‘And what do you advise him to do?’
‘I believe that the holy Maharajah is following the right path. It will be a struggle between Sumana and me.’ Hardly audible, Ashoka’s voice came to her ear: ‘Father knows that he should not decide now because the fight between Sumana and me is as inevitable as Surya’s rays in Jyeshtha. Whether he appoints Sumana or me, I will find the Brahmin priests and their inestimable but certainly great power against me. The Maharajah feels the inevitability of it. The struggle of Kshatriyas and Brahmins … That is what makes his decisions so wise and unmistakably favourable to me. Only the Punjab! Ujjain attracts me. Taxila has been accomplished, and living here without doing anything, would be impossible for me.’
19
THE TWO VICEROYS
ubhadrangi was touched.
‘Your Father often spoke to me of your work in Taxila and has said: ‘Ashoka seems to know what is beneficial and good for the Punjab and for the kingdom and he always has the fortitude and the means of carrying it out most efficiently. It is as though the gods have predestined him to be the Emperor.’
The Prince smiled. ‘One who is favoured by the gods is sent sacrificial priests across his path and that ordeal can be beneficial, my dear Mother.’
Early the next morning, Ashoka rode towards the army camp. Sela and his comrades had, with the bright iridescence of their imagination, vividly set forth the deeds of the young commander. Everyone in the West unreservedly felt Ashoka was the very embodiment of Shiva, someone who knew everything and ruled with astonishing divine powers, thus with simplicity. Ashoka’s state-craft was not discernible in the beginning but once it was completed there arose in all the conviction that this is how it ought to be. Eyewitnesses spoke of Gopa’s rescue as divine justice, Virata’s death as nothing short of a miracle, the victory over the Takkas as a revelation, the journey through Udjana, Darada and Kashmir, as a victory-march of Shiva, the alleviation of starvation and procurement of livestock for the Rajputanas, a wave of his mighty hand. In no time the enthralling tales bloomed into legends among the soldiers.
When Ashoka rode into the camp, he could sense the change in mood: the admiration for the warrior had turned to a soft radiance of religious reverence, a spiritual quivering to which a people born and raised in fear and dependence are easily inclined. He was welcomed as a revered, mighty monarch-to-be. When they brought out his favourite steeds that seemed to joyfully recognise their old friend, the Prince was struck by their gentle loyalty, but the hundreds of watching horsemen by the apparent miracle. And this impression was reinforced by the trumpeting of the elephants when he rode into their compound… When the soldiers had to perform for him, their equestrian exercises, their simulated fights on elephants, their wild races with chariots, displayed their skills with all weaponry, and Ashoka himself joined in the joyous excitement of the contests and games, the earlier attitude of friendship was once again restored. However, Ashoka’s appointment as Viceroy and the legends that now surrounded him, somewhat lowered their expressions of joy.
A few days later, while Ashoka was busy teaching his soldiers a new military move that the Syrian envoy had explained as the Greek phalanx, it was reported that the Crown Prince, along with some of his friends, wished to visit the army camp late afternoon.
‘The Crown Prince, Sela, the Crown Prince!’ A gleam came into his eyes that Sela had not seen before. ‘A suit of armour for me, Sela, and have Revata come!’
When Sumana came, Ashoka stood disguised as an ordinary soldier among the others. He had let Revata darken his face and make a few other changes. On the army commander’s orders, Sela sent one of Ashoka’s favourite elephants to Sumana. His friends followed on horseback.
One of the senior-ranking men had arranged the games, following Ashoka’s earlier plans. First, two chariots each spanned by a three-horse team were prepared. Ashoka drove one, and Sela, the other. The soldier in charge had asked two of Sumana’s friends, Jokarno and Sahula, to ride with the charioteers. ‘Hold on tight!’ Ashoka whispered to them. The race was very exciting and both the guest riders had to hang on for dear life to the frame of the chariots; their clothes became so disarrayed and their faces so distraught that the thousands of watching soldiers could barely conceal their glee. No cries of ‘Stop!’ or curses had any effect on the drivers of the chariots; they appeared to be totally consumed by the contest. Ashoka won gloriously and brought Jokarno back to the Crown Prince in all earnestness, as Sela did with Sahula. Sumana himself was very amused. In the archery competitions, it was again Ashoka who executed the most difficult shots. A pair of soldiers shot at discs but Ashoka had a senior soldier ask if one of the guests could hold up a mango so that the dark warrior could shoot his arrow through it. No one dared. Then Satna, one of the other archers, held up the fruit laughingly.
