The territory up to Dwarsamudra had nothing interesting about it. There were no villages to loot or forts to level. It was a rocky, barren area that needed a cautious approach to the mountain passes.
The speed of the Sultanate army overpowered the Hoysalas. When Vir Bhallala sent a message craving eternal friendship, Malik was satisfied at gaining another victory without losing a soldier. His initial reply to the Raja’s message of submission was to demand he convert to Islam.
When Vir Bhallala learnt that the temple of his ancestors was likely to be converted into a mosque, he swiftly dispatched a messenger and said he was ready to give up all he possessed except the sacred thread he wore. With seemingly great reluctance, Malik accepted the terms and the two teams discussed the quantum of the annual tribute.
Vir Bhallala was a worried man. The country had not struggled against this unexpected intrusion, but the hold of the invader was pincer-like. He was too numb to do anything but follow the conditions laid by Malik. He didn’t know that Malik intended Dwarsamudra to be his launch pad and serve him as Deogiri did. Malik planned to go further south, where no arrow of any Islamic warrior had ever reached.
While enjoying the hospitality of the Hoysalas, Malik prepared for the journey south. His plan of forging alliances with the vanquished enabled him to look further. His rear and flank was protected with his collaborators bending over backwards to help him. They supported his war effort to deflect his attention off them.
Malik’s pursuit was not religious. He was set on conquering to fill the coffers of Alauddin, and he would do whatever it took to do so.
*
Thiruvegambarayan, an assistant of the Hoysala king, was a Jain who followed the teachings of Mahavira. His ancestors had come from Madurai, fleeing the persecution of a king who had earlier sponsored them. The hunchbacked king had suffered a fever so terrible that it seared the cotton fibres off his blanket. When the king, who was a Jain himself, called on his doctors, they could not cure him. Then came a small Hindu boy from Sirkali in the Chola land, who cured him with a song of eleven stanzas and a smearing of holy ash. The king became a Hindu overnight, and as a result, the Hindus, who had lost control of Madurai for a century, came back with a vengeance. In one bloody night several thousand Jains were impaled, and many more went to their deaths rather than denounce their religion. Several escaped north. These stories had been repeated over decades and Rayan had heard it many times. He had visited Madurai several times over the last few years and when Malik asked for a guide who knew about the Pandyans, Rayan was sent to him.
Rayan updated Malik on the defences of Madurai and the riches on the way. He could see the general’s eyes brighten and was surprised. The general had such a frugal lifestyle compared with his own subordinate generals, yet he sought gold as a hawk would seek a sparrow.
Malik wondered how they would attack Madurai. He would have to overpower a dozen vassals who formed a buffer around them first and each battle would weaken the Turks. What he needed was an ally, someone who could ensure his passage to Madurai was swift.
Just as Rayan had finished outlining what Madurai’s defences were, a messenger came forward and announced, ‘There is a secret message from the palace at Dwarsamudra.’ Malik looked up and dismissed all his attendants. He could not refrain from twisting his head towards the entrance like a child awaiting a present being unwrapped. What could it be? The sentry appeared again and a spy followed him across the threshold. A sense of foreboding suffused Malik’s being.
What the man said set all his expectations astir.
‘Sir, the king of Madurai is approaching us.’
Even Malik had not expected this news. If the messenger had looked forward to a sign of surprise on his general’s face, he was satisfied.
Malik asked, ‘Is it a counter-attack?’
‘No, Your Excellency, he is coming with twenty of his followers.’
‘Explain,’ he ordered.
Rayan interjected and explained how the race to the pearl throne had played out in the last few years. ‘He must be the deposed king of Madurai. His brother now rules in his stead. My feeling is that Sundara Pandyan is coming to seek your support in regaining the crown.’
Malik smiled. His luck had not deserted him after all. The key to Madurai had just fallen in his lap.
