Sabriya sat with David in the back seat of the Embassy’s official sedan on their way back from the Laksana Palace. Jack Clark, David’s security attaché, drove with Hannah at his side in the front.
Something had just happened that changed everything for Sabriya, but she had only just begun to understand the significance. Her speech wasn’t something she or David had chosen or sought after—the Queen of Pellagore had requested it. But coming out against the Pellagore underworld under the Queen’s gaze involved risk, which was no doubt why Jack and his wife, Hannah, had shadowed Sabriya and David so closely throughout the evening.
As the sedan cleared the palace grounds, David silently reached over and affectionately took Sabriya’s hand to hold in both of his. As they rode through the night, Sabriya, exhausted from the post-banquet meet-and-greet and the never-ending questions from the local and international press, laid her head on David’s shoulder and, with her other hand, through his tailcoat, hugged his bicep. She felt closer to him than she had many times before when they had ridden together through foreign cities, going to or from official events. Tonight, however, she was taken aback to realize she was no longer just the ambassador’s wife but his diplomatic partner on the world stage. It was something she had never imagined or sought after. She was not, of course, technically an ambassador, diplomatic minister, or even an attaché. Yet the invitation to stand alongside the Queen and have a voice in the Queen’s agenda elevated her into sharing David’s responsibilities for the well-being of Pellagore and Britain. Was she up for that? That wasn’t the question, really. It was not hers to choose. And it wasn’t really the Queen’s choice, either. It was Providence that had given her a voice. A weight worth pondering, for with the prestige came risk.
She hugged David’s arm ever more tightly and thought back six years to the time, while riding in a car with him, she first hugged his arm.
Flashback - June 2018
Carmelite Monastery, Kolinggar Mountains, Kingdom of Pellagore
“Sabriya, you have a visitor.”
Sabriya turned. Mother Superior stood in the open doorway to her cell.
“Can you put your studies aside for an hour?”
“A visit? With whom?”
“A polite and handsome man if I do say so myself, but of course I should be careful what I say about such things.”
Sabriya turned from her writing desk, a book in her lap. “Why?”
“You don’t intend to live with us old maids the rest of your life, do you?”
“What do you mean?”
Mother smiled shyly, as if she knew why this man was visiting but refused to say.
When Sabriya first laid eyes on David Kensington, he wasn’t a knight in shining armor but just a tall, trim, and handsome man with wavy reddish-brown hair and a shy but shining smile. He was standing in the airy visiting room, dressed casually in a short-sleeved, collared pullover tucked into his white linen slacks, the outfit bordered by a brown woven belt. His muscular biceps stretched the ribbed cuffs. When Sabriya walked into the room, his brown eyes brightened, and his hand dropped to the back of an open-weaved rattan and bamboo chair as if to steady himself. He gestured to a nearby chair, but all she did was stare at the man as if he were a wild and dangerous animal suddenly discovered in a forest clearing.
He invited her to sit again, and she did, after straightening the green cushion, which she did without taking her eyes off the potential danger. Wing Chun had taught her that much.
“My name is David Kensington. I’m a British diplomatic minister with Her Majesty’s Diplomatic Service. I’m currently assigned to our Embassy in Burma, but have been asked to come to Pellagore temporarily in a diplomatic and cultural exchange. There are representatives of Pellagore that are presently in England doing the same.”
Sabriya stiffened. Cautiously, she spoke. “Is this about what happened in the Sapae Nok market a few weeks back?”
“This? You mean my visit today, to meet you?”
Sabriya nodded once. It was almost a reverent bow.
“Yes, I was there, and I saw what happened. I just wanted to meet the young woman who so deftly handled a tough situation and tell her I admired what she did, even at the risk of injury. What I witnessed that day demonstrated a great deal of intelligence, self-control, and…frankly, beauty.”
Sabriya was not expecting these words, or the self-conscious smile Mr. Kensington tried to hide by biting his lower lip. And yet, he refused to look away from her.
“My reason for coming is personal, not official. I am not here on behalf of the British or Pellagorians.
“Then, why did you come? How did you find me? What do you want?”
