent days. My plan will soon begin.)

“Comment pouvez-vous en etre certain?” (How can you be sure?)

“S’ils ne sont pas vaincus, c’est moi qui serais anéantis. Vous savez bien à quell point la noblesse du Siam
me déteste.” (If they are not defeated, it is me who will be annihilated. You know well that the nobility of
Siam hates me.)

“Dans ce cas, je vais organizer votre protection ici avec 50 gardes. Ensuite, je me rendrai a la forteresse
de Bangkok. Si les affaires tournent mal, envoyez un messager.” (In that case, I'm going to organize your
protection here with 50 guards. Then I'll go to the fortress of Bangkok. If business goes wrong, send a
messenger.)

“C’est entendu. Je vous remercie infiniment.” (It's understood. Thank you very much.)

“Je suis à votre service et comprends ce que vous faites pour notre roi Louis et pour la France. Les armes
de Siam sont rudimentaires et sans comparaison avec nos canons. Je regrette seulement no pertes
nombreuses ces derniers jours, ce qui nous place en infériorite. Il faudrait contrðler la situation encore
quelques temps pour permettre au nouvel ambassadeur d’arriver avec ses troupes, l’issue serait ainsi plus
favorable.” (I am at your service and understand what you are doing for our King Louis and for France.
Siam's weapons are rudimentary and incomparable to our guns. I only regret many losses of lives in recent
days, which places us at a disadvantage. The situation would have to be checked for some time to allow
the new ambassador to arrive with his troops, so the outcome would be more favorable.)

The silence that interrupts suddenly pulls Kate closer so she can hear more clearly.

“A scent like Siamese perfumery! Who has come in here?” The question directed at the servants serving
tea makes Kate breathless. She holds her breath and recites another round of the incantation, just to be
on the safe side of invisibility, before running on tip toes out of the building.
The footsteps with no one to be seen make the French soldiers stand still, looking at each other in
bewilderment. General Desfarges is quick to aim his muzzle at the sound of footsteps and fires a shot
without hesitation.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Love-boat

“What did you say?” Phra Srivisarn asks his intended’s handmaids. “Karaket invoked the Invisibility Spell
to follow the farang soldiers?” He jumps up from the pavilion floor and calls out to the servants a split
second later.

“Do not come after me. You will slow me down and it will be a spectacle. The farangs may be suspicious. I
shall go by myself.” His tall frame leaps from the house in the direction of Phaulkon’s house impatiently.
Half-way en route he hears a loud explosion of gunshot. He sprints with all his might, nearly exploding
from anxiety and fear of being too late.

At the big tree, not up to the boundary wall of Phaulkon’s home yet, he feels a small hand pulling him in to
hide in the wilderness abutting the roadside. A few armlengths off the road, running footsteps and orders in
French are heard from the foot path. He feels that he is being pushed on the shoulders to sit down close to
the tree out, of sight of the troops passing by.

Looking up he sees many French soldiers standing bewildered, looking around nervously. Finally, they
walk back to the wall of Phaulkon’s house shaking their heads in disbelief. They are confounded at why
they have been sent chasing after something they do not see, unaware that Kate has cast a spell of
invisibility.

“Whoosh! That was close!” Her voice is heard as her thin body materializes and kneels in front of him. Her
soft hands clutch his shoulders as she bends down, breathing heavily. Then she raises her hand to wipe
the sweat off her forehead. “How did you come out here, khun pi? And where are Pi Phin and Pi Yam?”

He remains silent for a long while, then flames of rage shoot from his eyes, startling Kate. She has never
seen such rage and fierceness from him before.

“Do you realize what you did?” Though out of breath, hischilling accusation commands Kate’s full attention.
She sits flat on the grassy ground, ready to take his angry reprimand. Instead, he draws his dagger tucked
at his waist. She is so alarmed that she puts up her hands automatically in defense and shuts her eyes
tightly.

“Whoa! Is it a capital crime? I confess, I was guilty as charged.” Hearing no further sound, she opens her
eyes and is shocked by the scariest of sights. The two-edged blade is pressed at his own throat. His eyes
look grave and steady, yet full of pain and dread.

“What are you doing, khun pi? Why do you put the knife on your throat?” Her khun pi has gone insane!

“Promise me, that you shall not do it again.” His hands shake and his eyes red with tears stare at her
unblinkingly. She remains flabbergasted by what she sees. Not until the strong hand presses the dagger
harder into his flesh does she yell out alarmingly.

“I promise. I promise. I shall never do it again. I shall never risk my life like that. Never shall I put myself in
such danger. Put down the dagger, please. You are bleeding.” Phra Srivisarn swallows before rescinding
his threat.

“Do you know that when first I heard that you veiled yourself to follow the farang men, I nearly died of
heartbreak? Do you know that you could have lost your life if things went wrong?”

Kate becomes pale and teary. She snatches the dagger’s handle as soon as Phra Srivisarn lowers it from
his throat, then she throws it away from his reach and takes her handkerchief tucked at her waist to press
at the wound which is small but bleeding.

“You have masculine courage and daring. You do things no other woman would do. You do not listen to
anyone trying to stop you. You can only stay out of trouble for a short while and then you barge right into it.
Do you forget that you only have one life? And now your life has someone else’s attached to you. If
anything happens to you, I shall not live. Better let me die first.”

As the first words of reproach spill from his lips, Kate’s tears start to flow. The rest of his speech makes
her surrender completely, and she burst into unstoppable tears.

“I apologize. I apologize. I shall never ever do it again.” Her quivering, almost unintelligible voice is
answered by arms that drawing her into him. Her thin figure disappears in his embrace, with his heart still
quivering with relief. He touches the body of the woman he can die for. The insane terror of losing her now
dissipates from knowing she has come out unharmed.

In a while, Kate’s weeping becomes breathless sobbing. Her sabai is used to wipe her tears dry instead of
the handkerchief that is pressed at his throat. She opens it to see his wound and feels relieved that the
blood has stopped and not so much has been lost.

“Does it hurt?”.

“It is far from my heart.” He whispers gently. Her longing eyes shine awkwardly and hesitantly for a bit and
then she can’t stop herself from leaning over and softly touching her lips on the wound. His handsome
face, now fairer from his two-year journey in a temperate climate, begins to blush. The warmth and
softness are turning him on. His strong arms wrap around her thin waist and pull her in, his nose and lips
touching her temple and onward to her cheek.

A breeze is blowing softly. The cooler weather at the end of the rainy season makes him want to hold her
closer. He tries his best to restrain a strong desire to have her.

But Kate lifts her head from his chest and looks up at his green, stubby chin. Then, she touches her lips on
the chin pleadingly. Which he finds irresistible. He touches his lips on her mouth ever so softly, a
sweetness beyond anything he has tasted. He forgets himself and tastes it over and over. Her sabai slips
from her shoulder. Her skin is so soft, smooth and warm and too irresistible. But when his caressing
fingers pass her shoulder blade, Kate flinches violently. Phra Srivisarn stops his fingers and turns her
around to inspect the cause of her flinching.

A reddened bruise on the fair skin changes his passion into shock.

“Did you get shot at?” Kate slides her sabai to cover her shoulder and hides her face in embarrassment.

…A close call, wow! A love scene in the middle of the forest. Saved by the bell! Don’t know if I should be
relieved or sorry?

“Yes. General Desfarges was a sharpshooter. The impact from the gunshot sent me wobbling, but I gritted
my teeth not to cry out, otherwise I would have materialized before their eyes. But how strange! The bullet
did not pierce my skin.” Apprehensive, Phra Srivisarn gets up and pulls her up to inspect her body closely,
back and front, up and down, left and right. He does not see blood or injuries elsewhere and sighs with
relief. He is reminded of something and looks at her wrist.

“Where is your eight-stranded thread?” Kate raises her arm to look and finds that the black thread given to
her by Master White-Robe has disappeared.

“It is really gone.”

Phra Srivisarn shakes his head slightly. “In my view, without the protection of the Master’s eight-stranded
thread, you must be lying pitifully dead, in plain sight, in Phaulkon’s house. Did you see how your rash,
impetuous action could turn bad?” The earlier sweetness now turns sour. His fierce, angry tone replaces
his loving tenderness.

“Yes, I now see it.” Kate keeps her head down remorsefully.

“The Invisibility Spell is used as an exit strategy for survival, not for such a bold, unthinkable feat. If you
did not come out before I arrived, things could have turned worst, because I would not have stayed put
outside the wall. I would have barged in and died with you.”

“I promise that I shall not do it again. I shall not risk my life again.” If she does not stop her derring-do, she
may not live to old age. She repeatedly pleads guilty as charged until finally, he loosens up. Yet, he keeps
his serious demeanor to emphasize the gravity of her actions.

“Let us go home. By now Phin and Yam must be worried sick.” Phra Srivisarn picks up his dagger, slides it
in the sheath and walks off without waiting. Kate can only half walk, half run after him, feeling so guilty and
wanting so badly to make amends. Catching up with him half way along, she tilts her head and glances at
her khun pi. She sees him in his usual expression, but not too grave. She smiles lightly.

Looking at his big swinging hand beside her, she cannot resist inserting her hand into his. He holds his
breath for a split second and then clutches her hand tightly without so much as a glance. But it makes the
person who wants to test the water smile all the way, feeling the warmth that permeates from hand to
heart.

They move and breathe in unity, a couple united as one. The profound feeling penetrating through to their
hearts is not a burning passion. Rather, it is like a cool and refreshing stream where they are fully content
to stay submersed, wholeheartedly nurturing the depths of their soul.

Back at Saiyud House, Phra Srivisarn calls Phin and Yam to bring ointments to apply on Karaket. Kate lies
prone on the bed, removing her sabai to reveal her fair, glowing complexion.

The strip of deep-red bruise will soon turn purplish green. Shaken by the sight, Phin and Yam scoop up the
ointment and apply it liberally on her, thanking the divine beings for protecting their mistress and saving
her from the hands of the farang men in uniform.

“So fortunate that your bones are not broken. The impact of the gunshot must be quite severe.” Phra
Srivisarn stands with hands behind his back. He keeps from touching her but gazes intently. He looks on
until the medication is fully applied before walking out of her bedroom. After he is gone, Phin and Yam
begin to breathe normally.

“Did you get hit by gunshot, milady?” Yam asks her mistress in a trembling voice.

“Hmm…It was fortunate that I had the Master’s eight-stranded thread to protect me. Otherwise, I would
have been killed on the spot.” Kate speaks as upbeat as ever, despite this critical experience of her life.
The two handmaids shake their heads in warning.

“Do not do something like this again, please. My heart nearly stopped beating. I have never seen any
woman so brave and bold.”

“I know. I already gave my word to khun pi. Oh…Pi Phin and Pi Yam, bring some fresh plai herb compress
to khun pi, please. He has a cut on his throat.” Phin and Yam put their hands on their chest and exclaim in
alarm.

“It is not a serious wound. Do not be alarmed…What a man! Made himself his own hostage with a threat to
kill himself when he couldn’t do anything with me.” The last sentence is a grumble to herself, which makes
her blush when she is reminded of what happened next by her own initiative…

Yam goes down to the kitchen to prepare the compress, comes back up and hands it to Phra Srivisarn’s
valet, Cherm. When the master sees the overturned pot cover containing herbs and a compress, he
chuckles and takes it to apply on his throat without question. Cherm looks on and accidentally meets his
master’s eyes. Startled, the manservant retreats from his master’s bedroom.

Later in the evening, Phra Srivisarn and Kate sit opposite each other at dinner, which servants bring up to
the upper terrace of the house. Kate takes the opportunity to tell him what she risked her life for.

“I heard General Desfarges and Phaulkon discussing a grand plot. I do not know exactly what it is about,
but it concerns the number of armed forces and that 50 men will be left behind to guard Phaulkon.
Someone said to send a messenger to Bangkok if anything goes wrong, so General Desfarges will send a
troop as back-up. They also speak of the King’s ailing health as if they are planning something bad.”

“A rebellion?”

She is taken aback at the word. The man and woman look at each other in astonishment, realizing that
the plot is on a grand scale. But the lack of specifics frustrates both.
“Now Tanquimar must face difficulties.” The word from his mouth tells Kate that her khun pi must choose
his own side with the Siamese. History is indeed unchangeable and all she can do is acknowledge what
happens as it happens. In a year’s time there will be a change of reigns.

“I do not wish for a civil war. Ayodhya should be quite safe, but it looks like Lavo will take a hit.
Fortifications may not protect the city from outsiders when threats come from insiders.” Kate seems ill at
ease making the remark. Although she can remember the year, she can’t recall specifics or even months
and dates.

“We must wait and see what the French will do next. You may have misunderstood what you heard.
Phaulkon, despite his friction with Siamese nobility, seems very loyal to the King. And 50 men do not seem
like enough to do anything. If a messenger is dispatched to Bangkok, we may be able to intercept him in
time. The King may fall ill at times, but he is not fatally ill. He can still appear at audiences for official
business.”

“I think that Phra Petraja and Luang Sorasak, who are archenemies of the French, are keeping a close
watch on each other. If anything should happen, please be very careful yourself.” Kate beseeches him.

Phra Srivisarn nods, while looking adoringly at the woman who is his distant relative and best friend. Kate
has no appetite for food; his loving eyes fill her up spiritually. She keeps her head down to hide her blush.
His sparkling eyes follow her intermittently. He has realized for some time that he can never find anyone
like her. Karaket will not only be his wife and his mating partner, but she is also everything a man would
want in his life.

Khun pi’s so-called self-hostage situation makes Kate give up her spunkiness - totally. Back in Ayodhya,
she stops begging and pleading with him to take her on excursions. Instead, her attention turns to
preparations for becoming his bride. She is willing to have her skin scrubbed, to sit in a spa-style steaming
tent, and to be doused with perfumery. No more complaining and making life more difficult for the
handmaids who are doing her service.

Meanwhile, Phra Srivisarn supervises the set-up of a temporary in-house theater and a shack near the
residence of Phraya Kosa Pan where he will stay during the bridegroom’s three-day wait for his bride.
They come to agreement that they will not build a separate house for the newly-weds. Instead, they will
use Phra Srivisarn’s bed chamber as their bedroom and leave Karaket’s current bedroom vacant in
preparation for their children to come.