BOOK III
CHAPTER 21
A NEW ALLIANCE
The slave and the deposed king sized each other up, like two combatants waiting to spar, rather than like the potential allies they wanted to be. The contrast between them was stark. Sundar had a royal name but no domain, whereas Malik had a vast kingdom to run but no title, except as a general.
Sundar’s tattered clothes did not hide the travails he’d faced. But Malik did not let that affect him. He knew that he could not judge him on the basis of his appearance – this man was going to be very useful to him. The more he thought about it, the more he liked the idea – a claimant to the Madurai throne would lead him straight to it.
Rayan was called in to interpret. As soon as Sundar entered the tent, Malik greeted him, ‘Your Excellency.’ Sundar looked for a trace of mockery in his words, but could find none. Malik continued, ‘Your Excellency, you may rest today for I see that you are tired. We can speak about matters of state tomorrow.’ He had to hide his eagerness to question Sundar about Madurai.
Once Sundar had left the tent, Malik called out to an aide, ‘Count the men once again.’ The aide counted the tired men squatting outside on the cold ground, all haggard with exhaustion and eager for this unknown army’s hospitality.
‘Twenty, Your Highness.’
‘Find space for all. Clothe them and then feed them,’ Malik ordered.
Rayan knew that Malik would not allow Sundar more than a night’s rest. Subjecting Madurai to the yoke of the Sultanate was more important than his hospitality. It would be the last, and the most critical, battle of Malik’s life.
Sundar was ready to oblige him, for he, too, was in a hurry.
Malik was surprised when his newfound ally was ushered inside his tent the next morning. Sundar had changed overnight. His tattered clothes had been discarded, and he now looked a new man in the clothes the Sultanate soldiers had provided him. Sundar adjusted himself in a chair as if it had been occupied by him forever, unlike the fugitive he had been till the previous day. He eyed the large spread of food on the table hungrily, and bit into a piece of chicken. Malik smiled. The man who now relished chicken like a famished man was a king of a city richer than the Sultanate. How easy was it to win the loyalty of the heir to the richest empire in Hind with a bowl of lentils and a piece of chicken? Malik wondered.
The new clothes and food had brought about a change in his confidence too, and Sundar now spoke to Malik as if he were an equal. But then even if for only a month, had he not been a king? Malik realized that Sundar’s long exile had not dulled his craving for a place in his nation’s history. He decided he would play along.
‘How may I help you, Your Excellency?’ Malik asked, once the chicken had been washed down with a glass of wine.
‘My brother has stolen my kingdom,’ Sundar said simply. Malik was amused; perhaps it sounded absurd only due to the translation. But if that was what the prince meant, he was speaking of his dominion like a plaything.
Sundar continued, ‘I need to get it back.’
Malik pondered, choosing suitable words to express himself. ‘What do I get in return? Will you rule as a vassal in our empire?’ He paused, and added, ‘We have an excellent record of co-operation with all our vassals.’
Sundar squirmed in his chair. The Pandyans had ceased being underlings two centuries ago. But in his current state of mind, anything that would enable him to hear the rattle of the Pandyan crown’s pearl strings was welcome. He nodded. A wrong word now may cause reluctance on Malik’s part. Besides, his situation enormously embarrassed him. How could he admit that he had sat on the throne just for a fortnight and had not even entered his capi
tal in several years? Would Malik not think he had no value whatsoever in swinging the populace to his side?
But he need not have worried. Malik knew the facts very well. Sundar would never be the vehicle to convey him to Madurai. He was just a signet ring that created the legitimacy he needed.
Malik decided to tighten the screw. ‘Of course, you will have to reimburse our expenses. You should already know what we got from Warangal and Dwarsamudra.’
Sundar was expecting this. He knew gold was what the Turks craved most. Malik had conquered more land than anybody alive. But he couldn’t understand why he behaved more like a common brigand than a conqueror. It almost seemed as if the Turks would trade their swords for shovels the day they struck a gold mine. Sundar had decided he would give the Sultanate gold but would not talk about the reserves below the palace, perhaps the single largest accumulation of the yellow metal in the world. He found Malik looking at him intently, his grey eyes penetrating his innermost soul, seemingly reading every thought of his. He shrugged, and agreed to Malik’s terms.
