‘I believe, my Kullika, that I can trust the Khasas completely and can return their weapons to them. The people of Çakala are part of the Takkas, they are their own, and the Khasas will not find it pleasant to march through Çakala unarmed, as prisoners of war. I wish to spare them this indignity.
‘I trust your intuitive insight, O, Prince. But if the citizens resist they could become quite dangerous to us.’
Ashoka paused for a moment. ‘I must allow it, my Kullika.’
At the last camp before Çakala, Ashoka rode up to the dark-skinned riders.
‘Get down from your horses, my Khasas.’
They leapt off their animals and looked at the Commander questioningly.
‘Get your weapons.’
‘Lord … our weapons? Do you dismiss us from your army?’
‘No, Sangala, I wish to regard you as my loyal soldiers, and thus to be armed.’
With folded hands, the Khasas fell to their knees and bowed their heads deeply to Ashoka. Sangala approached him and kissed the hem of his dress.
‘Your trust in the Khasas will never be belied, noble Prince Ashoka.’ He then turned to the men.
‘Take up your weapons, for Prince Ashoka and for the Maharajah!’
An amazed Kullika looked at the changed demeanour of the Khasas.
‘I believe you had the right insight, O, Prince.’
‘I hope so, my Kullika.’
11
THE TORCH THAT LIT THE REVOLT
serious discussion was going in the new council of Taxila, a city of flourishing trade and commerce.
‘Bindusara Amitraghata1 has the strongest army in the world,’ remarked one of the ministers.
‘Maharajah Bindusara is getting old,’ stated Virata, a descendant of an erstwhile conquered dynasty of powerful kings, who had incited the people of the city to revolt. The revival of his kingdom was of more importance to him than peace in Taxila.
‘But his son, the Crown Prince?’
Virata smiled. ‘If Bindusara’s eldest son comes, we will not have need of any soldiers. We will take along an army of beautiful maidens from Kosala. They will surely vanquish him.’
‘The situation is far too grave for levity. Our restless Taxilans could kill Bindusara’s officers because of your instigation and that of the Bactrians’, who badly tolerate Indian monarchs ruling the lands that once belonged to their Greek overlords. The army from Pataliputra will come! And who is to say that the Emperor will not send the Wild Prince!’
‘He certainly will not do that. If Prince Ashoka conquers the Punjab he will threaten Pataliputra just as his grandfather Chandragupta did. And, as in the past, the westerners will not refrain from destroying the swaggering easterners. He will not send the Wild Prince.’
‘You have set much at stake, Virata!’
‘Not if Syria helps. The Greeks are much better warriors than those from the Plains of the Ganga. Think of the Macedonian.’
‘Was it not Seleukos who in return for five hundred elephants had to hand over not only his lands but also his daughter to the first Maurya?’
‘Chandragupta, yes! He had the wildness of the western Himalayas in his blood. Bindusara is getting old. Now is the time! Now! Or, have I lit the torch of revolution against Pataliputra in vain? Have the Taxilans only for sake of pastime been breaking the backs of the officers from Pataliputra, who loathe the West but not its treasures? Aryans, merchants, scholars, Shudras, all wished to be free of them. The Takkas in the upper Punjab have followed our example.’
‘In which Virata has had no small part.’
‘I hate the Mauryas! The Khasas will help us. Together with Syria we can hold off the easterners. Now is the time!’
‘Will Syria help? Do you trust the Bactrians2? By using Greeks are you not setting free a lion amongst the cattle? I prefer a Maurya in distant Pataliputra over Iranians within our city-walls. The revolt has been foolish. Now we can expect a reprisal from the Maharajah. Or else, being ruled by the Greeks. What will then become of our prosperity?’
‘You are only concerned about the interests of commerce,’ Virata reproached the minister.
‘And you of your lineage, but the rock of Taxila is no Kailash and neither are you Shiva who never was conquered.’
