‘You will have to,’ snarled Devaka.
‘So, you refuse? Do you hear the raven scratching yonder, Richika?’
‘I refuse.’
Ashoka noticed how Devaka glanced along the road to Pataliputra once again, and then raised his bow and arrow. The Prince knew what that meant and thought it was ridiculous. His deep contempt for the impudent, religious fanatic, his anger at the arrogance of the defender of the Brahmin-varna, surged up and the immediate response to the raising of the bow was for him to reach for his chakras.
‘Shiva!’ Three chakras cut through the air one after the other and killed the three priests.
Sunashepha had retreated some distance to the rear. Ashoka and Revata expected little resistance from him and the Prince no longer demanded of him that he opened the gate. After some battering, tugging and pulling by the two strong young men, one of the high posts yielded and soon after a second post fell. They were then able to leave their prison.
‘What do you want to do with the fourth Brahmin, Lord.’
‘An accuser without witness! Let him live.’
‘Sire, kill him; you will have all the sacrificial priests against you!’
‘They already wish to destroy me. Find my chakras, Revata, and clean them.’
He walked towards the priest.
‘You see, Sunasepha, Shiva will not have his power trifled with. Why were you banished to the jungle? You do not answer. Your response to the favour of the supreme judge, the Maharajah, is that of an ingrate, priest. You have dared to take prisoner a Mauryan Prince, locked him in a barn within a stockade, to hand him over to his arch-enemy. I do not consider it necessary to kill you. The Maharajah will judge and sentence you, when he uncovers the plots you have hatched in the hermitage. I will now let you go free, if you head quickly towards the Himalayas, keeping twice as much distance as there is between here and Pataliputra. Do not dare to ever return. The moment you appear in Pataliputra, your death is certain. Repeat that, Sunasepha!’
Sunasepha remained silent. Then, Ashoka reached for his chakra once again.
‘Repeat it, assassin!’
‘The moment I appear in Pataliputra, my death is certain.’
‘Remember that. Go!’ The frightened priest hastened towards the shelter of the woods, now and then looking back to see if the Wild Prince would yet send a chakra after him.
‘Let us hide, Sire! Shakuni will be returning shortly!’
Revata knew all the places in the vicinity where one could hide. In one they waited until a small body of riders, led by Sumana and Shakuni, came into view. Ashoka and Revata heard how the rough warriors bellowed in laughter. ‘Shiva!’ exclaimed one of them. Shakuni called for Sunasepha. There was no answer. Later, he ordered for the bodies to be cremated.
When the Prince and Revata returned to the hermitage, Ashoka told Sayana what had taken place.
‘Why did you hasten to employ the harshest punishment, my Piyadasi?’
‘Because the priests violated the decree of the Emperor. For that they owed their lives.’
‘They had not yet violated the sentence.’
‘Not against the word of the law, but against the spirit of it. Laws exist for the rights and welfare of all the people. They persisted in their attempts on my life as if there had never been a righteous Maharajah. Shakuni was on his way to Pataliputra to get Sumana and his accomplices.’
‘Still, your temper was a poor counsellor. The highest punishment for a Brahmin is death by drowning.’
‘That is the appropriate procedure. The penalty of death was necessary and just, and what I applied here was nothing more than carrying out my Father’s sentence. An Emperor will not allow himself to be threatened by a Devaka, not even if he is a priest.’
‘It is a most dangerous weapon in the hands of the Brahmin-court.’
‘The Brahmin-court should know what to expect, if I ever become Maharajah.’
‘But you must also take into consideration a population that could be inflammable.’
‘That population could as well have been inflamed if I had not punished the villains. Now that I have regained my composure, I still believe that what I did was just and lawful and that I acted responsibly. I want power and justice for the sake of the subjects. They want it only out of selfishness for their small privileged group. This much I do know: they will pursue every possible means of securing their objectives. So will I. My Father has always tolerated Devaka’s crimes; but no priest can ever expect such indulgence from me. The sacrificial priests for their supposed gods, I for the peoples of India! I thank you, my wise Sayana, for your wise lessons and for your glorious hospitality.’