As the days went by, Sundar observed Malik and his army in action. What made them tick so far from home? he wondered. Rayan testified that Malik was a general of formidable credentials and his troops would follow him everywhere, and indeed did, for his incumbency was battle-scarred. He found his statements had enthused Sundar, whose face now shone with hope.
*
The Turks began their march south and with them went Sundar.
Sundar was astounded by Malik. It was easy to discern, in contrast to the other Turkish generals, that Malik struck a positive chord with the common soldiers. By the sheer force of his personality, he had managed to win them over. Even with those he conquered, he showed no exceptional cruelty. He used persuasion as a weapon, and nine times out of ten he succeeded in making advantageous treaties with other kingdoms. It was with the officers that he had problems, for they were a disconcerted lot even though they wisely kept their mouths shut. Malik did not seem perturbed by them, despite their mentors in Delhi lodging complaints about his highhandedness. The Sultan followed a code of non-interference and allowed Malik to pursue his own version of warfare.
Sundar had questioned Rayan on Malik’s avarice for gold and learnt that Delhi of late had been like a covetous courtesan who needed wealth for her upkeep and defence against the Mongols, who attacked their city regularly.
Before the advent of Malik Kafur, only a Turk or an Afghan had led the army. People were surprised at the enormous authority Alauddin had vested in Malik, whose ascent seemed to transcend every military experience. Men followed him with fervour and that perhaps was the most telling proof of the extraordinary powers he possessed.
As for Sundar, only a hundred men had followed him out of Madurai.
Sundar had heard the rumours that Malik was a neutered man, but his achievements transcended the ordinary limits of humans, let alone sexless creatures. Even Alauddin at one point would have to concede that this man had conquered more territory than he himself had.
While Sundar was being educated about the slave-general, Malik himself was pondering over how to proceed next. Sundar had tried convincing him that he was the king Madurai needed, but familial opposition had deprived him of the right to rule. Malik pretended interest in his discussions with Sundar. In reality, he wanted Sundar to become desperate and tell him all that he knew. A man who could betray his country could certainly not be on a high moral ground. A great piece of luck had come Malik’s way and he did not want to mess it up.
The Sultanate army had been strengthened by additional regiments from Dwarsamudra. Malik knew these soldiers could serve as a buffer between him and the enemy when the battle got rough. When he had asked Vir Bhallala for supplies and soldiers, Bhallala had simply replied, ‘We are honour-bound to adhere to our agreement.’ Malik had broken into a grin, thinking, Honour comes on seeing the sharpness of the sword.
Malik included Sundar in all his military meetings. To Sundar, it was a shock to find Malik knew the land around Madurai like the back of his hand. He mused that if he and Malik were left somewhere in Madurai, it would be Malik who got his bearings right first.
For Malik, Sundar was no more than a pawn in his plan to enter Madurai.
*
The Pennar river flowed calmly from beyond the hills in the south. It took a curve around a large boulder, where it looked like the waters gushed from within the rock. The hills blocked Malik’s view at the bend in the river, and he was excited. Behind the hills lay the empire untouched by the arm of Islam, where no warrior from the north had unsheathed his sword. And yet, here he was, about to firmly imprint his name on history.
The soldiers marched cheerfully as rumours of the gold spread. Sundar was equally content, for they would pass by Chidambaram, the golden temple, the holiest of shrines for Hindus in this part of the country. This was where the lord Shiva had danced as Nataraja, the king of dancers. Sundar took it as a good omen. The Cholas, his allies, crowned themselves at this temple. Perhaps he could request Malik to crown him here, if the gods were willing. He looked forward to arriving at Chidambaram whose lofty towers would be visible miles before they reached it.
Malik also looked forward to the temple; if reports were to be believed, it held more gold than the whole fort of Warangal.