Less than a week before the wedding, the kitchen staff becomes so excited to see two horse riders
approaching. Lady Champa drops the ladle from her hand when she recognizes the face of the man who
has hurled himself off his horse. The lean figure drops down to the ground to pay his heartfelt respect.

“Mother! Dearest Mother!” That man’s repetitious salutations and Lady Champa’s tears of joy, which she
keeps wiping away, tell Kate that the newcomer is none other than Jamuen Sri Sitvivitbovorn, or more
commonly known in her days as the Poet Sriprat. The next thing that comes to her mind is---he’s alive!

It sets her mind thinking…perhaps she can still save him. If his time has not yet come, there’s hope still.
But soon another wave of stress washes over her. Phraya Hora is the first person she should worry about
first. Samutkot Kamchan was not finished when King Narai summoned Sriprat from Nakorn to take his
father’s place in authoring it. That was when the King learned of Sriprat’s death by execution under the
Governor of Nakorn.

It was uncertain who died first, the father or the son. She feels cheated by the force that gives her
foreknowledge of the consequences without any power to prevent the endless cycles of human existence:
birth, aging, illness and death. Today she is helping Lady Champa tend to the ailing Phraya Hora. But
disease and illness never spare anyone. Knowing the outcome in advance and being helpless to act in
prevention, Kate feels overwhelmed.

If she could save Sriprat from his tragic death, would history have changed its course, as the governor of
Nakorn would not have been sentenced to death after Sriprat? And how would his life’s repercussions
impact the affairs of the state? Kate heaves a sigh with a heavy heart. It is a conundrum she cannot seem
to solve.

She stares intently at the dismounted rider. His eyes, which are the only thing that bears resemblance to
his brother’s, lock with the slim woman before him. The twinkling in his eyes shows a jolly trait, and the
more she looks, the more she sees the differences in the character of the two brothers.
“Sri, you arrived sooner than we expected, which is a welcome surprise. Hence, you can stay longer. Can
you stay a month or two?”

“I can stay only for a month, Mother. Is that my sister-in-law?”

Lady Champa turns to look and smile at Kate, making a hand gesture for her to approach.

“Come over, Karaket. Come and wai your other cousin Sri…Jamuen Sri Sitvivitbovorn.” Kate smiles and
raises her hands to wai him. He sends her a ruby-red-toothed smile. His honey-colored complexion takes
after his mother’s. His thin feminine lips match the small, prominent nose. All in all, he is a very good-
looking man, though of a different type of handsomeness from his brother.

In the modern terms from where she’s come, Phra Srivisarn is tall, dark and handsome, while Jamuen Sri
has the K-Pop appeal of Korean pop idols --- slender, sweet-faced, a pretty boy type. His hair is combed
flat and styled with pomade to give a twirling curl. Despite the long journey on horseback, he stands with
dustless clothes, looking clean, cute and attractive. Sriprat is a debonair ladies’ man, Kate concludes.

“As beautiful as sculpted in gods’ hand, a celestial beauty come down to earth.” His poetic vibes praise the
beauty of his soon-to-be sister-in-law.

“Her looks are perfect, but her behavior is ungainly and maladroit. She is wayward and troublesome.
Indeed, a trouble-maker.” Lady Champa interjects her opinion with a note of endearment. She pulls her
son up to the house to meet his father and brother who are discussing affairs of the state as well as affairs
of the heart that will take place in a few days’ time.

Kate turns to instruct Yod and Muang who are helping in the kitchen, carrying firewood and some weight-
lifting chores, to take the horses from Sriprat’s attendant to the stable and to arrange accommodations for
him. Then, she sees the work in the kitchen through to the end, and goes down to the pier to bathe.

When she comes up to change, Phin cannot help but give Kate her admiring appraisal of Jamuen Sri.

“He is as good-looking as all the house servants praised him. After so many years in Nakorn, he must
have gotten himself many wives and children. Such a smooth talker too. Having met you at first sight, he
praised your beauty so poetically.”

“Hmm…that’s right. He must have been romantically involved and have some relationships and
children…” Though history never mentions them, it is improbable that he has none.

“Somehow, I think that Lord Phra is better-looking than Jamuen Sri.” Yam argues softly but earnestly.

“I say Jamuen Sri is better-looking. Older by many years, but he looks younger.” Phin does not relent.

“The serious, stern and steady is better than the jolly, sweet-talking and slippery, I say, Phin.”

“It is a pity. If Jamuen Sri was not banished to Nakorn, you would have been betrothed to him as he is the
elder brother.”

“Do you raise the subject to persuade our mistress to change her mind, Phin? You are bad-mouthing her
fiancé.” The usually-reticent Yam raises her voice unusually. Before it can erupt into a domestic melee over
who is the more handsome of the two siblings, Kate intervenes despite her pleasure at listening to Yam’s
succinct argument.

“All right! All right! Enough! They are both good-looking. Speak no further. Your bickering is deafening. I
shall be married to khun pi in a few days. I do not want your nonsense. Jamuen Sri has his good looks, but
I am not in love with him. Do you have your satisfaction, Pi Yam? And keep your mouth shut, Pi Phin.”
Over the 4-5 years that they have lived with this extraordinary lady, Phin and Yam have become
outspoken. They are not intimidated by being chastised. On the contrary, they smile delightfully. If milady
says she is not in love with Jamuen Sri, it can only mean that she is in love with Phra Srivisarn.

After dinner, in high spirits from having his poet-son back from upcountry, Phraya Hora initiates a friendly
poetic contest against the backdrop of a brightly lit sky on a near-full moon night. Phraya Kosa Pan and
Luang Ruang, who have come over from Songkwae for their friend’s wedding, are eager to participate.
There is no way Kate would miss this opportunity. A poetic recital, first-hand, from the renowned poet of
Ayodhya is not an occurrence of even once in a blue moon. Jamuen Sri laughs and accepts the challenge.
He handles the slate in his hand with expertise. At first, Kate thinks he will write poems about the moon, as
she has heard many diversions of this kind. But as it turns out, Jamuen Sri casts his eyes upon her, all
smiles, and bows his head to write only a short while. Then comes the beautiful recital.

“A visage so sweet and ravishing

Cheeks so lovely and tantalizing

Complexion so celestial and glowing

Skin so smooth and sensuous”

Kate swallows with difficulty. The masterly poem comes from the historic poet held high on the pedestal.
She glances at her khun pi who is also looking her way. An idiot or a dimwit would recognize that the poem
is about her. She is unsure how to behave…flattered or flustered.

A born beauty is the mark of sophisticated men’s eyes. She looks down and restrains from smiling.

“All the women in the world

Searching over Earth and Underworld

And the Firmament up high The Three Spheres bow to her beauty”

Her khun pi’s poem is astonishing. He praises her for her beauty of which nothing comparable can be
found in the Three Spheres. Both poems are exquisite. If not flattered today, when? Recognizing that his
brother is quite possessive of his fiancée, Jamuen Sri glances at him and sees the forbidding severity in
his eyes. He chuckles and has a tender feeling toward his baby brother. The young boy has grown to be
even taller than himself. Contrary to his calm and quiet demeanor, his eyes glow with passion and love.

After that, everyone else composes poems in praise of Nature, the moon, the breeze, the sky, as in
traditional poetry of the day. When at last the moon rises high and dews drop, all say goodnight, disperse
and retire.

The day before the wedding, Kate re-locates temporarily to Phraya Kosa Pan’s residence near Phraram
Swamp. The house is built partly in brick and plaster and partly of teakwood. The spacious grassy
courtyard now has a small wooden house built not too far from the main house. On another side is a big
make-shift theater. Everything is near completion, ready for the upcoming event. Kate is not allowed to
survey the grounds. She can only peek from afar and ask her handmaids to report back to her. Obligingly,
Phin and Yam run from house to house to give their mistress reports of what is going on.

“I saw people bringing musical instruments in. What will be on the program tomorrow night?”

“Not just tomorrow night, milady. The piphat orchestra and theatrical performances will go on for three
nights during which Lord Phra is waiting at the small wooden house.”

“And what happens after three days? And why does he have to wait for three days, Pi Phin?”

Phin hides her shy smile. “After three days, the marriage is consummated. The reason for waiting is to
practice self-restraint and to let the bride’s kin get to know the groom better. I heard that this kind of waiting
achingly tests the groom’s patience. At the end, the bride and the groom will be reminded for the rest of
their lives how marriage requires self-discipline and tenacity.”

“Oh…but in our case, we do not need to wait for three days. Actually, we have waited for years. Our love is
ripe, almost so overripe that it would fall off the tree.” As usual, she cannot keep her thoughts to herself.

“You cannot skip it. It is a customary practice that has been observed for a long time.” Kate nods
acknowledgement and leans over to look at the people who are helping out in any way they can. The
kitchen at Phraya Kosa’s house is overcrowded.
Of course, she can wait three more days, which is in fact puerile compared to these many years of waiting.
But it is such an exciting thought. Moreover, she feels a little sad, thinking about her Dad, Mom, Grandma
and Ruangrit in another lifetime. Parting by death with full recollection of one’s past life certainly comes
with grief and pain. However much she tries to get over it, she cannot stop thinking of the people she loved
in her other life.

The ceremony of Asking for the Bride’s Hand is simple and brief. Phraya Hora’s verbal request for some
gourds and melons to grow at his farm is answered by Phraya Kosa’s acceptance. And that completes the
ceremony. The groom’s gifts to the bride’s side as earlier proposed are counted before everyone’s eyes as
is the custom, together with cash of 100 chang, or 8000 baht. This was how an eligible, aristocratic woman
came to be referred to in the old days…a 100-chang worth girl.

Today the hosts of the two sides give their blessing by tying a thread around the bride’s and the groom’s
wrist, without the water-pouring or anointment ceremony. Phra Srivisarn and Kate are dressed up
beautifully but not fully. The grandiose costumes will come on the marriage-consummation day, as Phin
tells her in a whisper.

Then, it is time to see the performances, consisting of Ayodhya classical dances of blessing, which bear
much resemblance to the Thai dance of her modern-day life. Dignitaries, aristocrats, and high-ranking
officials are guests of honor at this wedding, including Phra Petraja, Luang Sorasak, Phraya Chula and
Lady Chanwad, who has given birth just shy of a year. As expected, Phaulkon and Tanquimar are not
present at the wedding.

Late at night, guests and hosts disperse and retire, leaving only the piphat orchestra playing throughout
the night, purportedly as lullabies to the groom and the bride who are separated for three nights.

Kate scoops up the hanging flower arrangement at the window in her palms. The intricate handiwork is
astonishing. Lady Chanwad did the ornamental flower work herself, creatively and meticulously. She also
whispered to Kate that she did the best she knew how and will do more to adorn Kate’s and Phra
Srivisarn’s wedding night back at Phraya Hora’s house.

Beside savory dishes catered from many expert kitchens, guests feast on many talums of sweets
Tanquimar has sent, including her famed gold-threads, gold-drops and gold-pinches, which guests and
hosts find so scrumptious. Kate is happy that her wedding helps spread the reputation of Tanquimar’s
creation of many Thai egg-desserts that have remained popular fares to the modern day.

The end of three days’ wait is followed by enormous preparational tasks by the bride and the groom.
Separately, Kate and Phra Srivisarn are woken at wee hours of the morning to bathe and scrub so
vigorously that it feels like a skin renewal of the whole body. They are doused and rubbed with home-made
perfumes and powders, layer upon layer.

A most beautiful, brand-new print-design cloth for the tube skirt and a silky satin sabai are draped and
pleated and dressed on Kate who looks like an otherworldly being. Phin and Yam stop her from wearing
the Ketsurang-brand panties under the pretext that they forgot to bring an extra pair over from her uncle’s
house. If she insists on washing and air-drying the used ones, it would certainly be another scandalous
talk of town. She realizes that it is the handmaids’ plan to remove any possible hindrance to her wedding
night…Those scheming Pi Phin and Pi Yam!

All the precious jewelries are brought and decked on her. Scores of rings are put on every single finger,
along with a necklace, a sash of gold and diamonds, and a gold belt with a diamond-studded buckle. She
is dressed for the rite of making food-offering at the pier on the morning alms round. Of course, she is
aware and will follow the tradition of holding the ladle with her hand above the groom’s to spoon rice in the
monks’ bowls – symbolic of the bride’s superiority over the husband from day one of their marriage.

Phra Srivisarn casts his eyes up and down closely at her and smiles happily. She inspects him with by
side-glances too. She sees a glimpse of tears welling in his eyes but thinks she must be mistaken. There is
no reason for her khun pi to cry on this occasion. And it doesn’t seem like he is regretting his bachelorhood
too.

Up at the house, there is a cone-shaped headdress, like what she saw in old paintings depicting Siamese
nobility. Phraya Kosa Pan puts it on her head himself. He tops it with a huge, gem-studded gold coronet
which she tells herself in jest makes her look like the Monkey character in the Chinese tale of Xi You Ji
(Journey to the West). Phin whispers in her ears again that this precious piece of jewelry is a gift from
Phraya Kosa to the bride.
Kate blinks at her own reflection in the mirror in a daze. A whiter-than-white face, a body decked with
enough jewelry as if she were a movable treasure chest, complete with anklets and bangles. The bangles
on her wrist take up the entire length of her lower arms, stopping only at her elbows.

“Angelic! Celestial!” Yam and Phin exclaim after they finish dressing her.

She is taken to see Phra Srivisarn who is himself no less spectacularly embellished. Both of them must
have descended from the same heavenly sphere, Kate thinks, smiling with a hidden agenda. She gets a
sweet smile back from her fiancé.

“All beaming, eh, Dej? I have known you for more than ten years, and it is only today that I see you smile
so much, whether sitting or walking.” Luang Ruang teases, sending a round of laughter and giggles among
the best men and bride’s maids who are all daughters, nieces and grandchildren of Phraya Kosa.

At the arrival of the bridal procession, the bride’s side is separated to go up to the house first. Then, young
children of Phraya Kosa’s lineage block the passage, one after the other, with silver and gold chains in
exchange for red pouches of lucky money from a talum that Cherm carries behind Phra Srivisarn, to pay
for his passage to the bride. When the groom’s procession has passed through and taken seats in the
house, nine monks arrive to sit in line next to the presiding Buddha statue, totaling ten representations of
the Buddha. The monks anoint the foreheads of the groom and bride, and recite the Five Precepts. Upon
acceptance of the Precepts by the newlyweds, the monks chant their blessing. Then it is time for sprinkling
holy water as a rite of blessing.

