Between Master and Slave (Manxman, Mature)

A Quiet Place

I can't stop staring at the reclining Buddha's closed eyes. In the penumbra, lit simply by candle light, the smell of burning incense and the reverent silence inside the temple make the face seem so real and peaceful that it actually calms the queasiness I have in my stomach. The huge golden reclining Buddha is so big that the statue was actually built then the temple around it. The result is that there is a relatively small corridor encircling the huge lying statue. People have to enter at the feet of the Buddha and walk to the head where the exit is. I look at my camera again. I was trying to take a picture of it. But it was impossible to take. You are too close. I point my camera at the perpetually peaceful face and snap.

"Francesco." Master calls from the door in almost a whisper, "let's go."
"Yes" I reply as I look a last time at the figure.
In silence I walk outside. Instantly the sounds of the vibrant city replace the quietness of the temple. The sun outside blinds me when in contrast with the penumbra inside. I am overwhelmed and have to take a moment to adjust. Living with master the past few months at the Masseria surrounded by hectares of olive groves and just the small village of Ostuni on its hill made me forget what I am and put behind me the time spent with teacher and the humiliations I had to live through. Now it all comes rushing back.
"Francesco," Master, was walking ahead of me, comes back and speaks soothingly. He comes so close that I smell his eau de perfume. It is his favorite scent and one I have accustomed to associate with him. Somehow his closeness relaxes me. He looks at me and placing a hand on my cheek, adds.
"Francesco, don't worry. You are with me now. They will respect that and nobody will touch you. I will make sure nobody touches you."
He pauses for the words to sink in. "You do understand why we are doing this, do you?"
He told me it is the only way for the police to have a fix on any member of the organization. They need to have a face, a voice print, anything to be able to track them down. We are the only option they have to have any of it. Slowly I move my head up and down to acknowledge my understanding. Master hugs me.
"Don't forget that the police has your transponder code. So, no matter what, they will be able to find you and you will be safe."
Then places a hand on my shoulder and carries me toward the Wat Arun Temple with its steep steps and Khmer-style spire. We actually climb up the steps, I think the exercise may do us some good and release some of the stress we both feel right now. As we reach the top, I look at it the colored ceramics and gold spires. The area is breathtaking. The grotesque colored ceramic statues with their huge eyes and muzzles shaped like dragons posing in the most strange ways guarding the entrance seem buffoons, yet are supposed to be scary at the same time. I wish they could protect me as they have their deity for the last hundreds if not thousand years. All around people make the usual noises of the mass. A mass passing through the gates of the temple in a continuous pilgrimage. We are about to turn around when an old lady gently speaks to us. Even if we do not understand the language, the meaning is clear, she is inviting us in. On impulse we cross the gates and approach the entrance to the building. Just outside there is an area where people leave their shoes and so we remove ours and walk into the cavernous entrance bare feet. Thick carpets are everywhere. The area is so big that what seemed a multitude outside become only a few inside. Inside, the place of honor is taken by a cross legged Buddha. People seem to be kneeling with their faces to the floor. We emulate them.
Inside the temple I feel safe as if the guards outside protect me as they protected the Buddha for so long and wish I could stay here forever. I think at what master told me outside. It is true that I do not have anything to worry about, the police can always find me and Inspector De Laurentis cares about me, he even called master when he realized I spent a night at the hospital, even if it was not me that was sick. But what about master. Who will look after him? Without realizing it, I find myself praying.
"Buddha, please look after master. Help making sure that everything will be alright and he won't get hurt." I lower my head to the floor three times just as I saw everybody else do. On my way out, I ask master for some money and make a donation to the temple so that master may be safe.
Somehow my spirit has risen as we walk past the sumptuous Royal Palace with its spires and the ever present ceramic mosaics. We pass the Chao Phraya River and its canals filled with boats. I notice how they are packed to the brim with all types of wears for sale leaving just enough space for the small man or woman manning it dressed in simple flat garments and wide conical straw hats. I bask in the chaotic noises of people and merchants, with the smell of water, fish and refuse. I feel alive and it is wonderful. Master notices me and actually smiles.
"This place is amazing" I say above the surrounding noises.
"Yes, it is." Master replies. His expression however becomes somber.
"Let's go," he finally states, "we have to get ready."
Without further words he starts walking in the direction of the hotel.