RAMAYANA SERIES Part 4_KING OF DHARMA

by AKB eBOOKS Ashok K. Banker

  Nakhudi caught her without any effort and lowered her gently to the ground. After placing her comfortably on the ground she rose and looked at the boys.

  “She will be all right, but she has lost a great deal of blood. She needs rest and treatment.”

  The twins nodded, staring solemnly at her. “You must stay and care for her, Nakhudi. You do see the wisdom in that, don’t you? You must stay and protect all the survivors of the attack on the ashram.” Luv gestured at the band of wounded and exhausted brahmins and brahmacharyas clustered at the back of the box canyon. Rishi Dumma had taken charge of tending to the wounded and his bulky form was visible moving from pallet to pallet, doing the best he could to ease pain and suffering.

  Nakhudi sighed but nodded. “Yes, in the event that the Ayodhyan forces do track us down, I could hold them off at the mouth of the canyon. I will stay,” she finished shortly, not happy about it but not arguing either.

  “You will be safe here,” Kush added. “The only way the enemy can get in here is if they get past us. And they won’t.”

  Nakhudi nodded slowly, passing a hand across her face which looked more weary than they had ever seen her before. “If they get past you, even her wounds won’t keep your mother down,” she said. She meant that if the enemy could enter the canyon it would mean Luv and Kush were dead and if that happened, Sita wouldn’t care to live another minute. “Nor I.”

  They looked at her steadily. “We will return. Once the enemy leaves. Or surrenders.”

  Nakhudi’s hand flew to her mouth involuntarily. “Surrenders!” she said. The word brought a smile to her face. The very idea!

  They neither laughed nor smiled. They had meant what they said. “Surrender is always an option for them,” they said. “Just not for us.”

  That much was true. While she doubted that two young boys could bring the mighty Kosala empire to its knees in surrender, there was absolutely no doubt that the enemy would never rest now until they were all dead. It made her wonder if she was doing the right thing by letting the boys go out to fight this battle on their own. Every instinct screamed to her to order them to stay and go herself. But she knew that they were right for once. Somehow, this was their fight and they had every right to wage this war. Whatever the consequence. Even Guru Valmiki had given his assent earlier.

  “There comes a day in every child’s life when he or she must become a man or woman. For a kshatriya child, that is the day you become a kshatriya. Today is your day, boys. Go and do what you must.”

  They bowed to her, took her blessing. Then left at a run. She watched their lithe bodies go, wondering if she would ever see them alive again—or they she.

  ***

  Bejoo cringed at the sounds of the Ayodhyan soldiers screaming. The forest rang with their misery and fear. He and his men had been in mortal fear that the fleeing snakes might pass this way but mercifully there was water between his position and the Ayodhyan’s and the wave of serpent’s has passed them by with several hundred yards to spare. Even so, each time an Ayodhyan came stumbling to the water, lips blackened and eyes staring wildly, he cringed, praying to Shaneshwara that such a death never befall him. These were the stragglers who had been fortunate enough, if you could call them fortunate, to be bitten by snakes with slower-acting venom. Already consumed with fever and madness, they sought out water desperately. But no amount of water could save them. They would die slower and less painfully than their less fortunate comrades but die they would, whether it took minutes more or hours. He estimated that several hundred must have been bitten by the fleeing wave of snakes. The distant spiral of smoke had told him how the boys had caused the snakes to flee this way but he could not imagine venturing even close to a nest large enough to house so many deadly reptiles. No doubt about it: The sons of the Lady Vedavati were truly extraordinary in every way.

