Free Kingdom by Tom Martin

answered. The Oracle describes itself as a cauldron.’
    ‘Yes – I worked that part out. But I don’t understand what it means, let alone the rest of it.’
    ‘Wait, be patient and think a little. In ancient China, a cauldron was a communal vessel used for cooking food to nourish the whole village. Nowadays, no one uses cauldrons any more. This means the Oracle is telling you that in the old days everyone used it all the time and benefited from it but now it has fallen into disuse.’
    Nancy listened in fascination. Krishna continued.
    ‘Now listen carefully, this is the important bit.’
    He read the definition aloud:
    ‘There is food in the cauldron still,
My comrades are envious,
But they cannot harm me,
Good fortune.’
    Nancy shrugged her incomprehension, but Krishna continued.
    ‘The Oracle is saying that it still contains food, which means it still contains wisdom and nourishment: it still contains the truth. Then it says that its comrades are envious. By “comrades” it means people who we turn to today as oracles, for example doctors or politicians or priests. It says that these modern-day oracles are envious of the I-Ching ’s power but their envy is in vain for the I-Ching alone has access to the truth.’
    ‘Then the next lines:
    ‘The handle of the cauldron is misused
Its proper functioning is prevented
The fat of the pheasant is not eaten
Once rain falls, remorse is spent
Good fortune returns.’
    Krishna laughed out loud.
    ‘What?’ Nancy said impatiently. ‘What does it mean?’
    ‘The Oracle says that no one knows how to use it properly these days and that its real wisdom, the fat of the pheasant, isn’t touched any more. Finally it finishes by saying that when these dark times pass, and when the rain has gone, then people will recognize that it speaks the truth and good times will return again.’
    ‘That is pretty extraordinary. It seems to make sense. But I wonder how it works.’
    Krishna smiled mysteriously.
    ‘Well, now you know why the Japanese governments consult it in moments of crisis. Be very careful when passing judgement on the so-called superstitions of the East. And be careful in future not to ask the Oracle such cheeky questions. It has been known to play nasty tricks.’
    He shut the book firmly but respectfully and slid it to one side. His expression had become serious again.
    ‘But here – enough of that. Let me show you this. It will help you understand Herzog and Tibet.’

11
    The television screen flickered for a moment; Krishna was fiddling with the cable that joined the DVD player to the back of the TV. Now a picture sprang into life.
    It was a street scene, a scene of chaos. It looked like it was somewhere in Delhi. The picture quality was poor. She could tell from working with old news footage that it must have been shot more than a decade ago. The cameraman was filming amongst a crowd of people; monks mainly, and some normal Tibetan people as well. They were protesting in the streets somewhere; there was a large government building in the background, a Victorian-looking structure typical of the government areas of Delhi. Armed Indian policemen had formed a protective cordon around the gate, which was shut. Their faces were tense as they stared at the crowds.
    And the protesters in turn were very agitated. They were holding up clenched fists, and waving their placards towards the gate. Some of these were in Tibetan and some were in Hindi but some were written in English. ‘Free Tibet.’ ‘The World Must Help.’ The cameraman must have turned the sound on, for suddenly a wave of noise emanated from the television. People were shouting and screaming and there were police sirens and orders barked in Hindi.
    Then Nancy heard another voice. It was breathless and close; very loud compared with the other noises. The incongruity of the setting made her hesitate for a moment, but then she knew it was Herzog’s voice. His accent was distinctive – American but with