Susena took one of his dramatic pauses and began to pace up and down as the crowd waited anxiously for him to explain what he meant. Mitra noticed a feverish glint in the man's eyes, almost like he was under some kind of spell.
'Our great Raja Daeyus, may Surya grant peace to his soul, was the victim of a cruel deception. This child he believed was his son is actually a demon born to rid Earth of humanity. That is why the Elamites pursued us. They had nothing against the Devas; it was this cursed child that they wanted.'
He paused and surveyed his audience. There was no sign of protest or dissent; they seemed enthralled by this astounding revelation. Susena continued triumphantly. 'As long as this demon is in our midst, our hardship will never end. If he is allowed to live, he will be responsible for the destruction of not only our clan, but of the entire human race.'
In her temple, Ishtar waited with bated breath. It was she who had presented herself as a gift to Susena on the night of the failed sacrifice. It had been child's play for her to draw out his power along with his seed and to plant in him a tiny essence of herself. It was this she used now to control him. Susena, the high priest of the Devas, was now her plaything, with a single point agenda inscribed in his mind: death to the demon Indra.
However, as with all human beings, there were certain aspects of the mind she could not control. In this case, it was the man's ego and his penchant for grandstanding. She had also not taken into account the presence of Mitra. She had a healthy respect for the seer and she now hoped that her minion had not taken things too far.
Mitra looked towards Vasu in shock. Daeyus' trusted lieutenant said nothing. Mitra stood up, his eyes flashing with anger. 'Enough! I will not stand here and have the memory of a great raja insulted.'
Susena quickly lost all his bluster and hurriedly stood aside. Mitra gave him a withering look as he continued. 'Devas! I am not of your clan, yet I, an Aditya, stand here amongst you in the service of this boy. It has been written in the stars. This boy, Indra, will be a great warrior such the world has never seen. He will unite the northern tribes to fight as one nation. He will be a greater raja than his illustrious father.'
Loud cheers greeted this statement. Mitra looked at the high priest, who stood there with his head down, humility personified. The seer realised there was very little he knew about Susena; he decided to soften his stand until he could learn more about the high priest and his true intentions.
'The wise Susena is right--the omens did foretell the birth of a destroyer. But it is the cities of your enemies that this child will destroy. They will cower within their high walls and tremble at the very mention of his name. He will etch the name of the Devas in letters of gold on the pages of history. It is I, Mitra, who speak these words.'
Mitra sat down to the rapturous applause of the crowd. Susena gestured for the crowd to be silent; he then bowed low to Mitra and spoke once again, this time in his deep baritone.
'Forgive me, great master! I made a mistake in my interpretation of the signs. My knowledge is merely a drop of water against the ocean of your intellect.'
Mitra looked at the bowed head and realised that he had made an enemy for life. Susena now raised his voice in a chant.
'Long live Prince Indra, future king of the Devas!'
All around him, the crowd took up the chant. Mitra watched Vasu echo the chant and then look towards the seer with a smile. The smile did not reach the regent's eyes.
Mitra was not pleased with himself. He had allowed his anger to show, and he knew that he and Indra had now made a powerful enemy. Luckily for him, in spite of their current predicament, the great love that the Devas had for Daeyus was intact. Mitra would have no trouble finding trustworthy men to guard young Indra, but that alone was not going to be enough. As an Aditya, he had no real say in matters concerning the Deva clan. For the young prince to survive, he would need a powerful ally from within his own people.
The solution presented itself to Mitra a few days later. Vasu invited him for a great feast to celebrate the birth of his daughter. After a scrumptious meal, an emotional Vasu hugged Mitra.
'My lord, please forgive me if I offended you in any way. I look forward to your continued guidance on our perilous journey ahead.'
'You shall have that, my lord regent. Now if you will excuse me, it is time for my meditation.'
Vasu, a little drunk from all the celebrations, was not willing to let Mitra go that easily.
'You will have to do me one more honour, my lord. I would like you to bless my daughter and give her a suitable name.'
He asked for the child to be brought forward. As Mitra held the beautiful baby girl in his arms, a solution presented itself to him.
'I name this child Indrani, and on behalf of His Majesty the young prince Indra, I ask for her hand in marriage.'
There was a moment of silence. Nobody had expected this announcement. Vasu was the first to react. He clapped his hands in joy.
'Wonderful! My daughter could not have got a better match in the entire wide world. Thank you for doing my family this great honour, my lord.'
A loud cheer greeted this statement.
Mitra studied Vasu carefully; the regent seemed genuinely pleased with the unexpected turn of events. He now looked around for the other principal player in the equation, but the high priest had left as soon as he heard the announcement.
***
The next couple of weeks were filled with bright sunshine. Vasu put his young army through its paces by arranging a series of drills and mock combat. Mitra too joined in the war games, and everyone clamoured to cross swords with the legend. It was a story they would be able to tell their grandchildren one day. The master soon proved that age had not diminished his skills as a warrior in any way; he was still a superlative swordsman with boundless stamina. He ran through at least four or five opponents in a session. His victims, less than half his age, dropped their weapons in exhaustion and requested to be relieved.
