Ranthambore fell six months later. When the troops were returning, Malik noticed with a smile that Alauddin had not given orders to pause and hunt animals at Tilpet.
*
Akat’s rebellion had shaken up Alauddin. Loyalty was essential to his survival, but it is a rare commodity and people at the top did not live on rock-solid foundations as the common man assumed; they lived on a human pyramid of trusted supporters. Even if one shifted, it could unsettle the entire edifice and let loose a domino effect. When his own flesh and blood had wanted to usurp his power and had not thought twice before aiming an arrow at him, a slave had come to his salvation. Akat’s rebellion, which upon interrogation had been found to be spontaneous and not planned as earlier suspected, was the culminating point. Alauddin realized his relatives were waiting for him to die. He could not trust them.
Alauddin was worried, also because he knew his sons would probably piss in their trousers if they had to face the Mongols. He was bitterly disappointed when he found them whoring and drinking. He often lamented the lack of kingly qualities in his sons but he knew he was more than responsible for it. His condescending treatment had its toxic effect on them.
Malik’s actions at Siri and Tilpet had put him in the limelight – the first an important bit of advice, the second a show of loyalty with a dash of bravery thrown in – and they made Alauddin think. Malik didn’t have any family, nor could he beget one – but he was morally superior to most of Alauddin’s relatives and associates. True, he had had no training in the art of war, but he was an excellent strategist. And more than anything else, he was deeply loyal to Alauddin. If he decided to promote Malik and shift him to the army, would the Khans accept a slave as one of their own?
The eunuch had no relatives or friends to speak of who could pave his way with patronage. From his tenuous position as a harem servant, he had risen and consolidated his power. Alauddin empathized with this tenacity, since he’d always prided himself on coming the hard way up, though the ‘hard way’ included a mutiny he’d initiated to usurp power from his enfeebled uncle. He admired those who rose similarly without political patronage. Was Malik being thrown up and offered to him by destiny on a platter? On the other hand, perhaps he had just been lucky, and Alauddin must not tax his fate with more than that.
Alauddin remembered Malik had saved Ulugh’s life just two or three days after changing hands as a slave. Then there were the reports that said he had saved the Arab’s fortune and life too. Malik had evidently broken out of the limits of a slave and a eunuch. His was an upward flight, a series of accomplishments that were faultless and unique and showed some sterling qualities.
He took his decision, determined to reward his loyal slave. Malik was not immediately given a command, but was released from harem duties and given lavish rooms within the main palace as well as a small retinue of servants, all eunuchs. Malik was also chosen to head a private group of advisors, who would help him on policy decisions. This new career jump allowed Malik and Alauddin to engage in conversations that ran into hours. Malik stood as a slave would and the Sultan would recline on a divan, but despite the chasm in their positions, they discussed every topic as equals. Even if a bedecked girl from the harem tried to lure the Sultan, Malik and Alauddin would be discussing the economy and the defence of the empire. Once Malik made a move as if to wake the girl, who’d fallen asleep, bored by their talk, but Alauddin stopped him. ‘Don’t, Malik, the torch of my passion has all but been extinguished tonight. Let her sleep. We can continue our discussion.’
Malik also chose to advise the Sultan on market and social reforms. Public drinking was outlawed and the seized liquor was spilled into the earth, making people joke that no ant crawled steadily in the area for a month. Similarly, Malik advised him to begin storing corn in warehouses. People were pleasantly surprised to find the price maintained at times of both famine and plenty. Traders who hoarded the grain to create artificial scarcities found themselves out of a job. He knew that the Sultan’s worth grew only if people felt safe – on a larger scale, from the Mongols, and at a smaller level, from thieves. Malik then constructed the Chor Minar – Thieves’ Tower – very close to the public tank, Hauz Khas. It was a rubble-built tapering tower set on a platform with a staircase inside. The walls had holes sunk in them and severed heads of criminals were displayed from these holes to deter crime. Crime rates dropped miraculously after this display.