Then, the Prince kneeled before the sage and bowed: ‘May Shiva, the Lord of life and death, spare your precious life for a long time, highly revered Sayana. Maybe, I will never see you again, or after a fierce battle. My life until now has been but a child’s game in my merciful Father’s park. Difficulty and uncertainty lie before me. I shall remember you always, great Brahmin, who is as true as the celestial house of Shiva on Mount Kailash, broad in your thoughts as is beautiful Jambudvipa, deep as the silent Lake Manasa far on the Hymavant, whose waters wash away all sins.’
‘Tat Tvam Asi, my Piyadasi. Remember, that the enemy too is a thought, born from the eternal spirit … ekam sad vipra bahudha vadanti … ‘many names the poets gave, for what is only one’ …
‘Thus, my father, I killed three Brahmin priests …’
Bindusara pondered for a long time over the impact of Ashoka’s words.
‘You understand, my son, that I approve of the sentence but I would not think of making the Brahmins my enemies. In a woods filled with poisonous snakes, one does not shout either, lest it attracts the attention of the tigers.’
‘In the ocean of hate, it is impossible to dig a sacred lotus pond, my beloved father; in the dense jungle, it is impossible to plant a sacred banyan tree, or build a sacred hermitage in a blazing forest.’
‘But one does not make the ocean larger, or extend the jungle, or beg Vayu for the winds in a burning forest.’
‘Someone condemned to death, like I was already by them, to condemn to death again, can give only the judge satisfaction. The condemned can defend but one life, by striking back at his enemies. The gluttons for sacrifices have made me forget how to seek their favours. I feel no obligation towards them. Their hatred has followed me. I knew what they meant to me and now they also know what I mean to them.’
‘If you wish to become the Maharajah, your path will be difficult.’
‘I would not desire anything different. Then at least, I will not need their advice.’
‘Tomorrow I will send my foremen on the roads to Ujjain. Leave as speedily as possible. Choose your own guards. A viceroy journeys on the royal elephant. Be even more careful than you have been till now. It is not the priest alone who does what he calls the will of the gods! And which queen?’
‘No queen, my Father. Twice I had wanted a wife. Aradi hated me because of Sumana’s beauty and his rights as the firstborn. Madri of Mathura did not want me because of her love for my friend Kala. Devaka had her killed for that. Probably, no woman will ever be so foolish as to want me for myself. The others I can get when I want. So, I am not in a hurry and have some time yet.’
When Ashoka appeared the next morning at the army camp, something unusual occurred. Everyone felt that Prince Sumana, in the guise of granting favours, really sought for their favours and, feigning interest, in return also got insincere interest. Prince Ashoka’s deeds were woven into legends around him which, strengthened by their respect and love, made him a figure of veneration. To the imaginative people he was a fabled figure: like Shiva, the god of life and of death, adored and feared, in both forms. And so, it was that the love for the Wild Prince grew into reverence and hushed awe. When Revata told him that the soldiers thought him to be an incarnation of Shiva, he smiled: Shiva, his most revered deity; like the sun who did not send four kinds of ray
s for each of the varnas, but fine, clear, life-giving rays, for all; like Brihaspati, who did not shower four different kinds of rain on the earthly inhabitants, but gloriously refreshing rains for all; like Vayu, who drove his healthy, vitalising air over all beings. Why was it then, that what came from human beings, had to be divided into four gifts of such vast difference? How happy he had felt before when he was accepted as one of them. Now, they lifted him high—higher!—by humbling themselves more and he could no longer come close, reach to them. He could no longer beg for their friendship, nor call them, as they had fantasised him into a distant, mystical deity. He did not want to be a deity but a human being like them, and working like them; after all, he thought, ‘There is no greater deed than to work for the welfare of all’. His path lay there!
And so, he rode along their rows and his face tightened; and they felt he was even more their king, their god.
But the elephants trumpeted and lumbered towards him, their trunks stretched out to him, with friendly, honest eyes and flapping ears. Much like before. The horses whinnied in warm friendship, like in the months before. For the soldiers it was even more of a proof of the godliness of their fantasised idol.