Susena watched Mitra in action, resentment simmering in him as Ishtar fed his insecurities. In the old days, priests had been highly respected and feared in their tribal society. King and commoner alike consulted them in the all-important decisions of life. Daeyus, however, had shown a scant disregard for priests and all their rituals and divinations, and the Devas had followed his lead and slowly begun to turn away from them. Susena knew that with Indra on the throne, Mitra would be his advisor on all matters concerning the divine, and there would be no place for the high priest in the scheme of things.
Ishtar let these thoughts fester along with the constant reminder of the threat Indra posed to the survival of his tribe. She had underestimated Mitra again; his announcement at the birthday celebrations had been a political masterstroke. Now Ishtar would have to make sure that this egotistical ass that was under her control proceeded with extreme caution.
Indra, now old enough to crawl, was a child with boundless energy. The slightest chance he got and he would be off, chasing butterflies, beetles or any other form of creepy crawlies. If these unfortunate creatures happened to get caught, they found their way into his mouth very quickly. A worried Mahisi employed a small army of young slave girls to watch over him and he in turn made sure he kept all of them busy.
One of these girls had caught Susena's fancy. He now watched as she finished her duties and made her way through the camp. Unlike the other girls, she did not head straight back to the slave encampment but followed one of the streams in the opposite direction where it disappeared behind a circular formation of rocks. Susena made a mental note to himself that this one would bear watching.
The young girl entered the stream near the rock formation, still clad in her dirty, knee-length tunic. She dived into the water and made her way through an opening in the rocks. As she came up for air she was within the circle in a still, deep pool. This place offered her total privacy. She swam to a ledge and took off her tunic. A cloth was tightly wrapped around her chest, which she now proceeded to take off hurr
iedly.
Basit let out a deep sigh as the last bit of cloth was unwound, and her perfectly-shaped breasts emerged. She massaged them gently to allow the blood to circulate. This deception, though painful, was necessary. She had started her moon sickness over a year ago, yet she had cunningly concealed it from everyone. Even the unusually sharp eyes of Mahisi had not been able to detect anything.
Every month she gritted her teeth and bore the severe cramps, showing no outward signs of any discomfort. Her childhood was the only shield protecting her from the inevitable fate that awaited every beautiful slave woman. If her secret were discovered, Basit knew that the very men who now joked with her and laughed at her antics would turn on her like a pack of wolves. She hated her breasts and the fine down of hair that was now growing between her legs. She lay back on the ledge and allowed the sun to soak into her honey-coloured skin. These were the only few moments she got to enjoy being a young woman, and she was going to make the most of it.
She closed her eyes and thought about her days as a child, in her land along the banks of the great river Nile. She had been one of the privileged girls who had been selected as initiates to the temple of the great goddess Isis. She remembered the first few years she had spent in the temple, days filled with play and lots of religious study. Until the day the arrival of an army of horsemen had turned her perfect little world upside down.
Basit had watched from a little hiding place behind the altar as these men rushed into the sanctum sanctorum with drawn swords, showing utter disregard for the sanctity of the temple. The priestesses were rounded up and raped right there in the presence of the giant statue of the goddess. One by one the men took turns on the women, and Basit had spent the whole night listening to the screams of young priestesses who were like her older sisters.
The survivors and all the initiates were rounded up and marched across the desert along with the other men and women of the town. Along the way, Basit realised that she'd been left alone because the men saw her as a child. She'd barely survived the long and arduous journey that ended at the slave markets of Ecbatana. There she was bartered for a good Scythian horse and she found herself in the hands of Krupa, commander of the Devas.
Basit opened her eyes with a start as she came awake. The sun had disappeared behind the tallest rock. She gathered her clothing hurriedly and started to get dressed.
***
Vasu watched as the men finished their training for the day; it got dark very quickly in these mountains. He took a deep drag of the hemp pipe he was smoking and leaned back against a rock, allowing the smoke to slowly drift through his lungs. He had spent some time thinking about what Mitra had said. Could Indra be the child of the prophecy? He had heard it discussed once around the campfires when he was a child. It was a prophecy lost in the annals of time.
To unite the northern clans was an impossible task. Yet if it were accomplished, the man who did it would have under his command the most powerful fighting force in the world. But to lead them and earn their respect, he would have to be the greatest warrior the world had ever seen.
His mind then went to his daughter's birthday celebrations. The political ramifications of the betrothal had not escaped Vasu. Now, away from Daeyus' shadow, he felt that he was coming into his own as a leader. He enjoyed the responsibility of leading the Devas, and it had started to bother him that the arrangement was only a temporary one. But when Susena had come to him with his stories about ill omens and demons, Vasu had gone along only because he thought there was a possibility that the high priest was right.
Vasu was a simple man; he had no wish to oppose the will of the gods. Mitra's position in the matter and the reminder of the prophecy had now made Vasu change his stance completely. As long as Mitra and Indra had the support of the clan, they would have his support.
***
True to his word, Chief Thora arrived in a few weeks with his men to inform the Devas that the road ahead was clear. The Pakhtu then escorted the caravan to their southern border. When the time came to part ways, the chief presented them with ten bundles of strong rope made from hemp, a plant that grew wild in the valleys.
