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meekly. The two watched as Nai Khanom Tom continued to cut through Burmese soldiers like rice stalks in the field.

    “Mmm, that is something I’d like to see,” the king said. “I’d like to see Nai face my great boxers. I’d like to see him beg for mercy.”
    A few weeks later, the king of Burma stood before two hundred of his most powerful soldiers. Some carried elephant spears, long spears with tips sharp enough to pierce elephant hide. Others carried ropes and nets.
    “You are not to kill him,” the king commanded. “If I hear that this Nai person died in battle, you will all pay dearly. Is that clear?” The troops bowed their heads in obedience.
    “I want him alive. Bring him to me.” The king spun on his heel and strode back into the palace. The two hundred soldiers left to join the battle with Siam.
     
    The soldiers brought Nai Khanom Tom in on a pole. His wrists were tied together. So were his ankles. A large pole was threaded between them. Four soldiers had loaded the pole onto their shoulders. They carried Nai Khanom Tom into the king’s presence like a slain animal.
    “He’s not dead, is he?” the King demanded.
    “No, sir,” the captain replied. “He’s a bit banged up. We had some trouble capturing him. Even after we tied his arms, he managed to take down two of my men with his knees.”
    “With his knees?” the king shouted. “Hmmph. Is that why you have him trussed up like a pig?”
    “Yes, sir,” the captain answered.
    “Set him down,” the king said, motioning to the troops carrying the pole. “Set him down right here.”
    “So, Nai ... whatever your name is,” the king said looking down at Nai Khanom Tom lying bound on the floor, “is it true what they say about you being a god?”
    Nai Khanom Tom didn’t answer. His eyes locked on the king’s in a stare of complete calm and complete confidence. The king felt a shiver up his spine. He clasped his hands behind his back and made his way around to Nai Khanom Tom’s other side.
    “They say you don’t fight like a mere man. You certainly have gone through enough of my troops.”
    Still Nai Khanom Tom was silent.
    “How would you like the opportunity to earn your freedom?” The king continued to pace.
    “How?” Nai Khanom Tom asked quietly.
    “I think we have his interest,” the king said brightly to his troops. The troops laughed appreciatively. “By fighting,” the king said to Nai Khanom Tom.
    “I will not fight in your army,” Nai Khanom Tom said simply.
    “Not in my army,” the king said loudly. “He thought I wanted him to fight in my army.” The troops again laughed obediently. “No, not in my army. At my festival. I want you to fight my best Bando fighters at my next festival. If you win, I’ll set you free.‘In my army.’ Mmmph. Are you sure you’re some kind of god? You don’t seem very bright to me.”
    Nai Khanom Tom lay silently on the floor. If the jeers of the king and his troops had any effect on him, it didn’t show. The king made his way back to his dais.
    “Do you agree?” he asked. “Will you fight?”
    “Yes,” said Nai Khanom Tom. “I’ll fight your Bando fighters.”
    “Good. Very good,” the king said. “Now, how many fighters should we have him fight? Four? Five?”
    “I have nine that I have been training,” the captain volunteered. “Nine, you say,” the king exclaimed. “Could you fight nine men, one after another, Siamese?”
    Nai Khanom Tom was silent.
    “What? Not enough?” The king motioned for his aide. “I want you to find the ten best Bando fighters in the kingdom. No, wait. Make that the fourteen best fighters. Ten might not be enough for this ‘god’ here.”
     
    The ring where Nai Khanom Tom would fight was roped off. The king entered the arena with his aide and the captain of his troops. He took his place in time to see Nai Khanom Tom making his way around the ring, touching each rope, whispering to himself.
    “What is he doing?” the king said