“What happened was a sad thing.” Radhagupta said. He was feeling a little tipsy due to the wine now. He took some water. “All Samrat Bindusar wanted was for someone to bring out extensive proof against you about this scandal. And that is exactly what I gave him.”
“Chandragupta worked very hard to keep the matter under wraps.” Chanakya said. “He paid off all the servants who had seen the incident at that night. He sent the royal doctor to Suvarnagiri, far away at the southern border. He paid the doctor off too. But living people are always loose ends. I had specifically told him to kill all of them or at least put them behind bars. Only dead people are quiet forever. But Chandragupta did not agree. He told me that they should not be punished for something that was of no fault of theirs. Chandragupta was always very kind-hearted. I made a lot of things out of him, but I could never make him ruthless.”
“Whatever happened has happened!” Radhagupta said. “But now a time has come that calls for your return to the realm.”
“It was the realm that sent me away, boy,” Chanakya laughed, “and I shall not return until the realm calls me back. Mostly, I will be dead before that happens.”
“The realm needs men like you at this crucial juncture,” Radhagupta said.
“The realm is doing fine with people like you running it.” Chanakya said, “Your discovery of my involvement in the queen mother’s death won you a place in the council. And it won me banishment. Bindusar gave me the option of a public trial or an exile. I chose the latter. I have always been afraid of the people. I went on my exile, completed it, changed my name to Kautilya, changed my job and returned to the city. And now when I am content in the life that I am living, you ask me to return to politics which I am no longer interested in, for princes who do not deserve what you ask me to safeguard for them.”
“When you returned to the city from your exile,” Radhagupta said, “I sought you out. I apologized to you. I had soon realized my mistake in helping to oust the finest man in the city. It was generous of you to forgive me.”
“I had hid myself most efficiently.” Chanakya said. “Yet somehow you found me. So you deserved forgiveness.”
“Yet, I have heard stories after that. “ Radhagupta said. “Stories that one hears quite a lot in your brothels.”
“What kind of stories?” Chanakya asked.
“I have heard of how you once imprisoned a supposed assassin of the Samrat in the basement and tortured him yourself until he blurted out his plot.” Radhagupta said. “I have also heard how once you personally eavesdropped on a room where a man supposed to be a Greek spy was sleeping with your whores.”
“These are all small things,” Chanakya said.
“I have also heard,” Radhagupta said, “of how you spent days and nights writing a report on the southern kingdoms during the Samrat’s southern conquests and delivered it anonymously to General Sunga. And it is heard that that report was of great help to the general. And how did you write this report? Because you spent all your exile down there in the south itself, seeking out information about independent kingdoms of the non-Aryas, their strengths and their feuds against each other.”
“All I do, I do for the realm of the Aryas,” Chanakya sighed.
“And this realm of the Aryas is crumbling.” Radhagupta said. “Even now, the nobles in the province of Avanti are up in rebellion. There are a hundred princes in line for the throne, ninety seven of them not even worthy of a merchant’s seat. Furthermore, the whole of Bharathvarsha is still not under one united rule.”
Chanakya did not say anything, but kept playing with the goblet in his hands.
“The republic of Kalinga is still powerful.” Radhagupta said. “It commands a navy so strong that the Samrat can’t sail his ships without being afraid of them. The southern Dravidian kingdoms are still independent. And our Greek enemies are plotting again. The inflow of Greek spies to the city has increased by four folds over the past few years. Your dream is crumbling before it has even been achieved, Arya.”
“And what do you think my dream was?” Chanakya asked.
“Not was!” Radhagupta said, “It still is! It is the unification of the lands of Aryas under the rule of one Samrat. And I don’t take you for a man who would give up on things. Not when there is still opportunity left. You even turned your exile into a profit for the Samrat.”
“Not for the Samrat,” Chanakya said, “all I do, I do it for the realm!”
“Then for the realm,” Radhagupta said, “we must act and put a deserving man on the throne.”