  Now, he waited in the woods across the stream as the sound of hooves announced the arrival of new troops. Metal glittered and flashed through the trees, catching the morning sunlight and from the looks and sound of it, he estimated that this was the main body of the King’s Guard he had seen earlier. A familiar lean face came into view, riding a huge stallion, and Bejoo recognized the villain who led this newly conscripted legion at once. Captain Aarohan. He had heard tales about the man that he had not paid much heed to at the time. As a simple grama-rakshkak, the politics of the army and city no longer concerned him overmuch. But now that he was involved again, the very sight of the man made his stomach churn. He knew now that the tales he had heard were probably true. The devastation at Valmiki Ashram confirmed it. What manner of monster would attack and slaughter innocent unarmed brahmacharyas, boys and women included, without provocation or cause? Had he been thirty years younger—fifteen even—and still in charge of his Vajra, he would have gladly led a lightning attack against that monster. The man deserved to have all the snakes in the Southwoods set upon him and left to die.

  He watched as Aarohan questioned the groaning and half-poisoned remnants of the first wave with growing impatience then outright anger. He heard the sound of the man’s raised voice and saw his whip curl out and lash men mercilessly as he vented his anger at the unexpected thwarting of the advance. Bejoo’s lips curled back grimly, not relishing the sight of army men being abused thus, but taking pleasure in Aarohan’s frustration. He was too far away to hear much of what was said but the overall gist was quite obvious.

  ***

  “What do you mean, retreat?” Aarohan snarled. He lashed out with his horse-whip again, leaving a welt rising on the cheek and neck of a sergeant in charge of one of the forward platoons. The man took the beating with stubborn resignation, either accustomed to such abuse under the new Empirical Army or simply too terrified to care. “Our orders are to flush out and destroy the rebels, whatever the cost!”

  The sergeant spoke without looking up at the mounted officer. He knew better than to match gazes with the notorious new Captain, allegedly the right-hand man of Pradhan Mantri Jabali himself and already notorious by his nickname, Spike Hand Aarohan, owing to an incident in which the Captain had used a spiked handguard to beat a man until the very flesh was ripped off his face, rendering him unrecognizable even to his own family. “They have Nagas fighting for them. And who knows what other breed of Asuras. They are demons in human guise. We cannot fight such creatures.”

  Aarohan stared at the man for a moment as if unable to absorb his words. Then he lashed out with greater ferocity than before, whipping the man mercilessly as he lost his temper. “FOOL! They were only snakes. They must have flushed them out of some pit. No doubt they bred the wretched reptiles for food. There are no asuras or Nagas left on earth, don’t you know that? This is the Treta Yuga not the ancient world!”

  The sergeant collapsed wordlessly under the beating. He had been bitten mainly only non-venomous snakes but he had attempted to suck out the poison from the wounds of several of his men and in the process some venom had entered his bloodstream as well. Now, under the barrage from Aarohan, he suffered a fatal collapse and sprawled on the ground, body quivering, legs lurching, foam oozing from his open mouth.

  Several of the men under the sergeant’s command ran up to help him. “BACK!” shouted Aarohan, using his whip to warn them. He saw a spear clutched in one man’s hand and said, “Hand me that!” The man handed him the spear, looking dazed.

  Aarohan turned his horse around, rode the few yards back to where the sergeant lay in the throes of the venom-induced attack, and drove the spear down through the man’s throat. The sergeant died, gurgling and gasping. His men reared back in horror.

  Aarohan wrenched the spear out of the man’s throat and turned to point the bloody end at them. “The punishment for retreat is death! The penalty for failing in your mission is death! The danda for disobeying or questioning my orders is death! Do you understand?”

  They stared at him dumbly. Then belatedly shouted a ragged response: “Aye!” There was only fear and no respect in their tone b
ut their response was clear.

  “Now, continue in your mission! Track down and find the rebels and kill them all. Spread the word down the lines. Search and kill all rebels! No retreat, no surrender.”

  Then, to underline his point, he flung the spear at the crowd of dazed soldiers. It struck a foot-soldier in the belly, driving him back into the crowd. He collapsed, dying. His comrades started to bend to give him aid, then remembered that Aarohan was watching and straightened up again. They stared at him, then turned and began shuffling away, snatching up their weapons. Even the wounded and those who had injured themselves getting away from the snakes but had not been actually bitten scrambled to their feet and ran after their comrades. In moments, the clearing by the stream was empty except for the dead sergeant and other men who had collapsed from the slower-acting venom and were eking out their last moments.

