The Conspiracy at Meru

by Shatrujeet Nath

  “What if the agnikantakas or the ships that bear them can be demolished?” asked Udayasanga.

  “If that happens in time, we might be able to douse the fires, save some boats and make a bid at storming the Huna navy,” replied Yugandhara, his eyes on another projectile making its way to Dvarka. This one landed on a fisherman’s hutment, setting it instantly on fire. “But I don’t see how we can even begin achieving that.”

  “I can see a boat beached in that corner that might be accessible from the other side of the docks,” said the samsaptaka, pointing at a small barge docked on a spit of sand.

  “My friend, do you have any idea how long it would take one boat of that size to ferry an army of soldiers across the bay?” The commander who posed the question smirked.

  “How long would it take a boat that size to ferry a dozen men close enough to the ships guarding the agnikantakas?” Udayasanga twirled his large moustache and grinned as he saw confusion descend over the Anarta commanders. Turning around, he saw Vararuchi staring at him thoughtfully.

  “What do you propose?” asked Yugandhara.

  “I propose that we samsaptakas row over to those ships, kill a few dozen Hunas, destroy the agnikantakas, and return to port.”

  Manidhara and the Anarta commanders were shaking their heads at the foolhardiness of the enterprise when Vararuchi spoke.

  “Will you do it?” Before the samsaptaka could answer, he said, “If you will, I shall come with you, Udayasanga.”

  “The samsaptakas will be honoured, Councilor Vararuchi,” Udayasanga said. “But no, let this be a treat for us and us alone. There will be many more challenges coming your way here.”

  “So be it,” Vararuchi nodded, interpreting the samsaptaka correctly. The mission called for a level of precision and coordination that the samsaptakas were trained for – his presence in the group would handicap that natural coordination. The mission was also potentially suicidal, and Udayasanga was right in pointing out that the councilor’s role in helping defend Dvarka went beyond throwing himself into a risky gamble.

  “This is not going to work, young man,” Manidhara insisted, even though he and the Anarta commanders were looking at Udayasanga in awe and newfound respect.

  “It is either this or nothing, chief,” the samsaptaka grinned back. “Look at it as repayment for having raised hell in Raivata that night many years ago.”

  Yugandhara came forward and clasped Udayasanga’s hand. “I would be lying if I said I don’t want you to do this,” he said. “So instead, you have my thanks, friend of the Anartas.”

  The samsaptaka turned to Vararuchi with the intention of bowing, but the councilor took him in a warm embrace. Clapping the warrior gently on the shoulder, he said, “Fight well and make Avanti proud tonight.”

  “We will, your honour.”

  With that, he was gone, a shadow in the night.

  * * *

  The knock on the door was so soft that Vetala Bhatta first thought he had imagined it. Then it came again, a quick muffled rap of knuckles on wood.

  “Yes, yes,” the councilor addressed the door, easing himself out of bed. “Give me a moment.”

  Opening the door and squinting into the torch-lit gallery, his eyebrows rose in surprise at the sight of the diminutive figure standing outside.

  “What brings you here at such an unearthly hour, girl?” Vetala Bhatta craned his neck to peek into the gallery. The girl was alone. With a twitch of concern, he asked, “Is everything alright?”

  “My apologies for bothering you, raj-guru,” Shanku replied in an undertone that still managed conveying urgency. “But there is something I needed to speak to you about.”

  The Acharya saw that the girl’s large, black eyes were troubled. “No bother at all,” he said, stepping back to let Shanku enter. “I hadn’t quite fallen asleep. Let me just light a lamp.”

  “Okay, what did you want to talk about?” The old councilor looked expectantly at his visitor once they were seated on a simple straw mat.

  “It is about the Healer, raj-guru.”

  “The Healer?” Vetala Bhatta’s interest was whetted. “What about him?”

  “The Mother Oracle doesn’t trust him, raj-guru.”

  “Doesn’t trust him… in what sense?”

  “You know, when she fell ill a few days ago…?” Shanku waited for the Acharya to get the context right. “Well, grandmother was adamant she did not want the Healer to treat her.”

