“They say they saw our footprints going everywhere and realized that we were lost. They found us by following our prints.”
“If our footprints were going everywhere, how did they know which set to follow?” asked the Acharya.
“They also use their sense of smell to pick up scents.”
“Like animals?” Vetala Bhatta asked, impressed.
“Yes.”
“And they are peace-loving?”
“They figured we were too fatigued and too close to death to pose a threat.”
“Why are they helping us? I mean, are they?”
“Yes, raj-guru. The moment they learned we are from Samrat Vikramaditya’s court, they agreed to help us.”
“They know about our Samrat?” The Acharya looked incredulous. “Amazing.”
“They have volunteered to lead us out of the marsh and take us to Odra’s border.”
“That is very good of them. I’m impressed to see that the influence of Avanti extends so far into the depths of the Aanupa.”
“I don’t think their intention is to help as much as it is to be rid of us, raj-guru.”
“Explain yourself, soldier,” Vetala Bhatta said, looking stern.
The interpreter checked to see if they were alone before shuffling closer to everyone. “I overheard a couple of them talking last night. I don’t follow their language very well, but from what I understood, one was telling the other that they must get rid of us before the evil that taints us taints them as well.”
“Evil that taints us?” the Acharya repeated. “What evil were they speaking of?”
“I don’t know, but the man seemed to think there was an eclipse over Avanti. He said anything touched by its shadow carries evil and can contaminate everything else.”
“They spoke of an eclipse?” asked Vetala Bhatta, his mind going back to the morning after the Omniscient One had visited Vikramaditya and given him the Halahala for safekeeping. They had all been in the council chamber, discussing their plans, when Shanku had said that the Mother Oracle had a warning for them.
She asked me to warn you that the sun is on the wane, and that a great eclipse is coming to devour the sun, Shanku had said.
The sun my grandmother was referring to is the royal emblem of the Aditya dynasty, noble councilors. The sun-crest of Avanti…
“Where’s my spear?” the Acharya asked, scanning the room. “We must leave for Odra right away.” Throwing off the light shawl that covered his feet, he added, “Tell these people that if they want us out of here, we’ll go now if they can spare a guide to show us the way.”
He swung his legs off the crude bed, but Kedara restrained him. “Raj-guru, please… you are weak. You should rest and regain your strength. We can stay here a couple of days…”
“No,” the councilor said adamantly. “Avanti is in great trouble, captain. It needs us. Let us finish what we came for and return to Ujjayini as quickly as possible.”
* * *
Divided between the mundane task of negotiating the stairs under his feet and pondering what form Indra’s threats of the previous day would take, Dhanavantri failed to notice Harihara until the king was almost upon him. The king was coming down the steps from one of the palace’s upper galleries and they met halfway up, the physician letting out a small ‘uh’ of surprise and stopping short to avoid a collision.
“Our dear Dhanavantri, how are you?”
Underneath the forced joviality, Harihara’s tone was patronizing, which irked the physician. He still hadn’t been able to pinpoint the true purpose behind this unscheduled visit to Ujjayini, but the fact that the king was now prolonging his stay without sufficient reason showed a hidden agenda at play. Dhanavantri suspected that Harihara was sticking around to evaluate the situation in Avanti in the light of the showdown between the samrat and Indra.
“I am well, good king,” the councilor answered with a smile. “I trust you had a good night’s sleep?”
“Oh yes, yes…” Harihara looked around, as if caught in two minds about something. “Um… is Vararuchi back?” he asked abruptly.
“I don’t know,” Dhanavantri replied, a little surprised. “If he is, I’m not aware of it.”
“Oh, I see.” Again, a small hint of indecision. “Actually… I overheard a couple of palace hands saying he was back early this morning…”
“Then it must be true.”
