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Ocean of Milk

E-BookEPUB0 - No protectionE-Book
364 Seiten
Englisch
Books on Demanderschienen am21.07.20221. Auflage
The jungle and the war follow the same rule: A bitter fate devours the family and the whole world of a little boy. Arun is only a slave, a talking tool of the Khmer, and in a lost country nobody cares about his suffering. Despair turns into anger and from anger the thirst for revenge arises. And when Arun rises up, the story of the largest and most beautiful religious monument on the earth begins. The first historical adventure novel about the legendary miracle and the beginning of an immortal story.

Jan Erhard was born in 1969 in Bochum, Germany, grew up in Rüsselsheim and studied Philosophy and History in Berlin. Since 2003 he has been working on novels about the rise and fall of Angkor, the miracle in Cambodia. His Books are now published in a new edition - and for the first time in English. Jan Erhard lives with his Family in Teltow, Brandenburg.mehr
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BuchKartoniert, Paperback
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EUR22,99
E-BookEPUB0 - No protectionE-Book
EUR5,99
E-BookEPUB0 - No protectionE-Book
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Produkt

KlappentextThe jungle and the war follow the same rule: A bitter fate devours the family and the whole world of a little boy. Arun is only a slave, a talking tool of the Khmer, and in a lost country nobody cares about his suffering. Despair turns into anger and from anger the thirst for revenge arises. And when Arun rises up, the story of the largest and most beautiful religious monument on the earth begins. The first historical adventure novel about the legendary miracle and the beginning of an immortal story.

Jan Erhard was born in 1969 in Bochum, Germany, grew up in Rüsselsheim and studied Philosophy and History in Berlin. Since 2003 he has been working on novels about the rise and fall of Angkor, the miracle in Cambodia. His Books are now published in a new edition - and for the first time in English. Jan Erhard lives with his Family in Teltow, Brandenburg.
Details
Weitere ISBN/GTIN9783756246632
ProduktartE-Book
EinbandartE-Book
FormatEPUB
Format Hinweis0 - No protection
Erscheinungsjahr2022
Erscheinungsdatum21.07.2022
Auflage1. Auflage
ReiheAngkor
Reihen-Nr.1
Seiten364 Seiten
SpracheEnglisch
Artikel-Nr.9704340
Rubriken
Genre9200

Inhalt/Kritik

Leseprobe

Foundation-Stone

 


It is grander than anything left to us by Greece or Rome ⦠Henri Mouhot

 

To the honourable gentlemen, who choose to belong to the Royal Geographical Society,

today I address myself to you with a recommendation. A young man needs to be promoted who promises to develop the very best qualities. Indeed, Mr. Mouhot is a Frenchman and I can already see you shake your heads. But before you come to a final decision, please take into consideration his career testifying an impressive energy and astonishing thirst of knowledge: My protégé was born in Montbéliard in 1826 and christened Alexandre Henri. His father worked in the administration under Louis Philippe, and in the Republic. A respectable man, but unfortunately not rich, he spent all his money on the education of his sons. Henri grew up, exercised his gymnastics and perhaps he was therefore an exceptionally healthy child. He never experienced fever or illness, a fact that might be of importance for our concerns. In addition, he drank wine only rarely and accomplished a moderate youth. Since he shared a deep affection with his mother, a teacher, he first followed her example and studied philology. Soon, however, he felt more attracted to the natural sciences, as can easily be understood in the home of Cuvier and Laurillard. This new passion gave his thinking a new direction and sparked in him the desire to visit foreign countries. But when he finally, fourteen years ago, traveled to the Tsarist Empire, his mother s heart broke. A lifetime of commitment to her family made her take to her bed, exhausted from the drudgery, never to rise again.

After this crushing blow, fate showed itself more favorably disposed to him: Already Mr. Mohout s first employment allowed him to do his own research. He made the acquaintance of Russian aristocrats and gained initial experiences with the reactionary politics of the country. He was thus disgusted by serfdom that he wrote down his thoughts in a book, which unfortunately was never printed. After that stays in Poland followed, he met Daguerre and used his latest invention. Soon after his returning to France, he traveled with his brother to Germany, Belgium and Northern Italy, where he photographed the old masters and landscapes.

Two years ago the Mohout brothers married two sisters and moved to Jersey, where a peaceful life seemed to await them. Henri has resumed his scientific studies and occupies himself particularly with birds and the shells of molluscs. Perhaps we would never have heard of him, if the brothers wives were not at the same time the nieces of our unforgotten member, Mr. Mungo Park. Encouraged by his example the desire for travelling was sparked in him again, especially to countries that hardly anyone knows in Europe. And as fate would have it, a book about Siam has fallen into his hands, so he wrote to me.

Henri Mohout is willing to take upon himself the hardest ordeals, to elicit the secrets from the Southeast Asian jungle. He wants to depart from his wife, his brother, all his friends, and every advantage civilization has to offer, in order to explore unknown regions in the service of science. He is well prepared for the wilderness and is of excellent physical condition. Both researcher and artist, he is also an unbeatable hunter, brave and kind enough to impress the natives. His intellectual and moral qualities don t offer less promise of success.

