‘I keep some dates and apples in my chariot, in case I have to leave in a hurry; the lady can have them if she so wishes.’ He bowed in her direction. All his authority and derision was gone; now he was the very picture of deference. He said to Durvasa, ‘When I set eyes upon you, my lord, I told myself that you were no ordinary being. May the gods cut off my tongue for the vile things I said to you.’
Durvasa said, ‘I have already forgiven you, Kurusti. I only pray that you forgive yourself in a hurry.’
Kurusti joined his hands together. ‘I must do penance for this. Tell me, sir, how many years have you spent studying the Mystery of the fire?’
‘Not I, Kurusti,’ said Durvasa, ‘my forefathers. I only reap the benefits of their toil.’
‘But you are young, my lord, perhaps even younger than I am! How did you achieve such dexterity in your hands, such knowledge of the elements…’
‘I come from the mountains up north, and I belong to a family who studies the Mysteries. We have ways by which we transfer our knowledge to our successors.’
‘Like we write them down in books.’
‘Yes, except we do not use parchment for this purpose.’ Durvasa paused, and Pritha felt that he was weighing his words, groping for the right ones. ‘We have other means.’
‘The High Priest will be pleased to see you, I am certain,’ said Kurusti. ‘He must have retired to his bed now, the poor man, and he never sees people at such an hour unless absolutely necessary. But today, I think he shall make an exception.’
‘I hope so,’ said Durvasa, ‘because I am eager to know all about this little Mystery of yours, these black stones that plough your fields on their own.’
‘Aye, that is so.’ Kurusti closed his eyes and touched the palm of his right hand to his chest. ‘If it were not for that stone, Mathura would be nothing but a marshland from shore to shore. There would be no kingdom! And we shall not have our war barges, our trade with Magadha – nothing, sire, nothing on Mathura would be the same if it were not for these special stones.’
‘Who first wrote the Mystery?’
‘No one did, my lord, until now. The oldest of the Head Priests is a man we call Adhrigu, and it is said that the Mystery came to him when he was all of eight years old, which may have been almost fifty years ago.’
‘Came to him, did you say?’
‘Yes, that is how the tale goes. He was perched upon the shoulders of his father, and it was a windless day. He saw the lid of the water tumbler jump up and down, he said, with the fire burning away underneath. And then he thought perhaps if fire could be cast into water, then it would make the water move.’
Durvasa fell silent for a moment. All they heard was the clacking of the mares’ hooves on the hard ground. At last, he said, ‘Fire moves water.’
‘Aye, you saw that on our arch when you entered the city, no doubt,’ said Kurusti. ‘The boy Adhrigu then probed the Mystery his own way, playing with vessels of water at his mother’s fireplace. By the time he was thirteen, he had in his hands a fully functional black stone, they say, and on the day he came to show it to High King Ugrasena, there was much jubilation in the court, by peasants and noblemen alike!’
‘I dare say,’ said Durvasa. ‘It was Mathura’s first Mystery, was it not?’
Kurusti nodded. ‘And he, our first High Priest. King Ugrasena wanted more priests to join him in the study of Mysteries, but then High King Kamsa came to the throne, and he had other plans. He set up a trade route with Magadha, and in return for our black stones, they give us grains, soldiers, and all the other things that you see here. We look as though we are wealthy, my lord, but our only wealth are these black stones.’
‘Ah, perhaps King Ugrasena was right. Perhaps you should have waited till you probed the Mystery deeply enough.’
Shrugging, Kurusti said, ‘Perhaps, but then people were starving, my lord. They were on the edge of revolt, and many were moving out too, to the Great Kingdoms of the East and the South. I say, what Kamsa did was right for Mathura, but then, you are not wrong, either. I know not.’
‘Yes,’ said Durvasa, ‘it is folly to look to the past. Now Mathura has grown strong to defend herself against the might of the Great Kingdoms. Perhaps that is evidence enough that Kamsa had been right.’
‘Ah,’ said Kurusti, looking out into the streets, where the lamps had begun to dim and the shutters had begun to descend. ‘If only it were that simple. We reached out too much too soon, one feels sometimes, and now, we have strong boats and our lands can be tilled without manual labour, but if we have to extend the stones to other things, we not only have to make them smaller, but stronger too.’