  “Kill them all,” Aarohan ordered his men. “I don’t care if they will die anyway. Kill them all to drive home the point. The danda for desertion is death.”

  As his men went about the grisly task of cutting the throats of the dying and fatally poisoned men lying by the stream, Aarohan summoned his closest and most trusted cronies to him. They came, their sly faces grinning in anticipation. “Now, listen carefully, this is the day for which we’ve been waiting. We roll our bone dice right and we will all live out our lives as rich lords of Ayodhya, doing as we please to the end of our days.”

  “We’ll do what has to be done,” said one of his aides confidently. “That band of ragtag outlaws and children won’t survive long.”

  “Even so,” Aarohan said, “they know this forest well and may have more tricks at hand like the ploy with the snakes. We’ll use the main army to beat down the woods. Let them do the dog work and die like dogs if need be. Meanwhile, I want us to split up into two groups and ride around. We have to find the woman named Vedavati, the one who survived the fight at the ashram.”

  One of his men spat bitterly on the ground. “That one? She was lucky to have escaped us there. She killed half a dozen good men. One of them was my brother. I want a chance at her.” He patted his thigh. “When I finish with her, she’ll be begging for the edge of my blade.”

  Aarohan nodded. “You do that. You do whatever you want to her that pleases you. But I want her and her companion, the other bigger-built woman, dead before the sun sets today. Do you understand? I will give a hundred gold coin to any man who fetches me the head of the woman named Vedavati.”

  “What about her brats, the twins with the bows.”

  Aarohan turned his head to seek out the man who had spoken. “A hundred gold coin for each of their heads then. And fifty for the woman companion, the big one.”

  The men looked at each other with pleased grins plastered on their faces. “Easy money, boys.”

  “Maybe not so easy,” muttered one of the men. “I saw those boys use their bows. They ain’t no brahmacharya novices.”

  “Get the mother, you get the boys,” said Aarohan harshly. He looked directly at the man who had complained. “Use her as a hostage or as you please if that works. The boys will do anything to save her. Anything.”

  The men nodded, liking the sound of this now. “That’s three hundred gold coins for the mother and sons then,” said another man. “Right, captain?”

  Aarohan nodded. “And fifty for the woman companion.”

  His aide grinned slyly. “Sounds like you don’t want them saying the wrong things to the right people.”

  Aarohan nodded. “I don’t want them saying anything ever again. See to it,” he barked.

  “Yes, sir, yes captain!” replied his men smartly.

  They split into two groups and rode in separate directions.

  Across the stream, Bejoo watched them go, then turned and melted back into the forest.

  THREE

  Lakshman emerged from the royal pavilion, face tight with anger. Bharat and Shatrugan watched as he strode to and fro several times, trying to work off his fury, then went over to a horse trough that had just been filled with fresh water for the emperor’s own horse and emptied a pailful of water over his own head. He shook his face free of the excess waters, spitting out a mouthful angrily. His brothers waited for him to cool sufficiently to speak.

  “He will not listen to reason,” he told them. “He says he has heard the testimony of the witnesses and seen the evidence and has delivered his judgement.”

  Bharata and Shatrugan exchanged a glance. “But we were there! We can bear witness to what happened. What about our testimony?”

  Lakshman dipped another pail and drank deeply from it. Nearby, the tethered horse whinnied in protest. “He will not hear or see anyone else. He is in consultation with the War Council.” Lakshman clenched his fist around the handle of the pail. “Jabali is by his side, filling his ear with venom. I heard them talking of war with Videha when I entered.”

  Shatrugan sat on the edge of the trough, not caring that the water was sloshing over the edge. “This is bad, bhraatr. We have to do something. We must stop this madness.”

  Lakshman took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. “I can do nothing further.”

  Bharat took hold of Lakshman’s bicep. “You can’t just walk away! That was Sita-bhabhi and her sons we saw. Our nephews. Did you tell Rama that much at least?”

