‘Is there a wading place nearby, Sagka?’
‘Certainly, O, Prince.’
Quickly the packs were unloaded, tacks removed, and all raced to the tributary of the Gomati. The cool water freshened and cleansed the over-heated bodies. Invigorated, they returned to the camp. In the meantime, Ashoka and Kullika partook of the food prepared by Bindusara’s slaves, who were required to taste it first. Then, after they had fed the animals, the rest of the troops came to claim their portion of rice and meat. Ashoka had decreed it this way.
‘Sagka, double the number of guards posted along all the entrance-ways to the camps. No unexpected events!’
The troops lay down in picturesque groups spread over the fields, enjoying their rest; the slaves had done their work and sat in front of their tents. Ashoka and Kullika were occupied with Viradha, a secret messenger from Satyavat, when a guard reported that a Brahmin in a black cloak was approaching the camp.
‘Send him away!’ indicated Kullika.
‘Let us hear what he has to say on this beautiful night.’
Minutes later, a Brahmin in a pure white cloak suddenly stood in front of them. It seemed as though he had appeared out of thin air. Revata, however, had seen how he had removed with one pull his black cloak, to appear seemingly out of nowhere. The impression, nevertheless, overwhelmed the men; a silence descended on the gathering which had moved up towards the priest.
‘May the gods protect those who faithfully fulfil their duty to the Maharajah, O, Brave Prince and commander.’
Ashoka’s welcome was lukewarm.
Revata picked up and wrapped the heavy black cloak around him, so that he himself was invisible against the dark forest. Then he called out loudly: ‘Hail, Prince Ashoka!’
All looked up, surprised, but saw nothing. Calmly, Revata removed the cloak. Laughter erupted. The spell was broken.
‘Whenever you wish, O, Prince, I can amuse your warriors with my repertoire of tales.’
The priest spoke so loudly that all the soldiers could hear him and they gave their consent loudly which, of course, was what he had counted on.
‘You see that you are not unwelcome,’ remarked Ashoka.
Soon, all the warriors had gathered around the Brahmin. The female slaves, who approached shyly, were also permitted to listen to the storyteller. Ashoka knew full well that the people of his land enjoyed nothing better than listening to a good narrator.
‘You are here in the land of the Kauravas and Pandavas. Then you will want to hear about the great war from the Mahabharata.’
‘A tired tale, Lord!’ yelled a horseman.
‘Nala and Damayanti.’
‘Living happily ever after, Lord,’ mocked another. ‘Something new!’
‘I will tell you about Santanava’s terrible oath, brave warriors.’
‘An old tale! Tell us something new, about struggle, and courage, and heroic deeds,’ a gruff soldier called out eagerly, since all the people of India revelled in tales of wondrous fantasy and excitement. ‘Do you know nothing other than the old talk? Then go to sleep! Our dreams are more important!’
The Brahmin laughed slyly and seemed to think deeply for a while.
‘Well then, I will tell you a tale from the land of the Kosalas, which flowered under the wise laws of Manu …
Listen … Pasenadi ruled in great righteousness …’
He now told a lively story of the Raja Pasenadi who had two sons: Puru, pious and obedient to the Brahmins, and Trisanku, an infidel warrior, a danger to his father and the Crown Prince because he sought to usurp the throne. Frightened, Pasenadi sought counsel from the holy Ajamidha, a Brahmin and a fortune-teller, who through his yoga had become a powerful magician. Ajamidha and his beautiful daughter, Nanda, joined the struggle against Trisanku. Ajamidha appeared at Pasenadi’s court as a fortune-teller and prophesied to Trisanku, that he would throw himself three times at Puru’s feet and would then die miserably. Trisanku laughed at him, but during the narration he did bow to the feet of the magician, who kept appearing in different forms to the Prince. And then, when Trisanku stood up, the Brahmin would quickly assume the appearance of the Crown Prince, Puru. As he bowed for the final time, Trisanku had thought that Nanda had given Puru the poison, only to find out that she had given Trisanku himself the drink, which he had intended for his brother. Grateful that Ajamidha and Nanda had protected him and the people of Kosala from a great disaster, Puru married Nanda. That was what Ajamidha had required …
The story was narrated by the storyteller with such impertinently obvious allusions and with such persuasion that nearly everyone understood what he meant. The soldiers were indignant and did not show any sign of approval to the narrator and waited, to see what Prince Ashoka would do. Ashoka had listened to the priest, standing, never taking his sharp eyes off him. Now too he did not move, as if waiting for the storyteller to go on. The priest looked defiantly at him and kept silent. The heated whispering among the listeners broke off as the Wild Prince called out clearly:
‘Go on, Brahmin!’