‘Well, why do you not plumb the Mysteries further?’
‘Where is the time, my lord? All the High Priests and regular priests and all the temples are not enough to supply Magadha with all the stones that she needs. We only have enough time to mend the broken ones and create new ones. Not even the High Priests have looked into the Book of Mysteries once in the last ten years, I dare say.
‘And now Adhrigu gasps and grunts on his bed. He has not breathed easy in five moons. Kamsa decrees that he must write down all that he knows into the Book of Mysteries, and believe me, he does try, but the old man has no strength in him any more. I wish that he was one of the black stones himself, and that he could go on living and ward off the lord of death.’
Durvasa asked, ‘Does no one else know how to create these stones?’
‘Adhrigu knows the most, sire, more than anyone else. They wanted to keep the Mysteries secret, you see, so even the priests know only a little. I know not what I should see if I were to open up this box, and I would love to learn, but not a day goes by without some or the other complaint from Magadha that their stones do not work as they’re supposed to!’
Pritha tore open the bag that Kurusti had pointed to earlier, and took out an apple. She borrowed Kurusti’s knife and cut it into three equal pieces. All three took a piece each. They had left the city long behind them now, and the smell in the air suggested to Pritha and that they were nearing the riverbank. Whether it was the Yamuna or the Ganga, though, she did not know.
She asked, ‘Do you know where King Kamsa imprisons his sister and his father?’
Kurusti narrowed his eyes at her. ‘I remember now why your face appeared familiar, Princess. You are the sister of the king of Shurasena, are you not?’
Pritha and Durvasa exchanged glances.
‘You need not worry,’ said Kurusti. ‘But I would think twice before asking that question of anyone else in the country, my lady. Kamsa’s guards have elephant-like ears, and they have informers everywhere. If you say that out loud in a crowded place, it will take you straight to the king.’
‘I am not scared of him,’ said Pritha firmly. ‘I would rather come face-to-face with him just so that I could spit in his face!’
Kurusti said, ‘I understand that Adhrigu prophesied that Devaki and Vasudev’s son will one day kill Kamsa. Perhaps you can ask him if he would consider taking his word back; perhaps only then Kamsa would relent and let his sister and her husband go.’ His eyes drooped a little, and his shoulders sagged. ‘But if Shurasena would become another ally to us and want some of our stones, I dare say our priests will be sucked to the bone.’
‘But you have not answered the question,’ she said. ‘Do you or do you not know where the prison is?’
Kurusti shook his head. ‘I do not, I’m afraid. But Adhrigu may – you should ask him. They say it is up on the hill to the north-west, on the very tip of the kingdom, surrounded on three sides by the water of the Ganga. If it is true, I would say the fourth side would be guarded heavily with men carrying weapons.’ He inclined his head toward her in a fatherly manner. ‘Not quite the place for a maiden such as you, my lady.’
They got off hard land now and rode into sand and mud, and Pritha could hear the wheels of the chariot spray back murky water as it sped ahead. Only the fires mounted on either side of the chario
teer provided enough light. Kurusti raised his hand to his forehead and stared into the darkness. ‘I think we are approaching,’ he said.
The inner sanctum of the High Temple was different from Kurusti’s house only in size, and in the number of candles that had been lit all over the room. Pritha felt the same stifling heat on her ears, and the same layer of sweat bathing her body. As they walked in, a boy looked at them curiously, whispered something to Kurusti and ran away, motioning them to stay where they were. After a few minutes he returned to the doorway and gestured. When all of them stood up, he motioned to Pritha and Durvasa to sit down, and only asking Kurusti to come to him.
Once Kurusti had disappeared behind the door, Pritha turned to Durvasa and said, ‘I hope this High Priest knows the whereabouts of the prison.’
Durvasa took a handful of saffron powder from inside his bag, and began to wet it with his sweat. After he had made a paste, he began to apply it to his shoulders and wrists. ‘I do not think he knows where the prison is, my lady, but I think not we shall need that knowledge.’
‘Why not?’ she said, sourness creeping into her voice. They had come here in search of her brother and sister-in-law, and all this time they had been speaking with priests, not with soldiers and guards. ‘I think you are forgetting the reason we are in Mathura, my lord.’