In a sudden thirst for sensation, Sumana shouted at Ashoka: ‘Shoot that bold bloke right through his heart.’ Satna turned ashen. The Wild Prince approached him, pointed to where he wished the arrow to strike, but whispered quickly that he must drop to the ground immediately on Ashoka’s whistle, or he could not be saved. He aimed for a moment and then, after a quick signal by whistling, the arrow raced through the air and pierced the tree trunk exactly where Satna’s anxious heart had been beating a moment earlier. A loud cheer rent the field.
‘Shoot again and this time better!’ shouted Sumana angrily. A deathly silence followed.
‘Tell Prince Sumana that I cannot kill my comrade, the Maharajah forbids it,’ Ashoka told the headman.
‘To the elephant camp!’ ordered Sumana, enraged. The elephant camp was the Crown Prince’s greatest pride.
Ashoka had earlier arranged with the leader that he, with a few select elephants which were very much attached to him and remarkably well-trained, would attack a group of horsemen. He had often practised this with his soldiers. The elephants were lined up in a row, armoured and mounted. A posse of horsemen led by Sela was already approaching in the distance. Suddenly, the Prince signalled with a whistle that the heavy-footed animals knew so well and which set them in motion simultaneously. As the elephants shuffled forwards, Sumana’s elephant also began to follow the other elephants, to the great dismay of the onlookers. The animal had recognised the signal and wished to join the others. No matter how the mahout coaxed, the elephant ran onwards in response to the call of the commander. Prince Sumana attempted to hold on tightly even as he kept slipping, first this way, then that. His turban fell off and fluttered onto the field. The faster the animal moved, the more tightly the Prince had to hold on and balance himself on its back. No one dared to laugh and no one was watching the staged skirmishes anymore; all eyes were on the Prince and his precarious but hilarious situation. They even feared the inexperienced rider would fall off. Ashoka took no heed of Sumana’s cries of fear and continued to ride, calling out his battle cry, ‘Lamba, Lamba!’ and with his whistling urged the animals on. The elephants obeyed without hesitation and sped ahead of the others, towards the horsemen. Sumana had no choice but to follow. The horsemen reined around and fled, and because of their greater speed were able to gain the lead, but Ashoka followed them until they reached the place from where they had started. No one dared cheer the horsemen for fear of offending Prince Sumana.
He yelled hoarsely: ‘Seize that oaf and lock him up! He will be executed immediately!’
No one moved.
‘Grab the offender of the viceroy of Taxila, you blunderers!’
Then Ashoka went up to him, threw off his soldier’s cloak and asked, mockingly:
‘Would Prince Sumana prefer to hire Lamba, to execute me?’
Sumana looked at his brother with dazed eyes and gave the order to leave.
‘Show your deference to the honoured guests, my soldiers!’ ordered the army commander and all bowed deeply before the Crown Prince and his friends, who were rapidly leaving the field. Ashoka looked after them pensively, thinking of Kullika who would surely have discouraged this vengeful exe
rcise with his motto: ‘Hate is not cured by hate’ But what was it that would make this petty priest’s jester realise his own foolishness? What Ashoka felt for his brother was not so much hate as deep disdain.
As evening neared, he galloped back to the city. Halfway there, he was joined by Revata who had silently followed the Crown Prince and his entourage.
