Vikrant focused his attention on the open window. He knew Kansa would have to cross the window before he reached the door, outside which Rabhu waited anxiously. The lamp inside the living quarters reflected myriad shadows of the prince as he approached the window. The archer tensed, pulling back the arrow as much as his strength allowed. And then as Kansa moved across the open window, he came in full view of Vikrant. His arrow was pointed in the direction of Kansa’s broad chest. He gently exhaled as he released the arrow, which flew with lightning speed towards its target.
The archer who had not once in his life missed a target, watched calmly as his arrow dug itself in Kansa’s shoulder instead of the prince’s chest. Even as he watched Kansa roar and fall back with the impact of the arrow, Vikrant jumped from the tree and ran towards Rabhu.
Rabhu heard Kansa’s cry of pain at the same time that he saw Vikrant leaping off the tree and running in his direction. For a brief moment, he thought Vikrant was going to attack him, but the archer simply dropped his bow and the quiver filled with arrows at Rabhu’s feet as he ran past him without breaking speed. In a few seconds, the archer had exited the palace gates.
Even as Rabhu struggled to make sense of the situation, he heard a bellow from near the palace gate. A squad of heavily armed security guards rushed at him, the razor-sharp edges of their spears pointed directly at him. And in that moment, Rabhu understood exactly what had happened. But it was too late. By the time Kansa would open the door and come out, everything would be over for him, and perhaps for the prince. Rabhu closed his eyes. He offered a prayer to his clan deity, Shiva, for absolution for his soul. A part of him sensed the soldiers approaching closer, but the other part of him was already in a different world. He did not feel any pain as the glinting spears sank into his body from all sides, and his corpse fell to the ground, the sharp weapons still stuck in him.
Unseen by anyone else, the captain of the guards bent down and placed the note that Upadha had given him in the inner pocket of the dead messenger’s waistcoat.
The door to Kansa’s quarters was almost taken off its hinges as an injured and enraged Kansa stormed out. A rivulet of blood poured out of his shoulder where the arrow had lodged itself, and the viscous liquid had soaked through the prince’s white angavastram, turning it scarlet. Kansa’s eyes fell on the guards standing outside his door, before his attention was drawn to the lifeless body of Rabhu lying at their feet. The messenger lay sprawled and his face reflected a peculiar calm, as if in death he had finally made peace with himself.
Kansa examined the quiver containing the arrows. He was familiar with the different varieties of quivers used by archers in different nations. He himself preferred a bow quiver, where the quiver could be attached directly to the bow’s limbs, the arrows being held steady by a clip. It made it easy to carry around without the encumbrance of carrying the bow and the quiver separately. But this quiver was different. It was what was commonly referred by warriors as an arrow bag, and was a simple drawstring cloth sack with a leather spacer at the top to keep the arrows divided. When not in use, the drawstring could be closed, completely covering the arrows so as to protect them from rain and dirt. Some had straps or rope sewn to them for carrying, but many were either tucked into the belt or simply set on the ground before battle to allow easier access.
Kansa’s eyes narrowed—this type of quiver was most commonly used in the kingdom of Bateshwar.
He took out an arrow from the quiver. It was a powerfully structured projectile, with an incredibly sharp tip. It was impossible to ascertain the provenance of the arrow, though; it could have been from any of the several nations in Mrityulok. He tried comparing it to the arrow stuck in his shoulder, but was unable to see the latter properly since it was beyond his line of vision. Losing patience, he used his other hand to grip the arrow at the centre, and with one immense heave, he pulled it out of his shoulder. Splintered pieces of bone and cartilage were carried along with the blood that erupted out of the cavity. Oblivious to the excruciating pain, Kansa compared the arrows. They were the same. His mind raced with feverish intensity as he tried to reconstruct what had happened. The man called out to me and said he wanted to discuss something urgent. It was probably a ploy to get me to come to the door. He must have known I would need to cross the open window to reach the door. And when I did…that’s when he shot that arrow at me. My scream must have alerted the guards to the presence of an intruder, and they attacked the assassin.
