the journey,’ Tim replied. ‘According to Hindu and Buddhist beliefs, the individual can attain salvation on his own – an extremely difficult quest – or by taking the easier route: placing his faith in a guru or teacher, who will guide him along the path. All religions are suckers for what the Great Khan possessed – power and wealth. According to Marco’s account, the Great Khan received guidance to the sacred mountain in return for two things: the greatest treasure Buddhism had ever known and the protection that his benediction provided. His was, after all, the greatest empire ever ruled by a single monarch. His entry to the sacred mountain was “by invitation”.’ Tim filled his glass liberally. ‘Remember, we will never know if he actually made it there.’
Ashton leaned forward. ‘All right. Is there any other evidence gleaned from some expedition which could prove that this Burqan Qaldun actually exists?’
‘Wow!’ Tim replied with a half smile, ‘you’re asking for hard proof. Well, we’ve already gone over the only available details of an Oriental quest for the mythical kingdom. Western interest in Shambhala roughly coincided with the “Great Game” played by Britain, Russia, Germany and Japan which attempted to carve out spheres of influence in Afghanistan and China at the beginning of the twentieth century. During that time, a large number of explorers and adventurers traipsed around the mountains of western China, looking, in equal measure, for imperial conquest and lost archaeological treasures. Some of them came to know about the myth of Shambhala and tried to locate it.’
‘They didn’t succeed, I gather?’ Ashton asked quietly.
It was more of a statement than a question.
‘That’s right. None of the expeditions managed to find the mythical kingdom. In fact, the only artefacts ever dug up by an explorer which could be remotely related to Shambhala were those discovered by the Swede Sven Hedin. He came upon scrolls relating to the Kalchakra in a buried city in the Lop Nor desert. He sent these back to Germany to be translated, but nothing was ever heard of them after the war.’
‘And yet people continue to believe it exists,’ Ashton remarked dryly.
‘Remember, the myth says it cannot be found by the ordinary seeker,’ Tim said, shaking his head, ‘so successful or not, these expeditions only whetted the appetite of the West.’ He paused for effect and continued with a broad smile, ‘Which was why Lost Horizon became such a success and proved to be the very reason for the term “Shangri-La” entering the lexicon.’ Tim leaned back in his chair with a smile. ‘You know, of course, that Hilton was from Christ College and was inspired to write his book after reading the accounts of the explorer Joseph Rock in the National Geographic ?’
‘Yes,’ Henry Ashton said, breaking into a smile himself. ‘Evidently, our alma mater produces extremely fertile minds.’ He leaned forward, looking directly at his friend across the table. ‘Okay, Tim, just a straight yes or no. Do you think it exists?’
‘Sure,’ his friend replied, after a moment’s pause, taken aback by the directness of the question, ‘but then I am in the business of believing in these things.’
They were silent for a while.
‘What are your plans?’ Tim asked him finally, draining his glass.
Ashton realized that his friend was gently telling him the evening was over. ‘I plan to head back early.’
‘Stay awhile. I would recommend one of our holistic massages.’
Ashton smiled, his mind conjuring up an image of a young woman gently pressing his temples, with soft music playing in a haze of incense.
‘Thanks, that’s very tempting. Maybe next time?’
They got up and Tim saw him to the hallway leading to his room.
CHAPTER 4
Khanbalik
F EBRUARY 1294 CE
Temur, Governor of Yunnan and grandson of the Great Khan, shivered in his furs and felt ashamed for it. These soft, butter-skinned Hans
Ashton leaned forward. ‘All right. Is there any other evidence gleaned from some expedition which could prove that this Burqan Qaldun actually exists?’
‘Wow!’ Tim replied with a half smile, ‘you’re asking for hard proof. Well, we’ve already gone over the only available details of an Oriental quest for the mythical kingdom. Western interest in Shambhala roughly coincided with the “Great Game” played by Britain, Russia, Germany and Japan which attempted to carve out spheres of influence in Afghanistan and China at the beginning of the twentieth century. During that time, a large number of explorers and adventurers traipsed around the mountains of western China, looking, in equal measure, for imperial conquest and lost archaeological treasures. Some of them came to know about the myth of Shambhala and tried to locate it.’
‘They didn’t succeed, I gather?’ Ashton asked quietly.
It was more of a statement than a question.
‘That’s right. None of the expeditions managed to find the mythical kingdom. In fact, the only artefacts ever dug up by an explorer which could be remotely related to Shambhala were those discovered by the Swede Sven Hedin. He came upon scrolls relating to the Kalchakra in a buried city in the Lop Nor desert. He sent these back to Germany to be translated, but nothing was ever heard of them after the war.’
‘And yet people continue to believe it exists,’ Ashton remarked dryly.
‘Remember, the myth says it cannot be found by the ordinary seeker,’ Tim said, shaking his head, ‘so successful or not, these expeditions only whetted the appetite of the West.’ He paused for effect and continued with a broad smile, ‘Which was why Lost Horizon became such a success and proved to be the very reason for the term “Shangri-La” entering the lexicon.’ Tim leaned back in his chair with a smile. ‘You know, of course, that Hilton was from Christ College and was inspired to write his book after reading the accounts of the explorer Joseph Rock in the National Geographic ?’
‘Yes,’ Henry Ashton said, breaking into a smile himself. ‘Evidently, our alma mater produces extremely fertile minds.’ He leaned forward, looking directly at his friend across the table. ‘Okay, Tim, just a straight yes or no. Do you think it exists?’
‘Sure,’ his friend replied, after a moment’s pause, taken aback by the directness of the question, ‘but then I am in the business of believing in these things.’
They were silent for a while.
‘What are your plans?’ Tim asked him finally, draining his glass.
Ashton realized that his friend was gently telling him the evening was over. ‘I plan to head back early.’
‘Stay awhile. I would recommend one of our holistic massages.’
Ashton smiled, his mind conjuring up an image of a young woman gently pressing his temples, with soft music playing in a haze of incense.
‘Thanks, that’s very tempting. Maybe next time?’
They got up and Tim saw him to the hallway leading to his room.
CHAPTER 4
Khanbalik
F EBRUARY 1294 CE
Temur, Governor of Yunnan and grandson of the Great Khan, shivered in his furs and felt ashamed for it. These soft, butter-skinned Hans
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