Soon the day of the sacrifice arrived. Just as Chandra had predicted, the lord of every fief brought the finest bird he could find. Some brought fearsome-looking raptors, others brought beautiful songbirds with long tails or giant flightless birds that were stronger than horses. Still, others brought ravens that could solve puzzles.
Overnight the palace had become a makeshift aviary. Dozens of varieties of birdcalls reverberated through the main hall of the palace. The nobles mocked each other’s tributes and quarrels and fist fights would break out on occasion.
Chandra looked around, satisfied. He had myriad options to choose from. It was the spirit of competition that took his nation forward. The constant urge to better their rivals made humans the most successful of the terrestrial races.
He watched as the priests sent in by the Temple Council prepared the sacrificial altar. The smell of the feast that would follow the sacrifice wafted the air. The popping of mustard seeds in hot oil added to the cacophony in the royal hall.
He decided it was time. He raised his hand and the hall grew silent.
“Welcome everyone and thank you for graciously accepting my invitation,” Chandra said. “As you all know, a few months ago I undertook a pilgrimage to a great saint in order to receive a boon. This was to ensure that the throne of Bharat would not be vacant after my passing.
“It is with great pleasure that I announce to you, my friends, that today is the day the gods will grant me an heir.”
The assembly cheered. This startled a lot of birds, who joined in the din.
“Each bird sacrificed shall sire me a son who possesses the same qualities as the bird.”
Chandra took a seat on his throne. “So now present your tribute and tell me why you deem it to have the qualities worthy of a king.”
The first to stand up and present was Chandra’s father-in-law. As he stood up he summoned his attendant to bring his tribute which perched haughtily on a golden stand. It was a large owl with ink-black plumage and huge golden eyes. It keenly and calmly observed the proceedings of the court, its head turning at every new noise.
“This, your Highness, is the Ghost Owl. It is the apex predator in the ranges of the Magadha forests. Built to hunt at day or night, it has the sharpest senses of any bird. It can hear the slightest ruffle and can see in the darkest of nights.
“With senses like these, the new prince will be an unconquerable warrior and a perceptive ruler.”
Chandra’s father-in-law smiled and looked around at the assembled. Most of them scoffed at him. However, Chandra was impressed. “It is a great tribute from my wife’s family.”
He gestured to the servants. “Please keep that bird ready for the sacrifice.”
In this manner, representatives from every noble family brought a new sacrificial bird and explained their qualities. If Chandra was impressed the bird was set aside for the sacrifice, attracting the derision of the assembled lords. Whenever a bird was politely rejected the assembly mocked the tribute-bringer.
Finally, there were four majestic birds assembled around the throne. They were the Ghost Owl; the Hill Falcon, which was the fastest bird in Bharat; the Seahawk: a raptor adept at hunting on land, in the sky and on water; and the Maned Eagle, a giant bird which was the strongest of all the flying birds.
“Are we finished?” Chandra asked.
“Your Highness,” a voice interrupted. It was his general who walked in with a cage covered in white silk. “I have brought a tribute too. If you consider me worthy, may I present it?”
“Of course,” Chandra said. The general was after all his most trusted advisor and greatest friend.
The general unveiled the cage to present the most beautiful and fearsome bird the assembly had seen so far. It was an eagle with lustrous golden plumage and sharp golden eyes. From the top of its head to the back ran a ridge of feathers that gave it its name. “This, your Highness, is the Crowned Eagle.”
For the first time, the assembly did not scoff. The Crowned Eagle was a legendary bird of prey. No one had ever seen a living specimen in captivity before. It had the keenest eyesight among all birds, and flew higher than any other. Even lions feared it.
“How?” many in the crowd murmured. All their gold and power had not managed to get them such a specimen.
“There is nothing that the gods won’t grant if sufficient penance is done,” the general said.
Chandra smiled with pride and gestured for the general to place the bird next to the rest. Immediately the remaining birds bowed in reverence to the proud creature.
“Are these all?” Chandra asked, and it seemed the assembly was over.
Chandra looked at the line-up of sacrificial birds. They were five magnificent specimens all suited to be kings. He would be a proud father. “Begin the rites,” he ordered.
The flames surged as the priests fed the Fire God with ghee and rice and all manner of tribute. Most of the assembly would flinch whenever the flames surged but the king observed that the birds did not. They watched in a trance, almost wanting to go into the fire.
The Chief Priest summoned Chandra. He rubbed turmeric on the king’s forehead and whispered. “Bring the sacrifices.”
Chandra felt a surge of excitement course through his veins. This was it. He summoned his servants to bring the birds to him. They eagerly grabbed the perches and placed them within his reach.
First he took Ghost Owl. He placed a mask on its head, tied its wings and feet together and walked closer to the fire. Chandra was surprised his skin did not blister as he slowly placed the bird into the fire. The flames surged up and instantly the bird disappeared from his hands.
In this manner, he took one bird after the other and placed them into the fire. The final bird he placed was the regal Crowned Eagle which screeched loudly before being consumed in the flames.