Chanakya laughed sarcastically. “A deserving prince, you mean! A Maurya!”
“Well there are a hundred to choose from,” Radhagupta said.
“These remind me of the Nandas,” Chanakya said. “There were a thousand Nandas, one in every village, one in every Rajya, yet one Maharaja amongst all.”
“But unlike the Nandas,” Radhagupta said, “there are three clear candidates here.”
“You wouldn’t like Prince Sushem,” Chanakya said. “He never listens to ministers. Furthermore, he is half-Greek.”
“It is not a question of that.” Radhagupta said. “You have always advocated that the division of power is evil. Always insisted that division of power creates weakness in the realm. A division of power between the ruler of common people and a ruler of the army. That was the strength of Samrat Chandragupta. The common men and soldiers, both followed him, respected him unanimously.”
“Not everyone has that ability to lead both, the people and the army,” Chanakya said.
“Then we should choose a prince whom the army is ready to follow,” Radhagupta said. “For it is far easier to make common people follow him, than making armed men follow him.”
“Why should the army respect these Maurya princes?” Chanakya spit on the floor. “They spend all their time away from the capital, whiling away their days, playing courtly love with women of low caste. For Lord Vishnu’s sake, the eldest prince, Sushem, who seems the only one with some sense, is half-Greek by birth. The soldiers do not see him as their own, and he does not see them as his own.”
“The army hates Sushem.” Radhagupta said. “He has always displayed nothing but hatred towards them. He considers the men serving in the army as inferior, as if they have nothing better to do. Yet there is one prince whom the army respects as much as it hates Sushem. He has fought in the southern conquests as a common soldier. In a hundred skirmishes at least, soldiers have seen him fight shoulder to shoulder with them. They chant his name when they march upon their enemies on the battlefield.”
“I know whom you speak of.” Chanakya waved. “Have we stooped so low that we must put a half-Vaishya man on the throne?”
“Better a half-Vaishya than a half-Greek,” Radhagupta said. “Better him than prince Sushem. Better a soldier, than a politician.”
“A Vaishya Samrat?” Chanakya sighed. “Are we going back to the days of the Nandas?”
“A half-Vaishya Samrat.” Radhagupta said.
Chanakya smiled, “This is why I like you. You remind me of myself when I was young. I also used to stubbornly support what I believed in. And in the end, the man I was trying to convince would mostly give in.”
“You are the ideal I am trying to follow,” Radhagupta bowed.
“Yet I must ask you one thing,” Chanakya said, “why not Prince Vittasoka? He is your nephew after all. You are his uncle. He is even a complete Kshatriya. Why neglect your own blood?”
“Vittasoka is my nephew,” Radhagupta said, “but he is too young, Arya. He is just seven years old. And he has lived under the care of his brother Sushem since his birth. The throne would be weak if a child sits on it.”
“Again like me.” Chanakya smiled. “You look for what is better for the realm, than what is better for yourself. I like that.”
“The throne must be occupied by a man,” Radhagupta said
“The throne must be occupied by a son of Samrat Bindusar.” Chanakya said. “The leader of
all Aryas, Samrat Chakravartin of the whole Bharathvarsha, Raja of Patliputra, and Maharaja of Magadha.” Each word was filled with disgust.
“He is the best choice we have, Arya, “Radhagupta said. “He is the best chance we’ve got.”
“What was his name again?” Chanakya asked, pouring himself more wine.
“Asoka,” Radhagupta said with a smile.
ASOKA
Somewhere in Vidisha, 272 BC
Asoka awoke with a start. He opened his eyes. The first thing he could feel was his heart thumping hard against his chest. It was beating rapidly, as if it wanted to leap out of his ribs. Asoka took a deep breath. He had been dreaming.
His chest was covered with beads of sweat and so was the rest of his body. He sat up on his bed and wiped off his forehead with his hand. He couldn’t see anything at all in the darkness and the quiet of midnight. The oil lamp in his tent had been blown away due to the wind. He could hear the chirping of crickets from outside.