The holy water bowl is a big earthen jar placed next to the most senior monk. It contains water and silver,
gold and pink-gold leaves, Bermuda grass, Acacia pods, kaffir lime peels and fragrant flower petals
including Damask rose and jasmine.

Each of the monks extend their watery blessings by not merely sprinkling the couple but by splashing the
consecrated water all over the place. The bride and groom, best men and bride’s maids, all get splattered.
In fact, the bride and groom are drenched.

Then, the married couple split up to change their clothes. Phra Srivisarn has Thongkam, the eldest son of
Khun Thong who is now Phra Voravongsa Thirajsanit, follow him into the room to take his wet clothes.
After changing, Phra Srivisarn hands Thongkam the wet cloth and smiles.

“Take good care of these clothes. They are very valuable, you know.” Thongkam smiles delightfully at the
tease, takes the clothes in his arms and runs down the house with his servant pal. After which, there is a
loud cheer heard from downstairs. Thongkam runs to his mother Lady Duang to show the two gold rings
which Phra Srivisarn had tied at the corner of his chongkraben cloth as a reward for the boy’s service in
squeezing and drying his clothes.

At dark, the bride and groom are sent off their room. Blessings from parents and guardians are extended
with tears of joy to their son and ward settling down in matrimony. The cheeky best man follows with a
congratulatory speech mentioning many more children to come from the nuptial. Wedding music from the
piphat orchestra keeps filling the air. Guests are leaving all in smiles. Some remain to hear the ballad
recital composed by Jamuen Sri for the wedding night of his brother and sister-in-law. Torches and lamps
softly light up the night and create a magical ambience. The scents of floral arrangements waft through
the house on the invigorating breezes of the cold season.

…............................................................................................................................
“Have you ever played at rocking the junk ship?” His sweet voice asks gently, his eyes gleaming in the
lamp-lit darkness. Kate blinks repeatedly. At this time of marriage consummation, why is khun pi asking her
about this children’s game?

“Is it a big sailing boat? I have seen some but never gone aboard one.” His deep chuckling comes with a
hand that caresses her upper arm slowly and sensuously.

“Come, I shall teach you how.” Not leaving her time to ask further, as he knows that this inquisitive person
will never stop asking, he puts his mouth on hers. The curious woman instinctively swallows all her
questions. Not until time has lapsed and the night has grown longer does she realize what is meant by
“rocking the junk ship.”

“Rocking and riding in the Sea of Love A love-boat steers through a narrow strait
With little water to smooth the channel

Clutching and clenching to the waves

Passing into the gulf in high water

Overcoming disorientation, left and right

Floating to the highest of heavens

To rest prone like bosom buddies.”

The passage of time has matured their love that is now ripe for reaping, two hearts in luscious bliss.
Through the miracle of union, they taste the sweetness of love unhurriedly and tirelessly. Slowly but
steadily, as if time were standing still, love engulfs and submerges them to the depth of their souls.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Fallen Leaves

After the wedding of Kate and Phra Srivisarn, most of the French embassy delegation returns to their
home country. Only Monsieur La Loubère has remained behind for another month, recording the way of
life of the Siamese in his journal. The Siamese nobility, distrustful of French intentions on Siam and
suspicious of French troops encamped in Bangkok, show their displeasure for his unwelcomed sojourn by
offering La Loubère only guarded hospitality.

A few days into December, Phraya Hora falls ill and is unable to rise from his bed. The entire household is
gravely alarmed, and chaos mixes with raw fear. The best Chinese, Thai and Western medicine men are
called in to treat him. But the efforts are to no avail. Late one night, before dawn breaks, Kate and Phra
Srivisarn are awoken to go to the bed chamber of Phraya Hora. They find a monk standing calmly at the
head of the bed, Lady Champa wiping her tears, and Jamuen Sri at his mother’s side, comforting her.

“Father!” Phra Srivisarn rushes in to hold Phraya Hora’s foot and kneels on the floor. Kate does the same.
With a sinking heart, she is reminded that history is taking its course. What her generation knows from the
historical record is now happening before her eyes. Phraya Hora is on his death bed.

The master of the house musters his strength and speaks consciously to his beloved son. “There is no
need to be sad and sorrowful. Birth, aging, illness and dying are natural phenomena. I have been ill for a
long time. It only makes sense that I must leave this vessel. You stay here and look after the household
and your mother.” His soft, intermittent voice speaks slowly and intentionally before waving for his elder
son and first wife to be at his side.

Outside, minor wives and slave concubines, including their sons and daughters born of Phraya Hora, are
all crowded together tearfully with a sense of dread for their future.

“Sri, when you go back to Nakorn this time, you should stay modest. Guard your mouth and do not insult
anyone. Do not think that you are the King’s favorite poet. Champa, throughout your life, you have been
the best of wives and mothers, demonstrating the Four Buddhist Virtues. You have lived with
benevolence, compassion, empathetic joy and equanimity. Live the rest of your life with these virtues and
do not grief over my passing. From now on, the household will depend on you.” Then, the patriarch turns
his face to the monk standing in calm composure, his hands clutching the holy thread, palms together, in
mindfulness. The Pali chanting vibrates through his heart. Moments later, his hands fall off with his head
dropping to a tilt. His face is completely calm. There is no pain in parting.

The sound of sobbing echoes throughout the teak compound when they learn that their patriarch has
departed this world. Kate bows down to pay respect and farewell at his feet and hides her teary face on
the upper arm of her husband who also weeps. Lady Champa wobbles and Jamuen Sri, himself sobbing
hard, supports her, physically and verbally. A while later, Lady Champa comes to her senses. She orders
the temple boys to make preparations for moving the body of Phraya Hora and to organize funeral
services at the temple. Profound grief is manifested on her face; she has aged a decade in a day.

After the cremation of Phraya Hora, Jamuen Sri remains in Ayodhya until the end of the year. Kate tries her
best to hold him, whom she knows as Sriprat, realizing that his travel back to Nakorn this time will be like
going to his death.

“Brother Sri, please, now that Father passed, you should use this as a pretext to stay longer.” At that,
Jamuen Sri jabs at his sister-in-law teasingly.

“Stay to envy you two, Karaket? I shall have to go back to my wife in Nakorn too, although we were not
publicly married like you.”

“Why don’t you summon your wife up to Ayodhya, so Mother shall not feel so lonely.”

“My wife over there is an ignorant servant and is not my only wife. I have plenty, unlike Dej who has only
you. I do not want them getting involved here. They will be an annoyance to Mother, rather.” His words are
still tongue-in-cheek, neither serious nor attentive. Heavy-hearted, Kate does not know how to warn him.
Jamuen Sri sees the dismay on his sister-in-law’s face, which he mistakenly attributes to another reason.
He says half-laughingly like a good-tempered man.

“Do not worry. Soon the King will have to summon me to serve him in Ayodhya. I am waiting for that day.
Better still, on my next return to Ayodhya, I may be rewarded with a royally-bestowed first wife.”

…All you have in mind is womanizing. I fear you will return as ashes and bones, leaving your poor life at
that Sriprat Pond, my dear brother-in-law! She remains quiet for a while and then widens her eyes and
looks up at Sriprat with a delightful thought.

“I know!”

“What do you know?” She does not reply but rises from the pavilion floor and walks to her mother-in-law
who is napping on the daybed near the cotton-upholstered partition.

“Mother, please, may I go out for a while?”

“Where are you going? You cannot be naughty and wander about. Do not forget that you are a married
woman. You should stay put as a lady.”

“I am not being naughty. I only want to visit Phraya Kosa.”

“Why would you want to visit Phraya Kosa?”

“I shall ask Phraya Kosa to tender a request to the King to have Brother Sri back in Ayodhya. So the family
can stay together in the time to come.”

“What! Would that be appropriate? What do you think you will tell Phraya Kosa?” Lady Champa is
exhilarated but has some reservations.

“I shall use Father’s death as a pretext for having Brother Sri’s return,” Kate explains. The best we can do
is to put it across to the King as soon as possible, so Brother Sri shall not have to waste time traveling
back and forth.” Lady Champa is stunned by her daughter-in-law’s ingenuity. She so wishes it to succeed
and nods her consent to her over-zealous in-law.

“Then, make haste in going and coming back. It will be very good if the whole family can stay together
without separation.”

With this green light, Kate goes into her bedroom to get dressed for the outing and calls for Phin and Yam
to arrange for a manservant to give her a boat ride. Jamuen Sri watches his sister-in-law in amazement.
He has heard of her reputation as an independent woman but has not seen it as plainly as today. She is a
woman with an impenetrable mind, agile, feisty and energetic. He has to call her to inquire what she has in
mind.

“Wait a minute! How would you address the matter with Phraya Kosa given Father’s passing as a pretext?’

“I shall ask him to speak with the King in regard to Samutkot Kamchan. I shall be back shortly. It is best to
do it promptly or else…”
“Samutkot Kamchan?” This man, who has only gotten to know Kate over the past month, stands in
bewilderment until her slim figure is out of sight. He turns to his mother for clarification.

“Do you know, Mother, what Karaket is planning to do?”

“I do not know exactly. You have to wait to hear it from her. She will not be long and will tell us herself.
Phraya Kosa is now the King’s favorite and he is very fond of Karaket. He treats her as if he were her kin. I
expect that he will not turn down her request, whatever it is.” Lady Champa’s trust in her daughter-in-law is
unbelievable to her son, the great poet of Ayodhya. His mother is known to be upright, rigid and a strict
disciplinarian on matters regarding decorum and manners. How can she be so lenient and trusting of her
very own wayward in-law?
......................................................................................................................................

When Kate arrives at the residence of Phraya Kosa Pan, she is welcomed like family. She does not have
to wait long before Phraya Kosa walks out of his bedroom to see her. She waits for him to sit down,
leaning on the cushion and taking tea from one of his many surrounding concubines.

“What brings you here, Karaket?”

“I would like to ask…for a favor, your lordship.” No long and roundabout introduction from this lady. The
listener takes her direct request smilingly.

“What favor? Speak up. There is no need to hesitate to ask. We are no strangers.”

“As you are well aware, after Father Phraya Hora passed away, Mother is not doing well and Brother Sri
has to wander off far from home. I would like to ask your lordship to help us by talking to the King.” Phraya
Kosa’s intelligent eyes look down contemplatively.

“You must have thought of the reasons for my tendering such advice to the King, must you not?” His
smiling face is returned by a broader smile.

“I think of Samutkot Kamchan, your lordship. With Father’s passing, the book has been set back. It is only
wise to have his equally-gifted son finish up the composition, is it not?” Phraya Kosa laughs with a clucking
sound from his throat. This young lady proposes a very subtle and sensible solution.

“I agree as you propose. I shall put in a word with the King. Do not worry. The composition of Samutkot
Kamchan is an important enterprise that the King wishes to be completed the soonest possible. In
addition, the demise of Phraya Hora who was also the King’s mentor caused him much grief and sorrow. It
is only fitting to bring back the son as his replacement in royal service.”

“Um…I have another wish, your lordship.”

“What is your other wish? You certainly have a lot of wishes.” His laughing tease shows how endearing
she is to him.

“I wish for things to go on as fast as possible, your lordship. So that Brother Sri shall not have to travel so
far back.” Actually, she was afraid that if Sriprat went back to Nakorn this time, death would be his
inevitable fate. To be on the safe side, Sriprat should not be allowed to return to Nakorn.

“All right. I shall raise the matter with the King tomorrow. Is there anything else?” Kate merely beams in
response. But after a while her smile turns to seriousness.

“Actually, although I wish for Brother Sri’s return to Ayodhya, I do not want him to serve the King so closely
because the King is like the sun.”

“What of it?”

“The sun gives light and life, gives warmth to all beings. But being too near the blazing heat may burn and
incinerate. Being too far, one shall feel cold and uncomfortable.” She speaks with a sigh.

“You talk so strangely. But I shall address the matter to the King, so Sri can return to Ayodhya first and the
rest will have to be by the King’s grace.”

“I thank you very much, your lordship. You have been most kind to me.” Kate bows down to extend to him
her overwhelming appreciation. At her wedding Phraya Kosa took up the task of the bride’s guardian,
when in fact they are distantly related by many tiers. And at this time of trouble, she asks for his help. How
can she not be deeply grateful to him?

“Kind enough for you to call me Uncle?” Kate is flabbergasted. It has come totally unexpected. She feels a
rush of delight and gratitude.

“Of course, Uncle sir.” She is all smiles leaving the house. Not only was she able to help Sriprat from his
tragic eventuality, she now has a foster uncle to add to her baggage. Obviously, it is all to her advantage.

Each day, Kate waits to hear an update. Expectation and anticipation are mixed lest history changes
because of her. Phra Srivisarn notices her agitation.

“I heard that you went to ask Phraya Kosa to put in a good word for Brother Sri to return to Ayodhya. Is it
so?”

“It is. But it has been many days and there is no news yet. In a few days, Brother Sri will leave for Nakorn,
will he not?”

“Do not set your hope too high. The matter cannot be concluded so hastily.” Her husband’s discerning
voice makes Kate sigh another big sigh.

“Whoa! There is so much endless confusion and chaos in a human life, you know.” Kate slides a tray of
snacks to her husband who puts one into his mouth while fixing his eyes on her.

“If not a human, what would you wish to be born into, my resourceful girl?”

“Hmm…what shall I be? Oh, a female seahorse would not be too bad.”

“What? You would like to be a female seahorse? It is a weird-looking creature. What good is there in a
female seahorse?” He asks laughingly, eyes twinkling. He cannot think of a reason why his wife would
want to be a seahorse.

“The good is that it does not have to carry babies in its womb. Upon mating, it lays eggs in the pouch of
the male and leaves its offspring in the male’s care. Moreover, seahorses are monogamous. Couples stay
together until they are parted by death.” Kate gives a long explanation, as if self-hypnotizing, as if wishing
to be born a seahorse, right here, right now.

“Oh, for reason of not wanting to be at a disadvantage to the male, that is why. You want to avoid being
taken advantage of by men so much you do not want to be born human, is that it?”

“Well, that’s an overstatement.” She throws a side glance at him in embarrassment for being caught
advocating for women.

“Where did you learn of seahorses? From the place where you came from?”