These suggestions and their successes lay the ground for a profound change in the hierarchy of the court. With Malik’s advent, the balance of power had inexplicably tipped in favour of one who provided the Sultan with workable ideas rather than those from better placed families. Alauddin’s inner voice told him repeatedly, Malik is your warrior. It is he who will stretch your empire to borders your mind has not yet conceived.
With his four Khans, Alauddin knew he could conquer a fourth of the world. But he had lost two of his precious generals already, and their loss had substantially weakened his ambition. Perhaps this slave could help him achieve it. The foundations of this empire had been eaten into by tribes of termites and Alauddin was tired of his other generals. Some were addicted to women and some to opium. The most disgusting were those who were addicted to food. At the end of a good meal, they would tickle their throats with a cockerel feather and vomit the meal in entirety, only to start gorging again. As the generals grew older, most showed signs of eccentricity which made their soldiers vulnerable, because they could die on the whims of a general who could make hasty and foolish decisions.
Alauddin saw in Malik someone who could make him Sikandar-i-Saini, the second Alexander. He wanted to conquer Rub-i-Maskhan, or one-fourth of the inhabited land mass, just like the Greek emperor had done. But Malik disagreed. ‘We should forget the land, Your Highness,’ Malik said simply. He always used the prefix ‘we’, thus including Alauddin in his thought process. ‘Land brings with it people, whom we have to govern. The initial impetus should be on gold. You need not kill a king if he gives you his wealth.’
Alauddin saw the wisdom in his words. Total conquest had been a strain on his generals, sending many to their premature graves. The economy would receive a fresh stimulus if loot was gathered instead of more subjects. Friendly nations could serve as a launch pad for further invasions: Deogiri for Dwarsamudra, Dwarsamudra for the other southern kingdoms. Who knows, maybe they could bring the mighty kingdom of Madurai to its knees too?
CHAPTER 17
THE CROWN OF PEARLS
Veera’s first few years as crown prince were at best uneventful. The empire was firmly controlled by the Pandyans and there wasn’t much to do even for the king. All Veera did was attend ceremonies that the king delegated to him, where citizens would praise him as a warrior beyond compare. His sword had last tasted blood four years ago and that too only when Radhika had cut herself while cleaning it for a puja. He was beginning to feel claustrophobic in the capital.
When the Pandyans gained power in the wake of a Chola collapse, they ensured that their system would effectively control all the lands under them. For the last hundred years, the administration had been headed by one powerful king, who was aided by up to four crown princes, usually his brothers or his sons. Vikrama had been one, and Sundar, too, had been recently nominated as one after Veera’s coronation. This devolution of power was an improvement over the Chola system that had centralized all power in one place, leading to the inevitable weakening of a far-flung empire. The Pandyan system allowed the king to rule from the capital, while his chosen officials could administer distant provinces on their own.
Veera now looked forward to settling down in a delightful corner of the empire. The place he had in mind was Cannanore, which had earlier been a minor Chola potentate. Cannanore was a three-day march from Madurai and lay close to where the broad Cauvery split into two.
The Pandyan empire now stretched up to the Pennar river in the north, with its vassals still a month’s march away from Madurai. Kulasekharan realized the
importance of establishing a second capital at Cannanore, as it would give the centre more control over the rebellious north and the Chola region. While Sundar would continue to assist the king in Madurai, it was decided that Veera would have a new capital at Cannanore – ironically, in the heart of Chola land. Kulasekharan wasn’t too pleased about Veera moving away, fearing that his son may be in danger, being right in the midst of his sworn enemies. He would have preferred to have sent Sundar, since Sunanda was a Chola princess, but then his council pointed out that Veera was the better warrior.
For Veera too, shifting to Cannanore was difficult because Madurai was the only home he had ever known. But getting away from it would give him some relief from its restricted atmosphere. He knew the only way he could become a great emperor in his own right was if he moved away from the shadow of his father. Veera did not have a constituency of his own. What better than to turn Sundar’s constituency into his own loyal bastion? The king had many years ahead of him and was healthy and virile – it was common knowledge that he had impregnated a seventeen-year-old concubine just last year.
