RAMAYANA SERIES Part 4_KING OF DHARMA

by AKB eBOOKS Ashok K. Banker

  “Boys!” Maatr said loudly, “please leave that horse! We’re not supposed to touch him!”

  Luv and Kush released the horse’s mane reluctantly, obeying their mother’s instructions. But the stallion seemed to think they were his protectors and stayed beside them, following even when they tried to move away. Or perhaps he was only trying to get away from the large woman who was yelling and waving her arms at him violently.

  “GO!” Nakhudi shouted. “Go before you get us all into trouble, you stupid horse!”

  Just then birds began to call out and fly from the treetops above and the familiar rumbling sounds of horses approaching became audible to all present.

  Luv and Kush saw their Maatr turn and stare at Nakhudi with a look of abject terror.

  “Too late,” their mother said hoarsely. “Trouble has arrived.”

  TWELVE

  Fourteen years of forest warfare had made Lakshman an expert in reading signs and tracks. He knew at once that the gang of riders he had met on the raj-marg had come from the direction of the forest. That itself was suspicious. What business had they in the Southwoods? There was nothing in this vast wilderness that would be of interest to Ayodhyan troops, let alone king’s guard as they had claimed to be, apart from a few ashrams and communities of outcastes and outlaws, which didn’t count.

  Also, on entering the treeline, he had immediately found signs that indicated they had waited here, within sight of the raj-marg. A closer inspection confirmed that they had been loitering here for several hours, perhaps the better part of the day, awaiting…what? The arrival of the sacred stallion and the procession, of course. And the instant they had set eyes on the horse, they had ridden out, blocking its way and forcing it off the raj-marg and into the forest, even as the larger part of their party had continued up the raj-marg, blocking Lakshman’s way and line of sight, and delaying him until the horse had been coerced successfully into going into the woods.

  The question was why.

  He didn’t mind the horse going this way. He himself had urged it in this direction, rather than towards Mithila, to avoid a confrontation. Was that their intention too? If so, they had certainly chosen a strange way to go about it! He had also actively disliked the arrogant manner and bearing of their leader Aarohan as well as the way they had all looked at him, as if he was just another rival kshatriya they would have no compunctions in cutting down in a moment. He had fought enough fights and battles to recognize the killing lust in another kshatriya’s eyes—Devi knew he had often harboured that same lust in his own eyes, in the heat of battle or when faced with impossible odds—but to see it reflected in the eyes of men who were in the employ of Ayodhya, of Rama no less, was deeply disturbing. Yet he had not been mistaken: those horsemen had been willing to fight him at a moment’s notice and would perhaps even have welcome an opportunity. He knew kshatriyas well enough to recognize those signs as well.

  Again, the question was why. Why challenge the brother of the king…of the emperor? Why divert the sacred stallion and delay him and Sumantra long enough for the animal to lose itself in the woods? There was some larger game afoot here and he meant to find out what it was.

  The tracking and reading of signs had slowed him down. He had dismounted and remounted a half dozen times already, the better to read the ground and shrubbery and lower trunks of trees. He was certain of what he had read in the tracks. But the process had also cost him time. He was not worried about the horse itself—he had found its trail most easily of all, and the animal’s leisurely pace meant that he could catch up with it in a few ticks. But as he bent one last time to read a snapped twig and a hoof print, he felt the familiar vibration of the ground that indicated several riders were approaching fast, from the direction of the raj-marg.

  How interesting. So the gang was now following him into the woods? Why not just ride with him at the same time? Why let him go ahead and then follow?

  He weighed his options quickly: the horse was in no great danger. It was sensible enough not to go too far into the deep woods. In fact, left to itself, it would probably find its way back to the raj-marg in a little while. The only reason it had ventured into the woods was because it had been forced into them.

  On the other hand, he was very curious to see why the horseriders were following him into the forest.

  His decision made, he slipped behind a tree trunk, remounting his horse as he did so. With the instinct that had seen him through a hundred battles and any number of smaller encounters, he unslung his bow and notched an arrow. Then he waited.