This done, he stepped away from the pedestal. He waited for some time and nothing seemed to happen. He shot a questioning glance at the Chief Priest, who looked perplexed.
Chandra walked over to him and asked, “What is it? Why isn’t anything happening?”
“The Fire God is not satisfied. I feel that he demands more,” the Chief Priest said.
More? He looked at the assembled birds. There was a beautiful bird of paradise he thought would be a good sacrifice.
Suddenly he heard a screech, almost a wail. Something small crashed down at his feet. He looked down and saw Subadra’s parrot lying there.
He picked it up with both hands. It was heaving in agony.
“I apologise, your majesty.” A voice broke his concentration. He looked up to see one of his guards with a sword in his hand. “I tried to stop it from entering the hall but it was too clever.”
Chandra looked down at the bird. Without a word he turned and began to approach the sacrificial fire.
“I have one more sacrifice,” he announced.
The Chief Priest looked aghast but he did not protest.
Chandra felt a hand grab his arm. He turned to see the general looking at him concerned. “Sire, what are you doing? You want a son with the qualities of a parrot?”
Chandra smiled. “It is Subadra’s parrot. This child will be my memory of her. The five others are for the kingdom but this one is for me.”
The general let go. Chandra approached the fire. He held out the parrot and the flames surged up to take the bird.
Immediately there was the sound of thunder. The flames changed from orange to white. The whole assembly was bathed in pure white light and the priests stopped their chanting. The flames became so bright that everybody closed their eyes.
After a while, Chandra opened his eyes. The light and fire had subsided. In its place were male infants playing with each other. Tears of joy filled Chandra’s eyes.
He ran to them. All of them held out their hands to be picked up. Chandra reached ou
t and lifted all of them in one fell swoop. He turned around to the assembly.
The Chief Priest announced. “Behold the heirs to Bharat.”
The assembly cheered. “Hail King Chandra! Hail Bharat! Hail war!”
The general ran up onto the pedestal and reached out. “Let me see my new lords.”
Chandra opened his arms and the general took three of the infants into his own arms. He could see the wonder in the general’s eyes as he beheld three of the beautiful children. The Chief Priest and many others also walked up to him.
Suddenly it struck Chandra that there should have been six infants. He turned around to the altar and sure enough, there was a final infant lying in the spot where the fire had been.
He let the Chief Priest take the two babies in his arms and walked back to the sixth infant.
A daughter. There she lay, silently looking back at Chandra.
He picked her up and the baby snuggled cosily into his broad chest. She stared up at her father and Chandra saw something that none of the other children had. He saw Subadra’s doe-eyes staring back into his.
***
“Father,” Kautilya’s voice broke Chandra’s reverie, “it’s late. The servants have readied your supper.”
Chandra smiled and opened his arms wide for an embrace. Kautilya leapt into them.
“So how do you feel about your new adventure?” he asked her as he walked to the dining chamber.
“I hope I can fulfill your expectations,” she said.
“You will, child,” Chandra said.
She was not a warrior but she radiated wisdom.
Her brothers needed her just as he had needed her mother. She would be their counsel, she would be their guide. Thus, she had to be adept and learned, even more so than the brothers.
It was an arduous task but Chandra knew she would make it. He could see it in her doe-eyes … her mother’s steely resolve.
CHAPTER 6
Into The Forest
The next three days were to be spent in preparation.
However, Kautilya dreaded the thought of leaving her father and Jay for eight years. She did not leave her room, staying in bed wrapped in blankets. But no amount of sulking was going to change the inevitable.
Finally, the day of departure arrived. Tears rolled down Jay’s cheeks as he bade farewell to each of the five brothers. When he came to see Kautilya, he hugged her tight and wept still more. Kautilya began to cry too.
Kautilya then made her way to her father.
The king had finished saying goodbye to all her brothers. He now turned to Kautilya. Unlike his usual bear hug, this time the king tenderly wrapped his arms around her. She felt teardrops fall on her shoulder.
“I am sorry, Kautilya,” he said. “It breaks my heart to set you on the course of a painful journey. But if you learn, you will become a source of inspiration to all.”
Kautilya gulped and cleared her throat. She wrapped her tiny arms around the king’s neck. “I will learn, Father.”
The king let go and wiped away his tears. He pulled off a signet ring from his left hand. He put it on a chain and put it around Kautilya’s neck. Kautilya pulled it up and studied it. It was a lion head: the emblem of the Shveta.
“Keep this with you as a reminder that I will always be there for you,” the king said. “Even though I am far away, my spirit protects you.”
Kautilya nodded.
He then gestured to her to get on the chariot that had been arranged to drop the royal pupils off. The chariot was loaded with clothes, gifts, food and amenities. Once it was loaded, the guru and the pupils got on and it set off.
Kautilya leaned against the side of the chariot and watched her home dwindle behind her. First, buildings grew indistinguishable from one another, then the giant statue of a lioness atop the entrance to the city, then even the giant dome that crowned the city grew smaller and smaller till she could see them no more.
“All right, charioteer,” Akrama’s booming voice suddenly announced. “We stop here.”
“Are we there?” Varun asked.
