‘We went with them to the Pataliputra vihara and I saw the relic box that will be placed in the stupa here,’ Madhura added.
‘The stupa is nearly ready and we expect the royal family to be here in a month’s time for the inauguration ceremony.’
As they were leaving Madhura turned and asked the monk, ‘I also like temples, Bhikshu. So can I pray to both Buddha and Vishnu?’
Aditya laughed, ‘Pray to anyone you like, as long as it makes you happy. Do you know, many members of the royal family still worship the old gods? His Majesty only wants us to live as good human beings.’
They said goodbye to Bhikshu Aditya and headed back to the site of the stupa where workmen were painting the dome a dazzling white, and gardeners were planting shrubs and trees all around it.
‘Oh, there you are! I couldn’t find you two anywhere,’ Kartik called out. Hearing his voice, they turned to see him come hurrying towards them.
‘Where’s Tilaka?’ Madhura’s mother asked.
‘After we spoke to Sudhira, he left for Pataliputra. Once he has spoken to His Majesty he’ll come back and meet us at Ujjaini.’
‘What did the injured monk tell you?’
Kartik shrugged, ‘He is still quite ill; the robbers had hit him on the head and he remembers very little. What is strange is that a monk was attacked by robbers, because everyone knows that monks never carry any money. So it is clear that the robbers were looking for something else; in fact Sudhira remembers that they searched his bag and took away the palm leaf pages that he had found in the treasury. Sudhira managed to hide some of the pages but they got all broken and torn when he fell and fainted.’
‘He did not know the men?’
‘It was dark and they had covered their faces. Sudhira is sure they were trying to kill him; he says he is lucky to be alive.’
‘So what do we do now?’
‘We leave for Ujjaini, and there I have to find a way to meet Prince Kunala.’ Kartik sighed, ‘It won’t be easy.’
‘Why not?’
‘A member of the royal family does not meet everyone; he is too important. If I tried to enter the palace, I would be stopped at the gate by the guards who will ask me a hundred questions. Also, I have never met this prince. I know Prince Mahendra but Kunala is the son of Queen Padmavati. Now if I had a letter from the king, all the doors will open for me. I will try but if I fail, Tilaka will come with the royal order and we’ll try again. But I worry it may get too late.’
‘Tilaka said you are clever, you’ll find a way.’
‘Very easy to say that. Now come, the monks have invited us to lunch. We’ll stay here tonight and leave at dawn for Ujjaini.’
‘Bhai, I’ve heard that these monks only eat once a day at lunchtime. Then what about dinner?’
Her mother laughed, ‘I’ll cook dinner, don’t worry.’
Early next morning Madhura woke and stepped outside the small room they were staying in. The air was cool on her skin, the birds had just begun to call and the sky was a pale grey at dawn. She stood yawning at the door and discovered that all the monks were already up and busy with work. Some were working in the kitchen garden and orchard, digging and watering the plants and trees, others were chanting prayers in the chaitya and groups of monks holding wooden bowls were leaving the vihara to go on their begging rounds.
Madhura had seen many monks begging at Pataliputra. They would come and stand outside the door of their house, and ring a small bell that they carried. Her mother would put a handful of rice and some vegetables into their bowls. The Buddha had also gone begging like this for his daily food and clothes. The monks owned nothing; they ate what people gave them and they took the pieces of cloth they received, dyed them saffron and stitched them together to make their robes. They spent their life at prayers, teaching people, giving the sick medicines and helping the poor. As she wandered about the vihara, Madhura caught a glimpse of Bhikshu Aditya; he was bent over a robe he was stitching.
A few days later they moved by the Shipra River and then entered Ujjaini, the capital of the province of Avantika. They were finally at their destination. The city was surrounded by a high wall made of logs of wood, and outside was a moat filled with water. There were bridges over the moat that was guarded by soldiers, who checked everyone entering the city. At night these bridges were raised and the gates closed so that no enemy could attack the city at night. They crossed the moat by a wooden bridge and entered through a high gate. Going through the busy streets they came to a caravanserai where they would stay. Dhanu and Lakshmi had rooms near the stables where the bullock and buffalo carts were parked.
