The Fisher Queen's Dynasty

by Kavita Kane

  ‘King Ugrayudh Paurav is itching for war, nothing else,’ shrugged Bhishm. ‘He wants to invade the Kuru kingdom. Matters have never been good with the Panchals since their King Sudas overthrew our King Samvaran. It was King Kuru who recovered all our land and honour back from the Panchals.’

  ‘But Ugrayudh himself is a usurper,’ Bahlik said to his nephew. ‘I have also been told that he wants to meet you urgently. Or rather the queen,’ he paused with a scowl. ‘He has a proposal that you will want to hear, he claims.’

  Bhishm was surprised. ‘The queen?’ he frowned. ‘He came for the funeral, and now he may leave. I have nothing to say to or hear from him.’

  ‘Be careful of the man,’ warned his uncle. ‘He is young, ambitious and ferocious, a Paurav king from another family branch—the Dvimidhas. He has already killed the king of Uttar Panchal, but the young heir, Prishat, managed to flee to Kampilya, the capital of South Panchal. Enraged, Ugrayudh attacked South Panchal and killed Janmejaya Dushtabuddhi, a tyrant best disposed of. Prishat is missing but Ugrayudh is still searching for him. He has now turned his eyes on us, the Kurus. So do meet him and hear what he has to say.’

  Bhishm nodded thoughtfully. ‘Agreed, Uncle, but this king wants a fight. Talks won’t help. He considers us vulnerable when we are in mourning. Keep the army standing,’ he announced. ‘But I shall try to handle him myself, face-to-face. It shall save blood and breath!’

  ‘That’s always been your policy,’ remarked Bahlik. ‘Somewhat old-fashioned, but practical.’

  ‘You would be surprised how many men want to wriggle out from an open confrontation. Most prefer their army to fight their wars,’ smiled Bhishm, his eyes unamused. ‘Call him in. Let’s see what the rogue has to say. He certainly seems to live up to his name!’

  ‘Ugrayudh is a nickname,’ supplied Kripa with a grin. ‘He is a war-thirsty hound.’

  Half an hour later, Ugrayudh entered the assembly hall with as much élan as his reputation. Bhishm was slightly taken aback when he saw him. He was a very short, tiny, wiry man, with dark skin and sharp, shifty eyes; he had an impetuous air about him. His face was battered—with scars and welts all over it. The expression on it seemed to say that he had nothing to fear, but everyone feared him. His long hair was tied in a loose knot at the nape of his neck, and one ear, Bhishm noticed, was without the lobe.

  He bowed slightly. ‘Where is the king?’ he asked irreverently. ‘In the crib with his mother?’

  He is a rascal, decided Bhishm.

  ‘I am the regent, talking on his behalf. Pray, what is it that you wanted to express?’

  ‘My condolences, of course, on your father’s death,’ said Ugrayudh quickly. ‘Died a little prematurely; too soon after his marriage to that fisher girl. But he had two sons quickly, I must say.’

  Kripi gave a low gasp. The insinuation was crass, and Bhishm realized the man was out to provoke him.

  ‘May I meet the queen? I would like to talk to her and offer my condolences to her as well,’ said Ugrayudh.

  Bhishm merely shook his head briefly. ‘She is resting.’

  ‘That is an insult,’ said Ugrayudh. ‘I need to speak with her. I have something of importance to tell her.’

  ‘I presumed you wanted to speak to me,’ said Bhishm. ‘Kripi can convey the message to the queen.’

  ‘I prefer to speak with her confidentially,’ argued Ugrayudh.

  ‘You may not,’ retorted Bhishm. ‘You know the protocol well, King!’

  ‘She may be queen, Bhishm, but she is a widow in mourning. She has to meet with all the visitors. And I am your guest,’ he reminded him suavely.

  Bhishm hesitated, but Ugrayudh looked poised to get into a pointless argument. Bhishm imperceptibly motioned to Kripi with his eyes to fetch Satyavati and saw her quietly slip away. Bhishm felt a strong sense of unease. This man was not to be trusted.

  ‘Your message is being conveyed,’ he said. ‘If the queen mother wishes to meet you, she shall.’

  ‘That is discourteous,’ Ugrayudh commented dryly.

  Bhishm stared back, unsmiling. ‘Meanwhile, please do disclose the proposal you wanted to discuss.’

  ‘I had but a marriage proposal in mind. . .’

  Bhishm could not hide his shock.