Mr. Kensington shrugged his shoulders. “I just wanted to meet you…and find out more about you.” He paused. “I admire you.”
Sabriya didn’t know how to respond to his charm offensive. If that is what it was. Was he mocking her? She didn’t think so. On the other hand, she had good reasons never to trust men.
David persevered in pursuing her. On his second visit to St. Mary Elias, he was bold enough to ask her to allow him to court her. She still snickered at the formality of the British to ask outright if he could continue to visit and even bring her gifts, and perhaps, in the future, propose marriage. She agreed with some reluctance. She thought it would be a strange courtship when Mother Superior made it clear that while David was welcome to come and visit, and even share meals with the sisters, Mother would not allow any physical contact between the two, no holding hands, no hugs, and definitely no kissing. It was a matter of appearances and avoiding even whispers of a scandal. After all, the only clothing Sabriya owned was the cocoa-brown lay habit of a Carmelite.
David came two or three times a month, and eventually he went to Mother and asked for the lay sister’s hand in marriage. Mother agreed, on the condition that they were married in a Catholic church, and promised to raise any children as Catholics. David was Anglican, not Catholic. David did not object, which was close enough for Mother.
But when David got around to asking Sabriya, months later…
“Oh, David. I wondered if this day might come. But…I cannot marry you.”
Diplomacy evaporated for the British diplomat. Used to negotiating alliances, he was suddenly faced with the possibility that, here, there was no alliance to negotiate.
“Why? I was hoping you could come to love me. Do tell me why you cannot marry me.”
Over the long months of their courtship, she found herself easily seduced by the gallant suitor she had grown close to. But she was not an innocent romantic, and her retreat to the mountains had brought her peace and confidence she was not anxious to abandon. She had thought long and hard about marriage to David Kensington. Several times, she considered telling him not to visit anymore.
“David, I am a poor, poor woman, from a poor, poor village. I am not educated like you. I have never left Pellagore. You have attended university and have traveled the world. You know so much more than I ever will. I love listening to your explanations and hearing your voice. But I am not like you.”
“Sabriya, you told me—you said you thought you could love me, even though our lives were so different.”
A fathom of tears wetted her cheeks. She wanted David to wipe them away with his large hands that she longed to hold, or kiss them away with his lips that she ached to feel upon her skin. But they were in the monastery’s parlour, and such desires were unfathomable.
“David, I don’t think I love you; I know that I do.” But if we were to marry, that love would change. You have a successful career in international relations, but I’m from a small, poor village, lost in cloudy mountains and surrounded by plum blossoms. Hathou will always be poor and forgotten, but dear to my heart. When I complete my studies here, I plan to return there and help them rebuild after the tragedy I told you about. I’m not good enough for you, David. I would hold you back. You deserve a royal princess with money and beauty, and I’m an unfortunate and tarnished village girl with no hope of contributing to your life.”
David was quiet for a considerable time. “Sabriya, we are different. But we are different in ways that complement each other. I can help you help your village, and you can help complete my life and my work. When I watched you in the market, I saw your generosity and willingness to sacrifice for the less fortunate. Those are rare gifts I want in my life. I am not so generous, and I sometimes resent the sacrifices I am asked to make. I’m also not as courageous as you. Cowardice holds me back. And indeed, I do not hold a candle to your beauty and poise. You are a princess to me.”
“You’re sweet, David. But let’s be practical.”
“Yes, let’s. Let me prove myself.”
David left and did not return for three weeks.
When he did return, in March 2019, it wasn’t for a courtly visit. He sent a message ahead to Mother Superior, arranging for Sabriya to leave the monastery to participate in a revitalization and modernization project for the Hathou village, where Sabriya was born and raised.