Kartik had taken a large room where all the goods he had brought from Pataliputra were stored. Now he was playing the role of a rich trader and so the three of them wore their best clothes. Madhura and her mother wore embroidered cottons, and Kartik tied a turban flaring up over his forehead. They were all wearing thick silver bangles, necklaces and earrings.
Madhura shook her hands to make her bangles clink and said, ‘I think I look very pretty today.’
Next morning Kartik left early to go somewhere. Their mother sat in the sun mending some old clothes, and Madhura, all dressed up, had nothing to do. She wandered out of the courtyard and towards the side of the caravanserai, past a long dining hall where they had eaten the night before. Next to this was the kitchen. She peered into the dark, smoky kitchen through the door and saw the sweaty cooks working over a row of huge open fires. One man was stirring a black iron cauldron filled with frothing milk, while a big earthen pot of dal was bubbling on another fire. Another cook was dipping vegetables into a batter and then sliding them into the hot oil with a hiss to make vegetable fries, and Madhura suddenly remembered eating fries at the market with Princess Sanghamitra. Two boys sat outside in the veranda peeling radishes, chopping spinach and cauliflowers, and large earthen bowls of curd sat in a corner to be whipped up with onions.
Satisfied with the menu for lunch, Madhura strolled off to the back of the caravanserai. Here there were the rows of sheds for the horses and elephants, and open spaces to keep the bullocks and buffaloes. In the stables, the horses stood stamping their feet and munching from baskets of horse feed. The bullocks stood nearby, but there was no sign of Dhanu and Lakshmi. They seemed to have gone off sightseeing, and how she wished they had taken her with them!
Madhura’s mother had told her to stay inside the caravanserai, but by now Madhura was feeling so bored she forgot and wandered out of the gate to the street outside. She stood there watching the people going past, listening to the call of vendors selling fruits and vegetables, snacks and toys. Then as she was about to head back inside, she heard the rumble of drums and stopped to look.
Around the curve of the street a group of soldiers came marching and the man in front was beating the drum. Everyone in the street stopped to watch them. As the men came closer they began to wave sticks shouting, ‘Move back! Move back!’ and the people were all pushed and shoved to the edge of the road.
‘What’s happening?’ a white-haired woman asked nervously, peering short-sightedly. ‘Who’s coming?’
‘I think it’s the governor, Prince Kunala,’ a man said. ‘They clear the road for him. Where is he going so early in the morning?’
‘I hear there has been some trouble in the palace,’ a second man added, ‘so the soldiers are all out in the streets.’
By now the crowd was growing as people came out of the houses to see what all the noise and excitement was about. Madhura, being small, had got pushed into the back of the crowd and couldn’t even see anything. A fat woman stood in front, blocking her view, so she used her elbows to push past her and squeezed her head through a gap. The drummer and marching men had gone ahead, and now a row of soldiers on horses came towards them with a chariot following.
‘It is Prince Kunala,’ the first man said.
As the chariot swept past, Madhura stared at the handsome face of the young prince. Usually when she had se
en the king go in procession he rode on an elephant and bowed, waved and smiled at the people. But Prince Kunala was looking straight in front, his face grim and expressionless. He even ignored the greetings being shouted by the people. It was as if he did not hear the calls. Then the sound of the drums and the clatter of horses’ hooves faded away and the procession vanished round the corner.
‘He looked very angry,’ the old woman commented. ‘You said there was some problem in the palace . . . What’s happening there?’
‘Who knows? There are battles in the royal family all the time, so many queens, princes and princesses. The people at the palace won’t tell us anything, will they? But when the soldiers are all out in the streets and the prince is hurrying off somewhere early in the morning, then there must be some trouble.’
‘And you saw the prince just now,’ the second man said. ‘Usually he looks calm and happy but not today.’
Madhura hurried inside to her mother, ‘Amma, did you hear the drums?’
Her mother raised her head from stitching a torn antariya, ‘Someone important was going past?’