His throat felt dry. Some water would do, he thought. He got up and went to the earthen pot filled with water kept in the corner of the tent. The water was cold and refreshing. He splashed some on his face after drinking it. It felt cool on his skin.
Suddenly his ears heard a quick movement on the grass outside. Someone was walking outside his tent. Who could it be? At this hour of the night? It had to be the guards on duty.
“Guard?” he called out loudly. There was no answer. At once, the movement on the grass stopped.
Asoka reached out and pulled up the tent fabric to look out. It was very dark. There was no moon overhead, as it was a new moon day. His eyes took a while to get adjusted to the darkness. There was no one visible. Then who was making the sound?
“Guard?” he called out again.
Suddenly, out of the dark, an arrow swooped in and entered his right arm with force. Asoka could feel the metal pierce his flesh with tremendous power and hit his bone. A moan escaped his lips as he was pushed back in the tent by the impact, and fell to the ground.
“Guard!” He screamed, plucking out the arrow with his left hand. It was still dark, but he could feel the warmth of his blood flowing out of the wound.
My sword! I must get my sword! Asoka groped in the dark and started feeling the area around his bed to find out where his sword was. His hands moved on the ground, but he could feel nothing sword-like.
Another arrow swooped in through the tent’s fabric. Asoka felt the fast moving air pass near his back, but the arrow had missed. Asoka crouched down beside his bed. He wanted to yell for the guards again, but then the attacker would have known his position and another arrow would have come his way.
Where in the world was his sword? He felt everywhere, making as little noise as he could. His right shoulder had begun to sting where the arrow had hit him.
He could now hear movement on the grass again. His attacker was moving. He hastened to his sword, but it was nowhere to be found. He felt a glass vase around his bedside and grasped it firmly.
The attacker had now changed positions. The sound was coming from the other side of the tent. Asoka turned and moved silently, still couched towards the tent’s entrance. His arm hit a table on his left and the contents on it came crashing to the floor.
Immediately, an arrow swooped in again, hitting the floor exactly where the table had fallen. It missed him by inches and pierced the wooden table exactly in the center.
Asoka realized that he had to move fast. But first, he had to distract the attacker. Now how was he to do that?
He felt the ground for some small object at the fallen table, and found a small metal goblet lying there. He threw it roughly towards the earthen-pot in the corner. The goblet hit the target and the pot shattered with a loud sound.
Two arrows swooped in back to back near the earthen pot. But they were far away from him, and now he knew by their direction where the attacker was standing.
He grabbed the glass vase in his hand more firmly and separated the tent fabric slowly. He could now see the figure of the attacker in the dark. Asoka aimed and threw the glass vase towards the attacker with all his strength. He knew that it had hit its target because there was a faint gasp from his attacker.
“Guard!” Asoka yelled loudly as he leaped out of the tent towards the attacker. With his momentum, he pushed the attacker to the ground. He could feel the bow in the attackers hand slip as he fell. The attacker had been taken completely by surprise. He had had no time to react at all. He had now become the attacked.
Asoka tried to grab the attacker’s throat, but now the element of surprise was over. The attacker kicked him with the knee in the groin and a wave of pain travelled all over his body. The attacker used this moment to push him bacwards and get up. As Asoka fell back, he could hear the sound of sliding metal. The attacker was drawing his sword!
Asoka rolled on the ground as he felt the attacker’s sword strike beside him. The next swing of the sword however was on target. Asoka blocked it with his arm.
He felt the sharp edge pierce the flesh of his arms. He held it there, and attacked the attacker’s chest with his other elbow. The attacker gasped, and Asoka simultaneously kicked his legs. That caused the attacker to lose his balance, and he too fell down.
Both of them were now on the ground and the sword was dug into Asoka’s arm. He pulled it out, feeling a huge stream of blood gush out. He tried to get to his feet, but the attacker was quicker and got up and reached for the sword first. Both of them now held it, Asoka by the handle, and the attacker by the blade.
