‘Save your swagger,’ I hissed into his ear. ‘Call off the archers or I will use you as my shield.’
I slid off the horse, pulling him down with me to drive home my threat. Still holding him in an arm grip in front of me, I started walking towards the bramble cover from where the archers were shooting. ‘Stop shooting or risk killing your prince,’ I shouted. ‘You want to fight, come out and fight with your swords.’
The threat worked. Unless exceptionally skilled, archers aren’t particularly accurate with their aim. There’s a reason why Arjun was as venerated in the Mahabharata as he was. The eye and the strength needed for that kind of precision is rare. Typically, archers let loose a volley, hoping that their arrows will find some targets. It’s a hit or miss game, and having a live shield made it an impossible game to win.
The Nagas realized this too and the arrow shower stopped. Harisena and four of his men quickly formed a tight circle around me even as a group of armed riders burst out of the thin forest cover on the right. I was hoping I had something more substantial to defend myself with than a poisoned jewel pin. Luckily, Harisena seemed to have read my mind and just as the Naga charge galloped upon us, he thrust a sword into my free hand and I let the pin fall to the ground.
I held the sword blade to Bhasma’s belly and used my arm grip around his neck to move back towards the rock face. I needed to protect my back while Harisena and his men took on the Naga riders. Bhasma tried to wriggle out of my sword-and-strangle embrace but it was no good. I’d learnt this trick during wrestling practice and it always came in handy during face-to-face combat. ‘Move and I slice your belly open,’ I whispered in his ear. Bhasma was almost gagging but the pressure of the sword blade on his stomach made him stop thrashing about. This gave me time to look around and take in the fight.
There were around twenty-five armed riders, while the archers still waited behind the bushes to let loose should Bhasma manage to break free. Harisena had around ten of his best men so I thought it was an even fight. I saw Harisena’s Parashu battle-axe swiftly decapitate one Naga soldier while he buried his sword into the breast of another, slicing smoothly through the leather breastplate as if it were made of butter. The Nagas thought riding into our party would help scatter the guards but that was a mistake. Harisena’s men crouched at ground level and aimed their strikes at the horses, reducing men and beast to a howling heap on the blood-soaked mud track. After that it was easy picking. They made an incongruous picture, these sari-clad men, their eyes wild with blood lust, hacking, slashing, spearing their way through the enemy ranks. The Nagas fought bravely but they were simply out-skilled and out-maneuvered by the more battle-hardened and better-trained imperial guards. They fought like fiends cutting down horse and man with such lightening speed that the archers lost their nerve and started their volleys again. This was my cue to walk back into the battle arena, now slippery with spilled blood, brain and faeces. All around there were men writhing, groaning and screaming for the deliverance of death. One trying to stop the gushing blood from his slit abdomen which spilled out most of his intestines as well, one stuffing his uttaria scarf on a bloody hole where an eye had been, while another slumped on the ground too stunned to realize his weapon arm had been hacked off.
I could feel Bhasma shivering – he’d not expected the ambush to go so wrong. I walked him carefully, one step at a time, to face the bramble-strewn boulders. ‘Stop shooting,’ I shouted. ‘If your arrows kill Prince Bhasma, my men will hunt you down. And you will be flayed alive in the palace square.’
The arrow shower stopped once again and this time Harisena spoke up. ‘Go back to whoever sent you. Tell them we hold Prince Bhasma. We will do with him as Kumar Kacha deems fit. GO. NOW.’
It was almost midnight when I reached the palace. I knew mother would be waiting for news, and when I walked into her bedchamber I was thankful there were no ladies-in-waiting around. She was sitting on the floor, reading some scrolls by the light of a single lamp. She looked up as I came in. I saw relief flood her eyes as she held out her arms to me. ‘I was so afraid,’ she said softly.
‘Don’t be,’ I told her. ‘We have him.’
‘Where?’
‘Harisena is holding Bhasma in a cave near the Chakrapani temple,’ I told her. ‘He and his men will hide Bhasma there till the coronation is over.’
Mother nodded. ‘I can tell you now, I didn’t think this wild plan of yours would really work.’
I smiled. ‘We need to talk to our Lichchavi relations,’ I told her, ‘first thing tomorrow morning. Before the council meeting.’
