is a very sensible idea,’ said Ross. ‘I think your abbot must be a decent sort of a body.’
‘He is the most swollen of guys, I assure you,’ said the Professor. ‘It is the world’s pity that we cannot stay here a week – that is, if he were staying too – in order to become better acquainted. But, of course, we must not forget that the highest passes, here and here on the map, and here, are likely to close very early. The abbot kindly said that he would continually pray for a late winter for us.’
‘But what about this valley?’ said Sullivan, who had been studying the map intently. ‘It is surely far more direct, and it cuts off the worst Red-Hat place.’
‘Oh, yes. I had meant to ask him about that. He has, as you see, drawn his pen across the end of it – the map is very old, by the way, and he has made several alterations and additions to it here and there – and I was just about to ask him why he did so when we were interrupted.’
‘I suppose it must be blocked by an impassible ice-fall, or something of that nature,’ said Sullivan. ‘Yet it might be worth exploring: it is so very much more direct.’
He returned to this subject in the morning. ‘Do you think, Professor,’ he said, ‘that you could send a note up to the abbot asking him about that valley?’
‘But I am afraid that he is already gone. Did you not hear the horns and the gongs at the first light this morning?’
‘Yes. I couldn’t very well avoid hearing them. But Li Han could ride after him. They won’t be going very fast. And that would have the advantage of giving the other monks the impression that this is really a Chinese affair – he could be the overseer of the barbarian slaves.’
‘Of course. We could send a note. I had not thought of that. Now wait a moment: how had I better phrase it?’
Li Han hurried after the lamas with the note and a supplementary present, and before noon he came back with the answer.
‘What does he say?’ asked Sullivan eagerly.
‘Well,’ said the Professor, looking thoughtfully at the paper. ‘I am by no means sure. I am very much afraid that the dear man’s knowledge of Chinese is largely confined to the spoken language. As you know, one can speak Chinese perfectly without being able to write a single word or read one solitary character – that is the case with Derrick, for example, and the vast mass of the Chinese peasantry. Indeed, it is said that the proportion of illiteracy –’
‘But the message, Professor?’ urged Sullivan gently.
‘Yes. The message. Let us be business-like. Now the beginning is clear enough – a conventional greeting – and so is the end, which is a conventional blessing. But the middle contains a number of unrelated characters of which I can make out this one, which means impossible, and this, which resembles the character for “kwei” – that is, “devils or fiends”. Or perhaps I should say malignant demons. Then we have “pu hsing”, which means “it would not work” or, to use a colloquialism, “no go.” Then the character for impossible, with an emphatic reduplication.’
‘Oh, well,’ said Sullivan, ‘the general meaning is clear enough. It does not very much matter: now that we know exactly where the Red-Hats are, I dare say that by using a little common sense we shall be able to get by them.’
They had been very pleased with Tanglha-Tso when they reached it, but when, at the end of many days they were still there, they began to detest the place. They were in a fever to get on: every day counted, and yet they could not get away. Every day there were excuses – the yaks were still on the summer pastures far away, the barley had not yet been threshed, they could not yet spare any men for guides. They were conscious of sour looks as they walked about the village, and they began to find that their few words of Tibetan were no longer understood. Their guides from Hukutu had gone back, and these people disclaimed any knowledge at all of Mongol. Then one day two of their yaks disappeared: nobody seemed to be responsible or interested. They made gestures that appeared to mean that the yaks had run off on their own. The next day a third was gone.
‘What the devil is the matter with these people?’ cried Sullivan, in exasperation. ‘If only the abbot were here, he would set about them, I’m sure.’
‘I’ve a good mind to bang their silly heads together,’ growled Ross, who had spent most of the morning offering little drawings of yaks, loads of food and other necessities to the few men who would pay any attention. One had taken the paper and put it in his prayer-wheel, in case it might do any good, but the others had been uncomprehending and uninterested.
‘I have offered them money,’ said Sullivan, banging his fist into his palm, ‘and they just stare at it and walk away. Flaming death!’ he cried, ‘I shall start to get angry soon.’
‘I do not think that this is a case where physical violence would serve our purpose,’ said the Professor. ‘But I believe I have a clue to the trouble. It cannot have escaped your notice that Tibetan society has a matriarchal structure. The old woman in whose house we live is the virtual ruler of Tanglha-Tso – she is also, by the way, the abbot’s aunt, and in secular matters he goes in awe of her. The same applied at Hukutu. Now the Tibetan woman is not only a matriarch: she is also polyandrous.’
‘Polly Andrews!’ exclaimed Olaf.
‘I mean she has several husbands. The old woman has four. Ngandze was his wife’s second husband, and thus occupied the position of a second wife in China.’
‘Four husbands! Ay reckon she ban a wicked old beezle –’
‘Olaf, pipe down,’ cried Sullivan. ‘Please go on, Professor, and tell us more about Auntie.’
‘Well, we have these two essential facts, matriarchy and polyandry. Now let us suppose that one of these women has taken it into her head to acquire one of us as a spare husband, would not that account for the delay, the black looks of the men and the general change of attitude? We must remember that these men are as much subjected to their wives as wives are to their husbands in other countries that are more civilised – in the United States, for example,’ he said, bowing to Sullivan. ‘Does not my theory square with the facts? We have calculated delay, in order to detain the object of the woman’s passion. We have black looks from the men, either because they resent the intrusion of a stranger or because they had hoped to be chosen in his place. Furthermore, all this has taken place since the departure of the abbot, who would be the only other governing influence in the village. Does it not all point to a clearly defined intent on the part of the old lady whose name I have not yet caught, but whom, for the sake of argument, we will term Auntie?’
‘Good Lord above,’ exclaimed Ross with a groan, ‘I’m afraid you’re right.’
‘Who is the man?’ cried Sullivan, glaring round. ‘I’ll wring his – you don’t think she has picked on me, Professor, do you?’ he asked, turning suddenly pale.
‘No,’ said the Professor. ‘I have been watching closely, and incredible as it may seem, I believe it is Olaf.’
‘I never,’ roared Olaf, starting up.
‘You have been monkeying about with Auntie,’ cried Sullivan, advancing upon him.
‘No, no,’ said the Professor, waving his hand, ‘I do not think any fault is to be attributed to Olaf. The choice appears to be entirely one-sided. Though