Kansa was about to question the captain of guards when the enormous figure of Jarasandha came charging through the gate.
‘Where is the assassin? Take me to the bastard who dared to attack my brother!’ he raged. The captain pointed at the motionless figure of Rabhu prostrate on the ground. Jarasandha kicked the corpse viciously on the head, and there was a snap as the cervical vertebrae cracked. If Rabhu hadn’t been dead already, the savage kick would have finished him anyhow.
Jarasandha, still fuming, glowered at the guards. ‘Out of my sight, all of you!’
The captain of the guards nodded at his men to leave, while he stayed back. He knew Jarasandha hadn’t played his final card yet and his presence was required till that was done. Jarasandha bent down, pretending to look closely at the dead man. He gasped and even the captain of the guards was impressed by the charade put up by the king.
‘This…this man. I know him,’ Jarasandha appeared to splutter in perplexed fury.
Kansa stared at his brother-in-law. ‘Who is he? How do you know him?’
‘This man’s name is Rabhu. He is the messenger from Madhuvan who brought the letter from Ugrasena today,’ Jarasandha paused for Kansa to absorb the full significance of his words before he spoke further. ‘I had told him to wait in the aaram kaksh just in case you desired to send a reply for your father. Later, when I realized you didn’t want to respond, I sent an attendant to fetch the messenger. I was told this vile man had not even been to the aaram kaksh. I remember thinking that was very strange behaviour for a royal messenger.’
The captain of the guards spoke up, ‘He must have slunk away, My Lord; with the intent of assassinating the prince. It’s possible he was hiding here in the compound right after he left King Ugrasena’s letter with you. Since the prince has been out for the past few horas, the assassin must have bided his time till it was dark and he considered it safe to venture out of his hiding place.
Kansa was visibly shaken, and it was not because of the pain. He wondered why his father’s messenger had tried to kill him. Father has already disinherited me. Why would he send an assassin? And why is this man carrying a quiver that is from Bateshwar? he deliberated with mounting frustration.
Kansa picked up the quiver yet again to examine it closely. There was no doubt about it.
‘This quiver has been made in Bateshwar. It’s the type their warriors use,’ he said quietly. Then he pointed towards the top of the quiver. ‘Look at this,’ he said indicating the leather spacer. It was made of the most exquisite leather they had ever seen. ‘And observe the quality of the cloth,’ he muttered, running his hands gently over the fine material of the arrow bag. ‘This particular quiver is of the highest quality. Only a connoisseur who has the money to back his passion would own such a quiver.’ Kansa shook his head. ‘This is not an assassin’s arrow bag; it reeks of wealth…of royalty! But why Bateshwar? he whispered to himself.
Jarasandha exchanged a quick look with the captain of the guards. It was time to bring down the curtain on the last scene of this act.
The captain took his cue from the king. ‘My Lord, with your permission, can I carry out a search on the assassin’s body, before he is taken away?’
Jarasandha nodded and the captain went through the motions of going through Rabhu’s clothes; he knew what he wanted was in the inner pocket of Rabhu’s waistcoat, because he had himself put it there, unseen by the other guards after Rabhu was speared by his men. After he had completed the farce of going through the rest of the clothes, he ginger
ly dipped his hands in the pocket containing the note that Upadha had handed him, and drew it out with a flourish.
‘My Lord, there is a note here!’ he exclaimed, as he handed it to Jarasandha. The king extended his hand to take the note and started reading it. His eyes gleamed as he saw the contents. Upadha is a genius. I must remember to reward that man handsomely for this, he thought.
‘What does it say, Jarasandha?’ Kansa’s voice was weary with pain. Jarasandha turned to look at him. ‘It is a very brief note,’ he said hesitatingly.
‘What does it say?’ Kansa repeated his question more forcefully. His features were drawn in a tight line.
Jarasandha cleared his throat, ‘It says—“Finish the job while Kansa is still in Magadha”.’ Jarasandha paused. ‘There is some more,’ he said finally.
