‘Why not?’
‘Come on, think, you idiot! Horses don’t have humps like oxen do.’
‘Oh, of course.’
‘We have to use leather ropes and tie the horse to the carriage in such a way that it does not choke itself while pulling. We have not found the most efficient way to do this. Until we do, we can use the horse carriage only for ceremonial purposes. Remember the one we saw at Sudās’s wedding?’
‘Yes. I hope that in the years to come we will be able to perfect this so that long-distance travel time can be reduced. It sure is a pain to undertake such long journeys!’
‘Yes, I agree. It would reduce travel time considerably.’
They had set off at a brisk pace and come out of the city through the northern gate. A narrow road connected the capital to a broad path that led to the northern city. The servants going ahead sprinkled water on the road to minimize the dust rising from the hooves and the wheels. The prince’s wife, Jabālā, had come from a fertile, green land and was not used to so much dust. The queen explained to her that though there were many rivers in the area, the land became dry just before the rainy season.
They went past the green belt of the floodplains. By the third part of the day, the road was winding through the wastelands again. Villages in this region were few and far between. Most of the time, they trudged along without a soul in sight. Thickets were everywhere; thick, fleshy stemmed plants too. Except during the floods and the short monsoon, these areas were mainly arid.
After travelling for half a yojana or so, they reached a large watering hole next to a natural spring near the road. The stable keeper of the king’s relieving stable came out to greet them. The king’s father had set up a network of such stables after every yojana or two on all the main roads so that he and his officers could change horses if they were travelling long distances. In all these locations, there was either a natural spring or a man-made well. Using these stables, the king, his commander, his officers and his spies could travel and relay messages quickly, across five yojanas a day if needed. Kaśyapa had heard that in many other kingdoms they used a system of fire beacons for transmitting messages across short distances. Since Parśuvarta was spread across flat terrain mostly, this was not an effective method of communication. They had to rely on messengers.
By the evening, they had reached a large clearing. There was no source of water there and they were thankful that they had carried a lot of it in large wooden tanks. Two large tents had been set up: one for the men and one for the women, but the soldiers and the servants were to sleep out in the open. As the cooks prepared the evening meal, there was silence for miles around—shrubs and bushes dotted the landscape and there were lizards and many other reptiles everywhere. Every now and then they would spot a snake, which they were careful not to step on—they could have been poisonous after all.
By then, the villagers living around that area had gathered around and were gawking at the group. Some of the soldiers were eyeing the village girls who giggled and whispered among themselves. Some of the young men from the villages came to admire the horses and the weapons. The elders paid respects to the king and queen, and were eager to see the prince and his wife who had come from a Dasyu kingdom.
The sun had almost set by the time they finished dinner. After that, while Kaśyapa and the others went into their tents to get some sleep, the servants and some of the soldiers went to the nearby village in search of liquor and entertainment in the brothels. The party had travelled close to one yojana that day and picked up pace in the days to follow. Their journey was mainly uneventful except for one incident.
One night, after they had all retired, they were attacked by a gang of bandits that was known to wreak havoc in this region. No matter how hard the king’s authorities had tried to catch them, they always managed to get away. The gang leader was a former officer of the army who had been dismissed for corruption and had since taken to banditry. Sudās and Yadu had expected such a situation: they had appointed guards to keep a sharp eye out for troublemakers. Since they were on a plain that did not offer much cover, the guards could spot the tiniest of movements even in the dark.
The moment they saw the bandits, they called for help. Sudās and Yadu marshalled their soldiers to nab the attackers. The cavalry and the archers triggered great panic among the bandits. Yadu’s foot soldiers finished off the ones who survived the cavalry and archers’ attack. At the end, many of the bandits were killed. Those who survived, including the bandit-in-chief, were held captive. Kaśyapa saw them, bound and being led off by the soldiers. He knew what their fate was going to be. Yadu ordered for them to be hanged, as a warning to others.
Yadu and the physicians then turned their attention to their own soldiers—two had been killed and three others were critical. It wasn’t possible to save them. They were given some mixtures that would allow them to die peacefully in sleep. Five other soldiers, meanwhile, were being treated by Yadu and the physicians. Kaśyapa and Agastya watched carefully. They were surprised to see Yadu tending to the wounded himself. He was applying a paste on one of the soldier’s wounds. Kaśyapa asked, ‘Sir, how come you are treating the wounded yourself? Won’t the physicians be able to help them?’
Yadu said, ‘How can I call myself their commander if I am not there to help them in need?’
Agastya said, ‘Sir, you seem to be doing a very good job of it. It is almost as if you received a physician’s training.’
‘We train our soldiers in primary aid so that they can help treat the wounded on the battlefield, before the physicians get to them. As a young soldier, I was also trained in this and I found it very useful. Soldiers can suffer many types of wounds in a battle. The main cause of death is bleeding; sometimes, even a superficial wound can bleed excessively. So, the first thing we do is to stop that.’
‘How do you do that?’
‘We normally use tourniquets. There are also some salves we can apply to stop the blood flow and stem the bleeding. But sadly, not all wounds can be treated. Wounds can be fatal if the soldier is attacked on the head with a mace, arrow or spear. Head wounds, unless superficial, cannot be treated. In that case, we give the soldiers some drugs that dull the pain and put them to sleep. That way their final moments are less painful.