‘Sire, tonight or before morning, there will be an attack on your life! Prince Sumana returned from the camp enraged. On Jokarno’s and Sahula’s advice, they held a meeting with Richika. The ministers, Arada and Udra, had also been summoned but showed no desire to be a part of any secret confabulations. Satyavat eavesdropped. They will be conducting a sacrificial ceremony to compel the Gods to bless their efforts at ridding Bindusara’s empire of its greatest enemy. Under the command of Jokarno and Sahula, and with Sumana’s help, five very accomplished assassins will inveigle their way into the palace from the park, sneak into your chambers and kill you with sharp poisoned daggers. The priests will, without knowing why, drive the angry spirits from the park with all the powers at their command. Prince Sumana will decoy the guards away from your chamber. Tomorrow all will be over, no one will know the cause of your death, and Sumana will be the undisputed Crown Prince.’
‘I shall have my chakras checked and my sword sharpened, Revata.’
‘Lord, it would be more prudent to change your sleeping quarters.’
‘We shall see, my watchful Revata.’
In front of his palace on the King’s Road, Khallataka was waiting for the Prince. Ashoka reined his horse and dismounted, out of respect to the minister. Khallataka invited him very kindly to come in. In a flash, the Prince became suspicious: was this minister also involved in the plot? Were they already trying to lure him into the trap here? To refuse would be a great affront to the senior-most minister. He wanted to avoid that.
‘Were you also with Richika today, most honoured Khallataka?’
Khallataka looked at him in surprise.
‘Have you already spoken to His gracious Majesty, my Prince?’
‘No, I was in the camp the whole day.’
‘I wanted to speak to you about that meeting, O, Prince. You must be wary of me. That is why I swear in the name of my all my deceased forefathers, that I am on your side and wish to do everything to prevent an attack on the viceroy of Ujjain. This oath may lack conviction, for there exists something like ‘a statement of the gods’1 … Khallatka now struck a heavy gong and ordered the servant who presented himself to bring his son, Asvin, before him.
‘Swear, Asvin, if your father has ever spoken deceitfully.’
‘Never!’
‘Swear it on my life.’
‘I do not swear on your life, my Father.’
‘Prince Ashoka is in grave danger; there is a conspiracy against him! It is no wonder he is even suspicious about your own father.’
Asvin laid his arm around Khallataka’s shoulders.
‘That is Prince Ashoka’s problem, not mine.’
‘Forgive me, Asvin. I was wrong. Will you accompany me to Ujjain after the rains?’
‘No, O, Prince. I will stay with my Father until I finish my studies. I am not a Kshatriya but a Brahmin.’
‘Are you staying because of your father or your studies?’
‘Because of my father.’
Ashoka looked at him questioningly. ‘Don’t you like to study?’
‘Yes, and I greatly love the purohita.’
The Prince now entered the palace without fear, yet on his guard.
‘Your Father, the sacred Maharajah, asks you to be my guest tonight.’
‘My Father? So he knows as well.’
‘The Maharajah always knows everything. His organisation, his knowledge, his respect for the laws and his appreciation of the ministers, make him a great Emperor.’
Ashoka listened to Khallataka in amazement. Then he remarked, icily calm:
‘But my Father often acts against the advice of his ministers.’
‘It is fortunate that he does for he is wiser than all of us and holy.’
Again, Ashoka was suspicious. Why was his father praised by the Minister, since—where Ashoka was concerned—they had opposed him vehemently and persistently in all things! Was this yet a trap? Had the conspirators, in a lucid moment, made changes? Was it that the park and palace were too heavily guarded? Would his innate respect for the noble advisors of his father deliver him into the hands of his enemies? ‘Protect yourself first, that is your most important duty.’ And here he was entrusting himself, unprotected, to his very enemies!
‘My Father’s most honoured and senior-most minister will have to excuse me if this ‘fortunate’ sounds strange to me. It is contrary to the attitude of the Ministers’ Council, including the principal Minister, concerning my appointment as the commander of the army and Prince Sumana’s as the viceroy of Panchanada, the kingdom that I brought to peace. When a tiger remarks to a deer: your father was a keen deer, because he has managed to stay out of the reach of my claws, he is not yet safe from the king of the jungle.’
‘You forget, O, Prince, that the viceroy of Ujjain usually becomes the Maharajah.’
‘That still does not mean that the Ministers’ Council wants him on the throne.’