“Yes, seahorses are marine life. Where I came from they have documentaries on animal kingdoms, life
underwater and on land. There are a lot of strange creatures in their presentations, not only for
entertainment but also for educational purposes.” She is bragging vividly about what she knows and feels
quite proud at her husband’s fascinating look.

“Your people are so weird. Can knowledge about seahorses be useful as a livelihood? Hmm…or are all the
people in the place you came from like you?”

“Like me? How so?”

“Well, for one thing, curious and inquisitive, including prying on all matters, even the mating of seahorses.”
At that, Phra Srivisarn walks off into the bedroom to change for bathing, leaving Kate sitting with a long
face, both taken aback and amused and at a loss for words in the argument.

“I lost again. I can’t win any argument. He’s so good at finding a roundabout rationale to get the better of
me.” No use for flouncing here behind his back. She dashes after him to get the matter settled in the
bedroom. Although tempted, it would be improper if they bathe together, creating yet another scandal for
the gawkers!

Late afternoon of the next day, a manservant from the house of Phraya Kosa comes over carrying bad
news. The note addressed to Kate states that regarding a proposition to the King to have Jamuen Sri
return permanently to Ayodhya, there is no progress, because King Narai is ill-disposed. Only Prince Pi
and Phaulkon can request his audience. All other Siamese nobility have not appeared before the King for
many days now. Word is getting around among Siamese noblemen who find the situation upsetting.

Days later, Jamuen Sri departs Ayodhya accompanied by his manservant. He takes enough supplies for
the journey, including rice and dry goods to cook along the way. Kate feels dejected and frustrated. Her
mood does not go unnoticed by her husband. After saying farewell to his brother and returning to the
house, he poses the questions arousing his curiosity to her.

“What becomes of you? Why do you look so upset?” Kate looks at his handsome face quietly. How can
she tell him that she knows what is going to happen? Despite her foreknowledge, there is no way of
preventing or helping. She figures that telling the truth now could create more problems. So she redirects
her concern.

“I feel so sorry for Mother. She should have all her sons with her.”

“Oh, Mother has come to terms with that condition after so many years. You do not need to be concerned.
Furthermore, the situation in Ayodhya is volatile. Anything can erupt at any moment. All the worse when
the King has fallen ill and not appeared for audiences of ministers in the service of the crown. Rumors are
rampant. The better for Brother Sri to stay away from trouble in court.”

Her husband’s word puts Kate to thinking. If one’s life is doomed to end, circumstances will convene to end
it wherever one is. Therefore, even if she had succeeded in her intervention of preventing Sriprat from
going to Nakorn, it does not mean that he will not die. Being in close service to King Narai at this time
might draw him into the arena of rivalry and dissent. All the more reason his life could end faster here than
at his banishment to Nakorn. Thus thinking, her eyes clear up, and she smiles at the person who has
inadvertently quelled her anxiety. The serene, circumspect man makes his case convincingly as is his
nature and calms her agitation unexpectedly.

By the end of December, another death of an important personage occurs—that of Phraya Visut Sakorn,
Luang Ruang’s father. The year 2230 B.E., or A.D. 1687, sees many Siamese dignitaries drop off like
fallen leaves. After the funeral of his father, Luang Ruang relocates to Songkwae as his permanent
residence. Every time he comes down to Ayodhya for official business, he pays visits to his best friend and
Kate. And finally, Phaulkon is promoted to Chaophraya Vichayen, the highest-ranking minister of the
Siamese court.

On the third of January, B.E. 2231 or A.D. 1688, Monsieur La Loubère returns to France. King Narai
recovers from his illness, relocates to Lavo and has Père Tachard carry the royal missive to Louis XIV and
Pope Innocent XI in Rome, with three junior officials, Khun Viset Sinthu, Khun Chamnan Vari and Khun
Phubet Phiphit, as bearers of his presents. Many students accompany the mission to pursue a Western
education.

At the end of January, King Narai finally agrees to the advice of Phraya Kosa regarding Sriprat. He
dispatches a missive to the Governor of Nakorn to return Jamuen Sri to Ayodhya to complete the
composition of Samutkot Kamchan left unfinished by Phraya Hora.

But things have transpired as Kate foresaw. A horseman-messenger arrives to report of Sriprat’s death by
execution. It is like thunder striking out of the blue. King Narai is devastated for having thought to bring his
favorite poet back belatedly. The elder son of his late mentor is now gone for good. The King cannot
contain his fury. Even when Sriprat violated one of his concubines, he relinquished capital punishment and
merely banished him to a provincial town. But under the same circumstance, the Governor of Nakorn has
sentenced the King’s favorite poet to execution. The royal sentence is dispatched to Nakorn to have the
Governor decapitated, just like in the poem Sriprat had allegedly scratched on the ground before his
execution.

“Let Earth be my witness

I am a force to be reckoned with

If guilty, my execution is justified.

If not, the blade will turn against the executioner”

A few days after learning of Sriprat’s death, Kate feels dizzy and nauseated. She needs to lie down for rest
for days on end. The entire household worries about her at a time when the grief of two great losses have
not abated. When a Chinese medicine man inspects Kate, he announces that Karaket has conceived.

“How can it come so fast?” asks Lady Champa. “Heaven may pity me for having lost my husband and
son in succession, so divinities sent me a grandchild so soon.” Crushing grief has morphed into ultimate
elation for Lady Champa. If she could, she would carry her daughter-in-law everywhere without letting her
walk. She keeps asking what Kate is craving to eat and supplying the pregnant woman’s appetite at all
costs.

Besides nausea, a bigger appetite and drowsiness, Kate barely has other severe symptoms of morning
sickness. Neither does she have cravings for unusual delicacies. She eats everything in sight. The proud
father-to-be Phra Srivisarn has not stopped smiling since. Phraya Kosa, Phraya Chula and Lady Chanwad,
Phra Petraja and Luang Sorasak, and even Chaophraya Vichayen and Lady Tanquimar, keep sending
food and delicacies to fill Kate’s appetite. Kate’s first pregnancy has not been troublesome, but rather an
ambrosian heaven for her. All the appetizing delicacies are laid within her reach and she keeps satisfying
her appetite all day.

When he first heard of his brother’s death, Phra Srivisarn was reminded of the similarity of Kate’s previous
warning to Chaophraya Kosa Lhek.

“Karaket, you acted as if you had foreknowledge of the events.” At that, Kate widens her eyes and tries to
act casually.

“Of what, may I ask?”

“Never mind. I must have read too much into it. Do you feel much dizziness now?” Kate who is starting to
glow in her pregnancy smiles with relief and pleads her case with concern of how she looks.

“I am no longer dizzy, but I feel I am getting so fat.”

“Not fat, you are filling out and glowing very nicely.” She responds with a long face. Tormenting memories
of her past obesity creep in on her. Obesity, which led to her inferiority complex for which she
compensated with other superior features, is now beginning to come back to haunt her. His wife’s
expression of true concern prompts Phra Srivisarn to pull her in his arms.

“Even if you were as fat as a walking rainwater-collection jar, you are still my loving wife.”

“Whoa! A walking water-jar, am I?” Flattered, she still worries.

“What is inside you is what binds me to you, not the outer appearance. Otherwise, I would have loved the
old Karaket before you came. Even if you look different and not as attractive as how you look now, fatter
than I can wrap my arms around, to me you shall be my Karaket always.”

Insecurity and haunting fear of the past are now quelled by his comforting words. Kate sighs as if a heavy
load has lifted from her chest, hugging and leaning on her husband in complete surrender.

In mid-February, King Narai’s health worsens. Apprehension and political agitation sweep across the
nobility. So many rumors fly about that it is hard to choose what to believe. News of the conspiracy of Phra
Petraja with the Dutch physician Daniel to seize power, news about Prince Aphaithot and Prince Noi’s
assembling men in preparation for a grand scheme, and news that the French back Prince Pi are all
rampant. Some say Prince Pi sides with Phra Petraja and others that the two princely brothers are siding
with Phra Petraja too. With rumors rife, no one can discern truth from falsehood.
“There must be something going on in the court. I was repeatedly kept from having an audience with the
King. How infuriating!” Phaulkon grits his teeth indignantly. Now the situation has reached the boiling point,
and he cannot make contact with Prince Pi. He also learns that Prince Pi is keeping to himself by the
King’s side for his own protection and safety. The Siamese nobility, especially Phra Petraja and Luang
Sorasak, are truly his archenemies. His shrewd eyes grow tainted with confusion and fear. Yet when he
sees Tanquimar holding his sons, he becomes fortified and makes a key decision. He drafts a letter and
dispatches it to the fort in Bangkok asking for urgent protection as has been previously arranged.

After the dispatch, he walks over to warn Tanquimar to take utmost care and orders the servants to keep a
close watch on his two sons. Tanquimar is severely alarmed by his actions.

“Why did you do it? Your dispatch calling for help will only deteriorate the situation.”

“I really need to do it, Tanquimar. You are aware that my current status is like living in a den of tigers and
predators. How can I be at ease when I do not know when danger will arrive? We must snatch the first
opportunity in our hand. They are doing everything in their power to keep me from the royal audience.”

“At the time when you enjoyed royal favor, you kept Siamese nobility from the royal audience too, do you
remember? You have now sent for a military force to come here. With the existing French soldiers in Lavo,
would it not be a rebellion?” Tanquimar sighs in distress. The contest to win sovereign favor and power and
to oppress opponents is indeed an endless vicious cycle.

“And you would rather have me sitting still and doing nothing? Phra Petraja and Luang Sorasak aim to
destroy me at the first chance they have. They are undermining my power and preventing me from seeing
the King of Siam. What shall I think of that?”

“My only fear is that the catalyst of such a turn of events is indeed you yourself.” Tanquimar’s accusation
makes Phaulkon waver.

“I have been in plenty of crises and I have always survived unscathed. When I was little, I was bullied and
oppressed by sailors who treated me lower than a slave. I have endured difficult times. Hardships have
forced me to struggle and fight until now. And you would have me surrender and leave it to chance?”

“Siam has given you refuge and a livelihood. Were they not enough for you, Phaulkon?” The name his wife
calls him sends tremors though him, weakening his constitution, in shame and rage. “You did what you did
for whom, have you ever thought of that? France is not your birth country, nor the land of your refuge. And
if you claimed to do it for the love of God, God would never expect to wage a war that can only end with
fatalities and tears of sorrow. If you claimed to do it for me and your sons, that is not what I and my sons
want. Or did you do it all for yourself?”

“Tanquimar!” A raging roar as if from a wounded animal makes Tanquimar raise her fair face in challenge.
She has no fear of his temper. “I will put up with your beatings a hundred times over, but I will not condone
your actions. You are your own worst enemy who asks for your own downfall, which could affect me and
the children too. At least you should be grateful for the kindness the King of Siam has always given you.
The King sees you as his trusting friend and his favorite minister. And now you trample on his Kingdom by
an act of invasion.” At that, Tanquimar walks off to pick up her younger son into her arms.

The current situation puts her in a dilemma. If she runs off to inform the Siamese nobility of the impending
mobilization of the French troops, the father of her children would no doubt be in fatal danger. Moreover,
the house is now heavily guarded. She is in de facto house arrest. Phaulkon would never allow easy
passage in and out of the house, herself included.

The lithe figure walks into the chapel on the compound, handing her son off to the care of her maids. She
kneels down and prays intently. She has made a decision to put her life in the hands of God. Whatever will
happen, she will accept as God’s will.

The political situation worsens. Phra Petraja is alerted of Phaulkon’s letter to Bangkok. He is distraught. He
urgently rallies forces to prevent Ayodhya from falling under French occupation. Dutch troops stand ready
to fully assist as they are already in conflict with Phaulkon and the French. The Dutch have proposed
executing all foreigners in Siam except the Dutchmen if they succeed in taking the reins.

Soon alliances and loyalties emerge. Phra Srivisarn and Luang Ruang side with the Siamese nobility
under Phra Petraja. The apprehensive Phraya Kosa, who was inclined to that faction for their stand of non-
alignment with the foreign powers, remains neutral, being caught in the middle due to his web of personal
relationships. On the one hand, Phra Petraja is like his next of kin, having been raised together by his
mother, the Lady of Dusit Temple. On the other, he is also close to Prince Aphaithot and Prince Noi, the
brothers of King Narai, who were childhood playmates. In addition, there is Prince Pi, the King’s foster son,
who has always been respectful to him.

On account of Phraya Kosa’s affiliation with all factions, Phaulkon is also on good terms with the
diplomatic nobleman. Many are still struggling with the choice of which faction to side with.

Finally, Phra Petraja travels to the residence of Phraya Kosa to give him an ultimatum.

“If you do not lean toward the French or other foreign nobility, please accept my request here. I respect
you as my own blood. You must have thought it out thoroughly. You know as well as I do that all the people
in the capital think that you are on my side. If the other side took power, would they spare you and your
family?” Phraya Kosa has no concern for himself in the least, but when Phra Petraja mentions his family,
his decision is urgently made.

“What would you have me do?”

“If we do not act now, it will be too late. I have learned that Phaulkon sent a dispatch to have the French
troops in Bangkok mobilize to Lavo. When their troops arrive, it will be the end of us. You must ask the
King’s brothers to bring some 2,000 men to ambush the French soldiers.”

This senior Siamese nobleman has meticulous plans in his head, but he has kept his grand scheme from
Phraya Kosa, knowing the latter’s character to be kind and lenient, not unlike his mother, Lady of Dusit
Temple. Despite his apprehension, Phra Petraja moves forward with his plan. A grand plan needs
immediate action, no matter how vicious. It is either us or them who will go down. The first person he
would get rid of is Prince Pi, who has defected and converted to Catholicism. And now that the decision is
made, he, Phra Petraja, must pursue it to the end. Even the two princely brothers cannot be left as thorns
on his side.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Turbulence and Dissolution

It is evening, and Kate is swept over by an uncanny feeling. Four months into her pregnancy, her stomach
is so huge that everyone says it will be a difficult birth. Her mother-in-law, Lady Champa, keeps procuring
some nostrums for Kate to eat and drink. Today there are consecrated bananas and water boiled with
lotuses after being used for worshipping Buddha at the shrine. She has never felt so indisposed as she is
feeling today. Though she cannot remember the exact date and month of the change of reigns, she has a
deeply unsettling premonition, and she tries to keep up on news and updates with inquiries to her husband
or his valet Cherm. An outing to distract her mind is out of the question because Lady Champa and Phra
Srivisarn would not allow her to ride on a boat and walk around the marketplace in her condition.