‘Who was it who restored peace, brought commerce and trade back, arranged fair levies, formed an army, brought the Takkas over to our side? Certainly, I lit the torch of revolution up to Pataliputra. Do you now want to howl like the cowardly jackals in the woods? I thought that the Taxilans, whose caravans traverse the whole world, in whose capital a most renowned university is located and where people have more liberal views on religion and governance than in Pataliputra, were devoid of the submissive docility of the eastern tribes. I appointed you all as ministers and expect your support. The Maharajah’s officers knew their Emperor to be far away and did not fear his stern hand. We shall supervise the levy of taxes ourselves instead of allowing it to vanish into the treasuries of the greedy men from Pataliputra.’
At that moment, the arrival of Nanda—one of Virata’s spies disguised as a merchant—was announced. Virata sprang to his feet, surprised. ‘Bring him in!’ And to Nanda: ‘You have already returned?’
‘Yes, Lord, my camel walks quickly and was only laden with light muslin from Kashi and jewels from Singala.3’
‘What tidings do you have in store for us?’
‘A month ago Prince Ashoka left Pataliputra with all four divisions of his army.’
‘The Wild Prince!’ A collective alarm swept over the council.
‘Yes, Sire. On the way I met a brahmacharin, Shakuni, who had been sent to Taxila by Devaka, a priest from Pataliputra, because he himself was injured. Devaka had urgent messages.’
‘Where is Shakuni?’
‘He travelled more slowly than I did, Lord.’
‘How large is Ashoka’s army?’
‘Shakuni says it is merely a small band of hardy warriors. And it will be easy to destroy or imprison both, the army and its commander, in one single battle.’
‘Who will take the cord of death and wind it around his own neck!’ interjected one of the ministers. The remark did not perturb Virata.
‘When will Ashoka be here, Nanda?’
‘In Indraprastha they say Prince Ashoka is quick as lightning, like Shiva himself. So, he can be here whenever he wants, appearing out of thin air if he chooses. They tell wondrous stories about him: He killed the strongest elephant of Pataliputra with a ray, shot from his eye … he has lightning strike wherever he wants … a magician, who wanted to destroy him, disappeared and was banished to hell with a wave of his hand. The priest Devaka urges Taxila to destroy Ashoka and his army in one resolute battle. Then Prince Sumana, protégé of the gods, will be sent. Prince Ashoka is as cruel as a rakshasa and impatient as a cobra.’
‘Devaka must have meant that Sumana is the protégé of the Brahmins and Taxila has to do his dirty work. It is far better if the Brahmin-court of Pataliputra with their thousands of gluttonous priests were to roast their own rice.’
‘So, you would rather let Taxila be destroyed by the Wild Prince!’
‘He who strikes at one honeybee with a stick will soon have the whole swarm to deal with. It would be better to lure it with a pot of honey.’
‘A merchant would rather have a dirty hand than a hole in his pocket full of gemstones!’
‘A Kshatriya will guard a single gate more easily with his sword than a whole city with his sense!’
Angry voices were heard at the entrance to the council chamber. A man looking like an ascetic had made his way undetected through the park. Gaining entry into the council chamber of Virata’s palace, he had eavesdropped on the discussions without being noticed. Finally, a guard saw him and sprang upon him, dragging him away.
‘I must speak to Virata!’ cried Revata, struggling.
‘A spy! Here, grab him!’
‘This is Virata’s palace, is it not? Tell him that a messenge
r coming from Shakuni wishes to speak to him immediately. The safety of Taxila depends on it.’
Revata was allowed to come in. He brought his hands together and raising them, bowed deeply to Virata, the leader of the revolt.
‘Sire, Shakuni, Devaka’s brahmacharin, wants you to know that Ashoka’s small army approaches rapidly. If you wish to defy the Prince, equip a well-trained army because Ashoka is a warrior with more than earthly power and he knows neither fear nor mercy.’
‘How does Shakuni know this?’
‘From the priest Devaka.’
‘Can Devaka be trusted?’
‘He hates Ashoka more fiercely than he honours Sumana.’
‘One whose thoughts are controlled by hate is not to be trusted,’ said one of the ministers.
‘Devaka may pluck his own coconuts from the high treetop!’
‘Lord, I have completed my mission. Please allow me to depart safely from this place.’
