The diplomat raised his head and considered the king. He then shook his head hurriedly. “No samrat, I have no reason to disbelieve all of you. Pardon me if I gave you that impression – I’d never doubt your word. It’s just that all this is... upsetting...” Pallavan’s voice trailed away as the enormity of the situation reasserted itself in his mind.
“The suddenness of it all must be a shock to you,” the king nodded gently. “But we had no intention of keeping anyone in the dark about all this, believe us. Just yesterday, we dispatched an emissary to King Bhoomipala’s court with the news. But you would have left Sravasti even earlier, so there is no way you would have known of any of this.”
“Indeed not, your honor. No...” Pallavan shook his head in bafflement.
Yet, when he addressed Vikramaditya again, the diplomat’s tone had undergone a subtle change. Filled with awe, it was now almost deeply reverential. “Samrat, you are blessed. You saw the Omniscient One, which is rare for most humans. You have been chosen to fulfill a duty by the Omniscient One, which is rarer still. I consider it an honor to have even lived in your lifetime, and it is my king’s immense good fortune to have you as a trusted friend.”
“I’m glad and honored that Kosala sees a friend in Avanti,” the samrat inclined his head gracefully. He had known Pallavan long enough to tell that the diplomat enjoyed the complete trust of Bhoomipala, and that Pallavan would never commit to something unless he was convinced that he would have Bhoomipala’s full backing.
“Do let us know if Kosala can be of any assistance to you, samrat. It would be our privilege to help you honor your promise to the Omniscient One in whatever small way possible.”
“I shall not hesitate to seek Kosala’s help, should the need ever arise,” Vikramaditya assured the guest with a smile. “But enough of our troubles... Do tell us, what do we owe this unexpected visit of yours to?”
Pallavan blinked as he remembered the errand that had brought him to Ujjayini. “I’ve come here bearing disturbing news – though I admit after what I’ve seen and heard this morning, I doubt your capacity to be disturbed any further,” he admitted.
“And this news is...?” the king prodded.
Swiftly and without digression, Pallavan gave Vikramaditya and his council an account of his visit to Girivraja, his encounter with the musician, their flight across the border of Magadha, and the musician’s revelation of King Siddhasena’s cold-blooded murder at the hands of Shoorasena.
“King Bhoomipala is right,” Vikramaditya observed solemnly, after having heard the diplomat out. “It is plain that Shoorasena is bent on invading Vanga, but the old king must have been a deterrent. By removing him, Shoorasena has not only cleared his path of all obstacles, he has achieved his goal of mobilizing public opinion within Magadha against the republic and the Kikatas.”
“My king thinks Shoorasena deserves to be punished for what he has done,” said Pallavan, appraising the faces around the table closely. His tone indicated that he had decided to throw the dice on the table. “King Siddhasena was a good friend of my king, and he was also dearly liked by the samrat’s late father. My king believes Siddhasena’s death shouldn’t go unavenged.”
Vikramaditya leaned his elbows on the council table and fixed a keen gaze on the diplomat. “Would you be kind enough to tell us exactly what King Bhoomipala is proposing?”
“My king proposes initiating military action against Shoorasena and the royal council of Magadha. We must build a consensus with the kingdoms of Vatsa, Matsya, Heheya and the Anartas to bring Shoorasena to justice.”
Vararuchi and Kalidasa nodded vigorously in agreement, but the samrat looked circumspect. When he spoke, he chose his words carefully. “I agree we cannot allow Shoorasena to get away with this horrific murder, more so when he uses it as a pretext to orchestrate genocide against the Kikatas and invade a harmless neighbor like Vanga. Yet, we mustn’t act rashly, for the kingdom of Magadha is still an ally of ours.”
“Hasn’t Shoorasena virtually annulled all alliances with us by refusing to send his troops for the defense of Sindhuvarta?” Vararuchi protested.
“True. But the subjects of Magadha, who were until recently ruled by the benevolent King Siddhasena, are still our allies. We can’t have the blood of Magadha’s innocents on our hands. We owe that much to Siddhasena.”
