“Calm down... Please calm down,” an official of the Assembly entreated. “Allow Chancellor Sudasan a chance to speak.”
“How can you ask us to calm down?” one of the chiefs who had gathered demanded hotly. “Dandakabhukti has been taken by the Magadhan army, and reports say nearly fifty of our soldiers and civilians have been killed there. God knows which one of us is next on their sights. How can we be calm when our safety is at risk?”
“Please... we are all here to discuss the matter,” the official urged.
“All we’re going to do is discuss the matter?” asked another chief. “Who wants discussions? I want to know what is the Grand Assembly going to do about the matter.”
Before the official could reply, an elderly man who had been standing a little behind stepped forward and placed a gentle hand on the official’s shoulder. The man had the bearing of a noble, his aged face lined with responsibility, yet his bright eyes were full of sagacity. With a slight incline of his head, the man indicated to the official that he was taking charge of the proceedings. As the official withdrew, the din in the hall petered down to a low murmur.
“Chiefs, you ask what the Grand Assembly is going to do about the matter,” he spoke in a stentorian voice as he smoothened down his thinning hair with his palm. “But you forget that you are the Grand Assembly... so only you can answer that question.”
The gathered heads shuffled their feet and exchanged sheepish glances. At last, one of the chiefs rose to his feet.
“Excuse us for the oversight, Chancellor Sudasan,” he said, addressing the man who had restored order in the hall. “Please understand that we are all worried with what’s happened at Dandakabhukti. Me, most of all, as Dandakabhukti comes directly under my jurisdiction.”
“I share your concern, brother,” replied Sudasan. “That’s why this Assembly has been summoned.”
“Do we know why Magadha has attacked us, Chancellor?” another of the chiefs asked. “And why Dandakabhukti has been captured?”
“We don’t know, to be entirely honest. We have never meant Magadha any harm – we have never meant anyone any harm. Vanga has always maintained a cordial relationship with the kingdoms of Sindhuvarta.”
“Could it be that Magadha grudges the fact that we have offered shelter to the Kikata refugees?” the chief who had spoken first asked. “Magadha’s old king is believed to have been killed by his Kikata bodyguard.”
“Why are we granting the Kikatas refuge in Vanga anyway?” demanded the chieftain under whose purview Dandakabhukti fell. Seeing heads nod in approval, he continued, “They are draining our resources and spreading disease... and because of them we have now incurred the displeasure of Magadha. We should send them back.”
“Send them back where?” asked Sudasan, conscious of the support that the idea had received. “Back to Magadha to be slaughtered? The Kikatas are a peaceful tribe and our association with them goes back a long way. Now they are being driven out of their homeland and have nowhere to go. We shouldn’t let worry and fear impair our judgment.”
“So what do we do now? How do we find out what Magadha’s motivations are?”
“We have already dispatched two senior emissaries to Dandakabhukti to meet the Magadhan army commander,” the chancellor replied. “It’s possible the whole thing is only a terrible misunderstanding that can be resolved by sitting across the table.”
“And we haven’t heard from the emissaries so far?”
“They left for Dandakabhukti only yesterday evening.”
“What happens if the emissaries return with the news that Magadha intends keeping up hostilities?”
As a wave of uneasiness washed through the hall, Sudasan took a deep breath. “In that eventuality, Vanga will have to prepare to defend itself. As a precautionary measure, we have already started strengthening our defenses around Dandakabhukti. The Assembly hereby proposes to increase troops across all the principalities that border Magadha with immediate effect. Further, the Assembly proposes that more troops be deployed to defend the towns of Chandrakanta, Medinipuri and Tamralipti.”
“We approve all your proposals,” the chiefs shouted almost in unison.
Sudasan nodded to one of the Assembly officials, signaling the passing of the resolution. As the official hurried out of the hall to execute the order, someone raised a question.
“Are we adequately equipped to defend the republic against an extended attack?”
The chancellor had been dreading that question. The Magadhan army was among the mightiest in Sindhuvarta, capable of posing a challenge in the best of times. Now with Dandakabhukti captured, the central armory in the town was also out of bounds, putting additional pressure on Vanga’s army.