It seems that the whole city is disquietingly quiet, like the stillness before a monsoon storm. She is
surprised that no signs are evident that a great change is imminent.

…Or was the recorded history inaccurate?...

Late in the morning of the next day, Kate walks over to wait for her husband at the big pavilion. She learns
from the servants dusting, sweeping, wiping and mopping the house that Lady Champa is napping. She
has not sat down yet when Cherm walks up, armful of books, logbooks, notebooks, memos and
proceedings, followed by the tall frame of Phra Srivisarn who has grave concern written on his face.

Lately, King Narai has resided in Lavo and is indisposed to appear for audiences. In the King’s absence
from Ayodhya, Phra Srivisarn works at the residence of Phraya Kosa in his capacity of Treasury,
discussing and consulting. On some days, he is out for inspection of foreigners at the harbor. With his
current rank, it has become hard for him to hang out drinking as he did many years earlier. He now
gathers intelligence by sending servants to wander in the area.

“Karaket, this evening you stay with Mother. I have some business to handle by dusk today.”

“What business is it?” Kate’s heart drops as she asks.

“There is no need to worry. It is not anything critical.”

“Avoiding telling the truth amounts to lying, you know.” She second-guesses her husband when he averts
her eyes.

“Be that as it may, you stay put and calm. Do not let the servants go out. I heard some bad news in regard
to Phaulkon.”

“Is he plotting a rebellion?” She widens her eyes, mentally reviewing her sketchy memories of Thai history.

“That is possible because Phaulkon has dispatched a mounted messenger to Bangkok to ask for
mobilization of hundreds of troops. It cannot be a good sign. And I just heard that the soldiers have nearly
reached Ayodhya.”

“What! Why is this happening so soon? It is only April now.” Kate exclaims softly.

Her husband stares back quizzically.

“What did you say?”

“Um…I only feel that it is nearing the Siamese New Year. The kingdom should not have to be in such
troubled time.”

“What do the farangs care about our festive time of the New Year? They only want to speed up what is to
their advantage. I have to go now.”

“Take good care of yourself, please.”

“Did you forget whose pupil I am? I shall not let myself fall into perils so easily.” Her husband’s playful
boast makes Kate throw an endearing glance at him. She feels more at ease as she has witnessed the
potency of magical arts in these days. In her other life, she used to wonder about the use of occult arts
referenced in chronicles or in literature. In fact, she used to laugh in disbelief.

But since meeting Master White-Robe in this life, she has to acknowledge the existence of the magical arts
and the occult. She wonders if over the years yet to come, masters of these arts jealously guarded their
secrets, fearing that the power of the occult could fall into the wrong hands. Well-intentioned masters
carefully select which pupils to pass their special teachings to, and fewer and fewer students become
eligible until the occult may have waned over time. In Kate’s other life, it has become an arcane art.

Personally, she thinks that what counts is not only the mantra, but strong belief to focus and concentrate
one’s mental power. In these days, there are practically no diversions. Silence can invoke mental power
that transcends into superpower. The people she sees in this life seem serious, fierce, steady, and pious.
From her observations as a trained archaeologist, she feels the intensity of their belief and the respect
accorded to the occult may feed their mental powers, so to speak.

Kate tries to act normal. When Lady Champa comes out of her bedroom and asks about her son, the
answer she gets is that he had to tend to urgent business with some farangs. This does not sound unusual
but rather what Phra Srivisarn routinely does as he negotiates business deals with foreigners in the
country.

During their trip with hundreds of men to Lavo, General Desfarges hears rumors that the King of Siam has
passed, and unrest is breaking out in the city. Arriving at Ayodhya, the General commands his troop to stay
at the French Community behind Panancherng Temple while he gleans intelligence to confirm the hearsay.
He is well aware that if there is domestic unrest, it will be risky for French troops to intervene. The one who
acts first will have the advantage. And if so, he must assess whether Lavo might be a big trap waiting for
his men to walk to their death.

Not long after the general of France sits down to plan his next strategic move, one of his men enters and
announces a visit from a Siamese nobleman—Phra Srivisarn Sunthorn. The General recalls making his
acquaintance at the time of the Siamese mission to France. He comes out to receive him at the front of his
residence. “Je suis honoré par votre visite. Pour quelle raison vous deplacez-vous jusqu’ici?” (I am
honored by your visit. To what do I owe the honor of your presence?)

“Je ne puis rester trop longtemps. Je dois juste vous entretenir de votre voyage à Lavo.”
(I can't stay too long. I just have to talk to you about your trip to Lavo.)

“Vous m’inquiétez. Je vous écoute.”

(You worry me. I'm listening. )

“Ces derniers jours, le trouble monte dans le Siam, en plus la situation à Lavo n’est pas certaine. Si vous
y allez, les affrontements seront inevitables. J’ai appris que près de mille hommes vous attendant en
chemin. Vos troupes, même bien armées, ne pourront resister longtemps à ces valeureux guerriers.” (In
recent days, trouble is mounting in Siam, and moreover, the situation in Lavo is uncertain. If you go,
clashes will be inevitable. I've learned that nearly a thousand men are waiting for you on the way. Your
troops, even if they are well armed, will not be able to resist these valiant warriors for long.)

“Pourtant, je voulais juste y aller pour soutenir mes hommes.” (Yet I just want to go there to support my
men.)

“Phaya Vichayain? Vous savez bien que la noblesse du Siam le deteste. Si vous y allez avec des
hommes et des armes, cela provoquera la confusion.” (Phraya Vichayen? You know well that the nobility
of Siam despises him. If you go there with men and weapons, it will provoke confusion.)

“C’est bien pensé. Vous avez raison.” (It's well thought out. You're right.)

“Il est préférable de rentrer a Bangkok, la décision vous en revient. Vous êtes le chef. Votre vie est entre
vos mains, mais le sang de vos hommes est précieux. Ne le faites pas couler pour rien.” (It is better to go
back to Bangkok. The decision is up to you. You are the leader. Your life is in your hands, but the blood of
your men is precious. Do not waste it needlessly.

General Desfarges is dismayed. He is angered that Phaulkon has delayed his action to the last moment
so that mobilizing troops now looks like a suicide mission. Hundreds of men against thousands, however
valiant, means being outnumbered to the point of idiocy were he to engage. As he ponders this imbalance
of power, he further recalls that most Siamese men appear to have some strange supernatural powers.
That thought makes him cringe. He has seen the inexplicable with his own eyes so many times, and that
becomes the final justification for his decision now.

“Vous savez que je travaille pour l’honneur du roi de France qui est ami du Siam. Je ne veux pas lutter
contre le Siam. Mes hommes sont ici pour aider nos amis siamois, pas pour les combattre.” (You know
that I work for the honor of the King of France who is friend of Siam. I do not want to fight against Siam.
My men are here to help our Siamese friends, not to fight them.)

The rhetoric from General Desfarges makes Phra Srivisarn smile to himself. But his countenance merely
expresses a matter-of-fact seriousness.

“Je comprends que la grandeur de roi Louis est immense, et c’est pour cela que je me suis rendu chez
vous. Je dois m’en aller maintenant, je ne puis rester plus longtemps. On ne peut compter sur personne
dans la situation actuelle!” (I understand that the greatness of King Louis is immense, and that is why I
went to your home country. I have to leave now, I can't stay any longer. We can't count on anyone in the
current situation!)

“C’est entendu. Je vous remercie. Votre amitié m’honore.” (It is understood. Thank you. Your friendship
honors me.)

After Phra Srivisarn takes his leave, the men who sent to scout for intelligence return and report that they
have not noticed anything out of the ordinary. The Siamese are carrying on with their lives as usual. There
is no agitation and no unrest. And the intelligence detail to Lavo finds nothing unusual as well.

Even with such intelligence, General Desfarges steadfastly stands by his decision to cancel the plan. He
speculates it was the ploy of those Siamese noblemen. He commands all of his troops to return to
Bangkok the next day. Although this about-face stirs dissatisfaction among the French community, he
disregards the civilian reaction, knowing that if he pushes ahead, his country might face a military loss, an
erosion of good relations with Siam, and potential fatalities among his troops stationed in Siam.

Phaulkon slowly eases himself down on the pew in the chapel in his home. His disconcerted mind finds
calm in the presence of God. He vacillates between sending a letter to abort the request for military back-
up and acting on the feelings instigated by Tanquimar and going ahead as planned. These opposing
viewpoints do battle in his mind.
Finally, the tall frame of the farang nobleman walks to the kitchen in which Tanquimar spends most of her
day. At the sight of her husband, Tanquimar leaves her chores at the stoves and walks toward him. Out of
earshot of the servants, she hears his musings.

“Do you know who I feel is my true friend?”

“General Desfarges?”

Phaulkon has a smile at the corners of his mouth at his wife’s reply. “Is that General Desfarges even my
friend? He merely…seeks his security and prestige, not unlike myself. The person I think is my true friend
is the King of Siam. I made a final decision to take my hands off everything. Just let me see him with my
own eyes and know that he is not seriously ill. And if he is, we can find some expert physicians to save
him.”

“Do you really think this way?”

“The King of Siam has been very kind to me. It is a kindness I have never received from anyone. I took
advantage of his benevolence with swaggering hubris. I now feel a deep gratitude for him like I never did
before. The rumor of his demise puts me to thinking. Even if I were contemptible to all the other Siamese
lords, I should never be vicious to the only friend I have in this exotic kingdom.”

“If so, you do not need military force to back you up.” Tanquimar smiles, pleased with his self-realization,
though her relief is tainted by doubt.

“I shall write a missive to dispatch as soon as possible. I only want to let you know of my decision first. And
I want to tell you that I am so glad I have you for my wife.” His word comes unexpectedly but Tanquimar is
not overjoyed. She merely lowers her head and smiles calmly before glancing up at her husband walking
off.

Leaving Tanquimar with his final decision, Phaulkon writes a letter and orders a mounted messenger to
carry it to General Desfarges, calling off the French troop’s mobilization. Little does he know that before
arriving at Ayodhya, his missive will be intercepted, the horseman killed, and the content of the letter no
longer a secret.

Phra Petraja learns of the withdrawal of Phaulkon’s plan with growing boldness. The next move he plots is
to eliminate the faction with substantial back-up forces—the two royal brothers of the King.

It is the beginning of July, and Kate is bigger than most women in the seventh month of pregnancy. The
mother-to-be begins to suspect that she is not carrying just one baby in her womb.

“Hmm…it could be twins. Quite possible! I have genes for twins, don’t I?”

“What did you say? What twins?” The handsome face leans into hers, having caught her murmuring
midway.

“Our babies. I suspect twins because I had a twin sister. My genetic DNA footprint has proclivity towards
twins.”

“What genetic? What DNA? And what does footprint have to do with it? You speak so strangely again.”
Lady Champa who sits stringing flowers nearby is confused. Kate giggles and explains:

“It means I may have twin babies, Mother.”

Since her pregnancy, Kate has been forbidden to do any needlework because of a superstition that the
baby would arrive with a cleft palate or harelip. At first, Kate welcomes this taboo with delight. Instead, she
must sit idly eating all she can eat in the first few months. More recently, more injunctions are issued,
including banning of many favorite dishes. Kate grudgingly swallows her complaints but feels that this old-
school superstition is from the Jurassic Ages.

“I share your view,” Lady Champa agrees. “With a womb as big as yours for the first pregnancy, if a
gigantic baby is not in there, there must be two.”

“That is wonderful. One pregnancy gets two. Please be twins, my babies.” Her husband’s wish makes her
smile, but reminded of the backward state of medicine during this era, she begins to pale.

“And I am so afraid. Childbirth in these days is terrifying.”

“Why should you be afraid? People give birth all the time. And you eat consecrated bananas from highly-
revered monks every day. Have no fear.” Lady Champa comforts her while looking at her son’s face which
is even paler that her in-law’s.

“It must be really painful,” Kate voices her worry.

Her fear makes him speak in earnestness. “You know, do you not? That if I could take your pain from you, I
would do it gladly.” Although Kates realizes the impossibility of surrogate pain, her husband’s empathy
boosts her morale.

“Come what may. How bad can it feel, eh?”

Lady Champa replies. “My childbirth labors of Sri and Dej were excruciating. But when the baby comes
out, the pain suddenly vanishes. When time comes, you will know it first-hand.

“Yes, Mother.” Kate obliges. A while later, a servant from downstairs comes up to announce that a
manservant from Phraya Kosa’s house brings a letter for Phra Srivisarn. After he reads it, he becomes
more serious.

“The letter comes from Phra Petraja. I shall have to go to Lavo with Phraya Kosa and Ruang today.”

“What is it, son? Can you not wait until tomorrow?”

“I cannot, Mother. We have to go as soon as we can. Please take care of Karaket in my stead, Mother. I
shall be away for many days.”

“What is the matter, khun pi?” asks Kate.

“It is an affair of the state.” Phra Srivisarn gives a short answer and shouts for Cherm, before walking into
his bedroom to prepare for a lengthy journey. Kate puts down the work in hand and follows him into the
bedroom, recognizing that this must be the rebellion of Phra Petraja and his faction. More importantly, one
of its members happens to be her husband.

“Are you travelling in a large group?”

“There are Phraya Kosa, Khun Thong who is Phraya Kalya’s son, Ruang and myself. Other lords are
already at Lavo. You stay put here. I shall have the servants who were the Master’s pupils keep watch on
your safety. I do not know how long the situation will last. Look after Mother, yourself and the babies in
your womb, please.”

“Yes.”

Despite a degree of surprise that his inquisitive, spunky wife seems quieter than usual, he feels relief not
having to explain the situation in so many words.

“May I ask you to care for Mali and her children, please?” Her request makes him speechless.

“I do not know how much I can keep them safe, but I shall try.”

“And you must hasten to come back, please. I do not want to give birth without you being here to help me
push.” Even at this critical time, Karaket has a strange way of talking that amuses him. His arms embrace
the circumstantially big woman with gentleness before burying his nose in her hair then her cheek and lips.

“I shall hasten to return. You are only passing your seventh month. It will be some time until the time
comes. Do not worry and give me cause to tarry.”