The attacker was pulling hard, with both hands, and Asoka felt the grip of his one uninjured hand give way.
“Guards!” he shouted again, while pulling, with his teeth clenched.
To his utmost surprise, another arrow pierced him, from the back. It dug in right near his right collar bone. There was another attacker behind him!
Asoka pulled the sword with all his strength. He could now feel the attacker’s grip loosen as the blade cut against his palms. Asoka pulled harder and now the sword was in his hands.
With one swift motion, Asoka pulled the attacker towards himself and turned, putting the sword to his throat. The next arrow swooped from the back and hit the attacker squarely in the throat. Immediately, his movements ceased. But Asoka kept holding him as a human shield.
He lowered the sword though. He looked for the other attacker. He was somewhere in front of him, on the other side of the tent. It was hard to see in the dark.
Suddenly, there was a commotion to his side. He could see more men, approaching, holding lit torches. For a moment, his heart skipped a beat as he counted almost a dozen fires, marching straight towards him. But he was relieved when they called out to him.
“General!” they yelled. They were the guards. His guards!
“Form a ring around me and draw your weapons.” Asoka ordered. The men gathered around him in a circle. In the light of the torches, Asoka inspected his arm. The sword had cut in it quite deep. Blood was oozing out. He let the dead attacker’s body fall to the ground.
“There is another attacker, somewhere there.” Asoka pointed. “Some of you go look for him.”
Through the crowd of his men, his captain, Pushyamitra emerged. “You three, go and look.” He ordered. The three men broke away and moved in the direction of the tent. Pushyamitra turned to look at Asoka.
“Let me look at you, my Lord,” he said.
Asoka showed him the bloodied hand in the light of the torches. Pushyamitra inspected it. “What happened, General?”
Asoka pointed to the dead body of the attacker and then to the arrow that was sticking out of his back.
“Assassins.” He said. “Two of them. They attacked me.”
Pushyamitra placed a hand on his shoulder, and plucked the arrow out of his back. Asoka felt dizzy as Pushyamitra put pressure on the wound.
“My sword!” he said.
“Where is it, My Lord?” Pushyamitra asked.
Asoka
pointed towards the tent. His head had now begun to spin. He could not manage to get all the words out.
“I could not find my sword.”
“We’ll find it, My Lord.” Pushyamitra said. He waved his hands and motioned the soldiers forward. He took Asoka by the hand and led him towards the tent. Normally Asoka would have pushed away his hand for offering support to walk. But now his head was going round in circles. They reached the tent and one soldier held the fabric of the entrance up for them to enter.
Now illuminated by the light from the torches, the whole interior of the tent had lit up. His bed was completely disturbed due to his hasty getting up. The cotton sheets on it had fallen to the ground. A wooden table lay sideways on the floor, and metal dishes filled with food lay on the floor. In one corner, an earthen pot lay shattered, with the fabric around and beneath it drenched completely with water.
On the place between it and his bed, lay his sword, fashionably fixed on a wooden board.
“There it is.” Pushyamitra pointed.
Asoka was looking at it too, but he saw the sword going round and round in circles. Soon the whole tent was moving around him.
“Are you okay, My Lord?” he could hear Pushyamitra’s voice as he felt himself topple from side to side. He tried to stand firmly, but could not.
He heard Pushyamitra say “My Lord” and try to grab his shoulders, but Asoka was falling. The circling room was slowly fading to darkness, as he fell. He couldn’t even feel the impact as he hit the floor. Asoka had lost consciousness.
He opened his eyes and the world swirled into being, slower than it had taken to disappear into blackness. There was a kind of glowing mist all around him. And in the midst of it all, he could see a beautiful face. The face was of a woman. She was fair. Her hair was untied and falling over her chest. She was lying on the ground, looking at him. He tried to move his arms, to pick her up, but he could not.
Then he realized that it was he who was lying down as she bent over him.
The Prince of Patliputra Page 4