Revata sped unhindered and without delay along the Emperor’s Road.
The merciless Prince! He, Virata, would be the first victim: Roasted, the leader of the revolt, or flayed alive or burned, starting with his feet …
‘Taxila’s army is ten times as large as that of the Wild Prince!’ Virata burst out.
‘You know, Virata, in Pataliputra there are a hundred-fold more who are itching to plunder and then wipe out our trade-city from the Punjab! One does not hold out one’s bare feet before the jaws of an enraged snake!’
‘What treasures will suffice to quell the rage of the Mauryan Prince?’ Virata rasped bitterly.
‘Better it is to sacrifice the golden roof of the palace than its foundations!’
‘I would rather seek out the Bactrians than allow myself to be flayed by that Maurya.’
‘Then we will tell him that the most dangerous rebel has fled and hopes to bring the pagan Greeks into India,’ remarked one of the ministers cynically.
‘You would rather sacrifice me as a scapegoat to the so-called Shiva - incarnate, so that you yourself will not be served up as a sacrifice,’ Virata retorted.
The senior-most minister now took over:
‘Noble Virata, you have brought peace back to Taxila. Restore the now peaceful city back to the Maharajah. Emperor Bindusara will be grateful to you. Those who killed the king’s officers may either suffer the consequences or flee. They have ample time; Pataliputra’s army cannot reach our city in less than two or three months. If Prince Ashoka destroys Taxila then he destroys the Maharajah’s treasury. And who would kill a cow when he wants milk, who sets the forest aflame when he needs timber! Along with Taxila he would annihilate all the knowledge that radiates from here to all of Jambudvipa. Our army is not weak but is still that of a wretched rat while that of Bindusara’s is that of an elephant. Let us wait and hear what Shakuni has to tell us. I do not know Devaka, who is a Brahmin from the capital. We could ask the Maharajah to send us Sumana as the viceroy. The Brahmins of Pataliputra apparently regard him as the wisest man to rule our land. The governance of our city certainly has need of some wisdom.’
Vimalamitra’s words found approval.
‘The Wild Prince will laugh at your words, Sir! If we destroy Ashoka along with his few warriors, then what will an old Maurya or a weak-of-flesh Crown Prince do, providing Antiochos helps us with an army.’
‘Who lures the lion to the cattle pen, noble Virata? Remember that the lion can slash with his claws at the master as well.’
‘And who lures a wild elephant? If you let him in then I will have to tame him or render him harmless.’
A lamenting, wailing crowd! … The steady beat of the dhol … cries of fear … A new uprising in Taxila? Virata blanched. The ministers waited silently. A servant then appeared and threw himself wildly at Virata’s feet.
‘Lord … Prince Ashoka Vardhana, the wild Maurya from Pataliputra, stands outside with an army on the road to Çakala. A battle carriage preceded by warriors is rolling towards the palace, and they are being followed by thousands of citizens.’
Virata made a move as if he was ready to flee.
The drumming and cries of the crowd came closer to the palace.
‘Let the envoys of the Prince come in,’ ordered Vimalamitra calmly. A moment later, Kullika arrived in the council chamber, followed by Prince Kala.
‘Who is the commander of Taxila?’ asked Kala sternly.
Virata stood up.
‘Taxila has rebelled against the Maharajah. Prince Ashoka orders you to send emissaries to hand over the city during the fourth kalakramein4,’ announced Kullika.
‘How large is the army of the Prince, Sir?’ asked Virata mockingly.
‘As large as he wants it to be. If you refuse he can recruit an army of millions from the fertile Punjab.’
‘Tell the Prince that the city’s government will appear before Prince Ashoka, before the appointed hour,’ said Vimalamitra, still calmly.
‘Prince Ashoka will wait until the fourth hour has passed.’
The envoys left. For a moment only one thought pierced the silence: How had the Prince managed to arrive so soon! Fear enveloped them. In one month Pataliputra’s army was standing before the rock of Taxila! It was impossible … Unbelievable! Unless …
‘Nanda did not exaggerate, ministers of Taxila. Do you wish to wage a war? With the grandson of Chandragupta? And risk the rage of the Maharajah?’