“From what I could tell, there are hardly any innocents left in Magadha,” Pallavan observed bitterly, remembering the sights of plunder in Girivraja.
“You’re right,” Vikramaditya conceded. “At this moment, the misguided subjects of Magadha are probably supportive of Shoorasena and the royal council. This makes it even more imperative for us to avoid rushing headlong into a military confrontation. Shoorasena will cleverly manipulate his people into believing their kingdom is being threatened solely because he refused to divert Magadhan soldiers to defend Sindhuvarta. He could go even so far as to show us siding with the Kikatas and Vanga. Then, for all practical purposes, we would become the aggressors in the eyes of Magadha’s subjects, and he the hapless victim. We must deny Shoorasena the opportunity to gain more support from his people.”
The uncomfortable silence that briefly claimed the council chamber was broken by Kalidasa. “If open hostilities are not an option, we could send a handful of samsaptakas to Girivraja to secretly assassinate Shoorasena,” he offered. “No one would be the wiser for it.”
The samrat weighed the proposal carefully before shaking his head. “The situation here is quite different from the one in Heheya, when Kulabheda engineered his coup against King Harihara. Kulabheda had very little support in Heheya, whereas Shoorasena appears to have the full backing of the royal council – and his people. If Shoorasena were to be assassinated, he would easily end up becoming a martyr in the minds of Magadha’s subjects. And by blaming his death on the Kikatas, the royal council can always exploit the people’s hatred toward the Kikatas even more to serve whatever ends the council has in mind. That would be counterproductive. We mustn’t do anything that adds to the misery of the Kikatas.”
“But samrat, if we don’t act against Shoorasena, we would be giving a murderer the license to do as he pleases,” Pallavan argued a trifle testily. “Are we going to grant him the freedom to break the peace of Sindhuvarta?”
“No,” the king’s voice was emphatic, commanding. “Shoorasena has to be reined in and he must answer for his deeds. But the course of action we choose shouldn’t add to his glory in Magadha. By killing the old king and lying about it, Shoorasena has cheated his people – his punishment should come in a manner by which his subjects are exposed to his treachery. Shoorasena’s downfall must be welcomed and celebrated by his own people. That’s when true justice will be delivered to King Siddhasena.”
“How are we to achieve this, your honor?” Pallavan asked, this time with more respect.
“There have to be loyalists of King Siddhasena somewhere in Magadha,” the samrat answered. “Even one or two men of influence who stood by the old king would suffice. Maybe in the royal council, maybe in the Magadhan army... We have to find these men quickly and let them know the truth about their king’s death. With their help, we can turn public opinion against Shoorasena.”
“I might know a couple of such men.” The diplomat sat meditatively, but his eyes sparkled as he warmed to the idea. “I can begin by...”
Pallavan was, however, interrupted by a knock on the council chamber’s door. Looking up, the men saw the door open to admit Queen Upashruti. As the men rose from their seats out of respect, the queen walked into the room, but on catching Pallavan’s eye, she drew to an abrupt halt.
“Greetings from King Bhoomipala and the subjects of Kosala, queen mother,” said the diplomat with a formal bow.
“My greetings to you and your king,” replied the queen. “Do accept my deepest apologies for barging in like this. I had no idea you were here.” Motioning with her hand to resume their seats, she added, “Please continue. I shall come back later.
”
But even as Queen Upashruti turned around to depart, Pallavan spoke again. “No mother, it is nothing,” he protested. “I presume you are here for something that demands the samrat and the council’s attention. I shall wait most willingly. Please don’t leave.”
The queen paused and looked at Vikramaditya, who gave a small shrug and nodded. The envoy’s words had clearly ruled out any further debate over the matter.
“Thank you,” she smiled at Pallavan. “This won’t take long.” Returning her eyes to the king, she said, “You have heard the news about the one-eyed Healer, I suppose.”
Mystified, Vikramaditya stared at his mother for a couple of moments, before turning to Vetala Bhatta and Vararuchi for illumination. The two councilors, however, looked just as confused.
