The Brahmins allowed Satyavat to enter.
The same day, various Brahmins went out to carefully serve the interests of the gods.
In the evening, the Maharajah told Ashoka what was discussed at the meeting of the Brahmin-court. Ashoka did not risk saying he already knew because he wanted Satyavat to work for him as independently as possible. Instead, he said, ‘Throw them out! Today they are at me, tomorrow it is you if they feel you are dangerous.’
‘Hail to Indra that he does not yet let young Ashoka rule Madhyadesa. If I were to root out some Brahmins for this reason the others would make even more secret plans. My informants are aware of everything that is discussed in the Brahmin-court. This I prefer for my safety … Prevent the evil.’
‘What will you do, my Father, to prevent their plans?’
‘Tomorrow, before you begin your journey, all dogs and donkeys will disappear from the streets of the city. No exceptions. I hear that for the sake of your own safety you have Sela and Sagka on guard by your war-chariot. That is good.’
‘My Father!’
‘You control yourself well, your face revealed no emotions, but your voice did. Let no-one see, either from your face or voice what you wish to withhold or even wish to say. There will be no snakes on your path. Trusted men are even now on their way to Taxila, to set at naught the possible heinous influences of the Brahmins who departed this morning, led by Devaka. As for drink, games, and women, I will leave that to you. Today, the Brahmins fetched water from the accursed River Karamasa3 instead of the Holy Ganga, so the blessing of the purohita should become a curse. Tonight, I will have the vats emptied and refilled with water from the Ganga, and afterwards have them guarded by my soldiers. As far as your attempt on my life is concerned, I have been forewarned so many times about you, my son, that my security is especially pointed against them.’
‘I thank you, my great Father, for placing so much trust in me. Why do you not punish those who conspire against your imperial decrees?’
‘There are Brahmins in search of the spiritual truth, such as Sayana, Kullika, and many other noble, wise men; yet there are Brahmins serving their belly and it is not so different in our varna. Sayana hates the priests who perform sacrifices no less than you or I but the others strongly influence my people. Sayana lives in the hermitage and contemplates on the Vedas: the Brahmanas, the Upanishads, as do the noblest of Brahmins. That is their highest and most lofty goal: they strive for their salvation. Richika and his kind work amongst the people and are always anxious about their material benefit, their offerings, their fees, their belly, their varna—let us just say, then, for the welfare of Aryavarta. The Vaishyas and even rich Shudras court their favours, to extract from the gods, gifts which are disproportionate to their efforts: protection against drought, floods and earthquakes. For them the price is never too high. Should I take away the offering priests from my people and thereby the sense of security, necessary for the work that buttresses my country? As long as the Maharajah controls the priest, he controls his people. So control them! The wisdom of sages like Sayana makes it possible for the Maharajah to scorn the Richikas but he needs to bond them, because they and not the sages influence my subjects.’
‘Or, you have to win over the people and cast out the Richikas afterwards?’
‘A great people such as mine, surrounded by many dangers— floods, earthquakes, plagues—is constantly seeking new priests who in turn must sustain their existence, and ask more. So then, we are back where we started.’
Ashoka pondered on his father’s words.
‘And if these new priests will be like Sayana?’’
‘They contemplate in hermitages.’
‘But if these priests are indebted to the Maharajah for their livelihood, he can demand that they lead the people to good and truth.’
Bindusara looked at the Prince for a few moments.
‘Can you, my son, turn the world over like a page from the holy Vedas? What you are saying touches the very foundation upon which it is built.’
‘Is there anything at all, my all-knowing father, which in its essence does not strive for perfection? Each fruit, each child, each newborn animal, a city, a land, a people! That which goes backward or stagnates is contrary to that eternal principle.’
‘Why?’
‘That which goes against that principle destroys itself; that which is true to it improves upon itself.’
‘Who taught you these things?’
‘Kullika, who attributes it to Sayana. But Sayana is right. The sacrifice of animals is a striving for personal sake, thus destruction. Sayana’s offering, the symbolic offering, is one of striving for perfection.’
‘No Raja may adhere only to the latter, my wise young man, and forget the hidden power of the first.’