‘There is no more, O, Prince.’
‘Then, you poorly understand your craft. Move back! We have a better storyteller!’ He gave a sign and the tall figure of Kullika appeared from the woods in the priest’s long cloak. Immediately, he picked up the story where it had been left off.
‘But Ajamidha was a false magician who derived his power from the devil, Mara. Trisanku bowed not to the Crown Prince but to the deceiver, whose only goal was a big reward and a rich marriage for his daughter, Nanda. Trisanku’s death was unjust because Puru was an insignificant Prince. He squandered his wealth and his father’s on the priests and, furthermore, was weak of will. He loved women, games, and strong drink. He had no will of his own, no resistance against temptation, no greatness of mind to use the gifts that the gods had given him for the prosperity and happiness of the people of Kosala. He was merely a pawn of his gurus, the Brahmins. Trisanku was a warrior; he loved his people and the soldiers. Tell me, you warriors of Holy Bindusara: Is it shameful to be a warrior?’
‘No!’ their laughing yell boomed out, and was echoed by the jungle.
‘So then, Trisanku did not make offerings of the flesh and blood of animals. His offerings to the gods were his efforts and his diligence. He struggled and in this way served Shiva, because the struggle is the greatest offering to Shiva. While Puru was sleeping off his lustful debauching, Trisanku rose early in the morning, thus making his offering to Ushas. He looked forward to Surya’s light, thereby offering to Surya. But his greatest offering was to Brahma, through his quest for the truth. He studied the Vedas because he wanted to know which path the people of Kosala should take. It is not the Prince who serves his own interests and pleasures that will bring salvation to the land but he who works, just as the holy Maharajah Bindusara. Ajamidha was a bedazzling magician in whose trickery Pasenadi and Puru were caught. He wanted control of the palace. He even used his own daughter for his greed. That is why he wanted her to marry the weak Crown Prince. Trisanku, meanwhile, had learned much about Ajamidha’s craft of healing. So, he knew the antidote to the poison Ajamidha had given him, because no one in Kosala—at the risk of being punished with death—was allowed to prepare poison without knowing the antidote. Without being noticed by anyone, he drank the antidote. And when the Brahmin and his daughter went to find what they thought would be his body, the ‘living’ Prince was waiting for them with a razor sharp chakra in his hand. Both fell at his feet.’ …
A great gleefulness swept over the warriors who had gathered around Kullika. The Brahmin wanted to leave but no one would let him through.
‘So, I did not bow to the Crown Prince, called out Trisanku, but to a traitor and deceiver! Let Agni’s fire hurl you into hell. The magician was felled with a single throw of the chakra. ‘You, Nanda, will accompany me to the Raja as witness.’ However, upon his entrance, Pasenadi died of fright. Trisanku had the Crown Prince imprisoned immediately, ascended the throne of Kosala
and ruled his people with wisdom and strength.’
A roar of wild approval reverberated around the silent giants of the jungle which were illuminated by the flickering flames as in a fairytale. The Brahmin got up and with slow strides went back into the woods. Ashoka ordered his men to rest. He doubled the guard because he did not trust the priest.
After Prayaga7, their road took them through Pankala, the flower garden of the Doab, where the presence of numerous tormentors of the jungle required more caution on the part of the commander. Lured by the fire and the brisk movements of man and animals, leeches, mosquitoes, ants, beetles and scorpions, bats and lizards, swarmed over the camp in a frightening throng. Ashoka had the tents for the men as well as those for the animals covered by the sheerest of muslin-cloth so that they could rest well, for by day he pushed them to their limits. He demanded ceaseless vigilance from the guards. Every disturbance was to be reported to him.