  “Oh! Did she tell you her reasons?” Vetala Bhatta felt the anticipation kindle in his stomach.

  “In her own cryptic way, yes.” The girl gathered her thoughts before continuing. “Later that night, I asked her what put her off so much about the Healer. She said she thought there was something sinister about him.”

  “Sinister.” The Acharya let the word roll on his tongue. “Just sinister? Nothing else, nothing specific?”

  “She also said she didn’t want the Healer’s shadow over her, ever.”

  “Finding the Healer sinister can be reason enough for her not to trust him, but it isn’t a reasonable ground for suspicion. It is just her opinion of the man. It proves nothing.”

  “I know, raj-guru, but there was another conversation that the oracle and I had shared with regard to the Healer quite a few days back. What grandmother said about him that day refuses to leave me alone.”

  “Go on.” Vetala Bhatta shifted forward on his seat to listen better.

  “It was after the last attack on the city, and I had taken her out to the park on the hill. I happened to mention how much we citizens of Ujjayini owe the Healer for all his help. To that, the Mother Oracle said something strange. She said she feared that when the time comes, the price the Healer will exact from Ujjayini will be severe.”

  “Why didn’t you bring this to the samrat and the council’s notice earlier, girl?” The Acharya kept his voice down, but his tone was sharp, reprimanding. “Of all people, you know the Mother Oracle never utters words like these without reason.” “What could I have told the royal council, raj-guru?” Shanku didn’t flinch under the senior councilor’s firm gaze. “It was something she mentioned in passing, an insinuation which she would not care to clarify. Without a good explanation to back what she had said, her statement would only translate as prejudice toward the Healer. As you just pointed out, her words prove nothing.”

  The girl paused to draw a breath. When she resumed speaking, her tone remained calm and matter-of-fact. “There are very few families in Ujjayini who have not benefitted from the Healer being here, raj-guru. Nearly everyone in this city is in complete awe of the man. Especially after his role in the queen’s incredible recovery, how many people in this palace would be inclined to listen to, much less tolerate, anything that casts aspersions on the Healer?”

  Vetala Bhatta nodded slowly. He remembered the stable warden’s daughter being remarkably perceptive even as a child, and he was glad youth and its brashness had dimmed none of her intelligence. Shanku was right. Confronted with unsubstantiated accusations, the Healer could easily rely on the king, the Queen Mother and Kshapanaka to back him. Furthermore, having brought Ushantha relief from her nagging arthritis, the man had won over Vararuchi as well. For the time being at least, the Healer had admirers in excess, and any critics or detractors of his were unlikely to find much favour in Ujjayini.

  “The oracle never hinted why she thought that way about the Healer? Or what the nature of this severe price could be?” “She evaded the question. You know how she is, raj- guru. Always speaking in riddles, leaving it to her listeners to decipher her words.”

  The Acharya had to admit to the girl’s shrewdness. Realizing that approaching the king and the council was untenable, she had paid him this visit, volunteering information and setting him on the path, knowing it was within his ability to investigate the Healer’s agenda discreetly. He saw the merit in her approach, but one thing still needed clearing.

  “You knew all this before, so why did you delay
in coming to me? Why come now?”

  “I wasn’t sure about the Healer’s motives then; I had nothing to go on. But now I do.”

  “Meaning?”

  “I saw something the other night, when you were away in Mahishmati, Acharya.” In a few succinct strokes, the girl narrated what she had seen and learnt from the boatman about the Healer’s mysterious nocturnal visits across the Kshipra.

  “Very suspicious indeed,” the raj-guru muttered into his beard once Shanku had finished.

  “Something else also occurred to me this afternoon,” the girl’s voice dropped even lower. “Something the oracle had said that had completely slipped my mind.”

  “Which is?” Vetala Bhatta prompted.

  “The same evening we spoke about the Healer in the park, I asked grandmother if she could help us find the traitor who had killed the Huna scout in Sristhali. She said she couldn’t, but she added that the enemy was… that the enemy is indeed near. At the time, I assumed she was referring to the Hunas at the frontier, but this afternoon, it struck me that perhaps she wasn’t speaking about the Hunas in general. Could she have been referring to the Healer as the enemy, and could he be some sort of a spy working for the Hunas? Are his trips across the river part of some undercover job? Could his treachery be the price that Ujjayini would have to bear?”