‘Vimalamitra, what should we do?’
‘Tell him that the city will surrender to his command. Bring in more valuables than all those that we have taken from the Emperor’s officers. Place at the feet of the commander all that is beautiful and noble in Taxila. Summon the people to bring offerings of gifts for the Prince. Order the scholars of the university to swear an oath of fealty to the Maharajah. Throw yourself in the dust of the Emperor’s Road. I shall then try to convince him that we did not revolt against the Maharajah but against his avaricious officers.’
The ministers approved Vimalamitra’s proposal. He then stepped outside and raised his hand to the fear-stricken crowd that had gathered in front of the palace.
‘Listen, citizens of our prosperous Taxila. Virata and his ministers want the city to surrender to Prince Ashoka. Bring your gifts to gain his clemency, so that he will spare the city and its citizens. Gather your valuables and bring them here! We will offer them to him along with other treasures. Have your daughters pick flowers and strew them on the roads on which he will be passing along.’
Relief … rejoicing as they depart. Large groups of cleaners sweep the streets and the road for more than a yojana5 … Garlands of flowers are strung from house to house as a spontaneous procession makes its way to the camp site of Ashoka’s army. A restless shudder ripples through the crowd. The stateliness of the ministers with Virata at their head cannot suppress it, neither can the solemnity of the white attire of the scholars, reflected in the light of the sun, nor the pomp of the richly dressed merchants and other nobility, their wives in dresses embellished with gemstones and gold, or their daughters displaying their youth as their adornment. It is as if the swiftly evolving legends rising like the morning dew from the distant Ganga have floated over to the West, cooled by the impenetrable Himalayas and swept through the dense crowd that has gathered under the trees along the road, whispering, waiting, anxiously watching the roads for the feared envoy of the mighty Maharajah. He was a youth, a ferocious warrior. Lord of earth, air and light, like a broad-winged bird of prey suddenly descending upon their beautiful city, his prey. He whose will would determine the fate of Taxila … the Wild Prince!
‘Who will be the ones sacrificed?’ asked Sanata, a rich merchant’s son, as the stately procession goes by.
‘He who instigated the rebellion!’ whispered his friend Kantala and he nods towards the head of the column.
‘And who will be the slaves?’
‘Maybe, he will be struck by the beauty of our girls; look there, out in the front, with their baskets full of flowers. Ah,
see … Surati! When he sees her he will be lost: lotus queen amongst the lotus blossoms … her look, her movement, her grace. No, my Prince …?’
‘If it had been Prince Sumana! He would have taken her and all the others as the spoils of war and certainly forgotten about the rebellion in our city.’
The other young men laughed quietly but even that caught the disapproving eyes of the on-lookers. ‘We are here for a more serious matter than you seem to understand, young men,’ said an old priest.
‘Lord, how do you know that Prince Ashoka is more interested in the face of a bitter penitent than that of the cheerful Taxilans?’
‘Your mockery hurts all who wait here with fear in their hearts wanting to know what will happen to the city and its inhabitants.’
‘No mockery, Lord, but the faith of the youth in the young Prince who is said to be as just and true as Shiva. We young ones honour the brave Prince who comes here with only a small army and thus shows faith in the West.’
‘Hah, the gifts, Kantala … See how everything catches and reflects Surya’s rays. They glitter in gold and brass vases, full of jewels! Look! Cut diamonds, bars of beryl in golden sheaths, emerald and opal, topaz, light as honey, agate and ione … such splendour!’
‘And there, those bowls carved from exquisite violet amethyst and of dark red garnet … and goblets of glowing carbuncle …’
‘There … that big bowl … the slaves can barely carry it … deep red cornelian with a silver stem … And that one there, one of pink-rose socon, filled with pearls from Singala and precious lapiz lazuli.’
Necks craned to see the almost indescribable riches that were being carried past.
‘This gives the Taxilans joy … Such rich luxury!’
‘And hope … who knows? If the Wild Prince is charmed by all this beauty and finery he may be distracted from possible vengeful thoughts,’ whispered Kantala.
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