*
Though it stood on a highway that connected Madurai with its northern vassals, Cannanore had the dainty quaintness of a village. It was quiet, in contrast to Madurai, which was noisy with the deafening din of the teeming population. Its proximity to the Cauvery had made Cannanore verdant and prosperous, with banana plantations, mango groves and tall coconut palms perpetually swaying in the river breeze, in stark contrast to the scorched soil of Madurai. The town was sheltered from the busy world of Pandyan politics, but Veera had to first win the loyalty of the local people. Veera was determined to find bliss at Cannanore. Building a capital was a huge undertaking and it would take him almost a decade to bring Cannanore to the status of a city.
He had not been a week in Cannanore before he was homesick, but he tried to distract himself. Veera had chosen a modified Chola building as his palace and though it did not have the same luxury as his Madurai residence, it made a pleasant home. Towers were added over time and it was now the tallest building in the town. Atop the tallest tower floated a pennant with the emblem of the Pandyan fish. Annexes were subsequently added all around to make the palace large enough for many of his loyalists who joined him with their families. Over the next few years, the population of nobles was large enough to attract traders who settled around the place to conduct commerce.
Cannanore needed to develop into a city befitting its status as a capital and Veera proceeded to get the work done with great rapidity. Dense trees that arched over the capital were pruned to allow sunshine to filter in and light the roads, which were themselves firmed up with rocks transported from across the Cauvery. Veera paid attention to the highway, for it was the road to Madurai and his future. He had built a magnificent barge, which was now moored in a wharf adjacent to the highway, ready to transport him swiftly to Madurai if situation demanded it.
The Cannanore locals had a disagreeable habit of regarding the Pandyans as foreign invaders. But Veera won them over with his munificence towards the two major temples in the town as well as the developmental work he had implemented. Cannanore began developing as an alternate capital over the years. The collection of taxes and cess from the vassals in the north was streamlined, ensuring vast amounts of tribute went back to Madurai. It was a place that offered unrivalled facilities for creating his brand of administration. The command of the military forces that were necessary for the protection of the north was centred in Cannanore rather than Madurai. Veera now essentially administered all the Pandyan territory north of the Cauvery as an independent unit with a free hand that would have been denied to him in Madurai, where rules and regulations were steeped in antiquated regulations. Soon, Cannanore grew into a capital, controlling the northern outpost of an ever-expanding empire.
*
Veera was now thirty-two. It had been eight years since he had been crowned the heir apparent, and he was now officially second-in-command and answerable only to Kulasekharan himself. Veera was also given a separate military command, a territory to govern, a palace to live in and a bright future that possibly led to the pearl-studded throne.
The emperor visited Cannanore along with the queen to spend a whole month with his son. All the vassals of the northern territory had camped in Cannanore to pay their respects to the ruler. It was a month of feasting and frolic for the city, whose population had swollen to four times its size. The emperor sat on Veera’s throne and held court while Veera sat on his left at a lower step. Only twice had the king visited Cannanore in the last eight years, for Kulasekharan was tired, and now preferred staying peacefully within his palace. Of late, he had missed his brother Vikrama, especially when pressing problems were brought to him to solve, problems that had been delegated to Vikrama in the early years of his reign, then to Veera while he was in Madurai. Time was a great healer and his thoughts strayed often towards his brother – all his transgressions were forgiven. But Vikrama seemed to have vanished from the face of the earth. Even Veerasekharan, his chief of espionage, could not locate him.
Father and son held discussions, mostly during informal walks in the gardens. Veera’s horticulturists had worked wonders, using the river’s surplus water and the alluvial silt to create beautiful landscapes studded with trees and flowering shrubs. Unlike the dry and dust-suspended air of Madurai, fresh air enveloped this part of the country.