Mother smiled back. ‘I have asked my cousin Narasimha and Brahma Deva to come over at dawn. They will be here at first light.’
In the heat of the skirmish that evening, I had forgotten just how resourceful mother was. ‘Of course, you did,’ I told her, smiling. ‘Serves me right for trying to tell you what to do.’
I retired to my own bedchamber, both bone tired and feverishly excited. My limbs weighed like rocks and my head throbbed but I couldn’t sleep. I was worried about how things would go at the Council meeting, and the battle rush meant I was on a nervous high, reliving the encounter of the evening. I knew Harisena could not hold Bhasma for more than half a day. Any longer, and tongues would start wagging at court. My plan was to simply say that he and I had been attacked by Naga soldiers on the way to the Chakrapani temple the evening before and that I lost him in the melee. I had already ordered reinforcements for Harisena so he could fend off any further Naga incursions till noon. The idea was to hold our prisoner till then, by which time the coronation and anointment would hopefully be over. That is, if all went according to plan.
I had given Harisena strict instructions to ride out towards Mathura immediately after releasing Bhasma for I knew Bhasma would name him as his captor when he returned to the palace. He wouldn’t be able name me, the anointed emperor, without being punished for treason so he would blame everything on Harisena. An attack on a member of the royal family merits a painful death on the impaling stake. The only way I could disprove Bhasma’s allegations was if I announced in court that I had already dispatched Harisena and his men to scout out the Naga campaign. I needed some senior courtiers and elders to back up my claim; hence the dawn meeting with Brahma Deva and Narasimha.
I weighed the pros and cons over and over again as I waited for daybreak. Beside me, Datta slept, her serene forehead furrowing with frown lines now and then, as if she was thinking hard in her dreams. I snuggled up to her, my nostrils full of her jasmine and sweat smell, scared of losing my way if I pulled away from her then. I buried my face into the mass of ringlets that spread out like a fan around her head, crushed jasmine sprigs still enmeshed in them. They reminded me of Datta as a little girl, trailing behind Harisena and me, her small serious face framed by a profusion of curls that no amount of oil could ever fully tame. Consort, confidante, companion, then as now, all I wanted was to protect this fragile being who trusted me blindly with every bone in her body. And now, I was gambling with her future as well as my own. For her sake and mine, I had to win. Tomorrow, I kept repeating in my head. Tomorrow all of this will be over. Tomorrow will be a new day.
It was a promise, both to her and to myself.
The council meeting began early. It was a full house with all Twelve Elders, senior generals in the imperial army as well as the entire royal household attending. I saw my stepmother Padmanaga sitting right in front with Jivita at her elbow. Mother was there too, as was Datta who looked just a little bit frightened by the enormity of it all. I hoped and prayed Brahma Deva and Narasimha had done what they’d promised to do – ask Ananta Varman to speak to the generals, and meet as many council members loyal to mother as they could. After the mandatory invocation to Lord Vishnu, Brahma Deva began the proceedings. ‘My friends,’ he said, ‘we are here today to announce the appointment of Prince Kacha as the emperor elect. As you must have heard, there is a Naga insurrection brewing at our borders so we need to
complete the coronation ceremony forthwith, so the new emperor can take the necessary decisions to face this emergency.’
‘But surely that’s just a formality?’ asked Ananta Varman. ‘We all know that the emperor had personally chosen Kumar Kacha as his tatparigrihita heir. In fact, he called his first born the noblest of all his children.’
I could see Padmanaga’s face clouding over even as Jivita kept looking at the door to see if Bhasma had walked in. ‘My revered husband, the late emperor, loved all his children equally,’ she said. ‘He may have chosen Kacha as the heir but who knows what pressures he was succumbing to? I say we put the matter to a vote.’ I saw a section of the council nodding in agreement and knew I had to nip this in the bud right then or all would be lost.
‘I don’t see Bhasma in the council chamber today,’ I said. ‘Should he not plead his own case? As far as I know, he’s capable of speaking his mind.’
‘Sadhu, sadhu … Well said, Kumar Kacha,’ chorused Ananta Varman and the ten generals seated around him.