Once, during the night, Sagka awakened him.
‘Many snakes are coming into the camp, Lord,’ he whispered, frightened. Ashoka shot up: ‘The whole watch, Sagka. Ten men in the direction of Indraprastha, ten in the direction of Kashi! Search the five jungle paths. Torches raised high. No noise. Have the snakes killed.’
The orders were carried out with precision, in silence. A little later, first four men were dragged into the camp and then the storyteller was brought in.
‘What brings you close to our camp once again, Lord?’ Ashoka asked coldly.
The Brahmin remained silent and stared insolently back at the Prince.
‘You do not answer, arrogant Brahmin! Your servants may know more about what you are doing here.’
But neither did the others offer to answer.
‘Torture by fire …’ One was grabbed, bound and placed down with his feet close to the fire, closer and closer. The soles began to burn, and an unendurable pain loosened his tongue.
‘Curiosity, Lord.’
‘That is a lie. More punishment!’
A wild groan came from his throat. ‘I will speak, Lord!’ The priest, however, made a soft noise and the tortured man shrivelled.
‘Take the priest away!’ Ten hands grabbed the proud Brahmin and dragged him away.
‘Now, tell the truth!’
‘The priest had us release four crates of snakes in the camp, Lord.’
‘And you did not fear my wrath?’
‘The priest said we may give false testimony to protect a Brahmin. Such a testimony is the language of the gods.’
‘And do you not fear the punishment of the gods?’
‘The Brahmin said if we made an offering of cakes and milk to Sarasvati, we would more than pay for a lie for the sake of good.’
‘Where are the crates?’
‘Over there, Lord.’ The evidence was soon gathered and the other servants confirmed the story of the first witness. The priest was then brought back.
‘What was your intention regarding those snakes?’ A haughty silence.
‘Answer!’ But his mouth remained stolidly sealed.
‘I will have you killed!’
‘I am a Brahmin!’ Rage gripped the warriors.
‘Torture!’
The Brahmin withstood the severest pain without his face betraying even the slightest effect of the torture, his eyes staring insolently at Ashoka.
‘Beat him over his face and heat the branding iron.’
A heavy blow knocked the priest dizzy.
‘To what purpose were the snakes?’
‘Snakes on your path forebode ill-luck and frighten your brave soldiers,’ mocked the priest.
‘You wanted to make it appear as though the very gods had let loose the snakes on our path? Answer! The branding of a criminal Brahmin is permitted.’’
‘You are no judge!’
‘I am the commander of this army and thus a judge. Answer!’
‘… Yes.’
‘You all hear it, soldiers. It was merely the ploy of a man. He thinks a few crates of snakes will frighten Emperor Bindusara’s warriors! Priest Devaka is playing god.’ Devaka was stunned.
‘Do not be alarmed, priest Devaka. I know all the Brahmins of my father’s court, so, you too. You five will gather the dead snakes and put them into the boxes!’
The four servants picked up the dead animals, but Devaka did not move.
‘I do not touch dead bodies.’
‘Tie ten snakes around his arms, legs and throat and drive him out with sticks onto the road to Pataliputra; the others to Indraprastha.’
Some time later, peace finally returned to the camp.
8
DANGEROUS ENCHANTMENT
he journey continued without further incident. At night they camped in the midst of the amra-woods, among the curtains of air-roots of the fig trees or in open areas of the jungle. At the campsites, Kullika narrated stories from the Mahabharata for they were now in the land where the Kurus and the Pandavas1 fought their deadly war.
Whenever they passed through a city the army was warmly welcomed by its citizens. Bindusara had ordered the tributary royals with great emphasis to be of assistance to the army during their long march. They went to receive the Mauryan Prince, dressed in their most precious clothes, bearing refreshments and gifts. But Ashoka, wary of the mal-intentions of the Brahmins, made as little use of their hospitality as possible. When entering the cities he always rode the royal elephant that bore the impressive insignia of the Mauryas. And the army marched rapidly in strong well-knit formation. Shortly before reaching Mathura, he crossed the River Jamuna where he was welcomed by the Raja, himself accompanied by a large retinue seated on beautifully decorated elephants and horses. The chief queen sat under a gem-encrusted canopy. Lovely dancing girls, who had always enjoyed more freedom than other women, were part of the retinue. After an elaborate welcoming ceremony, the Raja escorted the army to Mathura, where the Raja would joyfully proclaim his devotion to the son of the mighty ruler of Aryavarta. From all sides people came flocking in, throwing flowers on the Prince’s path. They had not expected him for a few weeks yet and his arrival was met with a warm welcome. In the durbar hall of the palace, the Ranis, the sons and daughters of the king, high palace officials and the purohita, awaited the Prince and his army.