“Yes, but I… they also mentioned something about Vararuchi and the Samrat having a disagreement.” Harihara looked keenly at the councilor, with a greedy scavenger’s expression that Dhanavantri found detestable. “A loud argument, they made it seem…”
“I have no idea about any of this, king,” the physician said, keeping his face inscrutable while his mind raced to list the causes and implications of what he had just heard. Palace hands gossiping about the king and his brother… “Absolutely no idea.”
“I see.” Harihara hadn’t anticipated that answer, so he didn’t know how to react.
Taking advantage of this small window of silence, Dhanavantri waved his hand in the direction of the floors above and climbed a step. “Now if you will excuse me, I have to see the queen. It’s a beautiful morning for a walk by the lake, if that’s where you’re going.”
“Yes, yes. Surely.” Harihara hurriedly stepped aside, leaning against the handrails to let the physician’s girth get past. “Yes, that’s where I’m going.”
The councilor mounted the remaining steps without glancing back, lest Harihara try and engage him in conversation again. It was only after turning a corner that he let his breath out and paused to think about what the king had said.
Vararuchi and Vikramaditya in disagreement — that happened, not often, but sometimes. Both were men of strong opinions and both could be stubborn when it suited them. But the two in a loud argument that palace hands could overhear? Never. The brothers shared too much love and respect to ever let the heat of the moment get to them. They also understood decorum, which was the bedrock of the relationship between the samrat and his councilors. Yet, why would the palace hands lie, and why would Harihara lie about what he had overheard?
Turning a corner, this time Dhanavantri almost walked into the chief of the Palace Guards, who was approaching from the direction of Vishakha’s chambers. The old soldier appeared preoccupied and was clearly taken aback on seeing the physician.
“Greetings, Vismaya,” said Dhanavantri.
“Greetings, councilor.”
There was a moment’s awkward silence as neither had anything more to say. Pointing over Vismaya’s shoulder, the physician asked, “Is the Samrat there?”
It was an unnecessary question, put forth to fill the silly, self-conscious silence with inane words. The samrat was always by Vishakha’s bedside every morning, and everyone knew it. The samrat would not start his day without seeing his beloved…
“No, he is not,” said Vismaya. Seeing the astonishment on Dhanavantri’s face, he pointed to a gallery that was two levels above. “I saw the Samrat heading that way a little while ago, councilor.”
The gallery and landing in question led to the council chamber. Dhanavantri paused, unsure of which way to go next — straight on to see Vishakha as planned, or two floors up to the council chamber.
“Are you certain?” he asked the chief.
“Absolutely, councilor.”
This was unusual. Very unusual. Dhanavantri turned and took the stairs to the next floor, then the one above it.
When he pushed past the heavy door to the chamber, the physician was treated to a gloom, the source of which he couldn’t comprehend at first. It took him a moment to realize that some of the heavy drapes had been let down to keep the morning sunlight out. The windows on the far end were uncovered though, and here Dhanavantri perceived the samrat, standing with his back to the door, hands behind him, gazing broodingly over the palace lake.
“Vikrama,” the physician said, as he approached the king. “What are you doing here?”
/>
Looking over his shoulder, the samrat acknowledged Dhanavantri with a small nod, but turned back to the window without a reply. The councilor came and stood beside his king, and for a while, the two of them watched the day unfold and spread itself over the city.
“I heard Vararuchi returned this morning,” Dhanavantri sent out a small feeler.
Vikramaditya drew a deep breath and nodded, still staying silent.
“I met King Harihara just now. He said some palace hands were talking about… some sort of a disagreement…” The councilor turned to face the samrat. “Would you care to tell me what’s happened, Vikrama?”
A few moments passed before the samrat finally turned to Dhanavantri. “I too am struggling to understand what’s happened. I don’t know why…” he stopped, looking for the right words, “…why he is suddenly so insistent, so stubborn.”
“Stubborn about what?”
Vikramaditya lapsed into silence again, fighting an internal battle. The physician, however, stood his ground, crossing his fat arms, waiting patiently for his king to speak.