‘But why is my brother not here?’ asked Jivita, his voice ice-cold with venom. ‘When he left last evening, he told me he was going to the Chakrapani Vishnu temple with you. So maybe you can tell the council where he is, brother?’
‘Bhasma and I did ride out together but we were attacked on our way there by the perfidious Nagas,’ I replied, keeping my voice nonchalantly calm. ‘We were not armed so we had to run for cover and I lost him in the melee.’
‘My kinsmen would never do something like that,’ spat out Padmanaga.
‘Madam, we gave them fight even though we were unarmed,’ I said. ‘Would you like me to order a body search of every Naga present in the capital so we can identify the attackers? Would that be proof enough?’
Padmanaga was shaking with rage and about to shout out her reply when Jivita restrained her. ‘Mother, let me speak,’ he said. ‘Kumar Kacha, how did you know the attackers were Naga? Were they wearing the serpent emblem on their breastplates or carrying pennants announcing their identity?’
I saw Brahma Deva shifting uncomfortably in his chair, and knew I had to tackle this one carefully. ‘They wore no identification but their hissing war cries gave them away,’ I said. ‘Perhaps Bhasma recognized them too. They did not attack him and he simply rode away untouched.’
‘I think you are holding my son prisoner because you know his claim to the throne is as valid as yours,’ hissed Padmanaga. ‘And now you’re telling us this cock-and-bull story to explain his absence. You seriously expect us to believe this?’
‘Believe what you will, Madam,’ I replied, coolly. ‘But think hard before you hurl allegations at the emperor elect.’
‘Kumar Kacha’s behaviour and bearings have always been nothing if not exemplary,’ dittoed Brahma Deva. ‘These accusations are unfair and unacceptable.’
‘Hear, hear,’ chorused the house.
I could see Jivita glare at his mother. They were on the back foot, thanks to her outburst. He waited for the hubbub to die down before speaking, ‘I don’t see Harisena in the council chamber this morning,’ Jivita said. ‘Where is he?’
‘We are not here to discuss Harisena’s claim to the throne surely,’ asked Narasimha, eliciting cackles from the house.
‘My brother has often had to fend off attacks from Harisena and his men,’ persisted Jivita. ‘I simply want to know where he is. Is it not possible that he’s holding my brother prisoner somewhere?’
This one was far easier to answer. ‘I sent Harisena to the borders on a fact-finding mission once we heard the Nagas were preparing a strike,’ I said. ‘He left last evening.’
‘And was the council aware of this sudden decision?’ asked Jivita.
‘Kumar Kacha informed me,’ said Brahma Deva. ‘And the generals, of course. I have since shared the information with a few members of the Council of Elders,’ he said.
‘Why all the secrecy?’ asked Padmanaga. ‘Why wasn’t the information shared in the house?’
‘Because I didn’t want to wait till today to find out more about the Naga rebellion,’ I said. ‘They may be your kinsmen, Madam, but if they are rebelling against the crown, they are our enemies.’
‘Of course,’ chorused the house.
Brahma Deva raised his hand to shush the din. ‘I think we have wasted enough time discussing irrelevant probabilities,’ he said. ‘His Majesty the emperor had intended Kumar Kacha to be his heir, so the sooner we anoint and crown him, the better for the realm.’
‘Sadhu, sadhu,’ chorused the house.
Padmanaga stood up with a face like thunder and walked out of the council chamber. Jivita remained seated but did not open his mouth for the rest of the meeting. The royal priest, who was waiting just outside the chamber under mother’s orders, came in and anointed me with Ganga water and flowers.
Soon after, we had the havan puja that marked my transition from a prince to a king. The entire council threw vermillion, turmeric and rice as Datta and I walked up to the Aryapatta throne on a carpet of flower petals. The priest used the havan ash to mark my forehead and hers, blessed us with sacred Ganga water, and placed the crown on my head.
I, Lichchavidauhitra Kacha, was now Parambhattaraka Maharaja Adhiraja. But my battle had just begun.