‘How I wish I could hand over Madurai to you and take over here,’ Kulasekharan sighed, making Veera smile at the veiled praise his father offered.
The king was worried about the future of the empire. Just before he had left the capital, he had had a serious row with Sundar; the previous year, when Veera had camped at Madurai, scuffles had broken out between the two camps. The people of Madurai were for the first time in many years cloistered in their homes, lest they get caught in the crossfire. Madurai was a city that never slept, but for three days, gangs of goons held it to ransom. On pressure from the home guards and the army, both the princes had been called by the emperor. When they began arguing before him, disregarding his royal presence, Kulasekharan was furious, suffering a choking fit that almost suffocated him. Finally, he shouted at them, ‘Stop it, you bastards!’
Sundar fumed, his body heaving, while Veera smiled – the king had used the abuse in plural.
Now, all those bitter memories came back to haunt Kulasekharan. He found Veera more mature between the two, but in Sundar’s presence he seemed to lose control. He knew that if he didn’t stop the feud between his sons, civil war could threaten the empire.
His voice cracked under the load of emotion as he asked Veera, ‘Do you think we have to split the empire, Veera?’ A civil war after his demise would sully his name in history as well as dismantle the strong edifice he had built.
‘How do you cut it into two, Father? It’s not a banana that can be split midway. If you split it into the northern and southern areas, the northern areas will consist entirely of conquered territories which are easy to lose. The southern areas will encompass our traditional strongholds and come with an undisputed loyalty.’ The emperor realized Veera had given deep thought to the partition. Veera continued, ‘The only alternative is to slice the empire into east and west, two long wafers, but with a share of everything. The lands will be so thin across that a man chased by a bee could cross over into another empire without realizing it. And the borders will be too long to defend.’
The emperor understood the point. ‘But can you and Sundar survive together in one empire?’ he asked finally.
‘We have to try,’ Veera replied.
‘Try for what?’ Kulasekharan queried.
Veera gave an honest answer, which his father already knew. ‘Each of us has to try to overcome the other.’
*
After a hectic month of spending time with his son and nominal governance, the emperor left for Madurai. After three days of slow travel, which a horseman could cover overnight, the emperor’s
troupe camped between Madurai and Cannanore. It was here that a messenger came to Kulasekharan. He said, ‘Your Highness, Prince Sundar is camping nearby and wants to meet you.’
Sundar’s mother was happy and the emperor too was relieved, thinking that he could talk to Sundar and tell him to resolve differences with his brother. The carpenters who travelled with the group were asked to make a few more tents for Sundar’s retinue.
When he arrived, Sundar went to see his mother first and did not see his father till dinner. But by that time he had drunk too much palm wine and was unsteady on his feet. Sundar was incensed, the kind of mood that had seized him of late. His anger stemmed from the feeling that despite his nomination, Veera had been persistently preferred over him. While Veera had been dispatched to quell rebellions and receive tributes from foreign delegations, Sundar had been confined to the capital. Veera was making newer allies whereas he had stagnated. Even his personal life was bleak and he did not consider his palace a home at all. Sunanda had not spoken to him for several years, and his son avoided him at all times.
Sleep had often eluded the emperor as he brooded over the person his son had become. Sundar had surrounded himself with many objectionable characters who would stoop to any level. They were sons of nobles who looked down on any useful work as unbecoming of true warriors. Sundar’s governance also left much to be desired. When he had been dispatched to the land of a vassal who had delayed paying his tribute due to a drought, Sundar and his troops had camped in the capital, misbehaved with the women and nearly pushed the vassal into revolt. It had taken much pacification to bring relations back to normal. In contrast, Veera was a perfect representative of Pandyan culture. Kulasekharan was grateful that Sundar’s son was more like his uncle than his father.
The reek of liquor preceded Sundar’s entry into the king’s tent. Kulasekharan felt insulted. Sundar had ignored protocol and had kept him waiting, and here he was in an intoxicated state.
Gods, Kings & Slaves: The Siege of Madurai Page 28