Hathou had been a modestly advanced mountain village in northeast Pellagore, at a high elevation where plum blossoms flourished—a secluded place of quiet beauty. As mountain villages go, it was well served with a central well for the 200 inhabitants. The walls of the family dwellings were made solid with closely stacked chinked bamboo stalks and glazed windows and hinged doors that generally kept both animals and insects outside. For the most part, the foundations were raised on bamboo platforms, with joists and wood-slat floors, and throw rugs. The roofs were thatched and overhung. There was no electricity or indoor plumbing. Oil lanterns took the place of electricity, and community privies were regularly moved with lime and wood chips that aided composting. Household waste was composted in metal drums with tight lids and community trash bins that were cleaned regularly with disinfectant. As long as trash was sealed and buried far from the village, the rodent population remained under control. But a raid by beligerants who had a score to settle killed adult residents, burned and destroyed most of the homes, and poisoned the one well, devastating the small community.
With the approval of the Pellagore government and the British Diplomatic Service, David had convinced the AIU (Asian International United), an NGO, to hire Sabriya as the liaison between AIU, the elders of Sabriya’s village, and the Pellagore government.
Sabriya’s astonishment was an understatement. The revitalization of her village was far beyond anything she had ever hoped to accomplish. The AIU team of five managers and fifteen youth workers repaired burned-out dwellings and buildings, met the project’s short-term food needs, set up a clinic and a dispensary, and trained locals on how to administer antibiotics.
Meanwhile, a specialized team brought in equipment to drill two deep-water wells, install a community cistern, and introduced and built multiple moldering privies. Three plots of land for crops were rejuvenated, nutrients and seed were brought in, and a donor provided the village with a small tractor to assist with cultivation and harvesting. They also installed a solar-powered pump to draw water from the wells, repaired the schoolhouse, and provided books and school supplies for fifty students. Lastly, David introduced the village leaders to pathways that would attract micro-investors to finance their terraced farming projects, and he guided the community in establishing a governance system that preserved their cultural heritage. The whole effort took the better part of two months.
When they were done, in May 2019, David returned Sabriya to St. Mary Elias in a light-duty pickup truck he had used to haul supplies. As the two rode alone, with David driving, he defied one of Mother’s rules—he reached over and took Sabriya’s hand in his. At first, she resisted, but quickly surrendered and gripped his massive hand with both of hers.
“Sabriya, what we accomplished in Hathou was not unusual. It is what we as diplomats try to do wherever we are sent. Good relations between nations, which diplomats are concerned with, can only be achieved when the country’s social fabric is stable. It’s not just talk. It’s action: establishing or improving infrastructure such as water, sewage, education, and financial resources. But normally it takes much longer, perhaps six months or a year. In this case, there was a secret as to why we were able to do all that we did in such a short time. Do you know what secret was?”
“Obviously, it was the grant money and expertise from Fredrick and his crew.”
“They were indispensable. But, no, that wasn’t the secret. Normally, we would take most of a year to do all we accomplished in two months.”
“What then was it?”
“It was you. The Pellagore government and the village trusted you, and you trusted the team and me. Usually, many months are required to negotiate what the government will permit and what the people’s superstitions will allow. It was your knowledge of the people and their culture. I’m from halfway around the world, and Fredrick is from down under, as was most of his team. Most of our time is usually spent on political wrangling and establishing trust. Because of you, most of that bureaucracy disappeared. That is why you’re essential to my work.
Sabriya remembered the moment the epiphany hit her, or, instead, the moment the bamboo stakes that had caged her in…lifted.
David continued his explanation as the pickup bounced along the muddy mountain trail toward the monastery. “It’s not just your village. You understand more about the people in this whole part of the world than I ever could. All over Southeast Asia, people will recognize you as one of them. You’re not a distant white European come to save them. You are one of them. You know their lives and struggles better than most. I have the resources to change lives. But I don’t always have their trust, nor do I understand their cultures. As foreign diplomats, we try hard, but our trying is hard. You have the people’s instant trust. Together, we would make an unstoppable team.”
David drove for a while as the 4x4 navigated ruts and hollows, and as Sabriya gripped David’s hand even tighter. Tears flowed freely into her eyes, which she did not try to stop. She took hold of David’s bicep and hugged it with all her strength. Burying the side of her face into his arm, as she watched the rocky road ahead, she told him, “Yes, David, with all my heart. I will marry you. And the sooner the better.”
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