  ‘For your mother,’ Ugrayudh drawled out the word insultingly. ‘Of course, for taking your queen, I shall compensate the Kurus with considerable wealth. That’s what I wanted to speak to her about,’ he grinned. ‘Do you deign to convey something as personal as that to her, Gangaputra?’ he said scornfully. ‘You call yourself the loyal servant, but you are nothing but a lackey!’

  Bhishm could barely contain his wrath, and his big hands balled into tight fists. ‘You dare to walk up here to our palace and talk of marriage with the widowed queen,’ he said, managing to speak evenly. ‘Ugrayudh, it’s disheartening to see you have no manners or sense of protocol. But then, you are not a king, but a thief, stealing what is not yours.’

  Ugrayudh flushed a dull red, but his eyes were bright and bold.

  ‘What is the problem, Bhishm? I am politely asking for Queen Satyavati’s hand in marriage. I wanted to ask her myself but you did not permit me. Why don’t you let her give me the answer? Surely, if she could marry an old man like your father, how ineligible would I be?’ he jeered, baring his teeth. ‘I am young, wealthy and powerful—everything that she wants.’

  Bhishm clenched and unclenched his fingers, restraining the urge to smash his fist into the leering face of the man in front of him.

  ‘The proposal is rejected. Please leave,’ he said calmly, the breath coming through gritted teeth.

  ‘Who are you, Bhishm, to answer for her? Or are you a lackey and her procurer as well?’

  There was a collective gasp of horror in the assembly hall, and Bhishm saw his uncle take a step forward. Bhishm swiftly stepped before him. If this man wants a fight, he swore grimly, he will fight me, not Bahlik. A faint feminine fragrance wafted in, which Bhishm was quick to notice. She was here!

  ‘Can’t blame you, young man,’ continued Ugrayudh impudently. ‘I have heard she is so enchanting that no one can keep away from her. What is that the world calls her? Yes, from Matsyagandha to Yojanagandha! Aha, the scent of that woman! It would drive any man crazy,’ he paused, chortling roguishly. ‘Did it affect you, too, eh Bhishm? Did she turn you from Devavrat to Bhishm and back to Devavrat again, damn the vow of celibacy?’ he cackled in malicious glee which echoed in the stunned silence of the hall. Bhishm stood very still. The muscles of his face rippled under his grey-white skin. His eyes narrowed and his mouth turned into a white, thin line. He clasped his sword in a tight grip, the knuckles growing white with rage. He could see the king was deliberately goading him, encouraging him to strike.

  Ugrayudh paused, a little surprised that the Kuru prince had not yet challenged him. He would gladly rip that inscrutable mask off that handsome face. ‘Do you think I am a fool, or is it you who is fooling the people, Bhishm?’ Ugrayudh continued slyly.

  Bhishm stood motionless, his heart now thumping, a cold wave of blood crawling up his spine. He eyed the small man.

  ‘There’s you and there’s this lonely, beautiful widow. . . !’ Ugrayudh sniggered, staring at Bhishm, whose eyes flared gold in fury.

  Bhishm’s lips trembled as he bit back the words that jumped to his tongue. With an effort, he took a deep breath and said quietly, ‘Mind what you say, King!’

  ‘Mind what you do, Prince. The world is watching and talking about the two of you,’ Ugrayudh leered. ‘It’s but natural; I quite understand. Both of you are young and beautiful . . . but be bold, Bhishm, for once!’ taunted Ugrayudh, his expression changing to animal viciousness. ‘Like me. I want her, I want to marry her and I am not ashamed to tell the world. Unlike you; be a man and have her!’

  His words ended in a gurgle of blood. Ugrayudh shrieked in pain, his hands reaching instinctively to his mouth, terror-stricken at the warm taste of his own blood in h
is mouth. His eyes widened in horror as he realized what had happened. He tried to speak but no sound came out but for a grunt. He tried again, but the hoarse sounds curdled with his blood. He looked down at his hands—he was holding his tongue in his palm. Bhishm had cut off his tongue!

  He felt dizzy: he thought he would faint with pain and the humiliation. He wanted to scream at the cold, handsome face of Bhishm, but all he could hear was his own undignified groans.

  ‘From henceforth, you won’t have a loose tongue to utter filthy words from your foul mouth!’ pronounced Bhishm, his voice a harsh rasp. He realized he was shaking, his head pounding with fury. ‘I refuse to waste my words on a guttersnipe like you.’

  He turned away, disgustedly.

  ‘Dev!’ he heard her warning cry and a soft swish behind him.

  Bhishm swivelled around, his hand still at his dripping dagger. Ugrayudh had his famous discus out. Staggering, with his mouth agape and blood trickling down his chin, he threw the discus at Bhishm.