“Everything depends on the strength and intent of the Magadhan army,” he replied. “But to answer your question, we will have to retake Dandakabhukti and claim the armory if we are to survive a protracted war.”
Ominous looks were exchanged once again.
“Can’t we seek assistance from kingdoms of Kalinga and Odra?” the chief of Dandakabhukti broke his silence. “They could help us.”
“We could try asking,” Sudasan said, though he didn’t sound very hopeful. The problem was that Vanga had always remained neutral in conflicts, and while nonalignment was a clever little strategy that did away with the need to pick sides, it made it harder to seek committed alliances when trouble came calling at your door.
Just then, a small murmur broke out in one corner of the assembly hall. Turning around, the chancellor saw a soldier speaking to a couple of officials.
“What is the matter?” Sudasan raised his voice.
“The soldier is a rider from near Dandakabhukti, Chancellor,” one of the officials replied.
“Come down here, soldier,” Sudasan beckoned the soldier. “What have you got for us?”
“I bring news of the emissaries who were sent to Dandakabhukti yesterday, your honor,” the soldier said. “Their horses returned from Dandakabhukti this morning.”
“Their horses...? What about the two emissaries?”
“Your honor, the horses were dragging their bodies in the mud behind them.” As sharp intakes of breath sounded from around the room, the soldier continued, “Both of them were headless. We identified them through their official insignia... and this.”
Sudasan reached out for the scroll that the rider held in his extended hand. Even as his fingers closed over the scroll, the chancellor knew it was the official letter that the emissaries had taken with them, registering Vanga’s protest at the infringement, and offering to resolve the issue through talks.
Opening the scroll, the chancellor looked at the splotches of dried blood that were splattered over the letter. At the bottom, scrawled with a quill dipped in blood, was a terse message.
Your emissaries have paid the price of trespassing through Magadhan territory. Stay clear of Dandakabhukti.
***
“Are you certain this Huna scout spoke of plans to attack us by sea?” Yugandhara considered Ghatakarpara with his gentle brown eyes.
“Yes, your honor,” the prince looked across the table at the Anarta chieftain and nodded.
The two men were seated in a private balcony situated high on the western corner of Yugandhara’s palace in Dvarka, a lavish lunch spread out on the table between them. The bustle of the busy trading port was far below them, and the only sounds to be heard were the sighing of the wind and the occasional squawk of black-headed gulls.
Yugandhara leaned back, his brows furrowing as he concentrated on the problem. “But the Hunas and Sakas have no knowledge of the sea... It doesn’t make sense.”
Ghatakarpara’s eyes strayed out toward the blue expanse of water stretching away to the horizon, his expression reflecting the typical wonder of one who has spent his entire life in landlocked places. His mind was partly on the news of the deva and asura attacks on Avanti – of which he had learned through Yugandhara just hours earlier – so he didn’t re
spond to the chieftain right away.
“Indeed it doesn’t make sense,” the prince said finally. “But Councilor Amara Simha thinks the Hunas may have spent the last few years mastering the craft.”
“You don’t understand,” Yugandhara shook his head. “Seamanship cannot be mastered by staying on land – one has to step aboard a ship and sail in the seas. We are seafarers...” he paused to sweep his hand in the direction of the bay, where half a dozen large ships could be seen anchored. “Ships from Anarta ply these seas every day, and the sailors are familiar with every cove and inlet along the coast on both sides. None of them has ever reported seeing Huna ships anywhere in these waters. Then, where are the ships that the Huna scout spoke of moored?”
Ghatakarpara shrugged, suddenly feeling foolish having come so far bearing news that was incorrect. The holes that Yugandhara was picking in the scout’s story were now glaringly obvious.
“Navigating the smallest of vessels takes practice, and from what I know, the Hunas haven’t been practicing at all,” the chieftain continued. “So, either the Hunas are extremely foolhardy to attempt naval warfare, or your scout was lying through his teeth. Unless... unless...”
As a new possibility suddenly crossed his mind, Yugandhara’s expression changed, and he stared intently up at the balcony’s domed ceiling. “...unless the Hunas have been perfecting the craft in the waters of the Dark River.”