‘Sometimes, in wars, soldiers get deep cuts from being grazed or stabbed with swords or knives. In these cases, unless there is major internal damage, we are able to save the wounded soldier by restricting the bleeding and quickly getting them to the physicians. There are cases where the physicians will need to amputate a leg or an arm to prevent the pus from reaching one’s vital parts.’
‘Sir, what happens to soldiers who cannot fight any more? What do they do for a livelihood?’
‘Any wounded soldier who is honourably discharged gets a pension in the form of a small grant from lands captured in the battle. This way they make a living by lending, cultivating or selling that land.’
Kaśyapa and Agastya went back to Vasiṣṭha to tell him what they had learnt. Vasiṣṭha told them, ‘We did not always have these provisions in our kingdom. It is Yadu who worked hard to bring in these innovative ideas to help soldiers. This is how he rose to be the commander. Did you know that his father died in battle when he was a small boy? The poor man lay bleeding profusely from a superficial wound. He could easily have been saved but, alas, his fellow soldiers were simply not trained to help him. It was Yadu’s mother who instilled in him the quality of empathy towards soldiers and encouraged him to learn first aid for his time on the battlefield.’
Kaśyapa felt a surge of admiration for Yadu building inside him.
*
Kaśyapa and Agastya wanted to talk to Veśa about the two deaths, but it was not easy to get hold of him. He always had some urgent work to do. They knew that, especially now, he would be busy making travel arrangements, so they did not hound him. However, one day, at supper time, Kaśyapa and Agastya managed to talk to Dīrghaśravas.
Kaśyapa said, ‘Sir, I was telling Agastya about our visit to the Dasyu city. I really learnt a lot talking to you when we went visiting the smithies and other places.’
‘Yes. I was fascinated by their progress in various areas too.’
Agastya said, ‘Sir, we had a difficult time making this fellow stop talking about his trip!’
When Kaśyapa sensed that the merchant had warmed up to the conversation, he asked, ‘Sir, the night Kutsa was killed, did you visit the prince?’
‘Oh yes. I think I did.’
‘Did you go to the boy’s room?’
‘No.’
‘Did you see anyone go in?’
‘No. But when I was leaving, I saw Yadu coming out of the boy’s room.’
‘What? But the guards did not mention this when we spoke to them.’
‘I did not see any of the guards at his door at the time.’
‘What was Yadu doing in the boy’s room?’
‘How am I to know?’
Agastya asked, ‘Sir, a reliable source has told us that you lent a large sum of money to the prince. Is this true?’
Even if the merchant was taken aback, he did not show it. ‘I did.’
‘Are you finding it difficult to get it repaid?’
‘Well, the prince is short of funds. It has only been a short while since he assumed control. Once this year’s taxes come in, he will have the money to repay me.’
Kaśyapa asked, ‘So, if the prince is somehow . . . deposed, then you won’t be able to get your money back?’
The merchant looked at them queerly. ‘I suppose so.’
18
Settling Down in the Northern City
It was around sunset on the tenth day when they reached the northern city and settled in the fortified castle just outside it. Its architecture was magnificent, made using an artful combination of stones, timber and brick. Built by Turvaśa’s father about thirty years ago, it looked sturdier than the royal palace in Parśupur. When Turvaśa’s father had expanded the kingdom northwards and built roads going to the borders of the kingdom, the castle gave him a secure vantage point from where he could set up a good defence. The castle had a good two hastas thick stone wall around it. There were watchtowers on each of the four corners. The tower in the south-western corner was bigger than the others as it housed the offices and staying quarters of the castle keeper. There were two gates: one on the west side of the palace and one on the east.
Their convoy entered through the main western gate. The castle was already well-guarded and, in the coming days, it would be even more so, given the important visitors. They were received at the gates by the castle keeper and the captain of the castle garrison. The castle keeper spoke continuously as he escorted them inside and showed them around the palace. The palace had three storeys and was thatched with leaves and grass over wooden rafters.
Of course, it had been cleaned and polished before their arrival. On the front side, at the very top and to the west, the slanting rays of the setting sun reflected like from a mirror. Kaśyapa felt relieved at the sight of it; happy that they had finally reached safely. Agastya and he walked around the palace, exploring on their own. At dusk, they had a refreshing bath in the tank, followed by a sumptuous dinner, after which they were ready to go to bed. They were to share a room with Bhārgava, but they were unfazed by this arrangement—they were just happy being there without the pressure of performing daily ritual sacrifices or studies; this was a good break for them. After all, there was no supervision from their guru!
Soon, Yadu came to their room to ensure that everyone in the castle was secure.
He looked around and asked, ‘There was supposed be one more person in this room, right?’
Kaśyapa said, ‘Yes. Bhārgava. He has not come yet. Maybe he is with our guru.’
Kaśyapa sensed that this was a good opportunity to talk to Yadu about the murders.