  Bhishm ducked, and the discus crashed against the pillar behind him. He swung his dagger shoulder high like a scythe and sank it straight into Ugrayudh’s heart. The king swayed unsteadily, his bloodied hands clutching at the hilt of the dagger, and slowly crashed to the white marbled floor. The silence was shattering, broken only by the rasping sound of the man’s last breaths. Bhishm walked slowly towards the prostrate figure, the spreading pool of blood, a stark crimson against the white floor.

  ‘You are dying quite a pathetic death,’ he said, staring down at the dying king’s face, twisted in agony and hate. He watched dispassionately as the last breath left the king’s convulsing body. ‘No one insults a Kuru, especially a Kuru woman.’

  Ugrayudh gasped, his legs twitched. Then he lay still.

  Bhishm heard a movement. It was Satyavati.

  She glittered as she stood there, the royal widow; her face was pale, and in her white silk she looked wan, but her dark eyes glinted as hard as the diamonds she was wearing.

  ‘This piece of shit thought I would marry him?’ she barked, her lips curled in contempt.

  ‘Queen Daseyi!’ Kripi looked as aghast as the others at the display of such colourful language.

  ‘Yes, queens don’t curse,’ she muttered. ‘My real opinion is a little too intimate for expression. My apologies. Not that I am sorry that this cad is dead!’

  Bahlik eyed her with reserved approval. ‘He thought he was invincible because of his heavenly discus. Possibly the discus lost its power because he lusted after another’s wife,’ he said, glancing warily at Bhishm and her.

  Colour flamed her cheeks. ‘The discus lost its power because it confronted Bhishm.’

  Bahlik’s nodded grimly. ‘Ugrayudh wanted to marry you to take over the Kuru kingdom. Wooing is easier than war.’

  ‘Women are easier than war,’ she scoffed. ‘Or that’s what men like to believe.’

  ‘Men like Ugrayudh,’ corrected Bhishm and swung around to look squarely at her. ‘I had sent Kripi specifically for you not to come here.’

  Kripi bristled. ‘When does she ever listen to me? When does she obey anyone?’

  ‘I am the queen. I don’t obey, I order!’ Satyavati’s voice dripped ice.

  She looked up at Bhishm, her lips pursed. ‘I came because you did not want me to be here! I demand to know all!’

  Her voice had lifted slightly, her chin raised, her eyes flashing dangerously. The air was rife with sudden tension. On cue, Kripa led his reluctant sister away and Bahlik joined them after a moment’s hesitation. The other nobles and ministers followed suit to become quiet shadows that drifted soundlessly across the floor through the doorway.

  ‘Don’t ever talk to me in that tone!’ she fumed, her voice shaking.

  ‘Yes, Mother,’ he mocked, enraging her further. ‘Clearly you seemed to have enjoyed the blood bath. Did you feel bad that you missed the show right from the beginning?’ he said silkily.

  ‘I was here from the time he called you a lackey!’ she retorted, her cheeks reddening. ‘He clearly came here to pick a fight. His insults, his filthy innuendos. . .’ she suddenly looked flustered, her face hot and flushed. She sat down suddenly, lowering her lashes to hide her confusion. ‘Is that what the people are saying about me now?’ she said, her voice low. Ugrayudh’s vicious words were still screaming in her mind. Her face coloured in deep mortification; she bowed her head to conceal the blush, her thudding heart so loud that she was scared he could hear it.

  Bhishm’s hard eyes softened for a moment as they probed her lowered face and wringing hands. ‘You are not just any widow; you are the widowed queen of the Kuru kingdom,’ he started, his voice suddenly gentle. ‘There will be no shortage of suitors. But do keep your suitors in hope,’ he said, his voice teasing, ‘for as long as you want. You could keep our enemies friendly that way! You will always be hounded by ambitious kings—Kamboja, Kasayas, Srinjayas. . .’ he paused to suck in a dramatic breath, his eyes crinkling. ‘The Kekayas, the Pandyas. . .’

  ‘Enough!’ she burst into a giggle, holding up her hands, the tension easing. ‘I neither want to wed nor go to war with them!’

  His smile widened into a chuckle and, for a few moments, the sound of their joined laughter filled the hall.

  ‘But seriously, how is it that small kingdoms are rearing up their heads and becoming powerful?’ Her grin slipped and her fine eyebrows knitted in a slight frown.

  ‘Quite unlike King Bharat’s notion of an empire, you mean,’ shrugged Bhishm. ‘He did not wish to “own” or rule a single homogeneous empire where all bowed down to him or surrendered to his suzerainty. His idea of a nation was a heterogeneous empire based on plurality, with each kingdom having independent rulers. Then there were also the rishis. . .’