In commemoration of our unforgotten companion, Mr. Mungo Park, the hero who solved the greatest geographical enigma of his time, we should follow the Royal Zoological Society. Let us support this young man who seeks a glorious future in imminent danger!

Samuel Stevens, Esq., 1858

 

- - -

 

Udong, 1859

 

My dearest Annette,

Your husband has met the mightiest men of the country, but still does not know, who had more reason to marvel, Cambodia s rulers or I. Here in Udong, the city of the second king, barely live twelve thousand souls and the streets are covered with mud, from which the residence rises. In amazement I waded through the filth, this whirling chaos of voices and smells. However actually I did not turn away in disgust, which was mainly because of the passion of the ornithologist. The ornithology namely brought me to the guns in front of the palace gate, in the mouths of which I was pleased to discover sparrows nests. And behind the portal - imagine that! -, several vultures pitched into the leftovers of the court.

I was led into a plain room with limed walls. A number of servants, perhaps also superiors, were sitting on Chinese tiles, waiting for the appearance of their ruler. I just asked myself why everybody was wearing shirts made of red silk when a young man entered, the ruler. Like the rest, I touched the ground with my head and only after a few seconds I could take a closer look at the king. His high forehead and full lips almost would have won me over, had there not been that irritating hair comb. He asked the same question as his father, whom I had visited a few weeks before. Where is your army?

I replied in Siamese that I neither commanded any troops nor pursued any other purpose than the sciences.

The ruler took counsel with two men who wore the typical hair knot of the Brahmans above their shaved temples. Who sent you then?

I referred to the writing the older king had had handed over to me and assured that no political mission had led me to the court. I explained that I only wanted to hunt, collect beetles and butterflies and write down everything that appeared remarkable to me in the animal kingdom.

This time the savages were whispering to each other for a longer time, until the ruler addressed me directly for the first time. His eyes were velvety black and fear crept over me.

Who cares?

I did not know what he wanted to hear. After some hesitation, I decided on a lecture about the richness of the fauna, which in a different form I already have given our children. I talked about the ibises and crows, parrots and pelicans, storks and pigeons, which I hoped to find in their typical plumage in the jungle. I also told them about my confidence to track down some unknown species, until I was interrupted by an irritating sound.

The ruler was laughing and dutifully the whole court with him. I was embarrassed, but he came up to me, looked at me for a while and finally nodded. Obviously he took a liking to me, because when he spoke, he did so with a smile. A truly strange visitor. He clapped his hands and left.

It was only after he had left the hall, the waiting rose from their knees. I, however, was led by servants into the private chambers of the king, which were nearby. One of them whispered to me that this was a tremendous honour.

The young man was waiting for me in airy rooms that seemed to have neither corners nor edges. Everywhere silky veils were moving in the warm air, big fans handled by servants provided cooling. Without apparent reason, he showed me an impressive collection of elaborate mahogany furniture and beautiful vases, a lot of them probably from China. I had no idea how the porcelain had found its way here, but I remarked the childish pride with which the man presented his treasures to me. So I expressed my enthusiasm and praised his excellent taste. You d be amazed what acting talents are inside your husband. I commented the exquisite colouring, even the shadow play of the contours and deliberately overlooked the ladies that stood between the vases and the furniture. They all were demurely dressed, don t worry! After a while, the king showed me out, grabbed my arm and laughed again. You re the first foreigner who was allowed that.

What? I exclaimed. Still no European has seen the furniture?

No, Mr. Mohout, it s about the women. It was the queen and some of my concubines.

Now it was my turn to laugh.

Dearest Annette! What a contrast to the start of your uncle s venture in Africa. I ve read in the report that Mungo gave about his encounter with the ruler Bondus. He said it had been obvious that the suspicion of the natives arose from the conviction that every white man must necessarily be a merchant. It would be impossible that any man sound of mind would undertake such a dangerous journey, merely to have a look at a country and its people. After all Mungo was then, as you know, under the dearly bought protection of the Lord of Bambaras, but even that didn t help him. A delicious irony: Unlike him, I really just want to hunt and watch birds nevertheless the King of Cambodia protects me for free. He even assigned me three elephants and issued an escort letter.

My beloved wife, yes, your uncle did immortal things, but this was sixty years ago on another continent! And after this promising start I am confident to accomplish something similar over here. This is one of the reasons for which I ve decided to keep a diary. After all, Mungo s report was a massive success.

I know that you re not really willing to share my enthusiasm for this venture. I can guess your worries, you re thinking of your uncle who never returned, but I want to reassure you. In Chantaboun I made the acquaintance of a Chinese pepper planter called Apait, a widower with two sons. The eldest of them is eighteen years old, considerate, hardworking and above all brave: Phrai fears neither tiger nor elephant. With such a guide I should face nothing worse than a fever! So be assured, your fears are groundless.

Your most adoring husband

Henri

 

- - -

 

January 1860, near the fourteenth latitude and the one...
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