'You will find it useful on the ride ahead. Have a safe journey, my friends. May the gods protect you.'
The Devas left the Pakhtu with another hundred head of cattle and went their way. The few weeks of good weather had vastly improved conditions and the mood of the caravan was remarkably upbeat as they continued their journey southwards. The trail wound downwards until they were soon well below the tree line. The Devas now marched through beautiful forests of rhododendrons and pines. The melting snow had transformed one of the larger streams into a gushing mountain river, and as they camped along its banks, the men ventured into the water filled with giant salmon. They speared the fish in vast numbers and grilled them at the campfires; it made a welcome change from the usual fare of meat and dairy products.
They made good progress in the summer months. On occasion they came into contact with other mountain tribes and traded with them. Since fresh meat was the most precious commodity in these parts, they were always able to negotiate with them for the best campsites on their land.
Mitra chose to withdraw from his administrative duties and spent a lot of time alone on the trail. Sometimes he would be gone for days, riding well ahead of all the scouting parties. He was a little anxious: the months of good weather were going by fast; it was time for them to find a more permanent settlement, where they would be able to comfortably ride out the brutal winter. All the valleys they had encountered thus far had not been large enough to accommodate them and their vast herds for that length of time. Finally, he decided to make camp in one such valley for a few days while they awaited the arrival of their scouts, who had gone ahead to reconnoitre the trail.
Basit woke early one morning and made her way through the forest, she was extremely happy--her hard work had paid off and she was now part of Mahisi's personal staff. This meant that she did not have to live in the slave encampment any more. Finally, her life was starting to look up.
She made her way through the trees as she looked for a secluded spot on the banks of the stream where she could bathe. At a safe distance, Susena followed her. He watched her as she moved gracefully through the trees, his mouth dry with excitement. He was going to enjoy the task at hand.
Basit shivered as the cold water enveloped her naked body. She proceeded to wash herself as she hummed a song from her childhood. The sound of a pebble clattering against a rock startled her and she turned sharply. Only a few feet away, resplendent in his robes of blue, stood the high priest Susena. Basit covered her breasts with her arms and slowly made her way towards the rock where she had laid her tunic, but the high priest beat her to it. He placed one foot on her tunic and beckoned her to come towards him.
Terror stricken, Basit complied. She had seen the victims of the high priest's amorous advances return torn and bleeding to the slave camp and heard their horror stories of Susena's perversions. She shut her eyes and prayed to the divine mother for protection.
The high priest's eyes ran appreciatively up and down her body. 'Surya be praised! The little bud has transformed into such a beautiful flower and I did not even notice it.'
He brushed her arms aside, held one of her erect nipples between his fingers and squeezed hard. She let out a gasp of pain. He laughed and continued to fondle her nipple, but this time he was gentler.
Basit felt them harden, and she tried hard to control her arousal, ashamed of it. Susena watched her squirm, revelling in her discomfort. Basit now felt his fingers move slowly up her thighs. Fortunately for her, it was not Susena's boorish ego that controlled his hand; it was controlled by another, peerless in the art of love.
She felt his fingers between her legs, strumming her like a harp, sending shivers of pleasure through her body. Her breathing began to get ragged as she hungered for more. Susena expertly guided his index finger into her moist interior. He was very gentle.
By now Basit had lost all sense of modesty. She began to push herself against his hand. Susena watched her closely, her eyes were shut and her head was thrown back. She ground her hips against his hand as she moaned in pleasure. Then she stiffened, her beautiful face contorted in rapturous joy, she felt herself about to explode into a mind-numbing orgasm, when Susena suddenly stopped.
Her eyes snapped open. She had been soaring towards the gates of heaven only to be brought crashing down to the earth. Susena stared deeply into her eyes. She watched fascinated as the high priest raised his still moist finger to his mouth and slowly sucked on it. Basit shuddered in pleasure looking at him. He moved his face close to her ear and whispered huskily. 'This is a mere drop compared to the ocean of pleasure you will experience if you do my bidding.'
Basit hesitated, unsure what the man had in mind. Susena sensed her misgivings. 'Of course you could refuse, but I will still have my way with you and I promise you I will not be so gentle. Then I will leave you to the soldiers. After they are finished with you, I don't know if you would be fit to serve a fine lady like Mahisi.'
Ishtar had sensed her deepest fear and used it to force her hand. His words had the desired effect. Basit fell at his feet and kissed them. 'I am the dust at your feet, my lord, I live only to serve you.'
Susena smiled smugly, as he leaned forward and told her exactly what she would have to do.
***
It was late afternoon on a particularly beautiful day in the valley. Under a pine tree, Mahisi sang Indra a lullaby and put him to sleep. She laid him down gently on a little bearskin mattress and asked the guards to keep watch. She then quietly made her way into the forest. Basit watched her mistress leave; she knew exactly where she was headed.
As Mahisi hurried through the woods, humming a pleasant tune, somewhere ahead a young soldier was waiting for her. To the other members of the clan she was still the grieving widow, so she had to be discreet; but she had needs, and this young man fulfilled them more than adequately.
Rajiv Menon -- ThunderGod Page 6