Kate smiles at his unguarded show of endearment. In fact, she was just pleading without real concern. She
is somewhat worried, but she already knows the outcome - the incident will go well and meet with success.
Her husband has chosen the winning side.
Nonetheless, she feels incredulous that she and her husband are part of history in the making. They are
part of the Siamese noblemen making an unrighteous claim to power, who are about to overthrow a sitting
monarch and enthrone a new one by armed conquest. Personally, she feels a little off-kilter that she is a
heroine who gets to live happily ever after with one the heroes. Yet, she is also aware that real life does
not end with romantic conquest. Considering the course of these historic events, Kate is prescient that her
character is in the cohort of treasonous rebels.

“Have you ever thought that the path you choose, although it may turn out successful, may be a wrong
choice?” she asks. His shrewd eyes look back at Kate’s curious and searching eyes, and he inhales
deeply. Time and time again, he would like to ask where she comes from, but something inside stops him
each time, telling him that ignorance is bliss. Hence, he now remains silent on this matter.

“I do not know what kind of life you had at the place you came from. But here in this place and time, our life
is to survive and keep our family intact, even if we are somewhat tainted. The country needs strong
leadership. I think that Phra Petraja is a strong leader. Moreover, speaking about righteousness, Luang
Sorasak has as much legitimacy as the two royal brothers and Prince Pi. And if Prince Pi, now converted
to Catholicism, rises to power, it is rather like inviting an enemy into your own house.”

Kate heaves a long sigh. Life is so unpredictable. Who would not want to be the heroine or the hero in their
own life story? And given a choice, no one would want to be a villain.

After Phra Srivisarn leaves Ayodhya, Kate is all ears for any incoming news. She anticipates his return
every minute. She later learns that after the night of his departure, Phraya Kosa used his close relationship
with the two royal brothers to ask them to come out and meet with Phra Petraja and Luang Sorasak.
When they appeared, the two princes were summarily assassinated by clubbing with sandalwood logs.

She remembers vaguely that one of the princes was saved by Phraya Kosa who was shocked by the
realization that he was instrumental to the heinous crime of assassination. However, Kate never learned
this from the mouth of Phraya Kosa directly. She only recalls the details from her vague memory of history.

Phaulkon paces in his house like a trapped tiger. Lately he does not feel well, believing that everyone
looks as if they are surreptitiously plotting against him. People in the street remain cautious and vigilant.
From inside the court come multi-stranded rumors from different sources, woven for different purposes.
And he has had no chance of an audience with the King since February. It is now July.

A while later, the security guard enters and announces a visit by Phraya Kosa and Phra Srivisarn. Upon
entering, they bear a look of grave concern.

“Chaophraya Vichayen, the King has commanded to have your audience.”

“Really!” Phaulkon is excited.

“He is not very well, so he may want to see you to clear up the air.” The older Siamese nobleman explains.

“Yes, I shall go to see him. If he needs a physician I shall procure the best one from France to give him
treatment. His illness has gone on so long that I am worried of his well-being.” Phaulkon’s sincerity over
the King’s condition and glee at finally having a royal audience bring a sad sigh from the kindly gentleman
Phraya Kosa. How many more times must he behave so out of character? Diplomacy and amicability
make him trustworthy. But it is just this very trait that pulls him into deeds completely contrary to the depth
of his mind. Phra Srivisarn turns around to look at the building of Phaulkon’s residence and is reminded of
his promise to his wife.

“It shall be extremely difficult, Karaket.” His words are murmured to the wind while he dutifully follows the
two ministers of state.

Out of the compound of Phaulkon’s residence, they walk in the direction of Chubsorn Lake with two
attending officers.

“Does the King feel well enough to come to the Evening Villa?” At the vicinity of the lake, Phaulkon turns to
ask curiously. He hears no reply but finds himself surrounded by Siamese men and nobility.

Phraya Kosa turns away and walks off. Phra Petraja, Luang Sorasak, Phra Vosavongsa or Khun Thong,
Phra Srivisarn, Luang Ruang and other men-in-arms fiercely confront the farang Chaophraya.

Phaulkon’s two officers in attendance immediately place their muzzles to their shoulders in defense. But
Phaulkon raises his hand to stop them. Luang Sorasak and some Siamese noblemen seize that pause to
dart in and beat the farang officers and Phaulkon until they fall to the ground. Phra Petraja calls out for
them to stop, with Phaulkon barely able to rise. Phra Srivisarn helps him up on his knees. His Caucasian
sunken eyes cast an upwards glance before looking down with gritted teeth.

“You must know your fate now.” The whisper is barely audible between the two of them.

“I know.” Phaulkon answers.

“Do not worry about Mali and your sons. Karaket and I shall help them as best we can.”

Phaulkon does not know how to take that remark. He only whispers his thanks most bitterly. No further
words pass between them, as the sheath of a scabbard signals Phra Srivisarn to retreat from the captive.

“Now that the King and Prince Pi are dead, you have no one to protect you, you traitorous son of a bitch!”
The bold declaration from Luang Sorasak sends shock waves through the tall frame of Phaulkon.

“You killed the King!” His accusation is answered by a brutal kick to his mouth from Luang Sorasak,
knocking out his teeth. Instead of showing anger and sorrow, Phaulkon bursts out laughing in tears. His
inveterate and instinctive wisdom connect the dots into a full picture of the past and what is yet to come.
He turns to bow in the direction of the royal palace, grieving and lamenting for the man who was the lord of
life and his benevolent friend. Now the string of his attachment to life is broken and gone. His remorse
comes too late. Tears drop on the dirt, and he trembles and mourns.

Phra Petraja is stunned by the look of that prostrate man but speaks in a calm, kindly voice.

“Before you die, have you any wish?” Phaulkon’s sobbing subsides. He pushes himself up from prostration
and stares at Phra Petraja in disbelief, his red eyes flashing light.

“I wish to see my wife and sons for the last time.”

“Granted. Siamese nobility and men have taken control of your premises. I shall let you see your wife and
sons.”

Phaulkon is shackled before being dragged to his estate. The sight is a wreck! Bodies of French men are
scattered about. Some are in shackles and herded together. Servants and slaves prostrate themselves
with tumultuous moaning. All the captives are corralled and kept together in one corner of the stable. A
while later, Siamese soldiers bring out Tanquimar. She appears alarmed but in one piece and unscathed.

“Phaulkon!” The abject condition of her husband makes her turn away in distress. Her tears well up and
nearly drop, but she keeps them restrained despite her confused state.

“Tanquimar, I apologize for having put you in this hardship.” At that, her pretty face turns to face him
directly, tears dropping down unstoppably.

“I warned you. I told you, did I not? You put me and our sons in this piteous disgrace.” His wife’s censure
breaks his heart.

“I was wrong.” His hoarse admission as he kneels on the ground makes Tanquimar sob hard before
walking over to kneel beside him.

“Are you in pain? Why did they hit you to pulp like this?” Her small hand reaches out to touch his bruised
and bloody face.

“There is no physical pain. The King is dead. I feel no body pain, not in the least.”

“And…what shall become of you?” she asks.

“I am here to say goodbye.” Tanquimar’s delicate frame starts up violently. “Phra Srivisarn promised me
that he and his wife shall take care of you and the boys in my place. I have no worry on that front. I only
wish to see my sons before I die.”

“No!”

“Tanquimar, please! Have mercy. I know I was wrong. I did you wrong. I did my sons wrong. But let me see
them before I die, please!”

“No. Absolutely not! The boys should remember their father in his splendor. Leave them be to live with an
image of their much-respected father, not one in shackles and so beaten and without form that they cannot
even recognize.” Tanquimar speaks determinedly but with violent sobs. A painful gaze from Phaulkon is
fixated on her. He cannot do anything now, not even wipe her tears. The hands chained behind his back
clasp the thick iron tensely.

Tanquimar gets up, trying to wipe her tears dry and hold her sobs in.

“You should go now. Soon the men shall take our sons out to the stable. I do not want them to see you in
this condition.”

Phaulkon tries to get up to a standing position. Tanquimar nods to the Siamese guards who brought her
here. But she is recalled.

“Tanquimar, I have a question to ask you before I die. Please answer me sincerely and honestly.”

“Ask on.”

“Have you ever loved me? Have I ever been in your heart?” The question is uncalled for and unexpected.
Tanquimar does not even turn around when she answers, her eyes closed as if to envision her husband in
his glorious days.

“I give you my word. I shall have you as my one and only husband.” Tanquimar’s answer gives him pain
and joy simultaneously. Phaulkon turns back, crestfallen, dragged by Siamese men to his tragic fate, a
finality he never envisioned for himself. Vignettes of his past life, of childhood hardships and oppression
replay alongside his crowning glories, coming back now in full cycle to rock bottom. Strangely somehow,
his last thought is self-pride, hubris even. At the very end of it, his was a life worth living.

Tanquimar walks slowly into the stable to join her servants and slaves, whose heads are bowed as they
weep for the uncertainty of their future. No one pays her any mind.

“I am so sorry, Phaulkon. Even on your dying day, I cannot love you. I am sorry…” Her whispered moan
passes her parched mouth. Tears flow down in grief for her own unforeseeable destiny and for the dear,
departed one.

It all comes to an end on the eleventh of July, in the Year 2231 of the Buddhist Era, or A.D. 1688. Not long
after that, Phra Petraja ascends the throne and is crowned as the first monarch of the Ban Plu Luang
Dynasty, with the grateful support of Luang Sorasak who declines his own kingship, as earlier plotted by
Phra Petraja. King Petraja then appoints Luang Sorasak as Viceroy and heir to the throne.

Phraya Kosa is promoted to Chaophraya Kosa Thibodi in charge of Treasury as before, Phra Voravongsa
Thirajsanit to Phraya Atsada Ruangdej, superintendent of Police Force, Phra Srivisarn Sunthorn to Phraya
Visut Sakorn in place of Luang Ruang’s late father who died at last year’s end, and Luang Ruang
Narongdeja to Phra Ramnarong of the Provincial Administration in Songkwae.

Two months later, the entire household is in panic over the labor of Kate --- now Lady Visut Sakorn. Her
old bedroom is modified into the delivery room. A fat, round midwife is assisting in birthing the babies. She
competently orchestrates the rhythm of breathing and the positioning of the fetus. She is convinced that
there are two babies in the huge, round tummy of the mother. Offerings are made to the house guardian
spirit. Servants keep boiling water in preparation. A bowl of sharp crystal salt is prepared, ready to cut
open for difficult birthing. Siamese and Chinese herbal decoctions and burnt stones are prepared for post-
delivery treatment.

Kate clutches the cloth tied to the ceiling beam and pushes as directed by the midwife. Excruciating pain
surges in the pelvic cavity. Pain as if she would die. She feels the numbness on the thighs so badly that
she wants to dismember her legs at that instance. Large drops of sweat ooze down her face which Phin
and Yam keep wiping and fanning. However, the midwife forbids too much fanning to keep her body
temperature in check. The room is closed off without breezes or winds blowing in. The two handmaids are
pale with terror at Kate’s screaming which is heard loud and clear throughout the place. Phraya Visut
keeps pacing nonstop and is himself pale and sweaty. His wife’s scream cuts through the heart of the man
so strong and disciplined. With weakened knees, he stops walking and drops himself down on the small
pavilion’s floor.

“Do not worry, Dej. Your babies will arrive soon.” The person with self-control and calm is Lady Champa
who merely cranes her neck at the door periodically.

At exactly noon toward the end of September, twin sons are born to Kate and Phraya Visut. She refuses to
have them named by anyone else. She insists on naming them Ruang and Rit.

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Love Eternally

After giving birth to her twin sons, Kate experiences postpartum care that seems to her like rituals of the
torture chamber. Besides herbal compresses and saunas, too many things are forbidden during the
rigorous 15-day regimen, including many foods and worst of all, bathing. Reek of strong medicinal herbs
and her own sweat, she complains constantly about the heat and her own body odor.

“Am I being fermented into salt fish ready to grill and eat?”

“Be patient, milady,” Phin consoles her gently. If you complete the full post-delivery care you will regain
your health, have no pain in the bones and no shivering.” She and Yam have to stay with the fire, herbal
decoctions and compresses until they are very smelly as well. After this long postpartum month of
traditional care, the first month baby shower, called ‘ok-duen’ feels like a rebirth for the mother and babies.

“The ok-duen must take place before one month and one day for a baby boy and one day after one month
for a baby girl.”

“What is the ok-duen for?” Kate’s asks before agreeing to comply.

Phin replies matter-of-factly: “The babies are so beautiful. They say spirits may take them for their own, so
you must have the baby shower. Three days after that, they will belong to us humans.”

“Well, I see. That’s why I saw you put my babies in a basket and say ‘Three days a spirit’s child, four days
a human child.’ That’s insane! They are born of me and khun pi. How can they be others’ children?”

“It has been a belief for ages. People will not name their children until a month old or a year old. It is only
you who named them at birth.” Phin complains but takes good care of the babies on Kate’s behalf.

At first, Lady Champa is reluctant to have Kate name the babies herself. But when she takes the birth
date and time of her two grandchildren to a senior monk to check for auspices, she learns that the names
given are fitting. So she gives her blessing. On his side, the children’s father, Phraya Visut, having learned
of his wife’s naming the babies Ruang and Rit, falls silent, not speaking his mind in respect to his wife’s
post-delivery recovery.

Kate learns about the change of reigns from her husband’s account. Things remain unclear to her
because when Chaophraya Kosa’s party arrives in Lavo, the King has already gone. Phaulkon’s tragic
ending is what she knew in advance. She also learns of Tanquimar’s being imprisoned with her servants
and slaves. Her children are sent away separately to live abstemiously in state care.

Shy of two months after the twins were born, Chaophraya Kosa pays a visit with gold jewelry to bestow on
them as baby gifts. It is an opportunity for Kate to inquire after Tanquimar and her children’s well-being.

“Dej has passed me your word of good will. And I already tendered a petition for the royal pardon of
Tanquimar. Do you remember what you said in the assembly of pupils at the Master’s hut? The King often
mentioned your wise words. Soon Tanquimar will be released from prison.” Kate turns to smile sweetly to
her husband nearby.

“And what shall you do next, Uncle? You tendered a petition on Mali’s behalf, so it made her your ward.”
“I shall have her go back to live with her parents and relatives at either the Portuguese or Japanese
Communities as before. Her children must live with her there.”