“He wants the Queen Mother to make a public declaration, negating the charge that Indra has made,” the samrat finally blurted out. “He… I told him what matters is whom I consider father, and that Mahendraditya was, is and will always be father to me. But he wants mother to say this.”
“And she will not?”
Vikramaditya turned an acidic gaze on Dhanavantri, and the physician immediately nodded and looked away.
“I have given my word that I will not let mother undergo such an indignity.”
The two men let the moment idle away as a breeze blew across the lake, ruffling the king’s hair and the physician’s cotton angavastram.
“You do realize that what Vararuchi has demanded today already is — and if not, will soon be — on a lot of people’s lips, don’t you?” Dhanavantri laid a gentle hand on the samrat’s shoulder. “People will wonder, and they will ask why the Queen Mother cannot put to rest the doubt that Indra has raised. And when she doesn’t, people will speculate. Your own people, Vikrama, subjects of Avanti. And when they ask questions, what will you say to them?”
“I will tell them that I am King Mahendraditya’s son,” the samrat replied with mulish tenacity. “That is all that matters.”
“And they will have to believe you?”
“Why not? If the Queen Mother were to make a declaration, they would be willing to take her word. Why not take mine then?”
Dhanavantri sighed and looked away. When Vikramaditya spoke next, his voice was softer, less combative.
“I know I am sounding adamant,” he said. “But what choice do I have, my friend? I have promised mother that I shall protect her. I promised father on his deathbed that I would never let any harm befall her. Come what may, I cannot break my word.”
Dhanavantri gave an understanding nod. “Where is Vararuchi?”
“I don’t know. He left the palace. I tried reasoning with him, but…”
“I shall have someone look for him.”
“No, don’t,” said Vikramaditya. Seeing the surprise on the councilor’s face, he added, “I think this has come as much as a shock to him as it has to me. He needs to come to terms with it. Accepting is healing, and healing can take time. Let us give him that time. I know brother. I trust him to come back on his own.”
The physician wasn’t so sure about this, but before he could put across his argument, the chamber’s door was pushed open. King and councilor turned to see Pralupi barge into the room.
“I have been looking for you all over the palace, and here you are,” she said crossly, as if speaking to a child who had disobeyed instructions. For a moment, Dhanavantri did not know whom she was addressing. As she drew closer, he saw that her eyes were trained on the samrat and he sighed in relief.
“Yes, sister?” Vikramaditya asked mildly. “What can I do for you?”
The councilor wondered if there was pointed sarcasm behind the words, but it was impossible to tell from the king’s expression.
“For starters, you could tell me how things are going with the rescue of my son,” snapped Pralupi. “What progress has been made, if any, and are we any closer to finding him than we were two days ago?”
“As you yourself have pointed out, it has been only two days since Amara Simha and Angamitra left from here, sister. They wouldn’t even have reached Udaypuri yet, leave alone the frontier. Give them time to get there first.”
“What about those who’re already on the frontier? From what I gather, troops of the Imperial Army and the Frontier Guard are massed all along the frontier, along with soldiers from our vassal states. Why can’t someone —”
“They are not our vassal states…” the samrat tried clarifying, but Pralupi pressed on like a thundering chariot drawn by fevered horses.
“— why can’t someone lead soldiers into the Great Desert to look for Ghatakarpara? With so many soldiers pressed into the rescue, they can easily find him. Nobody needs to wait for Amara Simha.” She paused and looked at her brother skeptically. “Do you need me to tell you what needs to be done?”
“Sister, we cannot simply pull troops out of defensive positions and push them into the desert to find someone,” said Vikramaditya in a calm tone that made Dhanavantri marvel at the man’s patience in dealing with Pralupi. “None of Sindhuvarta’s troops are familiar with the Great Desert — neither its geography, nor its climate. Chances are they will all die of thirst and exhaustion. Secondly, if we pull our troops out of any one place, we give the Hunas an open gate to walk into Sindhuvarta, which is probably what they were hoping for when they got Ghatakarpara kidnapped. The only way to do this is with extreme caution and great skill, which Amara Simha and Angamitra have in plenty. Let them do their job. Trust them, sister.”