He asked, ‘Sir, I know that you are very busy ensuring that the castle is well-protected. I do not want to take too much of your time, but I was wondering if you could cast your mind back to the day a student from the priestly class, Atharvan, died outside the south gate?’
‘Oh, all right. Let me try. I know your guru has asked you to look into the circumstances of his death.’
He thought for a while and then added, ‘I remember the day of his death . . . he drowned in the rivulet, didn’t he? I remember it well. It was the same day that the vice commander was killed, was it not?’
Kaśyapa couldn’t help but think that, of course, he would remember the vice commander’s death! He was the one who saw it through! Aloud, he said, ‘Yes, it was. Agastya and I asked the gatekeepers about that morning and I think they said that they saw you going out of the south gate.’
‘Yes, I normally go out in the morning to practise weapon-wielding with my bodyguards.’
‘Where do you do this?’
‘In an open field on the right side of the road, about 200 pauruṣas away from the gates.’
‘Did you see anybody else?’
‘Vāyata was performing some sacrifices in a field nearby. I also saw the other one, Bhārgava. He was coming out of the gate.’
‘Did you see anyone else?’
‘Well, Veśa and Dīrghaśravas were at the gate with a few carts.’
‘Sir, if I could also ask you about your thoughts on Kutsa’s death? I understand that you had gone to the palace to visit the prince that evening. You may be able to help us with some details.’
‘Certainly. Yes, I remember I had been summoned by the prince to discuss something.’
‘Did you look into the boy’s room?’
‘Yes, I did.’
‘When was this, sir?’
‘When I came out after meeting the prince, I saw that there was no guard outside. So, I peeped in to check if the child was okay. He appeared to be asleep—his nursemaid was nowhere to be seen either, so I let him be and went on my way. I did consider bringing to the prince’s attention that the guards were missing, but my mind was preoccupied with the other things that he had asked me to do, and then I simply forgot.’
Saying this, the commander took his leave. Kaśyapa and Agastya were happy with the information they had got. Soon after, they retired, falling asleep in minutes.
*
Five days passed. It was the first day of the month of Śuci, the one hundred and forty-ninth day of the year. The last few evenings had been very warm.
Kaśyapa and Agastya went out of the castle for a walk after the sun had set. Outside the castle, they could see the horizon in the distance, behind a thin cloud of dust. The full moon was rising near Śravaṇa. As they walked back, they saw Veśa coming out with a torch. He was surprised to see them.
‘What are you doing outside?’
Agastya said, ‘We came out for a walk. Where are you going at this time of the evening?’
‘I am from a servant-class village nearby. My mother still lives there with an uncle of mine. Since I had some time to spare today, I thought of going to meet her.’
Both Kaśyapa and Agastya were surprised. For some reason, it had never occurred to them that Veśa too had a mother. They were curious now and, without a second thought, Kaśyapa asked, ‘Can we come with you?’
‘Will your guru not look for you?’
‘No, I don’t think he needs us here.’
‘Okay. But please don’t tell anyone.’
They walked westward, seeing small lights in the distance every now and then. They asked Veśa about his life and he told them that he was born in this small village, growing up playing in the village pond and rivulets nearby. His mother used to make small toys for him with wood and he would play with them and his many friends. His father had moved away to work as a servant in a nobleman’s house in the southern city and was hardly able to come to see them. He did, however, send some men with provisions every month to support the family. His mother was not unhappy with this arrangement. When Veśa was sev
en years old, his father got him a job as a servant boy in the household of Sudās’s father, around the time that Sudās was born. Veśa never went back to his village, but he did pay occasional visits to his mother. His father died a few years ago in the southern city. Now all Veśa had was a vague recollection of his childhood.
Suddenly, Kaśyapa felt compassion for the man. Fate had decreed that he live his life as a servant and get no formal education, other than what he had learnt from observation about the weather, seasons, crops, sowing and reaping and nature of people. Even though not formally educated, Veśa seemed to have done rather well for himself.
They walked for about half a part of the night, and it was dark when they reached the village. It was small but littered with many tiny huts with small lights burning. Sheep, goats, chickens and dogs were roaming freely on the streets, trying to get the last scrap to eat before going to sleep. When the villagers, who were just starting to settle down for the night, saw Veśa, they ran to tell the village headman who came out to receive them. Veśa, after all, was the second-ranking servant in the kingdom. They were all proud of him.
Veśa talked to the headman and the others for a while and then moved towards his mother’s hut. She was overjoyed to see him, though she did look apprehensive when she saw Kaśyapa and Agastya, two boys from the priestly class, trailing behind him. She greeted them warmly once Veśa reassured her. They spent one part of the night with Veśa’s mother who talked to her son very animatedly in a dialect that Kaśyapa and Agastya could not understand. They assumed that they were telling each other what they had been up to. Veśa later told them that his mother had been telling him about his other relatives. Much to their surprise, despite the social differences between them, the servant-class people’s lives were exactly the same as those of the priestly class. This was the kind of knowledge that Kaśyapa and Agastya could not have found elsewhere. Kaśyapa was certain that their guru would be happy about Agastya and him accompanying Veśa to his village. As they made their way back, they got a chance to talk to Veśa about the murders.
The First Aryan Page 13