  ‘Rishis?’ she frowned. ‘Why, did they become warriors?’

  ‘No, they had other weapons—knowledge and wisdom. They united the country through their words and works. They travelled all over, from one country to another, spreading the same message of knowledge, wisdom and spirituality, crossing borders; they were not stopped but welcomed by each king in every country.’

  For a fleeting moment, Satyavati thought of Parashar who called himself a travelling teacher. Her son, Krishna Dwaipayan, would be doing the same with him. . .

  She blinked. ‘So rishis and kings, the two most powerful people in society, in the country, unifying the nation in their own way,’ she murmured. She recalled how Parashar had injured his leg in a war. ‘But even rishis can’t stop wars.’

  ‘War never serves any purpose except to assuage the greed and ego of the king,’ he said. ‘It takes just one person to upset the balance.’

  ‘And who is it right now?’ she prompted.

  ‘You can say no one, or you can say everyone. All are prepared, but it takes one small step for a stampede. Like Ugrayudh. He had to be killed to save the peace.’

  ‘So by killing him in this hall, you averted a war?’ she said, her eyes thoughtful, her forefinger pressed to her lower lip. ‘Won’t anyone challenge you?’

  Bhishm tilted his head, a small smile playing on his lips. ‘I’m afraid not. He was more hated than I am,’ he drawled. ‘But it can change the delicate balance right now.’

  ‘Who is it that we need to guard against most?’ she asked.

  His eyes grew solemn again. ‘Most powerful right now is King Vasu of Chedi.’ He paused, noticing her flinch. ‘He calls himself an emperor now, and is spreading his tentacles through all his sons. Matsya is already the king of his new kingdom. Vrihadrath, his oldest son from Queen Girika, is now the king of Magadh. His other sons—Pratyagrah, Kusamva and Mavella—are also governors at various places. But they are not a threat only because . . . well, my father and he were friends,’ he said wryly.

  ‘In politics, there are no friends; only allies,’ retorted Satyavati. ‘Why wouldn’t King Vasu attack the Kurus?’

  ‘Because you are his daughter, and you are now a Kuru queen,’ said Bhish
m bluntly.

  She felt the floor swim, his words throwing her off balance. It was the first time he had voiced her secret. She was shaking inside, but kept her voice firm.

  ‘Unacknowledged,’ she said softly.

  ‘Yet, still his daughter. The fact that he will not touch Hastinapur is acknowledgment of this,’ returned Bhishm equably, his face inscrutable. ‘Marriages and children are reasons enough to form political and economic alliances. We need never fear him. He is. . .’

  ‘Family?’ she asked nimbly.

  ‘Yes,’ he nodded slowly. ‘King Vasu has also instructed the same to all his sons.’

  ‘My brothers! Suddenly half the royal houses are my family now,’ she laughed self-deprecatingly. She paused, and then said, ‘It was not that I was ashamed or fearful of telling Shantanu the truth about my parentage. . .’ She looked honestly into his eyes. ‘I was wary of Shantanu’s reaction. King Vasu was his friend, and I did not want to upset their relation or the political ties.’

  Bhishm nodded thoughtfully, impressed with her political acuity. ‘Your trade treaty with the king of Surasen worked wonderfully. Both of you agreed to squeeze out the common enemy—the king of Kasi—through a food grain sanction,’ he said, tactfully changing the subject. ‘Now, with Ugrayudh dead, both North and South Panchal will be our allies. We shall reinstate young Prishat in Panchal; he’s hiding in Bhardwaj’s ashram, or so my spies say. That leaves Gandhar and Kamboj in the north, but Uncle Bahlik has handled that and they are his allies. So is Sindhu. And in the east, it’s Kosala and the Angas. . .’

  ‘Both are under King Vrihadrath of Magadh, who is my half-brother. It is Kasi I wanted squashed!’ she said virulently. ‘That’s why I had asked the king of Surasen if he would comply. He was shocked initially, but the idea quickly grew on him, and he was ready to sign the treaty that very day! We trapped Kasi that way.’

  ‘Kasi is our enemy and always will be. . .’ Bhishm faltered.

  She nodded, pressing her lips and placing a fingertip on the middle of the lower one. The Kasi king had not forgiven Bhishm for breaking the marriage alliance with his daughter. ‘We could draw Videha into new talks. Invite them over. Let them know that our spies have information that Kasi is stockpiling weapons against them for a future attack on their mightiest neighbour,’ she recommended dryly.