Ashoka went to carefully inspect the campsite chosen for his army. A Brahmin wished to speak to the Raja. It was Devaka, his face hooded by his cloak, who waited in the rear of the hall for the king to return.
The Raja spoke: ‘Prince Ashoka is a worthy descendant of Chandragupta and Bindusara. His army is very close to his heart and comes first.’
‘His only support! Our laws say that no younger son can become the king while the elder brother lives.’
‘The sacred Maharajah is the one to decide this and I will guard the Prince with care. If any misfortune were to happen in my court, Bindusara would sweep away my kingdom as a storm does the blossoms in Vasanth.2‘
‘I do not ask that a hair of his head be touched, O, King. But, Ashoka’s determination and ambition are well-known, and I do not believe for one moment that your will and wishes will matter if he ascends the throne.’
‘They say that Prince Ashoka possesses great willpower and that he alone can govern the great empire after Bindusara. A powerful government means good fortune for Aryavarta.’
‘Who governs the empire? The immutable law or the Maharajah?’
‘The Maharajah who honours and upholds the law, Sir.’
‘Prince Sumana, once he is Maharajah, will honour the laws. He is wise, he venerates the Brahmins as the supreme varna, as the supreme wisdom and holiness.’
‘And Prince Ashoka, Sir?’
The Brahmin looked carefully around him and then said softly: ‘He has overwhelming willpower; he will not consider the wishes and opinions of others. His mind is affected by the spirit of a new era that makes all equal, and sees all people as parts of one God. It is the spirit of the heathen Shakyamuni. What will be left of the sanctity of the
sacrifice, the honour for our varna, or your varna, O, King, if he becomes the Maharajah? You act according to the order of the Maharajah. Everyone will praise you if you warmly welcome the Prince with wine, music, dance, and women. He is a young noble and so enjoys festivity.’
‘A Brahmin dares to give me this advice!’
‘Prince Sumana, your future Maharajah, would perhaps not comply because they are sins against the Brahmanical laws.’
‘The Maharajah will hold it against me if I were to keep the commander of his army from his duty.’
‘His duty is to acknowledge Sumana as the Crown Prince. Select your most beautiful dancing girls. The Prince is young and fiery. Send them along as a gift of your friendship on his expedition to Taxila if he praises them. Pour sweet enticing drinks; warriors love that.’
‘You play a dangerous game, Brahmin! Fear the Emperor of Aryavarta, Sir!’
‘You are not the nurse or a teacher of the Vedas to that Wild Prince! Or, does the Raja of Mathura choose the side of the Shudras against the will of the powerful Brahmins?’ Devaka’s menacing tone cowed the king.
‘No, Sir. Well, then, you tell Koli. She is as beautiful as Ushas in the morning and her troupe of dancers are as beautiful.’
‘I have one more delicate question for you. Your daughter, Madri, is very beautiful, O, Raja.’
‘I thank Brihaspati, who gave her to me, Sir.’
‘She would be a good wife for the son of the Maharajah and may be able to lead the Wild Prince to calmer waters. To the path of the Vedas. Brihaspati has chosen her to bring the Prince to his senses. She can always be assured of our help.’
‘Madri is young and beautiful but not capable of such a great task, Sir.’
‘That is why the priests will stand by her side.’
‘The Prince of Mayula competes for her hand and their betrothal is imminent.’
‘The interests of the Brahmins, and thus of Aryavarta, are at stake here. If this Maurya Prince obeys the laws of the land, he may become the viceroy of Taxila, with Madri as his wife.’
The Raja thought about it for a moment.
Ashoka the Great Page 11