Ashoka, along with Sela, determined which of the men he could use in Ujjain. Then, he bade farewell to the thousands of soldiers who had gathered on all sides of the large training fields. He held his hand up and a tense silence fell along the rows.
‘May Shiva give you health, strength, loyalty and courage in your heart for the Maharajah!’
All bowed deeply in agreement with his words. But the Prince could bear it no longer. He wanted to rekindle happy memories, such as his memories of the great camps.
‘If I ever return to your midst, will you then receive me as your friend that I always was, or as a stranger?’ he suddenly burst out. It was as if a smoldering fire in each heart broke out in flames, and in an overwhelming blaze blew over the field:
‘Like a friend, forever … forever … forever!’ The sound of echo followed the word ‘forever’ and surged through the warriors, fading away to an emotion that gripped them all.
‘Until we meet again! May Shiva protect your lives!’
A deafening cheer broke out. Then Ashoka rode off quickly, alone, furiously, to Pataliputra. The farewell to his youth seared his soul. Now he was the Viceroy, higher than the kings of India. Life in Ujjain appeared to him to be one of loneliness. There was no uprising to be quelled, only a government to be arranged; a struggle with lazy or greedy officers, or deceitful merchants and caravan leaders, maybe, … with priests and smaller kings.
Before his brother had left for Taxila, Ashoka departed with a relatively small army. He had left Sela behind in the camp, which added luster to the recollections of the Wild Prince. Satyavat and Nata looked after his interests in the palace; Khallataka was his support in the Ministers’ Council. He knew that all his friends were completely devoted to him. A non-stop messenger service with Ujjain was established. A number of Ashoka’s highly trusted friends would take their place in Sumana’s army. He could trust Prince Kala completely, as far as Taxila was concerned. But he missed Kullika. He wanted to persuade him to come to Ujjain. Kullika was his support, because he weighed with open heart all of Ashoka’s decisions and insecurities, after which he expressed his clear, true and honest opinion. Kullika’s word was as immaculate as the snow on the Himalayas and as mild as the fragrance of the Ashoka-flower. An irresistible desire for the Brahmin drove him, to dispatch a small contingent of his troops under Jala to Ayodhya, to accompany Kullika to Ujjain. Ashoka’s troops made their leisurely way up the road to Ujjain. He was in no haste, spurred by emotion for important work or uncertainty about its success.
22
WEARING THE MOST GLORIOUS BLOSSOM
hen will the Prince arrive in Vidisha? If it will be long, you will have time to repair the roads properly.’
‘I have positioned men who will immediately report to me when the Prince is approaching, my Ila. Just make sure our house is ready at all times to receive him. The Maharajah is not lenient to those who carry out his orders badly. Besides, it is profitable for the merchants if the Prince forms a favourable impression about our hospitality. He who renders service obtains indebtedness.
‘Your house is always in good order, Subhadra,’ pouted Ila.
‘I know. But the first impression is often decisive. Has Devi’s jewelry been checked? I want her to welcome the Prince as the daughter of a distinguished merchant. Emperor Bindusara should be satisfied with Vidisha and the high varna of merchants.’
‘Would a wild youth like Prince Ashoka ever care to notice the jewelry of a merchant-Princess coming from the interiors of the Vindhyas, my Father?’
‘They say the Prince has eyes like Shiva. Sisupala, who returned some days ago from Taxila with a merchant’s caravan, told me that Ashoka observed everything that happened around him with incredible accuracy. He is as interested in a trifling Egyptian statuette as in the holy Nagas of Taxila. But he is not much interested in women and certainly not if girls ignore their jewelry. We shall ride up and meet him and travel some yodhyanas with him.’
‘I am very curious to see that Wild Prince. I have been told so many unpleasant things about him! According to Shakuni, he is as ugly as Prince Sumana is handsome. Sisupala told me that children run away from him, even the wild dogs of Taxila flee, their tails tucked between their legs, when he looks at them.’
‘They say his eyes instil fear in tigers. But the ministers of Taxila have sent the old and wise Vimalamitra to the capital to ask that Ashoka be kept on as the viceroy.’