‘You, whose astuteness approaches that of your great father’s, are right, O Prince. The Ministers’ Council does not want you, I do. Till recently, I have been under the belief that the Maharajah chose you out of fear, fear of your vigour … and your wild warrior’s heart … And till a few days ago, I was under the impression that Prince Sumana conformed to the wishes and thinking of the Brahmins out of respect, out of his refinement and wise insight, until I saw unmistakable proof of his rudeness and derision of all that a man of honour holds sacred. Your father placed me—probably on purpose—in frequent touch with the Taxilan, Vimalamitra. He was my guest. I now acknowledge fully your innate wisdom. Prince Sumana forgot himself so much in an excitable moment that he threw his gauntlet in my face! At me, the senior-most minister of the Maharajah of Aryavarta, a grave insult in itself; however, after this act, instead of being apologetic, he laughed derisively. Do you think, O, Prince, that an Aryan of one of the most prominent families of Magadha, one in whose blood is not a trace of slavery, would ever condone that? Before this incident I had thought that his inherent sense of refinement and competence were being misjudged. I have now brought an offering of thanksgiving for the gods, for having cleared my mind. Nature should have taught me that there are fruits whose peels are coarse but whose juice is delicious and there are fruits whose outer peel is brilliant but its kernel is as bitter as gall.’
‘Very flattering, honoured Khallataka. However, the Maharajah taught me to be cautious in each and every task.’
‘Tiger and antelope … Yes, O, Prince. I wish to safeguard you from some uncouth young hot-heads whose deficiency in inner values they hope to replace with brute force. Go to your Father. Ask him what he wants.’
‘I have great confidence in you, my highly honoured Khallataka. Prudence demands I honour your request.’
‘Do you want to take any weapons along?’
‘My chakra is unfailing, my sword sharp and consecrated in Shiva’s service.’
Ashoka had himself announced to the Maharajah.
‘You here, my son? Khallataka is responsible for your safety. You know, do you not, what has been decided regarding the viceroy of Ujjain!’
‘Of course. That is why I did not trust Khallataka either. But you, my Father, how do you know?’
‘Nothing of any importance happens here in Pataliputra that I do not know about. Could I maintain a Court of Thousands of Brahmins and not know how they live, care for my family and not oversee their deeds! To my regret, the rash young men will have to discover that my will reigns in my kingdom. Sumana will come to know that he is playing a dangerous game.’
‘Perhaps, my vengeance over his earlier attack brought on his anger.’
‘One
, who wishes to become the Maharajah must attempt to develop his powers of reasoning and enhance his wisdom, while taming his anger. If he sees his brother as an adversary then he can show his goodwill by trying to equal or outdo him in the administration of a kingdom. Death is used only as the last measure: if the law is violated, or chaos stalks the empire, or the will of the almighty Maharajah is enfeebled; otherwise it means rebellion. No one would dare kill a Brahmin! But would they make an attempt on the life of a son of my house? By hired assassins? For such a senseless deed more manas is needed, than my oldest son, his comrades and the Brahmin-court collectively possess. Now that the conspirators have involved my palace directly in their crime, I shall have to judge them myself. Stay with Khallataka tonight and try to reach his house without being noticed. I wish to catch them in the act.’
The ‘purification’ of the park by the priests, the changing of the guards, the luring away of the female guards in the vicinity of Ashoka’s chamber at night, was executed so easily that any conspirator, sharper than Sumana and his friends, would have become suspicious. Without any great difficulty the figures sneaked through to the sleeping quarters where they hoped to discover Ashoka, the Prince whom they hated so much. The door closed behind them and then, unnoticed by them, another door opened and the light of several lamps which were being carried in, illuminated a stage that stopped the conspirators short in horror. The Maharajah sat enthroned on a high seat with two judges beside him. Twelve heavily armed female palace guards encircled them. The assassins threw up their hands and fell to their knees, bowing deeply to the ground.
‘Stand up, you blackguards! What are you doing here? In a part of the palace where no outsider can enter without my seal of approval! Show me my seal! You do not have it? Then you will pay with your lives! What was it you decided this afternoon in the Brahmin-court, Jokarno and Sahula?’
Ashoka the Great Page 27