‘I saw Prince Kunala! He was riding a chariot and he is such a handsome man, Amma, much better looking than our king or Prince Mahendra. Achha, he is the princess’ stepbrother, no?’
‘Yes, he’s Queen Padmavati’s son.’
‘Then will he become the next king?’
‘He may; he’s the next in age after Mahendra, and now that Mahendra has become a monk, Kunala is next in line. Of course that is a long time away. Our king is still young and will rule for many more years.’
Just then Kartik hurried in with a short, stout man chewing paan and said, ‘Amma, this is Rajen. He is the merchant who is going to buy all my goods.’
Rajen bowed, ‘Your son supplies very good cloth and pottery, My Lady. Of course he is never cheap . . . heh heh . . . and he strikes a very good bargain.’
The two men went inside and were soon busy as Kartik began to show Rajen the bales of cloth. Rajen fingered the cloth carefully and then they talked prices, scribbling the numbers on bits of cloth and palm leaves. Madhura realized that Kartik was a great salesman and Rajen was agreeing to most of the prices he was quoting. Then Rajen took out a bag of silver coins that was tied around his waist and paid Kartik. The two men now relaxed over bowls of hot milk flavoured with cardamoms.
‘Bhai, I saw Prince Kunala!,’ Madhura told them excitedly. ‘He rode past on his chariot just now with soldiers and drummers . . .’
‘Ah, our young governor . . .’ Rajen sipped the milk. ‘I hear he and the army commander have been very busy for the last few days.’
‘Busy with the army commander?’ Kartik leaned forward. ‘Why? It looks quite peaceful here; has there been any trouble?’
Clearly Rajen enjoyed a gossip because he leant back against a cushion and continued, ‘I have a friend who works in the governor’s palace; he is one of the stewards there. He says that a week ago this monk came from Vidisha and then he heard the prince and the monk arguing loudly in the prince’s room. Later the monk left in a hurry and then the prince summoned the army commander. Soon he began running around, looking very worried and yelling at the soldiers. Now this morning the prince has rushed off somewhere . . . something’s up my friend!’
‘Any idea what the problem is?’
‘Nah! Some people are saying the prince and the monk had a fight, but why would a poor monk do that? Someone said that the queens have been battling with each other in Pataliputra. My friend said there have been rumours that the Shakas are planning to attack us, but we hear that all the time . . . It’s just that for the last few days the governor’s palace has been a very busy place.’
‘Any idea where Prince Kunala has gone?’
‘None my friend! And anyway we poor people should stay away from the business of the royal family. Much safer for us.’
Next morning Kartik and Madhura were wandering outside the governor’s palace, acting like typical sightseers. The palace was surrounded by a high wooden wall and a gate. Through the bars of the gate they could see the palace—a building with pillars painted a dazzling white, and a red-tiled roof. As Kartik stood watching the soldiers at the gate, a bullock cart and then a group of men arrived. The soldiers asked a lot of questions before letting them through.
‘They are checking every visitor,’ Kartik muttered thoughtfully. ‘Usually the guards are not so strict.’
‘How do you enter the palace at Pataliputra?’ Madhura asked, breaking into his thoughts. ‘One day while I was sitting outside the princess’ palace in Pataliputra, I saw you at the palace with the red pillars. Amma said it was the office of a minister. So if you can enter the palace there, you must have something to show the guards.’
‘I show them this.’ Kartik reached under his vest and pulled out a round metal plate hanging from a chain around his neck. Madhura had seen it before because he always wore this medallion. ‘This medallion says I’m a servant of the king and that I am allowed to meet him; so the guards let me in.’
‘Then why don’t you show this at the gate here?’
‘It will get me inside, but a prince is always surrounded by people—officials, noblemen and servants. So to meet the prince alone in his chambers, this is not enough. I’ll have to convince the chamberlain first.’
‘Chamber . . . what?’
‘The chamberlain is the guardian of the private rooms of the royal men. In Pataliputra I usually give my report to Tilaka, who then meets the king. A few times he has taken me along to the king’s chambers. The chamberlain stands at the door and asks a lot of questions, and only after he is convinced does he go in and ask the king if His Majesty wants to meet us. Only after the king says yes are we allowed to enter.’