“It is a relief.”

“You do not have to worry, Karaket. What Mali did for us in keeping an eye out for Siam will not be in vain.”
Phraya Visut reassures Kate that Tanquimar is not in trouble as she has feared.

“She is a resolute woman with an unwavering mind. At first the Viceroy was willing to accept her as his
concubine, but she declined adamantly and asked for my help. The Viceroy regretted her refusal but did
not force her. I heard that she is skillful in making dessert, so I advised the King to have her in the royal
kitchen. Annuities of a kitchen staff should help her live well with her children, given her financial state after
the confiscation of all her husband’s estate and assets.” Chaophraya Kosa elaborates.

Kate listens with resignation. Even without her intervention, history still marches forward, carrying out its
course with precision.

“Besides, the King has mentioned the interest of Phaulkon’s trade with the French. He will ask for it on
behalf of Tanquimar and her children. It is expected that the French will soon pay her. As King, he shows
benevolence to his subjects and expatriates. I think it owes to your words given at that opportune time.”
The Chaophraya’s intelligent eyes look at the woman he regards as idiosyncratic and different from most
women. Her husband, Phraya Visut, shares his view on this.

“Well, it must be coincidental, Uncle. But I am glad that my few words could help Mali’s condition.”

“Why did you mention the Kingly Virtues at that assembly?”

…Ah, I’m trapped this time…

“I just spoke generally. I did not specify…”

“Dej told me of your weird forebodings. Do not conceal it from your Uncle.” Two piercing pairs of shrewd
eyes are fixed on her.

Kate stays silent. Her mind is in a dilemma. She knows not how to explain it. If she conceals it and diverts
their attention, it is unlikely that they will force her to. But there is an unresolved issue on the fate of
Chaophraya Kosa that she does not want to happen. She is willing to tell the truth if the truth can save the
life of someone she respects as her own blood relation.

“If I should tell you that I can recollect my past life, would you two believe me?” It is the toughest
explanation she has ever faced, trying to explain the complexity of her rebirth into this life.

“Recollect your past life? And how does that explain your prediction of the future?” The Chaophraya asks.

“Uncle Khun Pan is right,” Kate’s husband interjects. “Before Khun Lhek was sentenced to be flogged, you
forewarned him. And before my brother Sri went down south to Nakorn, you strived to prevent his going as
if you knew he was going to his death.”

…Now I am driven into a corner… Kate looks left and right to give herself latitude for making herself
understood. She blurts out the truth.

“Because my previous life before I came to this life is in the future, you know.”

“What!”

“You said you were born in the future and reborn backwards in time?” Phraya Visut repeats, trying to
understand, and then widens his eyes in wonder.

“Yes, exactly in that order. But...what I know in the future of this past time is from chronicles which are
often unclear. Though I have foreknowledge, I do not know its accuracy. I cannot be certain of all the things
I know…exact dates, months and years may not be known. I only know of big events that were historically
recorded generally without details. The time lapse in-between is some three or four hundred years.” Kate
also recounts how this body of hers used to belong to her twin sister in both lives. The men listen stunned,
and are dumb-founded and without words for a long while.
“How complex! Did the Master know about this too? He seemed closely acquainted to you.” Chaophraya
Kosa nods with understanding.

“That is correct, Uncle.”

Next Phraya Visut asks about circumstances that he found perplexing for a long time. “You knew that my
father would die. You knew that my brother would die. Did you not, Karaket?” Now what she dreaded most
is happening when she looks into his eyes gazing at her in disbelief.

“Please forgive me, khun pi. It is true that I had foreknowledge but I was unable to prevent it from
happening. I knew that there would be a change of reigns. I knew who would access the throne. That was
why I spoke of the Kingly Virtues at that assembly. I knew that after Father’s death, the King would
summon Brother Sri back to complete the composition of Samutkot Kamchan and learn then of his tragic
execution. I tried to give the best care to Father, but I could not stop his death. I knew that Brother Sri’s
return to Nakorn meant his death, so I enlisted Uncle’s help, but the King was ill and everything went all
wrong. I forewarned Chaophraya Kosa Lhek of his imminent fate but I could not help anyone with my
foreknowledge. I am both astounded and appalled with my foresight. Given my inability to act on it, what
good does it do to me?” The last sentence presents her ability more like a curse than a gift.

“And why did you not speak the truth so we could help you find solutions?” her husband asks. “I am ready
to face everything with you. Now I see why you are so different from the old Karaket. The knowledge you
have is different from that which we know today.”

Now it is Kate’s turn to be aghast. She used to conjecture that if her husband knew the truth, he would
chastise her or accuse her or look at her as a weird creature from space. Now she has the answer. He has
never held any grudges or resented her and is ready to stand by her side at all times. Tears well up and
spill off slowly. Kate becomes a weeping drama queen for an instance.

“Would you have believed me if I had told you? I was an insane lady in your view at the start, was I not?
What could we have done if I had told you? Could we have rewritten the chronicles? With all the things I
knew and all my heartfelt attempts, I could not change a thing. Could you have changed it if you had
known the truth from me? And if you could and if things were changed, what would happen next? If things
turned worse, could I take the responsibility? Could you?”

The elder nobleman chuckles at so many dizzying “could” questions.

“And why are you speaking up now? Will anything bad or any other death occur?” Phraya Visut asks, his
curiosity not yet satisfied. Kate is struck dumb at her husband’s bullseye hit. She casts a side glance at the
Chaophraya who likewise awaits her answer.

“Death and birth cannot be prevented,” the Chaophraya asserts. “Birth always ends in death. Even if you
know in advance or share what you know with others, it does not mean that the person can be immortal. I
empathize with you. As such, foreknowledge is not to your advantage. It is your karma that you have to
face.”

Kate is dazed by his rationale. She has never thought of it this way. “It is true. It is my own karma.”

“So there is no need to tell,” Chaophraya Kosa concludes. “As the Master often said, what will be will be.”

“No, I have to tell you. This concerns you, Uncle. Soon you will be punished for saving one of the princes
from death and concealing the act.”

“And my sentence shall be death?”

“No, Uncle. But you must suffer a lot of pain and disgrace and shall be viewed with suspicion by the King,
so much so that you cannot endure.”

“And I shall kill myself?” He tries to guess his fate.

“Chronicles do not state clearly, Uncle. There are many interpretations of them. I do not know your
outcome, but it will take place ten years from now.”

“Hmm…and I shall live that long.” His unperturbed manner and knowing smile confuse Kate.
“Well…”

“I shall live another ten long years. I can do a lot yet. And I thought I would die today or tomorrow. You
worry too much, my dear niece.” Chaophraya Kosa laughs again. To him, death is not a big deal. In his life,
the act of saving Prince Aphaithot’s life is the happiest decision he has made. It cleared up his despair for
having brought the two princes to their ruin. He has no regrets, not a single shred, even knowing that that
action will eventually bring adversity upon him.

“I get it now. You said the King is like the sun. You were afraid I would get burned by the sun, eh?” Kate
looks down in agreement. The frustration felt but withheld since she came into Karaket’s body is lifted from
her chest.

“What a relief! I felt like my lips were sealed when I wanted to shout fire. Discretion can be a scourge,
don’t you think? I could only speculate this way and that way, in all directions. I was so stressed-out and
unhappy.”

“Were you so unhappy, really? I saw you going about so actively and prying about to know everything. I did
not realize you were under such severe distress.” Her husband’s jest draws a round of laughter.

In the year 2232 B.E. or 1689 A.D., Chaophraya Kosa is indeed sentenced to a round of flogging (40
lashes) for the crime of abetting the enemy by giving safe passage to Prince Aphaithot. After his cruel
caning, the Chinese medicine man who treats Chaophraya Kosa and enables a complete recovery is also
punished. Chaophraya Kosa is banished far from the capital, to hold the provincial office of Chaophraya
Sri Thammaraj. He is replaced by his son, Phraya Asda Ruangdej, later elevated to Chaophraya
Voravongsa Thiraj, as Minister of the Treasury.

The clear and loud voices of his sons are heard from the rambutan orchard, quite far from the main house.
The man who has just disembarked walks up from the pier in the direction of the noise, telling his valet
Cherm to carry his royally-bestowed brocade up to the house while he goes to investigate. Reaching the
source of the noise, he cannot believe his eyes. Is that his lady wife sitting high up on the rambutan tree
harvesting fruits? Below the tree, two boys jump up and down, cheering and pointing to which bunches of
rambutan they want their mother to pick.

“Lady Karaket!” The voice of authority shouted upwards at her turns the tree climber’s legs and arms to
jelly. She clutches a branch to prevent herself from falling. On hearing this loud voice, one urchin runs up
to hug his father’s leg.

The difference in the spitting image of the two twins is in the eyes. The one who stands grinning without
holding on to the paternal leg has his father’s eyes -- serious and steady. The other, who is clutching
tightly, has his mother’s eyes -- curious and inquisitive.

Kate climbs down from the not-so-tall rambutan tree and re-arranges her tube skirt, which she has tucked
between her legs, back into the ladylike chib-na-nang style. She brushes off leaves and dirt from her body.

“Why did you not order the servants to harvest for you? What will people think if they see you climb like
that? You are the wife of Phraya Visut, responsible for Siam’s maritime administration.” His no-nonsense
attitude is still there, but his affection is undiminished when he bends down to talk to his two sons.

“You two, mark my word. Your mother’s tree-climbing is a hush-hush to everyone, not the least your
grandmother. Do not say a word about your mother climbing trees like a monkey. Do you understand?” His
concern for her status in the eyes of others comes with a sarcastic comparison of their mother who stands
sheepishly nearby.

“Yes, Father.” The boys promise in unison before bending down to pick up the bunches of rambutan their
mother has thrown down for them.

“Where are Phin and Yam? Why are they not with you as usual?”

“I asked them to look after Kaew and Prang. Actually, I did not want to climb up the tree, khun pi. I was
taking the boys to wait for you at the pier but the little monkeys happened to run around and see ripe
rambutans. They wanted to eat some. I could not find anyone around. I did not want to make a fuss of
calling for them. So I picked the fruits myself.”
 Phraya Visut sighs and laughs. His sassy girl always has good excuses for her behavior, however
inappropriate.

“You have four children now and you still play like a child.” Complaining as he does, the look in his eyes is
sweet and loving. And as soon as they reach the house, the complaint disappears into thin air lest Lady
Champa overhears and finds out about his wife’s wayward conduct.

A year after giving birth to twins, Kate was pregnant again and gave birth to a daughter who is fair-skinned
and sweet-faced. She is named Kaew. Another year went by and another pregnancy. This time the
youngest girl is named Prang.

Now the twins are nearly six, the elder girl, four, and the little girl, two. Except for Kaew who is prim and
proper, the favorite of Lady Champa, the rest are monkeys reincarnated. Especially, little Prang, who at
two, runs around nonstop. Her skin is a little darker than her sister’s.

All the children have been taught French since they learned to speak, although under King Petraja, most
foreigners have been expelled from the country. Sometimes they have funny words and expressions that
puzzle and surprise the grown-ups.

Kate’s, Tanquimar’s and Lady Chanwad’s families see each other constantly. Lady Chanwad is renowned
for her expertise in floral arrangement and perfumery. Tanquimar seems happy working in royal service
doing what she loves in the kitchen. Her integrity, loyalty, diligence and creativity of new and inventive
sweets have earned her royal favor. His Majesty bestows the title of Lady Thong Geep Ma, or Lady Golden
Hooves, on her and she comes to be known to posterity by this funny name.

King Petraja’s skepticism against foreigners, in particular the French, remains unquelled. Although the
Dutch soldiers who helped him in the rebellion that put a crown on his head advised the new sovereign to
execute all foreign nationals, except their fellow Hollanders, he has not heeded their advice. He has made
exceptions to expatriates of all nationalities who have settled and inter-married with the Siamese.
However, he has promulgated a harsh foreign policy against France, expelling all existing French soldiers
from Siam and cutting off trade relations. All diplomatic relations between Siam and France are brought to
a halt.

Kate’s eldest son Ruang is the favorite of his namesake, the current Phra Ramnarong who often travels
from Songkwae to visit the children. Not to mix up the two Ruangs, one is called Big Ruang and the other
Little Ruang. They even go together to Songkwae when Little Ruang is under ten years old. Little Ruang
comes back to tell his mother that he has met a lot of big-shot relatives in Songkwae. Big Ruang
introduces him to Phraya Phitsanulok who finds him so adorable that he formally requests adoption of
Little Ruang as his son.

When Kate first hears of it, her face grows long for fear that her son will have to live far from her. Only
when she realizes that it is only a nominal adoption---her son would still live with his biological parents and
only travel from time to time to see his foster father---does she give consent.

Oftentimes Kate brings all her children and the servants to wait for Phraya Visut under the riverside
Malabar almond tree near the boating pier. It is B.E. 2242 (A.D.1699), and the tree has shed its leaves,
giving her kids brown fallen leaves to play in. Rit, the curious one, picks up dry pods and pounds on them
with a stone to see what is inside. When his mother explains that the seeds are edible, all the children
search for pods, pounding on them and eating them joyously.

Kate picks up some Malabar almond seeds, which taste nutty like almonds, and chews on them tastefully.
When the kids see their father in a rowboat from afar, they run in an uproar to the pier to wait for him. At
first Kate beams at her husband, but she soon detects something wrong from his furrowed brow. Her heart
drops. The moment Phraya Visut disembarks, he calls for the servants to take the kids up to the house and
signals to his wife to sit on the mat on the canal bank a little longer to discuss what he has just heard.

“Karaket, Chaophraya Sri Thammaraj is gone. Uncle’s body is too far from Ayodhya. All we will get of him
after cremation will be bones and ashes like my brother Sri.”

“Yes, I saw your face and I could tell there was distressing news. He did not take his own life, did he?”
Kate cannot resist asking.

“That I do not know. I only know that when I first got the office of Phraya Visut, which is not close to the
King, I did not feel anything. But when I heard today of the Chaophraya’s death, I feel fortunate that I am in
a position that is not too near or too far. You were right, Karaket, when you compared the King to the sun.
Too near, one is the target of envy. Too far, one is the target of royal suspicion.” The two fall into
contemplative silence. Only their sighing is heard. Brown, dry leaves fall on the reed mat. Kate picks one
up and stares at it before speaking slowly.