‘The peace and prosperity in your world empire are proof of your all-encompassing wisdom and practicality, my loving father, but …’ He took a pause before finishing. ‘But a next ruler may look at things differently and endeavour for more.’
‘Go then, my son, guard your life first, let wisdom guide your actions, and execute your decisions with resolute will. The journey West is a long, tiring one and is not without danger. Learn to recognise and overcome that first on your way to Taxila.’
When Ashoka had gone, the Maharajah sighed deeply. Would the campaign succeed amidst all this? With such a small army, opposition from the Brahmins, temptation, the pull of power? Why was he, the holy Maharajah, so pleased with this army that was so dangerously small!
The Brahmin, Garga, reported to Prince Sumana regarding the methods employed to sabotage Ashoka’s mission.
‘You see, O, Prince, how anxious the Brahmin-court is in supporting the rightful heir of the Maharajah in his noble cause.’
‘But my father supports the greedy violator of laws who despises the gods,’’ Sumana’s voice was harsh with anger.
‘One who is in pursuit of a great goal must not act in haste, O, Prince.’
‘But he may be too late! Will the Brahmins accept a wild Prince who could become a wild king? Will the Brahmin-court molder away and the host of noble priests scatter like the blossoms in springtime? Will the gods of Aryavarta tolerate such defamation?’
‘Bindusara is noble and mighty and he will rule his great empire for a long time yet.’
‘And what if a rufian should seize the imperial power! How will you, holy Brahmins, prevent that?’
‘With all our might. We want you, the rightful Crown Prince, to be the successor and our power is great, O, Prince. Remember that well!’
‘How? In what way? I want to know!’ yelled Sumana.
‘Shush, O, Prince, the cedar walls of the shimmering palace listen to all your words.’
‘Tell me how!’ Sumana’s voice contracted.
‘There are many ways: the gods gave the cobras their venom, the soldier his dagger, the cook his herbs, the insurgents their courage, the Brahmins their powers of persuasion. We will make the right choice,’ whispered Garga so softly that Sumana could barely hear him.
‘How long will this restlessness ruin my sleep and poison my pleasure, and this hate deaden my mind?’
‘Shhhhh … one who is to be Maharajah controls his actions,’ observed Garga keenly. ‘Trust us and our wise decisions, O, Prince.’
With ill grace Sumana sank down on his couch; in his eyes was the resentment of the misunderstood, the hate of the defeated one, and the greed for wealth and power as the ruler of India. He leapt up again, shedding all self-control, and yelled out to Garga:
‘I require the ultimate, my Garga, tell holy Richika that. Either the gods help me or humiliate me. What is it the Brahmins want?’
Nervously, Garga held up his hand to hush the loud voice. He then bowed low, clearly gratified for the Prince’s ambitions masked their own even while shifting the blame.
‘No god is a match for the Brahman of Brahmins, O, Prince. The army will encounter the power of our varna all along its way,’ Ga
rga said, still in a whisper.
At which point Satyavat came in to bring flowers and Maskarin leaned against the cedar wall.
Like a white lotus rising out of the dark waters of the holy pond, Bindusara’s palace rose out of the trees of the imperial park. Surya rose as a fiery ball from the distant ocean, cooled by Ushas in the chilly morning mist so that his rays would not scorch India. His shimmering red haze set the entire palace aglow. The golden pillars gleamed with a deeper hue and the towers rose up like slender slivers against the dark blue of the sky. Artistically wrought flowers of emerald and beryl, birds of carbuncle and silver, flaunted their colours in the thundering whiteness of the palace, luxuriantly built of cypress, teak and cedar woods and painted a glistening white, so that the sun’s rays struck a dazzling vibration over park and city. A large gallery, edged by great tree trunks which skilful hands had cut, carved and embedded with fantastical figures of animals of silver and gold, opened out onto to the park with its big shady trees.