Kansa’s heart skipped a beat as he waited for Jarasandha’s next words.
Jarasandha stared at the note. When he had instructed Upadha what to write in the letter, he had been certain this would turn Kansa forever against Vasudev. But he wondered now, if he had perhaps gone too far in the wording of the note. Will Kansa be able to take the shock? he wondered
‘Read the rest to me now!’ Kansa said softly, the menace evident in his tone.
‘“The demon’s son should not return to Madhuvan alive,”’ Jarasandha emphasized each word of the remainder of the note.
A low growl started from the base of Kansa’s throat as he snatched the paper from Jarasandha’s hand. The snarling, inaudible to the others at first, turned into a hair-raising howl as Kansa recognized the handwriting on the note.
Each word on the letter had been inscribed in Vasudev’s patent style.
Devki was in a foul mood. Asti and Prapti had arrived with the news that Kansa was unwell. On the way, Asti had developed severe abdominal pains and the two sisters had decided to wait at Madhuvan till such time that Asti got better. Meanwhile, Devki left for Magadha as soon as she heard about Kansa’s illness. In the process, she had her first ever altercation with Ugrasena.
‘Why do you want to go and meet that man?’ Ugrasena shouted uncharacteristically at her. Devki was taken aback with the sheer intensity of his emotions. She couldn’t understand what had come over her father. The king, who had loved Kansa even more than he loved Devki, seemed now to be totally against his son.
‘Why shouldn’t I meet him?’ Devki retorted. ‘He is my brother; your son. What’s wrong with you, Father? Why are you acting so strangely?’
Ugrasena’s face was red with anger. ‘That man you call your brother has forsaken us. He is no longer the boy I cherished or the elder brother who showered love on you. He is an insensitive prince who won’t even lift a finger to protect his motherland!’
Devki walked away in anger, on hearing her father speak thus about Kansa. She told him there was nothing that could stop her from meeting her brother, especially when he was unwell. Ugrasena stared after his daughter, knowing well that her impetuous nature and her love for Kansa would not allow her to stay back at Madhuvan, just then. This was the first time she was going away without his blessings. It was also the first time that Ugrasena had no desire to meet his son.
Devki sensed there was something wrong even before she entered the palace compound. Sentries were posted everywhere and security seemed to be tighter than what would be normal in peace time. She had been to Magadha earlier with Kansa, within the first year of his marriage to the twin sisters. She got the feeling that the city had changed a lot in the last few years. Somehow, it seemed darker and murkier. Devki shook off a feeling of dread as she entered the palace. Something is wrong, she thought to herself. She could feel it in her bones. Devki was endowed with an enhanced level of perception. She could usually sense when things were not right, like she had in the Shiva temple before the kalakanja had attacked her. This was one of those occasions when her senses screamed a sentiment of discord in the elements around her.
She asked to be taken directly to Kansa’s chambers. The attendant within the palace escorted her to her brother’s room, and left her at the threshold. Devki knocked gently at the door. There was no answer from within. She knocked harder. As she waited for a response, she heard what sounded like a snarl. It emanated from inside her brother’s room. All her senses were now on high alert. Not knowing what the snarling sound signified, and afraid for Kansa’s safety, Devki pushed open the door and barged inside. The sight that met her eyes left her shaken. Kansa sat on the floor. His lips were moving as if he were talking to someone but there was nobody in the room. The snarling sound seemed to be coming from Kansa as he breathed harshly. His personal appearance seemed greatly altered too—from his usual impeccable grooming to his current slovenly state. His long hair appeared dishevelled and fell in irregular waves across his face. His lips were curled up in a warped smile as he stared blankly at Devki. His flat, expressionless gaze raised the hackles on her neck.
‘Bhaiyya!’ Devki exclaimed in alarm. Kansa appeared not to hear or heed her. His gaze seemed to pass right through her.