4
Venom in the Veins
THE ROAR RANG IN my ears and my eyes were full of blue. The sun-kissed water sprayed salt and foam on my face. I was riding the wind, and I was ruling the waves. Tantalizing and tempestuous, an exquisite expanse spread out before me. A rainbow of colours, all blue – inky blue, sky blue, blue green, aqua marine, grey blue … Crowned by the white surf, the waves swept me up on and on. I knew not where. I knew not why. Perhaps the where and why didn’t matter after all. What did matter was what I saw all around – infinity, stretching from horizon to heaven. Limitless in its promise, relentless in its call, primeval, powerful, pure.
I opened my eyes but for a while I remained on the edge of my dream, still tasting the salt on my tongue, still smelling the fish-and-seaweed tang of the ocean. The dream had stayed with me ever since I first glimpsed the blue waters. Harisena and I had spent three years travelling before I became the tatparigrihita heir. Mother wasn’t very keen, but father encouraged me to see the rest of our land. ‘You need to know what you are fighting for,’ he had said. ‘Go forth and see these blessed places, son. Some day, I hope, you will bring all of it under our Garuda Dhwaja. And take our name right down to the ocean.’
My journeys took me all over Jamvudweep – Bahlik desh to Mahakantar, Kosala to Pishtapura, Kottura to Kanchi. But it was in Kanchi that I first saw the waves. Perfectly choreographed in their sweeping rush, they tumbled at my feet, washing away my foothold in the sand. I found a conch shell half-buried on the beach and Harisena showed me how to hold it to my ear and hear the roar of the waves trapped inside. We stayed at that little seaside village longer than we had first intended. The fisher folk who lived there were simple and warm-hearted. They offered us shelter in their flimsy bamboo-frame coconut thatch huts, fed us their fiery tamarind-laced curries and taught us their language. Harisena quickly tired of our travels and wanted to return to Pataliputra. But I lingered on, curiously at home among these strangers. We would have stayed much longer had it not been for a drunken braggart in our group. One of Harisena’s men made the mistake of boasting that our simple merchant train was actually a disguise. We were travelling incognito, deep inside Pallava country without diplomatic clearance, and I had no desire to risk a skirmish and a ransom. So we hurriedly made good our escape, hugging the east coast as far back as Devarashtra before turning back westwards to Magadh.
Long after we returned, the memory of the ocean stayed with me. I would often hold the conch shell to my ear and hear its call. In time it grew into an obsession, something neither Harisena nor Datta could understand. When I first told her about the sea and how my dream was to go back to Kanchi some day, Datta started crying. ‘You will inherit a noble and g
reat empire; why do you need to go forth and conquer lands no one has even heard of?’ she asked.
I hugged her and teased, ‘You wouldn’t be so afraid if you had more faith in my sword arm.’
‘I know you are brave enough,’ she replied unsmilingly. ‘But I am not. You go away and leave mother and I in a limbo of hope and fear. You’ll never understand what a bone-crunching, breath-gasping weight it can be – the weight of the wait.’
‘Some day you will be the Patta Mahadevi Queen Empress,’ I chided her. ‘You have to be my strength, not my weakness.’
She kept quiet, but it was a grudging truce. Later when I spoke to Harisena, I realized Datta had been discussing my ocean obsession with my best friend. ‘Once you are emperor, you will need to stabilize your borders and crush any enemies lurking in your backyard,’ he said. ‘With the Nagas on one side and Byagra on the other, you will have plenty of action on the battlefield. Distant lands like Kanchi are best left to themselves. At the most, you can send a diplomatic mission there and establish some kind of official contact with the Pallavas. That’s all.’
I shook my head. ‘That’s not what father said. He told me to go forth and take our Garuda Dwaja right down to the ocean front.’
Harisena smiled. ‘He may have meant that metaphorically. You cannot rule a land that is so many thousands of kos away from Magadh. And what’s the point of waging war if not for land?’
It was a dampener, but I had to agree there was logic in what Harisena was saying. It didn’t make sense to risk men and resources to attack a kingdom so far away, one that would be impossible to hold on to. So I dropped my plans of a southern digvijay and concentrated on learning how to control the court and keep enemies nearby at bay.
Except the dream of the ocean kept coming back. Primeval, powerful, pure. I would wake up with a tangy taste on my tongue, the smell of seaweed in my nostrils and promise myself … someday, someday.
The Ocean's Own Page 4