‘Why then does he not send us Sumana?’
‘Thank the gods that he remains far from us. He is a boon companion of the priests and parrots whatever they say, a foppish young man who spends his time with courtesans, takes pleasure in drinking and play, and has not the slightest interest in the people of Bindusara’s empire. If he came here, the caravan traders could continue their cheating and bribing. The king’s officers would become rich and the Maharajah would have to make do with what is left over. I think he knows why he must send Ashoka. A mahamatra who deceives this Prince will have to pay for his deceit by going directly to Yama, and then be reborn as a hyena.’
‘I understand then, father, that men respect Ashoka but that the Brahmin Shakuni and women prefer Sumana,’ laughed Devi, and Subhadra’s face brightened because of her happy laugh.
‘Stop your mockery, Devi. When he sees you, he may desire you! And I will not be able to refuse him. That would be for you most dreadful!’
‘Queen of the wild, ugly, godless viceroy of Ujjain! Puh! Sisupala said he had killed the rebel Virata with one glance of his piercing eyes, and horses and elephants kneel before him because they revere him. And the priests at the Brahmin-court of Pataliputra fear that he—the way Ajatasatru killed his father, Bimbisara—will murder the Maharajah and ascend the ivory throne of Magadha himself. Whatever comes out of Pataliputra cannot be trusted. That is our experience in Malwa. One of the mahamatras said that Sumana’s friends had made an attempt on the life of Ashoka but the Prince beheaded them all with his chakras. Brrrr! Such a dangerous man!
‘Sisupala is a fool. Since the Mauryas started to rule there has been peace in India because law-breakers fear them. May Bindusara appoint a successor who knows what governance is!’
‘Are the men from Magadha attracted by cheerfulness or stateliness?’ asked Devi thoughtfully.
‘Why do you ask that, my child?’
‘To know what I must not do.’
‘Be sensible, Devi, and do not trust that Brahmin Shakuni. A king who is accorded a warm welcome is always shown the best of what one has. Behave like that. Come with me now to see if the elephants and their caparisons have been taken care of.’
Letting out a sigh, Devi rose from her seat of fine teakwood, covered with brightly coloured rugs from Iran and China. Large and small vases from Mayula decorated every possible corner. Even little
Egyptian or Macedonian figurines of gods, which had been shipped with other goods, were displayed in various places. Finely fashioned lamps with silver bases from Sheba stood next to all the seats and on the tables were set out shining polished bowls of beryl, emerald and jade, filled with fruit or flowers.
‘Strange, Father, that every land has its own gods! And now, one already talks of gods being reincarnated. One would almost believe that there really were none, or at the most, that we are all mistaken and that it is different from what people had thought.’
‘Or, that the gods are the same but that each of us sees them with different eyes.’
‘Gautama the Buddha is right: for us our life here is important. For what we make of it we ourselves are to blame, and on that our salvation depends. Actually, a new birth is not so bad, if we could but be reborn to our parents or friends.’
‘But there is nothing that guarantees that I will ever see my only child or Ila again in a new life.’
‘Maybe, then you will have sons and that would be a greater delight.’
‘In any case, not now,’ remarked Subhadra. He looked with pride at his daughter’s slender figure: tall, of perfect proportions, lovely, lithe, light-hued, with a radiant complexion and a candor, characteristic of her prominent varna. Neither the beaded belt of polished jade nor the fine muslin dhoti could hide the shape of her comely hips. A shawl of the finest cashmere hung loosely around her shoulders and covered but one of her youthful firm breasts. Pearls from Lanka, looking like fading stars through the dark shining hair, adorned her comb. The soft blush that glowed from her face made her eyes sparkle even more. Ila laughed at her.
‘Is Prince Ashoka unmarried?’ she asked.
‘As far as I know, yes. He is too lively of spirit and too fierce of deed to be concerned much about womanly beauty.’
‘So much the worse, Father, when he calms down to enjoy sweet relaxation,’ she laughed.
‘How shall the King of such an empire ever calm down … if he becomes the Emperor?’
Ashoka the Great Page 31