‘Kansa!’ she screamed at him. Her raised voice served to jolt the prince out of his trance-like state and he looked around him, dazed, as if wondering what he was doing sitting on the floor.
‘Devki?’ he whispered. ‘Is that really you or is it my imagination?’
Devki rushed towards Kansa, bending down on her knees to hug him as she used to when she was a little girl. She lovingly pulled back the hair covering his face and looked into his eyes. It shocked her to see the pain reflected there. ‘What’s wrong Kansa? What has happened to you?’ Her voice was full of anguish.
Kansa did not answer immediately. He had felt the warmth of love after days and he was loath to let go of the feeling. He basked in Devki’s love as she held his hand and made him feel wanted.
‘Tell me, Bhaiyya, what’s wrong?’ Devki persisted after a while as she saw Kansa grow calmer.
‘Our father has disinherited me,’ Kansa said finally. ‘He said I have more of my birth father’s demon traits than my mother’s characteristics within me.’ There was an edge to Kansa’s voice that Devki had never heard before.
‘That is insane!’ Devki said incredulously. ‘He can’t do that. Who could be better than you to take over as king after Father steps down?’
Kansa smiled. ‘Vasudev,’ he said softly. ‘Father is going to decree Vasudev as the king after he retires.’
‘What!’ The words gagged in her mouth as she struggled to come to terms with this news. She had had no idea that things had turned so sour between her brother and her father. Ugrasena’s anger at her coming to Magadha to meet Kansa had seemed strange to her, but this was unbelievable.
‘It’s okay, Kansa,’ She said soothingly. ‘There’s obviously been some major misunderstanding between you and Father. I will talk to him. And Vasudev will also speak to Father. He will never agree to sit on the throne of Madhuvan while you are there!’
At the mention of Vasudev, Kansa’s face contorted. Then he laughed. The maniacal laughter baffled Devki. She looked questioningly at her brother.
Kansa suddenly stopped laughing. The change in his mood was staggering. He lowered his voice conspiratorially, and leaning closer to Devki, whispered, ‘You are right. Vasudev will never agree to sit on the throne of Madhuvan while I am alive.’ He paused to gather his strength. ‘This is precisely why he wants to have me assassinated!’
Devki recoiled at the words. Vasudev? My Vasudev? It can’t be, she told herself. Kansa has to be wrong.
‘You are mistaken, brother. Vasudev would never do what you are suggesting.’ Devki bit her lip to keep herself from crying. ‘He would gladly give up his own throne if that could save your life.’
Kansa gave her a sad smile. ‘It’s you who are mistaken, little sister. Vasudev did try to have me assassinated. Two days back his assassin shot an arrow at me. He probably meant to aim for my heart but the arrow struck me on my shoulder. If he hadn’t missed, I would be dead by now.’
Kansa followed her gaze and strived to explain. ‘The bone in my right shoulder was crushed and I lost a lot of blood. But the wound healed in a few horas just as it did when I was wounded fighting those monsters on the Shiva hill.’
Devki remembered how Kansa’s wounds had miraculously healed before her very eyes even as he lay unconscious. She didn’t doubt that someone had shot at Kansa as he said, but she was equally sure that Vasudev had had no part to play in it.
She shook her head, ‘You are wrong, Kansa. Vasudev would never do what you are saying he did,’ her voice was gentle but firm.
Kansa’s eyes flashed like lightning. In another swift change of mood, he snapped at her, ‘You lay more store by that man’s credibility than your brother’s words? That vile man who married another woman, despite claiming to be madly in love with you! Has love made you completely blind, you little fool?’
Devki gaped at Kansa in astonishment. He didn’t look or sound one bit like the brother she had known since childhood; the man who had lifted her in his arms when she was leaving Devak’s house forever, or the brother who had risked his own life saving her from those monsters. The man in front of her now had none of the sensitivity or love she had always felt flowing from her brother. This man looked and spoke like a stranger. And he looked every bit as dangerous as the creatures he had fought to save her from just a few months ago.
THE CURSE OF BRAHMA Page 28