  Moments later, the gang came into sight, riding at a steady pace, clearly following the same tracks he had been following. He expected them to be following his trail as well, but they went right past him without stopping. He kept the point of the arrow on the neck of the surly leader, Aarohan, watching the man as he rode past with a broad leer on his face. Aarohan was quite pleased about something. He wondered what that might be. In a moment, they were out of sight, swallowed instantly by the dense forest.

  As the thunder of their hooves faded away, he lowered the arrow, frowning.

  What was going on here? If they were following the horse, they could have done so earlier, instead of waiting on the raj-marg and blocking his path and wasting time. Yet they were clearly not following him, since his trail ended here and they hadn’t bothered to stop or check if he was around. They had simply gone straight on, keeping to the trail of the stallion – which meant they had chased the horse in here earlier, prevented Sumantra and he from seeing where it went, and were now following it. What did they expect would happen in the short while that the horse was out of view? And why were they following it now?

  Before he could come up with any answers, or even theories, he heard the sound of another horse, a single rider coming fast.

  He raised the bow again.

  A moment later, the rider came into view. He was surprised to see it was his own twin brother.

  “Shatrugan!” he called out softly, issuing a low whistle as he did so.

  Shatrugan glanced up, as surprised to see him, and slowed to a halt. He looked angry.

  “Lakshman?” He looked around suspiciously. “What are you doing here, bhraatr? What the devil is going on here? What game are those ruffians playing at?”

  Lakshman raised his eyebrows. “So you met Aarohan and his nasty bunch too, I see. I don’t quite know, but they seem to be chasing the sacred stallion which got away somehow. What’s your excuse?”

  Shatrugan glared at him. Lakshman felt a twinge of guilt at the distance that had grown between them these past years, particularly in the most recent months. “I want to see the bastards who murdered Sumantra punished, that’s what. How can you tolerate such things? I know that Rama calls himself Emperor now and wants to conquer the entire known world, but is this the way to—”

  Lakshman held up a hand in protest. “Hold on. What did you say? Murdered Sumantra? What do you mean?”

  Shatrugan almost spat the words out in anger. “Them!” He pointed in the direction the riders had gone. “Bharat and I heard the alarm sound and raced to the frontline. We saw those brutes attacking Sumantra. They saw us coming and fled in here. Bharat said to follow, he would be close behind.”

  As if on cue, the sound of another horse approaching came to Lakshman’s ears. He was still reeling from the news of Sumantra. Was this some ruse on Shatrugan and Bharat’s part? He couldn’t believe his brothers would do such a dastardly thing.

  The new arrival was indeed Bharat. If Shatrugan had seemed angry, Bharat was clearly furious. He reacted violently when he saw Lakshman, wrenching his mount to a standstill and pointing an angry accusing finger.

  “This is what your great emperor brother condones? Murder in broad daylight? Sumantra died in my arms moments ago.”

  He held out his hands. Lakshman was shocked to see that there was indeed blood splashed on his arms and his garments. But he forced himself to remain calm. A part of his mind even whispered:
He could have murdered Sumantra himself, that could be how he got that blood on his person. He immediately felt ashamed for thinking that his own brother could do such a thing. But ten years in the corridors of Suryavanshi Palace had taught him that power and politics corrupted everybody sooner or later.

  He concealed his discomfiture by taking issue with Bharat’s accusation of Rama. “Rama has nothing to do with this,” he protested. “Don’t drag his name into everything that happens.”

  “Of course he’s responsible,” Bharat said, “those men are king’s guard, they as good as said so to my face, the swine. If they had waited a moment longer, I would have shown them what I thought of them and their cowardly methods! They slaughtered poor Sumantra and then fled into the forest.”