“No,” Akrama said, “but we begin your lessons here. You have spent too long in the luxury of a royal household. Now you need to learn how real men live. Get off the chariot, all of you.”
Once they were off, Akrama instructed them to remove their footwear and jewellery and put them in the chariot. All the princes complied. Kautilya did as she was told too, but kept the signet ring hidden in the folds of her clothes.
Akrama then turned to the charioteer. “Go back to the city. Distribute all these things as gifts to the poor and the hungry. If someone asks, tell them that the princes are safe.”
Bali groaned. “But all the sweets and snacks will go to waste.”
“Silence!” Akrama shouted so fiercely that all the brothers were struck dumb. “I am your master now and you shall mutely obey all that I command. Now, off with the chariot.”
“But, Guruji...” the charioteer said.
“Do you want to get off as well?” Akrama asked. His wrathful stare suggested he would act on this threat.
The charioteer gulped and turned the chariot around.
Akrama then turned to them. “Now we will trek to my hermitage.”
“How far is it?” Dhanush asked.
“If there is a destination you have to reach then the distance should not matter,” Akrama said. He turned and began to walk. The brothers looked at each other, shrugged and followed him. Kautilya gulped and started walking along.
Kautilya’s feet hurt. She was used to walking on grass and marble, not on jagged rocks and pebbles.
“Dhanush!” she called out.
All those walking ahead of her turned around immediately. Seeing their sister in pain, the five brothers came running to her aid.
“Bali, can you carry her on your back?” Dhanush asked.
Bali nodded and began to lift Kautilya up.
“What do you think you are doing?” a stern voice made them pause. Akrama was glaring at the brothers.
“It’s Kautilya,” Dhanush said. “She’s not used to walking on rough roads.”
“Well, then, she’d better get used to it,” Akrama said.
“But she has small limbs,” Dhanush said, “and soft feet.”
“Silence,” Akrama said. “Never talk back to me. You are too used to a life of luxury. You need to face reality. No one will help her. If she is not able to keep up, it is her own fault.”
Bali grumbled and let Kautilya down. As soon as she placed her foot on the ground it hurt again. Clenching her jaws Kautilya began to walk.
“Are you all right?” Dhanush asked.
Kautilya nodded, holding back tears.
They began the trek and after an hour the pain metamorphosed into agony. Kautilya’s head started to spin. She needed a rest.
Without making a noise she sat down. She looked down to see her soft feet were cut and bruised. Kautilya had never subjected them to so much strain. Why was she doing this to herself? Why had she agreed to go for the training? Tears started rolling down her cheeks and a lump formed in her throat.
“Are you sitting again?” The voice Kautilya had begun dreading broke into her thoughts. She did not look up. “We are not even halfway there, girl. You are slowing us down. We need to get to the hermitage before sunset.”
“Let me rest for a while,” Kautilya choked through the tears.
“No, we cannot rest,” Akrama said.
“I can’t walk any more,” Kautilya said.
“Then crawl,” Akrama said and started walking ahead.
Kautilya gave up. She got on her knees and as Akrama suggested she began to walk on all fours.
“This is wrong,” Dhanush said in outrage. “If our father finds out...”
“Your father has put you all in
my care and tutelage,” Akrama said. “If he has a problem with my methods he can take you all back.”
“It’s all right, Dhanush,” Kautilya said to calm her brother down. “This is not so bad.”
Kautilya kept crawling on all fours but this time her brothers walked with her. She took comfort in their company.
She travelled some stretches on all fours and once her feet felt a little better she would stand up and walk for a while. However, soon her knees hurt too. After what seemed like forever the group finally reached the hermitage.
Without much fanfare, they were sent off to a hut to sleep. Kautilya and her brothers were used to sleeping on thick mattresses and silken sheets. But here they had to sleep with just a mat between them and the hard floor.
Kautilya lay down on the mat. Her long black hair cushioned the back of her head but the floor hurt the small of her back and her shoulders. Coupled with her skinned knees and her throbbing feet, the pain was unbearable. She began to weep.
No. She had to be strong. She pulled out the signet ring and remembered her father.
Even though I am far away, my spirit protects you.
CHAPTER 7
The First Lessons
The next day, Akrama woke them up before sunrise. When the royal siblings assembled outside they realised that they were not the only noble family in his tutelage.
The twelve princes of the Lohitha family, the Shvetas’ arch-rivals, had also gathered on the grounds before the huts.
The Lohithas were the rulers of the Sindhu province. They were the erstwhile rulers of Bharat before King Bindusara, Kautilya’s grandfather, had deposed them. Since then, they had been unable to stand the sight of the Shvetas.
“Look, it’s the white-wearing cowards,” the eldest Lohitha said. “I wonder who let these wimps in?”
“Want to find out who’s a wimp?” Bali said.
“There’s a girl, too,” a Lohitha said.
“Which one?” the eldest Lohitha asked. “They all look like girls to me.”
All the Lohithas guffawed.
The Raptors fumed. Kautilya hoped they wouldn’t start fighting.
The Epic of Kautilya : Born To Be King Page 4