“You know nothing about the Healer?” The Queen Mother’s tone was of surprise and exasperation in equal measure as she cast her eye around the room. Seeing the blank expressions and shakes of the head, she said, “The whole city is talking about him.”
“No mother, I’m afraid the talk hasn’t reached our ears,” the samrat said a shade stiffly.
“Well, this man has recently come to Ujjayini – by all accounts, he is very new to these parts. It seems he has been treating our citizens for all sorts of ailments, and word is his cures are almost miraculous. They say he has even brought relief to those affected by the Ashvin attacks; apparently he has administered remedies to some of our soldiers as well.”
“Who is this man?” Vikramaditya knitted his brows and glanced at Dhanavantri, but the physician returned an expression of complete bewilderment. “Where has he come from?”
“No one seems to know,” said the queen. “He’s a stranger to these parts... He’s only being referred to as the Healer. Or the one-eyed Healer, for he is blind in one eye.”
“If I may ask, why have you brought him to our notice, queen mother?” asked the Acharya, speaking for the first time in long while.
“A son of one of my palanquin bearers overheard the Healer say something, raj-guru. The Healer claimed he might have a cure for the young lady in the palace.”
Queen Upashruti paused to let the words sink in. Then, looking straight into Vikramaditya’s eyes, she added, “You must invite this man to the palace. He couldn’t have been referring to anyone but Vishakha.”
***
For over three hours, Angamitra had been sitting in a room overlooking the Yamuna, watching the boats and barges plying on the swollen river. While the smaller boats scuttled between the two banks ferrying passengers, the big barges, laden with goods, floated sluggishly upstream and down between Matsya and the minor principalities of Surasena and Chedi to the west, and Magadha and Vanga to the east. With every passing hour the sun had climbed higher in the sky, and was now almost directly above Kausambi, but its heat was tempered by the cool river breeze. The breeze, working in combination with the boredom, had lulled the captain into a light doze, so it was with a start that he awoke on hearing a voice accompanied by a rush of footsteps.
“Please do pardon me for keeping you waiting so long, captain.”
Angamitra looked over his shoulder to see a young man hurrying across the room, Councilor Yashobhavi following two steps behind. The man was in his early thirties, tall and willowy, with long brown hair that fell up to his shoulders. His thin face was adorned with a trim beard, while his large eyes had an expression of perpetual sadness about them. The captain couldn’t help observe how different Prince Shashivardhan and his father were when it came to build and physical appearance.
“Your honor, it is perfectly...” The captain began rising to his feet, but the prince waved him back into his seat.
“I know this is no way to treat a guest from Avanti – father would never approve of it,” Shashivardhan dropped into a vacant chair opposite Angamitra. “But what could I do? I just got back this morning, and I’ve practically been with the physicians ever since.”
Listening to the prince, Angamitra missed neither the slight slur in Shashivardhan’s speech, nor the distinct whiff of soma on his breath. Realizing the prince wasn’t being entirely truthful about how the morning had been spent, the captain looked up at Yashobhavi, but the councilor squinted stoically to Angamitra’s right.
“I can understand, your honor,” Angamitra returned his gaze to Shashivardhan. “How is King Chandravardhan now?”
“Not good, I’m afraid,” the prince heaved a sigh and leaned back. “The physicians aren’t happy with his progress. And there are so many things to take care of in the palace, so much that demands attention...”
Shashivardhan passed a weary hand over his forehead, his worried eyes looking out over the river. Angamitra concluded that the prince seemed overwhelmed by the responsibility of having to make official decisions in the absence of the king. Suddenly, the captain was no longer sure if he should burden the prince with the news that had brought him to Vatsa, but the matter was decided when Shashivardhan addressed him.
“Anyway, our good councilor Yashobhavi says you came bearing an important message for father,” Shashivardhan looked at Angamitra inquiringly. “The message must be important enough for you to wait for me all morning – what is it?”
Sticking to his brief – and speaking almost by rote – the captain narrated everything of importance that pertained to the dagger that was now in Vikramaditya’s keeping. Both Shashivardhan and Yashobhavi listened with keen interest, their mouths dropping in amazement as Angamitra told them about the encounters with the Ashvins and the pishacha army.