“Human lives are like leaves on the tree. The patterns are never the same. It is comparable to humans
who are born, beginning from young green leaves and getting darker, then turning brown, and falling off.”
She has not yet finished her sentence when a light-colored leaf falls before her. Looking up, she sees a
bird perching on the branch.

“Even a young leaf can fall when a bird flies in to perch and peck, let alone Uncle Khun Pan. Please do not
take it to heart, khun pi. Do you remember what the Master said?”

“What will be will be?”

“Yes.” With many losses in their lives, Phraya Visut and Kate only sigh. They think of the past and the
future, loyalty and conspiracy, turbulences, and the uncertainty of lives, rising and ceasing. They think of
the relativity of their world. A condemned person, after all, may not be altogether bad, and may be looked
upon, in the eyes of his friends, as a good person.

Things are not black and white. No one can pass a judgment on someone else. No one takes a path
backward from where he comes. All walk ahead, doing that which they should and must do.

“I am curious as to how Siam shall be next, when a man as well-endowed as Chaophraya Kosa with
knowledge, intelligence, capability, generosity and compassion has no place to live. Can you tell me that?”
Her husband wonders.

“Every age in history is all the same. People struggle to survive. Power is sweet for the power-hungry. Yet,
good people abound. Even if their lives are hard, hardship gives flavor to life.” Kate shares her wisdom.

“Is that what you think? Now let us go up on the house. The children must be waiting impatiently for us.
Yesterday I promised to take them to the Talad Noi market behind Pompej Fort.” No sooner does he finish
the sentence than little 6-year-old Prang runs joyously headlong down from the house with servants
chasing after her, close to tears for their inability to contain this rascal little missie.

Phraya Visut laughs and opens his arms to embrace the little girl and lifts her up. Prang is a miniature
version of her mother, including her wheedling manner and look. He cannot help feeling closer to his baby
daughter in particular. Kate often chides him for his lack of impartiality for the children.

After everyone changes into clothes for an outing, one happy family of Ayodhya are on board in a convoy
of rowboats out of the Klab Canal. The youngest one’s excitement shows in her gleaming eyes as it is her
first excursion to the market. The 8-year-old Kaew keeps an eye on her baby sister as if she were an
elderly guardian. Ruang sits still, only his acute eyes observing everything. Rit puts his hand in the water,
with tons of questions in his head while trying to find answers all the time.

At Pompej, they disembark from the boats. The servants hold the hands of their young masters and
mistresses, every one of them. The father acts like an honorary guide, leading the way and explaining
things, while Kate looks on, walking happily, arms-crossed, and smiling at her husband and children.

At its entrance, Talad Noi sells chickens and ducks, live and dead. The youngest girl is all eyes. In a
moment of the servant’s inattentiveness, little Prang lifts open several poultry coops, letting ducks and
chickens flap their wings in frenzied escape. The whole marketplace is wild with commotion. Screaming
and shouting fills the stalls. All the while, little Prang stands, wide-eyed in wonderment that her own action
has caused such pandemonium.

“Gosh! Miss Prang! What did you just do?” The servant in charge of her darts to the little miss. Phraya
Visut and Kate look at the sight wordlessly before bending down to look at the little girl standing agog and
about to burst into tears.

“Come on…Do not cry, my little Prang. The mere noises of the chickens and ducks are enough to drive me
insane already.” Kate snatches her into comforting arms. Kaew comes to her side to help in comforting her
baby sister too. The owner of the poultry that are in flight busily runs after their birds. The servants and
many buyers lend a hand. Even the self-composed Rit sprints after the stray birds. His spunky brother
Ruang already has two of them in his arms. The poultry merchant looks clearly annoyed, but dare not raise
the issue, being well aware that the young perpetrator is a daughter of Phraya Visut who is in charge of
maritime administration.

“Prang!” The commanding call from her father makes the little one bury her face into her Mother’s neck as
she realizes that she is guilty of something. “What did you do, do you know?”

She is crying speechlessly, not knowing how to describe what’s inside her head. She hasn’t seen her
father like this before.

“Father, I want to say that I know what went on in Prang’s mind to let the ducks and chickens out.” The
taciturn Ruang volunteers a response in defense of his sister.

“And what do you think was in Prang’s mind, Ruang?” The father asks.

“She felt sorry for them. Prang is a kind-hearted and sympathetic person. Walking into the market at first,
she was teary. The more so when she saw the ducks and chicken are waiting to be slaughtered.” The
people in the marketplace stand agape at the rationale from a ten-year-old boy.

Having restrained her feeling at the chaotic, funny scene of catching stray birds, Kate bursts into an
unladylike guffaw. The little sassy girl, seeing the big version of herself laugh, feels less afraid of being
punished and confirms what went on in her mind.

“Yes, Pi Ruang speaks my mind exactly.” Phraya Visut eyes twinkle although he refrains from laughter.
Then he goes on to buy all the released poultry from the vendor, who instantly transforms from a long-
faced merchant to a joyous one, who lavishly praises Prang’s generosity.

On the way back, the convoy of five boats are seen by boat-traffickers from Bang Kaja to Klab Canal
loaded with adult and kid passengers and chickens and ducks in coarsely made cages, which are the extra
premium from the poultry merchant.

“Please warn me, Karaket, not to take the children, particularly Prang, to Talad Noi market ever again.”
Kate laughs at both her husband and the kids. Phraya Visut chimes in, so happy at his one big loving
family.

Shortly the ducks and chickens raised in the compound breed and reproduce offspring. The inquisitive Rit
raises a question at dinner one evening.

“Mother, I have a question to ask.” Kate looks weary. This baby twin always has bizarre questions for her. It
seems like he thinks his mother is an omniscient sage because even Father always asks her opinions on
all subjects.

“What is it, Rit?”

“I see hens and ducks have chicks. I see the pregnant servants give birth. I am curious to know how that
comes to be. And how was I born myself?”

Oh, gosh! Kate nearly chokes on her bite of dinner. Phraya Visut stops his hand from eating and stares at
his wife. Lady Champa sits and draws a deep sigh.

“Do you see the effects of the unconventional way you raise your children? How shall you answer to that,
Karaket?” Her mother-in-law has warned Kate against it and recommended disciplinary measures, to
which Kate has respectfully disagreed. She has always taught her children to learn by reasoning rather
than by disciplinary measures. Phraya Visut is the first to get up from dinner and go to his bed chamber.
Lady Champa is the second to leave, shaking her head, to sit at her designated workstation, taking Kaew
to learn how to string flowers. Only Ruang, Rit and Prang remain gazing at their mother, batting their eyes
and waiting attentively for an answer.

Kate begins to think of the working of karma. Things have a way of veering around. She used to be curious
and prying and inquisitive. Now her children seem a handful to handle. To say that the sperms swim to the
eggs would be too hard for the children to understand. And what if they ask her how the sperms got to
swim to the eggs? The sassy woman is nearly vanquished as here are three sassier kids waiting to hear
her answer. With a flash, Kate gets the idea of how to answer.

“Babies, including chicks, are born because of love between the male and the female. A father rooster
loves a mother hen, so a chick is born. Ducks are likewise. So are Father and Mother because we love
each other, so you are born.” Mommy won’t take more questions…Kate nods to the servants to take dinner
away before rising and walking off to her bedroom, leaving the three sassy kids, who seem to be satisfied
with the answer though they continue reflecting on her words.

When Kate walks into the bedroom, she is met with her husband’s grin.

“Well, how was it? Could you give them a good answer?”

“Well! An expert hand like me must be able to answer. But our son Rit is some kid, don’t you think? He
broke up dinner and sent everyone scattering.”

“Rit takes after you. Prang too. She is very much like you.”

“Is that why you love her more than the other kids? You are discriminating.” Kate smiles in jest.

“Even my mother loves Kaew more than her other grandchildren. You too, you love Ruang and Rit so
much, do you not?”

“Hey, why does it turn around to me?”

“You’ve named them after your old lover, did you not?” Kate laughs brightly. “And I thought you are not
jealous. I thought you’d never ask.”

“I was jealous, but I pity that man who must be really hurt for being separated from you. If it were me, I
would find it hard to endure.” He pulls her in his arms. He is always sweet when alone and in private.

“And do you not want to know who Ruangrit is in this life?”

“Who is he? Not my friend Ruang, of course.”

“Before I left him, I saw the person inside Ruangrit’s body.” Her gaze gives her away and Phraya Visut
begins to get it.

“Was it me?”

“Yes. My rebirth into this life back into the past may be due to Ruangrit’s sacrifice and renunciation, his
ordination into monkhood. So I named our firstborn twins after him as a reminder of their father’s immense
love for their mother. He sent me here for you, you know.”

“If we are meant to be together in all our lives, I am convinced that I shall follow you to every lifetime, to
your next one too.” She rolls her eyes and smiles.

“Then you may find your next life quite difficult.” Her straight face and serious voice puzzle Phraya Visut.

“How so?”

“Do you not remember? I plan to be re-born as a seahorse.” Kate smiles with puffed cheeks and tries to
avoid his embrace to prevent him from getting back at her. She is instead pulled closer with his loud
laughter resonating all over the bedroom.

“I shall be the male seahorse, hooking the female with its tail and diving down into the deep ocean to live
happily ever after.” His voice whispers in her ear with a tight embrace. A period of making out ensues until
Kate pushes away from his chest.

“Today is the full moon. Let us go out and look at the moon.” He agrees with her initiative. Outside, all the
kids are already tucked in bed. The stage is clear for their moon watch. Glimmering torches at every corner
cast a dim light over the terrace. The couple stand side by side looking up at the moon from the same spot
where they stood together before marriage. Silence encompasses them for a while in the cool, refreshing
breeze.

Still staring at the bright, glowing moon, curious Kate breaks the tranquil moment to ask a question that
has intermittently nagged at her. “What did you do with the Krishna-Kali scripture?”
“I buried it. At first I thought I was going to burn it, but Father talked me to my senses that if it gets burned,
harm may come to you. So I wrapped it in waterproof oil paper, put it in an iron chest, safe from worms and
termites.”

“Where did you bury it?” Curiosity may kill the cat, but for Kate it is an incorrigible character trait, even as a
mother of four children.

“What good would it do you to know? I will not let it be touched by someone who should not touch it.”

“I do not want to touch it. I merely want to know.” The sassy girl makes a mumbling excuse.

“I buried it deeper than an armlength underground, filled with stones and dirt tightly. Short of a search that
leaves no stone unturned can anyone unearth it. Besides, I do not remember the exact spot I buried it. All I
know is that it is deep underneath the ground in the dense wilderness far from our house.”

Kate merely nods in acknowledgment. Her imagination runs wild and wanders off far away. In the coming
future, will it ever be unearthed? And if it is discovered, what condition will it be in, intact or rotten and
decomposed? Or if it remains intact and potent, will anyone be transported across time like her? Of
course, everything is possible…

Kate leans on the thick shoulder that gives her warmth and happiness. Phraya Visut holds his insane lady
close. Both keep their eyes on the moon, which, with the passage of time, is still glowing brightly in the sky.

A familiar sense of peace permeates every fiber of their bodies. It seems like all that has come to pass is
directed by an invisible hand, a force beyond and above, the so-called love destiny, that merges two hearts
together into one. The passing of time weaves their bond together inextricably even as they move through
the routine rhythms of daily life. And it may be this incredible indestructible love that compels them
together time and time again…in all the infinite lifetimes to come.

AFTERWORD

Some of the data from my research are found to corroborate and others, to conflict. I try to choose the best
I could relate to and the least definitive, as I leave it open-ended to give myself a leeway and avoid
controversy. Although, of course, after extensive research, I may have formed my own belief on the
matters.

For example, when the heroine asks Mali if she has fallen in love with her husband, she avoids giving a
direct answer, talking about her pain and hurt instead. The heroine lectures her on the duty of a wife and a
mother; Mali agrees to go back to Phaulkon. Two interpretations are open:

Mali is in love with Phaulkon (as the heroine concludes. However, her conclusion may be mistaken, of
course.)

Mali does not love Phaulkon. She goes back to him because of her sense of duty. She still feels much pain
but restrains it until later. (I wanted to tell the reader via a flesh and blood character who does not know
what to think, who has self-doubt, what may or may not take place in the mind of the historical Miss Mali.)

Readers who cannot fathom Mali’s mind can be of two minds too—That Mali hates Phaulkon so much she
does not let him have his last wish to see his children before he dies or that she loves him, which is why
she tells him she will have no other husband and weeps her heart out. The latter is what has appeared to
the eyes of others and become historical accounts. Some information is more controversial, but I decided
to tone it down as I had already decided on the development of Miss Mali’s character.

Then, there is another speculation which requires interpretations, i.e. how King Narai died. His death is
complex, confusing, and remains controversial today. In my opinion, monarchy has been the highest
institution above and beyond criticism. The subject matter is more of a challenge to depict than the story of
Mali and Phaulkon.

Seeing myself as the heroine who is curious about the events happening at the time, I therefore wove into
the plot a background in which the heroine has no first-hand knowledge of the King’s death, and who
learns of it from historical accounts of my interpretations.

In the novel, it is possible to say that King Narai may have died of chronic illnesses. Yet, I did not exclude
some substantial possibility that he might be poisoned. Phaulkon exclaims, “You killed the King!” And
Luang Sorasak, who would succeed as King Sua, responds by hitting Phaulkon in rage. This reaction is
open to different interpretations too.

He did not kill the King. Therefore, he was furious at Phaulkon’s inflammatory and insulting accusation.

He did kill the King. Therefore, he did not want the truth spoken as that would undermine his legitimacy to
ascend to the throne.

I was well aware that this might open up controversies, but I wanted to present different angles of historical
possibilities. I found this very challenging and tried my best to balance facts and fiction. A novel too dense
with historical facts may not be entertaining for general readers. However, I believe mine is the acceptable
proportion, considering the overall story.

I think that telling what I believe to be true via a novel is part of the responsibility of a novelist. I therefore
touch on the historical events tangentially, which might motivate the more curious readers to do further
research themselves. Belief cannot be coerced. The readers must choose whether to believe it or not.
Actually, I think some readers may have formed their own beliefs as to what really happened, which of
course I respect their views if different from mine.

[1] Lyrics translated from “The Moon” by artist Thanarath Pinveha in The International Music Album.