  “The way you put it, the probability cannot be overruled,” Vetala Bhatta’s expression was grave. “You have acted wisely, girl. We will have to find out more about our very talented guest very quickly.”

  Once Shanku had left, the Acharya snuffed the lamp out and lay back in his bed, mulling over what the Mother Oracle had told her granddaughter. His instincts about the Healer had been right all along, he realized. Something had drawn the man to Ujjayini and the palace, and it definitely wasn’t his charitable streak.

  Sleep having deserted him for the moment, the councilor got up and went over to one of the open windows to catch a breath of fresh air. Leaning out, he peered in the direction of the palace’s southern wing, which housed the rooms and quarters of the royal guests. In one of the windows on the third floor, he noticed a light burning. The window was too far away – and its angle too acute – for him to make out any other details, yet Vetala Bhatta’s eyebrows immediately knitted with suspicion. He knew to whom that particular room had been allotted, and he wondered what was keeping its occupant up this late.

  As if suddenly conscious of his scrutiny, the lamp was extinguished. The councilor blinked and turned away, pondering his next move. By the time he left the window and returned to his bed, he had determined what his course of action would be.

  Had Vetala Bhatta stayed at the window a few moments longer, he might have observed a tall, strapping figure step onto the terrace that led out from the Healer’s third-floor chamber. He might even have followed the figure with interest as it crossed the terrace and climbed down a stairway to a gallery on the second floor, before entering the palace through an open doorway.

  As luck would have it, Vetala Bhatta missed sighting the figure – whom he would otherwise have easily identified as Kalidasa.

  Udayasanga

  The bulky hulls of the Huna ships slipped over Udayasanga’s head as he sneaked under the dark, icy depths of the bay. Occasionally, the water above him lit up when the barbarians launched a fireball at Dvarka, and in those brief flares of light, Udayasanga caught fleeting glimpses of his fellow samsaptakas swimming alongside.

  Progress was slow and hard. The samsaptakas struggled against the cold and strong sea currents that kept tugging at them, throwing them off course. The darkness was disorienting too. Besides, every now and then they had to surface for air – and to establish their bearings – huddling in the ships’ shadows to avoid detection. Stealth marked their every move, and it came at the price of speed.

  The samsaptakas had little more than a foggy idea of the agnikantakas’ exact position; they knew even less about the defences that the Hunas had mounted around the catapults. But time being short for a proper reconnaissance, the warriors had decided to head straight into a strike, hoping their resourcefulness and luck would see them through.

  It was a big gamble, Udayasanga thought to himself as he hugged the hull of one ship and rose to the top. He didn’t emerge from the water immediately, though. Holding his breath, he waited until the next fireball left an agnikantaka, its light refracting through the water. Making a note of the ball’s trajectory, he followed its fiery course, aware that the eyes on the decks above were likely to be on the destructive fireball, and not on the waters below. The eyes above would also be dazzled by the flame’s glare. He broke the sea’s surface softly.

  Udayasanga discovered he had surfaced between two rings of vessels forming protective circles around the flamethrowers – an outer ring and an inner ring. The smell of oil, sulphur and burned mustard was overpowering, clinging about the ships’ masts and sails, and creeping around corners like a cancerous fog. He caught the murmur of voices from the decks, and though the words were incomprehensible, from the tone he gathered that instructions were being relayed. There was no urgency or vigilance in the voices – he even fancied discerning a spot of boredom, the sort that is born out of complacency.

  He liked that. The Hunas had their guard down.

  Around him, the heads of the other samsaptakas popped out from under the water, one by one. Udayasanga counted all thirteen before he motioned with his fingers, drawing his men’s attention to a wedge between two ships that bobbed and swayed in front of them.