A vast mass of people moved up the broad palace road. The holy Maharajah himself wanted to bid his troops farewell and the purohita would bless them with water from the Holy Ganga. Members of the Brahmin-court would send them off to their journey with prayers and blessings. Children, young lads and nimble girls, light-footed, men and women in the bloom of their life and gray-beards, had all donned their bright red and white festive clothes. Soft muslin veils fluttered in the fresh morning breeze. Residents stood in doorways or on rooftops along with their friends.
A ripple went through the crowd. Warriors approached, heralding the rest of the army. The sonorous, heavy cadence of the big war-drums was heard in the distance, mixed with shrill flutes and the blowing of war-conches, as the soldiers marched into view. Suddenly, everyone’s attention was diverted by warriors who, armed with heavy clubs, bludgeoned every dog along the palace road.
‘Remove that corpse or else the next club is for you.’
Fearfully, the owners dragged their dead dogs away. An unusual number of mule drivers appeared from everywhere. But instantly each of them was accosted by two soldiers and none too gently made to vanish from the streets. As soon as a mule displayed even the slightest inclination to infuse its ‘eee-aah’ amongst the cheerful crowd, a club landed on the animal. The street urchins followed, at first with great curiosity, then in fun, mocking the hastily retreating mule drivers until the approaching sounds of drum-beats increased, rallying all to see off the troops. First, a row of powerful armoured war-elephants, tusks ringed with dangerous barbs, each bearing three heavily armed warriors and a mahout. The earth shook under their heavy tread. They were followed by horsemen, carrying sharp metal spears in their fists, shields hanging at their sides. Behind them came the war-chariots yoked to four horses, accompanied by archers with long bows.
Ashoka drove the first chariot himself; Sagka and Sela strode beside the horses, ready to act if danger threatened their leader. The Prince kept a wary eye on the road. A shower of flowers descended before his horses from all sides: Pataliptura’s fond farewell to the leader of Bindusara’s army on his long journey to the distant West. Ashoka knew that present amongst all these laughing, happy people were the priests, and he espied how a penitent had stepped out of the crowd, his weather-beaten hand clutched around a heavy cane. The Prince, fearing another attack and determined not to once more fall prey to another henchman in the pay of Sumana, pulled in his reins quickly, and directed his four-span towards the approaching penitent. The horses reared high under Ashoka’s reins and then propelled forward. The crowd, alarmed, parted, and the penitent, cut off from the throng, crossed the road wildly. Ashoka, swiftly wheeling his chariot, shot off in the direction of the fleeing man who in dread vanished into the crowd on the other side, jeered on by the surrounding people. The excited, whinnying steeds calmed down after the brief chase and returned to a steady pace. With confident certainty the Prince stood in his chariot and calmly looked over the crowd. The by-standers, who had viewed the performance with astonishment, became still, seeking an explanation. A spy from Taxila? Disguised as a penitent? An angry goblin? Awe and admiration for the fearless Prince swept over them. After some hours their imagination let rider and horses soar above the road and the great driver drive with only a glance and a pointing finger … the baleful sprite, which no-one saw again, had been destroyed with one ray from the Prince’s keen eyes, the horses obeying him as a god.
The notables of the capital gathered under the gallery in front of the palace. Ministers, the thirty members of the six panchayats4 in residence, and other highly placed government officials, arranged themselves on either side of the Maharajah who was sitting on the gold-inlaid throne. The palace guards, all women, stood in several rows behind the throne, armed with heavy bows. Beside the road stood the queens and their slaves, the Princes and Princesses, and invited guests. The priests of the Brahmin-court stood on the other side, silent, reverent and in prayer. No-one quite knew, however, what they were praying for.
‘The smallest of Rajas in India would not yield to such a small army,’ laughed Garga, whispering in Richika’s ear.
‘One wasp can sometimes drive a horse into the jungle in terror,’ cautioned Richika.
The purohita stood before a scaffold in front of the gallery. The elephants were arranged in two rows and Ashoka drove his chariot deftly between the giant animals right up to the front of the throne. At the same time a flock of blue doves soared into the sky from the park. Bindusara knew that this would be seen by the whole of Pataliputra as a supremely good sign. The group of Brahmins watched the spectacle with heavy hearts while a jubilant roar arose from the rest of the onlookers.