  Lakshman tried to keep his voice calm. “I will get to the bottom of this,” he said, “but you have no authority to go about challenging or fighting our own soldiers. If they indeed assaulted Sumantra as you say, then I shall see to it they are brought to book. But until I gather all the facts in this matter—”

  “If?” Bharat shouted, red in the face. “You dare to say ‘If’ to me? Your own brother? There is no If. Sumantra was murdered and the men who killed him fled into these woods like craven jackals. If you are our father’s son, then come with us and let us punish them right now for what they did! The sons of Ayodhya need no authority to mete out justice when they see injustice done!”

  Lakshman was about to reply when suddenly the sound of violent cries and shouts erupted. The clamour came from deeper inside the woods, but was not very far away.

  Bharat turned the head of his horse at once. “There! You see? They are upto some game here and if you were not so enamoured of our bhraatr the emperor, you would see it as well.”

  Lakshman controlled his urge to shout back at his brother. “Very well, we shall ride together then and investigate further. But there will be no drawing of weapons or engaging of hostilities unless I say so. Remember. You are both under a danda and disobedience will not be tolerated!”

  Bharat snorted and spoke aside to Shatrugan: “Neither will murder. Those cowards killed Sumantra by attacking from behind. I saw this man ride around the chariot and throw a pike into his back! The man wore a beard clipped in that eastern style, with some of his cheek shaved clean, and his chin full of hair and he was a big fellow, even bigger than me by at least half a foot. I would recognize him anywhere. He will answer to me personally, danda be damned.”

  Lakshman realized with a start that Bharat had just described Aarohan, the leader of the horse riders. He set his mouth grimly and turned his horse. He could not admit it to his brothers but he too had his suspicions about that gang and that was why it was important that he approached this matter with caution and intelligence. There was a great game afoot here, no doubt about it, and evidently it was important enough to the players to sacrifice an ex-prime minister and even a prince or two to achieve victory.

  “Let’s go,” he said curtly and rode into the forest, his brothers close beside him.

  ***

  Bejoo arrived on the scene just in time to see Luv and Kush clinging to a sleek black horse that could be no other than the sacred Ashwamedha stallion. Their mother was urging them to release the horse even as Nakudi tried to shoo it away. The horse itself seemed nervous and he distinctly saw it nuzzle one of the boys, as if seeking his protection.

  Then the sound of pounding hooves alerted him and he instantly reacted, gesturing orders to his men. He saw Somasra, who was acting as his second in command, nod and pass on the instructions to the others. At once, they melded into the forest, keeping out of sight for the time being. Bejoo had seen just enough to know something was desperately wrong with the scene before his eyes. The sacred stallion could not have simply wandered into the forest unaccompanied. And he had been only moments behind Luv and Kush, so he knew quite well that the boys had not gone out of their way to seek out and capture the horse. Somehow, the horse had come to them and they were only trying to comfort and calm it down. He had been a boy once and had loved horses then with a passion that had never faded since; he understood the protectiveness the boys felt. Besides, from the looks of it, they had no idea it was forbidden to touch the horse, nor were they aware of the consequences of doing so.

  But he was. And he had a feeling that all heaven and hell were about to come crashing down on their heads now. And those two innocent young boys were going to need all the help they could get.

  So he hid behind a tree and waited to see what happened next.

  He did not have to wait long. Moments later, a large company of horseriders appeared, riding hard and fast. He felt a surge of anger as he recognized them as the same brigands who had committed the slaughter in the village and the ashram. The brutes had the gumption to come back? But of course! This must be part of the plan! He was no politician or statesman but he knew enough of the dirty tricks those people played to see that this whole day had been scripted from morn to dusk and that this scene unfolding now was a crucial part of the whole play.

  He saw the man at the head of the company haul up his horse. He was a big fellow, brutish looking and powerfully built, with the kind of musculature that came from exercising with elephants. Bejoo had been a vajra commander once and elephants had been an integral part of his vajra. He had known men who had trained with elephants to build their muscle strength to extents that could not be achieved merely by lifting weighted objects or boulders. Elephants did not lie still like rocks or weights, they pulled and pushed and bore down in unexpected ways. Training with them could leave a man with crushed limbs or worse very quickly, but if he survived and persisted, he would achieve a body bulk that few others could. This man leading the horse gang was clearly an elephant wrestler judging by those bulging neck muscles, shoulders, arms, biceps—just about every part of his body in fact. Bejoo suspected the man also took some of the forbidden herbs known for increasing a man’s strength albeit at the cost of his senses and wits.