CHAPTER 22
TRIALS AND TRIBULATIONS
Parakrama’s coronation as the heir apparent was an event to remember. Radhika had taken such great pains over the ceremony that some believed Parakrama was her own son. The event was made even more spectacular because Parakrama was to be dispatched to Lanka, which would be the arena to test the years of his training.
When Radhika had asked whether it was necessary to send him to Lanka, Veera had replied, ‘Lanka contributed to the blossoming of my career. It will do the same for Parakrama.’
In an army where the number of soldiers approaching retirement was greater than those freshly inducted, Parakrama’s regiment was one of the most motivated. His entire regiment was to be sent for a year to the Lankan isle along with him. A third of the army, too, would be transported to the southern ports as a support base. Veera hoped Parakrama’s leadership would be beneficial to the armed forces, and so it was. Youngsters fought to join his regiment, for they would be in close proximity to the next king.
‘As soon as he comes back, he will have to be married off,’ Radhika stated.
Veera eyed her with an amused expression. That was going to be another issue of contention between his women. He pitied Parakrama, for he would have to tackle three possessive women once he got married.
Parakrama was robed in the choicest of silks and rode a white stallion to his coronation. Sunanda and the queen mother waited for him at the temple, where others would join them. Radhika felt as if she was seeing the events for a second time when she watched the crown prince pass from a balcony in the palace, so much was his resemblance to Veera.
The Meenakshi temple’s gates were ornamented with green plantain trees heavy with fruit, young leaf sheaths of the coconut twined as a design and strings of mango leaves. Young girls had laboured to draw a kolam at the entrance ahead of the sunrise. The prince was led to the central courtyard where silver bathing vessels full of yellowed turmeric water were kept.
Yet, Veera was strangely disturbed. Sunanda had been within his sight quite frequently in the last month for she had a major role to play in her son’s coronation. Her proximity brought back memories. Melancholy hit him like a hammer on the anvil and he, like a small strip of leather, languished in between. Veera was afraid that hostility would flare up between Radhika and Sunanda in the invisible battle between the two women in his life. But the women were quicker to realize this than him. Radhika had been surprised when Sunanda had sought an appointment with her just two days before the coronation. Perhaps she will try to impress her new status on me, Radhika thought. But Sunanda had come over and greeted the queen with folded palms. She was even more startled when Suna
nda blurted out words that had obviously been rehearsed before a mirror, ‘Your Highness, you robbed me of my man, but you made him an emperor. You robbed me of my son too, but you made him the heir. I hate you, Radhika, for you have been everything I could never be. But were I to die ten times, I could still not discharge my debt to you.’ Radhika was so moved that she wanted to hold this troubled woman close to her heart.
Sunanda hadn’t slept the night before, worrying about what to do. She knew that if she did not express her gratitude now, she would never do it. If things had been different, they could have been friends, maybe even sisters. Their tastes were so similar; they even loved the same men.
But during the coronation, the two women behaved as if Sunanda’s confession had never occurred. They stood aloof, not looking at each other, maintaining the stoic silence that had marked all their years together.
For Sunanda, it was the greatest day in her life. She would never be a queen, though she had been affiliated to two emperors – as the lover of one and the wife of another. Now Parakrama had been called upon to reign as the monarch in the future.
The temple was unusually packed with young girls, many of them daughters of vassal kings. Veera smiled. What would Akshayan have said? Something about bedsheets and battlefields, he was sure.
The chief priest signalled for silence by raising his right hand. Parakrama walked to the throne where the king would adorn him with a crown of pearls. The crown was held aloft so the crowd could see it while the Vedas were being chanted in the background. Veera held the crown in his hands and the pearls rattled in the movement. As the sound of the moon-white pearls hit him, he remembered Vikrama’s warning.
As much as Veera wanted to, he could not wish his uncle’s caution away. What did a man living in the forest know that the Pandyan emperor with a sophisticated espionage network did not?
Gods, Kings & Slaves: The Siege of Madurai Page 36