From what they had heard the nomads tell, the people of Sindhuvarta knew that the Dark River flowed right through the middle of the Great Desert – where the Hunas and Sakas first came from, and where they returned to after being driven out of Sindhuvarta.
Ghatakarpara studied the chieftain carefully. Taking a deep breath of the salty air, he asked, “Is that possible?”
“It’s possible. Sailing on a river is not the same thing as sailing in the seas, but it equips you with the necessary skills. And the Dark River is rumored to be a big river with powerful currents.” As the idea took root, Yugandhara’s eyes grew wide with anxiety. “So yes, it’s possible.”
“But wouldn’t your sailors have known?”
“No sailor of Anarta ventures beyond the mouth of that accursed river whose foul waters gave birth to the Great Desert.”
The chieftain turned to stare at the ocean, screwing his eyes against the sun’s glare reflecting off the deep water. If the Hunas did come as was being suggested, Dvarka would bear the brunt of the attack. Dvarka – the shining jewel, pride of the Anartas.
“Councilor Amara Simha has already dispatched a rider to Ujjayini, alerting the samrat to the potential threat you face,” said the prince, hoping to allay some of the chieftain’s unease. “I’m sure the samrat will act on it and send forth reinforcements.”
Yugandhara nodded, thinking of the deva and asura attacks on Avanti. Vikramaditya was already dealing with a lot, and he wasn’t sure the king would have time to spare for the Anartas’ miseries. Staring gloomily at Ghatakarpara sitting across the table, Yugandhara realized he had suddenly lost his appetite for lunch.
***
“You sent word for me, mother?”
The Mother Oracle raised her head to see Vikramaditya standing inside the door of her room. She sat on a plain straw mat that had been laid out on the cool marble floor, a copper pestle and mortar in her hands. She nodded, and as the samrat entered the room, she returned to grinding the contents of the mortar. The king stopped in front of the old woman and waited patiently for her to speak.
“Do sit down,” the Mother Oracle finally gestured to a teakwood stool nearby. With a toothless grin she added, “It’s your own palace.”
Vikramaditya smiled as he drew the stool forward and sat down. Yet, he made no attempt at interrupting the woman, watching her quietly as she pounded away with the pestle. After a few moments had passed, she tilted her head and assessed the king with shrewd eyes.
“I hear the queen is getting better?”
“Yes, she is showing some definite signs of recovery,” Vikramaditya’s eyes brightened as he spoke. “She’s still hardly speaking anything, but she appears to be more aware of what is happening around her... at least sometimes.” He paused as doubt crept back on him. “It’s the best I’ve seen her in two years.”
“I’m happy to hear that,” the Mother Oracle nodded, peering into the mortar. Setting the pestle aside, she upturned the mortar, emptying its contents into the cup of her right hand. The king saw that she had been crushing dried betel nuts. Tossing the small pieces into her mouth, the woman considered Vikramaditya.
“I’m happy to hear the queen is better,” she repeated. “But beware of the stranger in the palace, wise king.”
The samrat knitted his brows. “Do you mean the Healer, mother?”
“The breeze blowing through the palace speaks of bad intentions,” the Mother Oracle replied obliquely. “Be on your guard.”
Vikramaditya studied the old woman’s face, expecting her to add to what she had said, but she had already closed her eyes and was chewing on the betel nuts, rocking back and forth in contentment. He looked down at his clasped hands, pondering over her words.
“Will that be all, mother?” he asked finally.
Opening her eyes, the Mother Oracle said, “There’s also danger lurking in the clouds. Watch out for the lightning.”
The samrat inclined his head. “Thank you, mother.”
Stepping out of the oracle’s room, Vikramaditya traced a path to an open portico with a large sundial mounted in its center. Leaning against the railings, the king shielded his eyes and looked heavenward, turning all the way around to thoroughly survey every little portion of the firmament.
Other than the blazing directly overhead, there was nothing in the spotless blue sky.
Vikramaditya was still observing the sky when he heard approaching footsteps. Looking around, he saw a palace attendant hurrying into the portico.