  Lakshman took hold of Bharat’s forearm and dislodged his brother’s hand from his bicep. “I tried everything. But he is on a road without any chance of slowing or turning back. There is only one way to go from here: forward.”

  “And forward means war with our own allies? This is madness,” Shatrugan said.

  “This is Rama, Emperor of Kosala,” Lakshman said bitterly. “And these are the limits to my influence over him. If I try to circumvent his authority, I will be in defiance of the throne as you two are.”

  “There must be something we can do to stop this. I know that lout Aarohan and his thugs are upto something.”

  “If they are, then it is with the full knowledge and oversight of Pradhan Mantri Jabali himself,” Lakshman said morosely. “He personally vouched for the King’s Guard. They function under his command, did you know that? Even the King himself does not have command of his own Guard!”

  “Let me speak to Kausalya-Maa,” Bharat said. “She talked some sense into Rama’s head earlier. Maybe he will listen to her again.” He started to leave.

  Lakshman caught his brother’s arm, stopping him. “There is no use. He will see no one now that the War Council is in session. Besides, to back down now would be to lose face before Jabali and the War Council. It would be a tactical error to call on his mother each time he needs correction.”

  “Then what do you propose we do?” Shatrugan asked. “Stand by and watch this juggernaut,” he gestured towards the enormous army camp sprawled along the banks of the Sarayu for yojanas downriver, “roll on and crush our own relatives and friends across the land? Plunge the entire civilized world into the madness of a war without reason, without purpose?”

  Lakshman stood up. “There may be a way to get Rama to listen. Someone he cannot dismiss as easily as his brothers or his mother.”

  “Who?” Bharat asked curiously.

  Lakshman looked at each of them in turn. “His sons.”

  They were silent for a moment. Then Bharat and Shatrugan both smiled. Shatrugan slapped Lakshman’s shoulder. “Now this is the Lakshman I grew up with,” he said, grinning widely.

  Lakshman shrugged. “It took me a while but I finally realized I can’t just go on this way. Things are going out of hand in Ayodhya. This madness has to stop.”

  “Very well, then, bhraatr, we are with you. What shall we do?”

  Lakshman gestured to where their horses stood waiting and ready. “You two ride back into the forest and try to find the sons of Sita before Aarohan and his men do. If our suspicions are right, that villain will be trying his best to track them and kill them. Make sure you keep them alive. Officially though, you will both be on
a personal mission on my direct orders, your goal being to find the Ashwamedha stallion.”

  Bharat nodded. “We understand. What will you do in the meanwhile?”

  Lakshman turned and glared in the direction of the royal pavilion. “I’ll wait here for an opportunity to get Rama alone without Jabali or the other ear-poisoners. When you find the twins, bring Sita-bhabhi and them here.”

  “And then what happens?” Shatrugan asked, mounting his horse. Bharat did the same beside him.

  “Then we shall have a family reunion,” Lakshman said.

  He slapped the rumps of their horses, sending them lurching forward and on their way.

  ***

  Captain Aarohan studied the valley one last time before turning to his aides. “This time we have them. This valley is a death trap. There are only two ways out. North, back to the raj-marg, the Sarayu river and then Mithila. The Imperial Army is already on that route. All we have to do is move one akshohini ahead of the main procession and position it so that anyone exiting the forest on that road is instantly captured.”

  “But the army is supposed to follow the trail of the Ashwameda stallion, not range ahead at will,” said one of his aides.

  Aarohan made a sound of impatience. “Yes. And once the stallion is captured, the army does what it must to recapture it.”

  “Ah. Of course.”

  Aarohan shook his head despairingly. “Leave the military strategy to me. Just follow orders. Now, as I was saying, there are only two ways out of this valley. The other way is East by South-East. If they go that way, we have them. In fact, it would be best if we force them in that direction.”

  His aide frowned but hesitated before asking the question.

  Aarohan cursed. “Because it leads to a series of ravines and gullies and finally ends in a box canyon.” He looked around to make sure they all understood. “A dead end. Once we chase them in there, they will be like rats in a trap. We have only to poke them through the bars until they are dead.”