  A vessel lay beyond the narrow gap, a hulking skeletal contraption made of wood rigged crudely onto its deck. Three men were operating a winch, which was attached to a levered arm of the contraption. The ladle-shaped arm dropped progressively lower with the tightening of the winch, until it was at an almost horizontal position, a foot off the deck. One of the men quickly slipped a knot under the arm, securing it tight.

  The samsaptakas exchanged sharp, furtive glances. They were looking at one of the Huna catapults. The second couldn’t be very far away.

  Udayasanga gestured once again, and the samsaptakas began submerging. He glanced at the ship one last time to see two figures stagger into view bearing a squat, heavy object between them. They placed the load in the bowl-like depression at one end of the levered arm, and immediately one of the Hunas put a torch to the object, which sizzled and started belching smoke. The men on the vessel waited until the fire had caught fully before one of them freed the rope holding the levered arm in place.

  As Udayasanga sank back into the bay, the spring-loaded arm slung yet another blazing missile at Dvarka.

  * * *

  The yaksha was an incandescent blur high up in the black sky, a meteor hurtling through the stratosphere, a shining white streak of earthbound light.

  Down he came in free fall, lower and still lower, a burning block of rock and mineral, heading straight for Sindhuvarta.

  Eventually, the yaksha dipped into a stack of cumulonimbus clouds, but instead of emerging and continuing his downward path, he tucked himself into its soft folds and switched form. From meteorite, he changed into a water crystal, allowing himself to cool and fuse with the moisture already packed in the cloud. Hidden in the lap of the cloud, he caught his breath as he coasted along in the wind blowing from the east.

  The clouds bore gently over the western tip of the Vindhya Mountains, but soon they ran into a cross current blowing from the south. The cool, eddying winds made the clouds droop over the mountain’s rolling ridges, and the yaksha felt drops of rain forming around him. He let himself melt and fall as a raindrop for a short distance, but moments before he emerged from the cloud, the yaksha’s form underwent yet another change.

  When he came out of the cloud, the yaksha was a falcon, its black and red-brown plumage wet with rain.

  The falcon circled over the dark, forested valley, stretching its wing muscles and getting the blood flowing. Then, as the rain intensified and poured over the hills, the bird s
traightened its course, its beak pointing due west in the direction of Ujjayini.

  * * *

  The agnikantaka was rigged to the centre of the ship, a few yards from the main mast, and was held in place by thick ropes attached to the ship’s sides. Other than the three Hunas operating the winch and the two who loaded the sling, Udayasanga counted a little over a dozen other warriors who, he guessed, were entrusted with the task of guarding the ship. The guards seemed to be taking their responsibility very lightly, though. They stood in lazy clusters around the catapult, weapons slack in their hands, staring out over the ship’s nose at Dvarka.

  Crouching where the shadows were deepest near the ship’s stern, Udayasanga could see why the Huna sentries appeared so lax. Dvarka was a bonfire. Fanned by a stiffening sea breeze, the blaze had spread beyond the waterfront to consume localities in the inner city, and a heavy phalanx of smoke was rapidly rolling inland. Udayasanga briefly wondered if disabling the flamethrowers would serve a purpose any longer, but he pushed the thought aside. They were here to take the catapults out; they would do that if it was the last thing they did.

  Udayasanga looked over his shoulder as the seventh and last samsaptaka in his group hauled himself over the ship’s raked stern and dropped noiselessly onto the deck. He then sneaked a quick glance toward the ship with the second flamethrower on board, moored a little distance away. He hoped all seven samsaptakas charged with dismantling that catapult were also in position. The two groups were to operate independently, interpreting challenges and responding to situations the way they deemed fit, but Udayasanga wished they could stage a synchronized assault. It was their best chance at success.

  At a signal from him, the samsaptakas behind him began stealing forward on soft feet, bending low as they scuttled between the shadows of the ship’s rigging. Their plan, chalked out in haste as they had rowed away from the burning docks, was primitive in its simplicity. It hinged on the element of surprise, and involved five samsaptakas tackling the Huna guards and taking down as many of them as was possible. With the guards engaged and diverted from the agnikantakas, the remaining two samsaptakas would move in from the flanks and destroy the catapults.