The offering fires were already lit and their flames surged high up to the radiant heavens. The priests, who had sworn the oath of the tanunaptram for the Maharajah, now invited Agni, the god of fire, to transport their gifts to the gods and began the chant of the mantras. When the ceremony had ended, the purohita climbed up the scaffold, took a large bunch of kusha grass tied together and sprinkled Ashoka’s horses and carts with holy water from the Ganga. The young commander then climbed down from his cart and prostrated at the feet of the Maharajah. The Emperor recited the appropriate Artharva-Veda incantations to his son, lifted him up from the carpet and embraced him.
‘May the gods in their wisdom guide you on your journey to Taxila, my son. Guard with your manas your body and mind; be vigilant so that you may fulfil your obligation to me, the Maharajah of India.’
‘My great Father, what I do, I do only for your gracious Majesty.’
The purohita went on with the consecration of the elephants, the carriages, the horsemen, and the foot soldiers. In the meantime, Ashoka said farewell to the queens, first among them, Subhadrangi, who stood radiant amongst the other women of the Emperor. Then he turned to the others and paid homage to them. Gopali and Jalini were not present; they had remained inside their palace rooms. Sumana’s mother was hurt by the Maharajah’s choice and Jalini stayed to console her.
Ashoka noticed Aradi amongst the women. She laughed shyly.
‘You have forgiven me, beautiful Aradi,’ he whispered to her, a little daringly.
‘Surely, O, Prince. Along with my muslin dress I placed my sinful anger aside.’
A golden smile shone on Ashoka.
‘When I return, your smile will turn to laughter.’
‘Doubtless, brave commander of Bindusara’s army!’ Aradi’s sultry glow deepened.
Suddenly Ashoka turned away. He knew what motivated the minister’s beautiful young daughter. The lovely blossom of the lotus turns to the rising sun. Like a butterfly in the deep forest night, her image submerged into his soul. But in Aradi’s heart once again arose resentment towards the rude and ugly Prince. Ashoka’s ambition would put Sumana in danger. How she hated him more than ever.
Untiring and dedicated, Ashoka arranged the crossing to the other side of the Ganga. He wanted to reach Taxila as quickly as possible. The foot soldiers were surpri
sed to find that they were to ride on chariots, elephant-drawn carriages and on horseback. The troops pressed onward with a speed not previously known to the army. Ashoka led the convoy with Kullika.
‘Some months, said my father …’
‘If all goes well, O, Prince.’
‘My wish is to see the towers of Taxila in one month, my Kullika!’
‘Your wish is unrealistic. No army can accomplish that.’
‘If the army cannot then I will go alone. Taxila if it so desires can resist this army as well as me alone.’
Kullika looked at him. Ashoka glanced over his small force and smiled.
The roads had been improved and the army made good time. An advance guard under Sagka’s command rode ahead and established camps at reasonably short intervals, wherever a small clearing without shrubs or a giant fig tree or a banyan welcomed them. After a refreshing rest they swiftly set forth again, marching onward until the sun approached the horizon. Ashoka was mindful that sound sleep, regular meals, pure liquids and cooling baths for men and animals kept the troops in excellent condition. Despite the fast-paced march, no exhaustion was felt.
The army passed the Sarayu and then the Gomati, following the main road leading from Kashi to Prathishthana5 and in a north-westerly direction over Kanpur and Mathura to Indraprashtha6. The advance guard had set up camp in a clearing some distance from the side of the road. Nightfall in the forest had not troubled the army as yet. The flames from the fire shot high as the roasting game dripped onto the embers and the smoke rose straight up against the high fringe of the forest with its mighty duabango trees, laden with blossoms and evergreen sal trees, against the silhouette of which the fans of the palmyras or the star-plumes of the palms were etched in fine lines. As soon as the elephants espied the glow of the flames through the foliage, they raised their trunks and trumpeted cheerfully, which was immediately answered by the whinnying of the horses. Man and animal delighted in the wonderful serenity of the evening that softly rose from the tranquil surroundings to the velvety heavens above.
Ashoka the Great Page 10