‘And then there are those female soldiers at the door,’ Madhura grinned.
‘Exactly! Oh, am I scared of them! If they get suspicious they immediately pull out their swords!’
‘So we need a story that the prince’s chamberlain will believe.’
‘Exactly!’
‘But I saw the prince leave yesterday. He’s not in the palace anyway.’
‘Oh, he’s back.’ Kartik pointed to a flag fluttering on top of the gateway. ‘See that flag? When the king or the governor is in his palace, that flag flies over the gate.’
That night Kartik, Madhura and their mother sat chatting. ‘So your spy from the Shaka kingdom has not come yet?’ Ganga asked.
‘No, Amma. He knows that I’m staying here and will meet me. I just have to wait. Meanwhile, if I could find a way to meet the prince . . .’
‘We need a story for the chamberlain,’ Madhura brooded.
‘There is one way,’ their mother said thoughtfully. ‘But you’ll have to take Madhu and me with you.’
Kartik stared at his mother looking puzzled, ‘What can you do? You have never met Prince Kunala.’
‘True, but I have met his mother Queen Padmavati. Her chambers are next to those of Queen Mahadevi and I have worked there sometimes. Last month Queen Padmavati had invited some people for a meal and I cooked a dish and helped her maid serve the guests. She was so happy with my work, she gave me this . . .’ and she opened one of the cloth bags carrying their clothes and took out a woven length of cloth. It was made of cotton and there was this unusual design in red and black woven into the cream cloth.
Kartik fingered the cloth, ‘What’s so special about this?’
‘It is woven by the queen herself. She loves to weave and has a loom in her chambers. Also see the design, with the squares and circles? Her Majesty comes from a kingdom in the east where they weave that design. No one in our kingdom makes cloth like this and I’m sure Prince Kunala would recognize the work of his mother.’
‘Brilliant!’ Madhura grinned. ‘Bhai will use his medallion so the soldiers let us through the gate, and then we’ll show this cloth to the chamberlain.’
‘Hmmm . . .’ Kartik pondered. ‘It could work. At least it is worth
trying. We can say that we have come from Pataliputra and have brought gifts from Queen Padmavati for her son.’ He gave a quick, flashing smile, ‘Yes! I think it would work. And once we are before the prince I can request to speak to him alone. I have to tell him what that injured monk Bhikshu Sudhira told us. It may help him catch the thief.’
‘Oooh! I’m going to meet a prince!’ breathed Madhura all starry-eyed with excitement. ‘When I tell Ranju, she’d be sooo jealous!’
6
Fooling a Chamberlain
Next morning, the three of them stood admiring each other as they reached the gate of Prince Kunala’s palace. They were wearing bright new clothes and a lot of jewellery. Madhura’s antariya, that she had tied like a skirt, was a deep red, while her blouse and uttariya were in gold. She had even braided a flower garland through her long hair. Her mother’s clothes were in white, embroidered in gold, and she had tied a mekhala belt woven in green at her waist.
Kartik had worn a deep blue dhoti with a white-embroidered vest. He had tied a yellow turban on his head, and a silk stole hung from his neck. Silver bangles, earrings and necklaces gleamed at their wrists, ears and neck, and Madhura and her mother had dabbed on some jasmine perfume.
They were carrying covered baskets in which there were lengths of expensive silks and cottons, bottles of incense, shiny metal bowls and carved wooden boxes. Kartik had bought these things from Pataliputra, hoping to sell them in the market, but now they had become the gifts supposedly sent to Prince Kunala by his mother, Queen Padmavati. As they walked calmly towards the gate, Madhura realized that two soldiers were watching them closely. As they got closer, one of them held out his spear to block their path and asked roughly, ‘Who goes there?’
‘I am Kartik,’ and Kartik pulled out his medallion from under his vest. ‘I work for His Majesty the
King of Pataliputra. I have an urgent message for Prince Kunala from his father. It has to be given personally.’
Seeing the medallion, the soldier lowered his spear, ‘Fine you can enter, but who are these women with you?’
A Mauryan Adventure Page 6