When the captain fell silent, the prince and the councilor turned what they had just heard over in their heads, their expressions full of wonder. Finally, after casting a brief glance at the councilor, Shashivardhan spoke.
“What you’ve told us is frankly amazing. It’s no surprise to me that father holds Samrat Vikramaditya in such great esteem. But...” Here the prince’s voice faltered a bit. “...is there something that the samrat wants from us? I mean, are you here for...?”
Angamitra shook his head. “The samrat only wants his allies to know the truth about the dagger, and I was deputed to come here to share the news with King Chandravardhan, your honor. There’s nothing more to my visit.”
Shashivardhan nodded, his face and shoulders relaxing with relief. Angamitra sensed the prince was just glad that he wasn’t expected to make an important decision on behalf of his father. But as the captain began mentally preparing to take his leave, Shashivardhan addressed him again.
“Nevertheless, Avanti and Vatsa have been allies for as long as I can remember. Father and King Mahendraditya were always on very good terms, and as I’ve already said, father has the utmost respect for the samrat. Our kingdoms have also forged ties of blood through marriage, so...”
The prince came to a fumbling halt, as if suddenly fearful of the fact that in the rush of good intentions, he was committing himself to something that would later incur King Chandravardhan’s displeasure. He looked up at Yashobhavi with doubtful eyes, but seeing the councilor’s imperceptible nod of encouragement, his face cleared.
“So it is Vatsa’s duty to offer Avanti any assistance it needs,” Shashivardhan renewed with confidence. “Let Samrat Vikramaditya know we will be happy to extend help in whatever way we can – I’m sure father would not have wished it otherwise had he been here.”
“It is an honor to have trusted friends like King Chandravardhan and you, prince,” replied Angamitra, rising from his seat. “Now if you will permit me, I would like to return to Ujjayini with your pledge of allegiance.”
***
“I am known as the Healer, your honor. I hail from the misty valleys through which the mighty Lauhitya flows before it enters the kingdom of Pragjyotishpura.”
The man who had spoken stood in the center of Ujjayini’s cavernous Throne Room, his strong voice echoing off the high, vaulted ceiling, making the ornate crystal lamps hanging overhead quiver faintly as if in fright. He was short but bro
adly built, with a thick gray beard and moustache covering his fair face. He also wore a black eye-patch over his left eye.
“You don’t have a name other than the Healer?” asked Vetala Bhatta shrewdly.
“Isn’t a man ultimately known by his deeds, your honor?”
The awkward silence that followed was broken by Vikramaditya.
“And you say you can cure the queen of Avanti of her illness?” The king leaned forward in the royal throne, a large chunk of hewn and polished black marble, cushioned with rich velvet and satin pillows. The marble was heavily inlaid with gold and ivory, the white and yellow strands rising and intertwining to form a large sun-crest behind the king’s head. Vikramaditya’s eyes were keen as they appraised the stranger.
“I believe I could, your honor – though I can’t say with any surety until I have had a chance to see the queen.”
“Are you a physician?” The Acharya fixed a suspicious gaze on the newcomer, before glancing briefly at Dhanavantri. “If I may ask, where did you master your craft?”
“Some call me a physician, some a healer... still others a tantric. What does it matter?” the Healer shrugged and gestured in the direction of Dhanavantri. “The honorable court physician would agree that the only thing that finally counts is faith in the remedy. The people of this city have a capacity for immense faith; else, none of my cures would have worked.”
“For someone of your talents, it is strange how we have never heard of you before,” remarked Vetala Bhatta, continuing to scrutinize the stranger closely.
“That is beyond my control,” the Healer gave a small smile of helplessness.
The raj-guru nodded. “What brings you to Ujjayini?”
“I am a traveler, your honor. Wherever I go, I try and bring succor to the ailing and the infirm. I happened to be heading west for the Anartas when I heard of the calamity that has befallen this beautiful city of yours. So, I decided to come here.”
“How did you learn of the queen’s ailment?” asked Queen Upashruti
The Guardians of the Halahala Page 27