“Your honor, you are wanted in the queen’s chamber,” the attendant informed.
“Is the queen all right?” the king spoke with concern as he strode forward.
“Yes, your honor. It seems she spoke again.”
When Vikramaditya hurried into the bedchamber, he saw Kshapanaka seated on the bed next to Vishakha, while Queen Upashruti stood close beside. The Queen Mother had one hand on Kshapanaka’s shoulder as she leaned over and spoke gently to Vishakha.
“This is your sister Kshapanaka, my child,” the king heard his mother saying.
Vishakha looked dubiously at Kshapanaka for a while before turning back to Queen Upashruti. “No, my sister is much younger,” she said with a shake of her head.
Noticing Vetala Bhatta and Dhanavantri standing to one side, the samrat went up to them. “What’s happened, raj-guru?” he asked.
“It seems she suddenly asked for Kshapanaka and her mother,” the Acharya replied. “She has been expressing the desire to return to Nishada.”
“She wants to go back to Nishada?” Vikramaditya looked incredulous.
“Obviously some memories from her childhood have returned,” Dhanavantri proffered an explanation. “Memories of her mother and Kshapanaka... In her mind, Kshapanaka is still a small child, which is why she is finding it hard to accept what the queen mother is saying.”
The three men returned their gaze to the bed. Vishakha shook her head once again. “No, my parents are in the palace in Nishada,” she protested, tears welling up in her eyes. “I want to see them. Please take me there.”
As Queen Upashruti and Kshapanaka turned to the men in helplessness, Vikramaditya asked, “Where’s the Healer?”
“We’ve sent for him,” replied Dhanavantri a trifle stiffly. “He should be... ah, there he is.”
The Healer entered the room and marched straight to Vishakha’s side, without bothering to acknowledge the others in the room. “Yes child, what is the matter?” he asked, looking down kindly at the queen.
“I want to go home, but these people aren’t letting me,” whimpered Vi
shakha. “Please tell them to take me home.”
“Of course they will let you go,” the Healer exclaimed reassuringly. “It’s just that they want you to rest a while. Once you have woken from your sleep, you can go. Is that all right?”
Vishakha sniffled and nodded.
“Good. But hold these in your hands while you sleep.” The Healer placed two red hibiscuses in Vishakha’s hands. “Now sleep.”
The queen willingly subsided into the bed and turned on her side. In a matter of moments, she was asleep. As the Queen Mother and Kshapanaka left the bed, Vikramaditya watched the Healer begin drawing a mandala on the floor. The king’s eyes were cloudy.
“What’s the matter, Vikrama?” the raj-guru asked once they exited the bedchamber. The king, the Acharya and the royal physician were walking down one of the passageways. “Is something troubling you?”
Beware of the stranger in the palace, wise king.
“I happened to meet the Mother Oracle a little while ago,” said the samrat.
“What did she say?” the Acharya probed.
The breeze blowing through the palace speaks of bad intentions.
“She...” Vikramaditya hesitated, caught in two minds. “She warned that there is danger in the clouds and that we must be careful of the lightning.”
“Clouds?” Dhanavantri peered out of one of the windows lining the passageway. “There are no clouds for miles around.”
“But if the Mother Oracle says we must be careful, we have to be,” Vetala Bhatta reminded. “She’s rarely been proved wrong.”
“True.” Vikramaditya licked his lips and avoided looking at his companions. “That’s why I’ll need your assistance, raj-guru. I intend taking the dagger to the Borderworld tonight.”
***
“Don’t look so downcast, my friend,” Varahamihira said with a shake of his head. “No matter what the Healer has achieved, there’s no debate over the fact that you’re the best physician in the kingdom of Avanti.”
Dhanavantri inclined his head, but the sag of his mouth indicated that Varahamihira’s words hadn’t reassured him the least bit. The two councilors were seated in the verandah of the physician’s house – Varahamihira on a large swing, nursing a cup of soma, Dhanavantri on a fluffy mattress, drinking a concoction of honey and lime. A strong breeze blew from the north, cooling the night air around Ujjayini.
The Guardians of the Halahala Page 29