  The man had a distinctive way of wearing his beard, shaving away the sides to bare his cheeks, leaving a bristly chin. That suggested vanity. Which went with the naked arrogance he displayed.

  The man spoke in loud commanding tones, clearly delivering a carefully rehearsed speech: “YOU THERE! You have violated the sanctity of the Ashwamedha ritual and challenged the supremacy of Samrat Rama Chandra of Ayodhya! The penalty is instant execution. Surrender yourself to our mercy or die now!”

  There was an instant of shocked silence. Into this brief pause, Bejoo heard Luv’s voice—or perhaps it was Kush’s voice, he could not tell the two apart—say in his boyish way but with a cold steely edge that was far more mature than most ten year olds, “Those are the men who attacked our home this morning.”

  And he heard the other boy reply just as grimly: “Yes, they are.”

  THIRTEEN

  Bharat clenched his fist around his reins angrily as he took in the scene ahead. So this was the drama that was being played out.

  He saw two women and two boys and the sacred stallion. The boys were beside the stallion which seemed to desire their company. The horse displayed no signs of restlessness or nervousness that it would have, had the boys captivated it against its will. Bharat distinctly saw the horse nudge one of the boys in the sholder, demanding his attention, a gesture Bharat himself knew well from his own life-long experience with horses. There was no capture here nor any challenge that he could see. Not by the Ashwamedha’s interpretation of the terms. It was obvious that the gang of horse riders had deliberately coerced the horse to ride in this direction, somehow knowing that these forest dwellers would come across it sooner or later, with the express intention of blaming them.

  Then he saw who the boys and the women were and his mouth opened in surprise. It helped that one of the women, the one clad in the red-ochre garb of a sadhini, looked up at him as he approached, and her face flickered with the unmistakable glimmer of recognition too. The hefty woman looming beside her
glared up protectively as well and her face changed as well, showing that she recognized him as well as Lakshman and Shatrugan beside him.

  Even after a decade, there was no mistaking his sister-in-law. That was Sita Bhabhi, he was quite certain.

  Her old bodyguard he recognized from her unique physical appearance and the fact that she was with Sita Bhabhi. Which meant that the two boys standing by the horse could only be…his nephews! His throat leaped in his throat as he swallowed with difficulty. Yes, it was definitely Sita, there was no mistaking her. And that meant the boys were her sons.

  “Surrender or die, jungle vermin,” said the man with the trimmed beard arrogantly. “Those are the only two choices before you. This is the last chance I offer you before I decide that you are not worth capturing at all.”

  One of the boys shook his head and drew an arrow from the quiver over his shoulder with a fluid action that impressed Bharat.

  Now there’s a boy who knows how to handle a bow, he thought. Reminds me of a bhraatr who was as efficient with a bow and arrows at less than this boy’s age.

  The bearded man swore harshly at the boy.

  Bharat recognized him as well. He was the same craven who had stuck Sumantra from behind with a pike. Neither he nor his horse men paid heed to Bharat, Shatrugan and Lakshman as they approached on their left flank, but the stilted way he was speaking and acting suggested what Bharat had already suspected, that the man and his companions were only playing elaborate roles in some scripted scenario. Evidently, the scenario involved Sita and her sons as well, which was something Bharat had never expected nor dreamed of. He had never even associated his banished sister-in-law and her boys with anything that had occurred until now. But the fact that they were apparently being ‘staged’ as the alleged challengers of Rama’s authority and stealers of the sacred horse suggested that this drama’s playscript was far more elaborate than he had expected. It could hardly be a coincidence that of all the people in the world, Rama’s sacred sacrificial horse would be allegedly captured by none other than his own two sons! Something here smelled rotten as a musk melon cut open and left out for a week.