“I think you should have gone as well. After all, he is your nephew.”
“Sister, I told you that Ujjayini and its people need me…”
“Okay, fine.” Pralupi crossed her arms and looked away in annoyance. Then, turning back to the samrat with a bitterly triumphant smile, she said, “At least now you will admit that I was right in telling you not to send my son to the frontier. You said it was fine; I kept warning you not to, but you wouldn’t listen to me. Now who was right?”
Her eyes were challenging Vikramaditya, openly rebuking him for not having yielded to her wishes, but the king said nothing. What could he possibly say, Dhanavantri wondered, feeling sorry for Vikramaditya. Even enemies should never be cursed with such a sibling as Pralupi, he decided.
“Now that we know I am right about these things, what are you going to do about that other issue we spoke of?”
Something in the princess’ tone, and the manner in which the samrat stiffened a little, alerted the councilor. He glanced sharply from the king to Pralupi, not knowing if he was even supposed to be here to witness what was about to unfold. He looked at Vikramaditya, hoping to get some sign from him, maybe asking him to leave, but the king looked imperturbable, staring straight at his sister.
“What about it, sister?”
“Well, are you going to make Ghatakarpara king of Vatsa once he has been rescued and brought back?” Pralupi asked in an exasperated tone.
Dhanavantri was aghast at the brazenness with which the demand had been made, but Pralupi didn’t seem to care that he was around to hear her speak in such rash and ruthless terms. Niceties were never her strong point, but this was beyond what the physician had imagined even Pralupi to be capable of. It seemed she had discounted his presence altogether as she kept up her badgering. “I have told you my opinion, and as I have been proved right once already, you should listen to me.”
“I too have told you my opinion, sister,” the samrat replied in a firm and controlled voice. “No matter how many times you bring it up, I am not going to entertain this discussion, so the sooner you forget the whole thing, the better.”
“I can’t see why you won’t do this for your
nephew,” the princess wailed in barely contained fury. “Why you won’t do it for me. I have given so much of myself for the sake of Avanti, and what do I get in return? Nothing. I could have been a queen. I should have been a queen. But no,” her voice turned acerbic, “Chandravardhan would not have me because he was already married, but he had to offer father his stupid little brother as an option. And would this stupid little brother ever become king? No. But Chandravardhan couldn’t care less, and by giving me as wife to Himavardhan, Chandravardhan killed whatever prospects I had of ever becoming queen. He could have accepted me as his second wife; it was easy for him to say yes. If he had, I would be queen of Vatsa today, but no. No, no, no. I am not queen because he said no, and my son won’t be king because you say no. How is this fair, Vikrama, how? Where is that which is due to me for having sacrificed so much for Avanti and Vatsa and Sindhuvarta?”
Dhanavantri stared at the king’s sister, stunned at the ferocity of her rant, blown away by the bitter disappointments and frustrations she had successfully kept hidden all these years, but which had slowly fermented and curdled inside her, gnawing away at her self-restraint and patience, so that today, it had all come out in a raging flood of anger. He suddenly saw her in a different light, and he realized Avanti had neglected showing Pralupi its appreciation…
Vikramaditya took two steps towards Pralupi. “We never understood you, sister…”
“Stop.” The princess raised a palm. “If it is sympathy you are offering, I am not interested. My demand is simple. I want Ghatakarpara to become the next king of Vatsa. Chandravardhan will agree to this because he owes it to Avanti. This time he will say yes. All it takes is for the king of Avanti to tell him what to do. You know that is true, Vikrama, so just tell him.”
Dhanavantri held his breath and stole a sidelong glance at the samrat. He observed the king look at his sister in a flat but severe stare, and then draw himself up, so he stood with his shoulders squared, his bearded chin jutting out in determination. When Vikramaditya spoke, his words were reasonable, but his tone was hard and jagged as granite.
The Vengeance of Indra Page 23