Durvasa looked up from his shoulder and smiled. ‘My dear, you are angry with me.’
‘I am, yes.’
‘Pray, give me your hand.’ He took her hand in his and pulled at her fingers. ‘I have not lost sight of why we are here, Pritha, but you must see how precious a stone this is.’
‘Precious perhaps for you. How will it help rescue my brother and his wife?’
‘Well, Princess, did you not hear what Kurusti said? It is almost impossible for you and I to rescue your brother and his wife.’
‘One moment. What are you saying? Are we … are we … to give up, then?’
He shook his head. ‘By no means. You heard the priest speak about the Book of Mysteries which tells the tale of this remarkable black stone. If you and I could get our hands on that, imagine how powerful Shurasena would become.’
‘But Sage, Mathura already has it, and yet it has not become a Great Kingdom.’
‘That is so because they have not yet plumbed the mystery fully, my lady. But if Shurasena acquires this book that they speak of, even if it is incomplete, it shall make your kingdom at least as strong as Mathura and Magadha. Then they shall have no need to fear these two kingdoms, for Shurasena’s war barges will be just as strong and fast as Mathura’s.’
Pritha snatched her hand away from the sage. ‘And do you say that these men will just hand over the book to you? This is the big secret of the kingdom, and I am amazed to see that there are no guards of the High King at this place.’
Durvasa laughed. ‘I am certain Kamsa would have wanted guards here, but the priests rule supreme, my lady. They know the Mysteries, and they have not shared them with anyone, not even their own subordinates. So the power lies with them, and if Kamsa does something that angers them, it would not bode well for him.’
‘Is that why he wants the priests to write down the Mysteries into a book?’
‘That is so, yes. Once the Mysteries are written down, Kamsa could do as he pleases with the priests, because he can replace them with other priests. I am certain the head priests here know that, and that is why they resist writing down the things that live in their minds.’
‘Be that so,’ said Pritha, ‘why will they give you the book?’
Durvasa’s eyes twinkled at her. ‘Why did Kurusti bring us here?’
‘You will show them another of your fire tricks?’
‘That is not the only trick in my sack,’ said Durvasa. ‘I shall talk to these priests, and I am certain that they will help me in my quest – for you see, my dear, they know by now that I am one of them.’
Pritha looked at the sage’s face in the light of the lamps, and his eyes acquired the same shade of inscrutable yellow they had become at Kurusti’s place, just before he had brought out the ball of black twine from his bag. She wanted to ask him how he was one of them; it was clear that he had studied the Mysteries too. But he was no priest. He was a sage. What was the difference?
But before she could open her mouth, Kurusti came back and said, ‘The High Priest will see you now.’
High Priest Adhrigu was in the last year of his life, thought Pritha on seeing him. Rich, dark veins riddled the man’s face, and deep ridges appeared on his forehead, constantly changing shape as he peered first at her and then, with more interest, at Durvasa. He held his left hand much the same way as Kurusti had, clutching the white shawl over his chest, and with his right he pointed them toward their seats. As the light afforded him a better view of Pritha, he smiled, and his bottom lip fell away, revealing a single brown tooth on the lower gum.
‘I do not see visitors anymore,’ he said, his voice hoarse with cough. ‘I have much to do, but my body does not have the will that my mind does.’ He sat on the edge of his cot, looking down at his flat, battered toenails. ‘Kurusti tells me you are a student of the Mysteries yourself, sir.’ He raised his head and brought his eyes to rest on Durvasa.
‘I am, sir, but my forefathers have seen it fit only to study the Fire Mysteries.’
‘Ah, your forefathers, you say, and yet you have practised them enough to handle fire with ease?’
‘They have taught me well. Where I grew up, men transfer their knowledge to their successors not through parchments or by teaching, but by fusion of the minds.’
The lines of Adhrigu’s face became darker. ‘And where might this be, this place you speak of?’
‘I come from the north, sir,’ said Durvasa, and when Adhrigu continued to stare, he added, ‘I learnt my craft at the foot of the Ice Mountains.’
‘Ah, will you teach us, perhaps, this Mystery of fusing one’s mind with another?’
‘It is forbidden among the Northmen to even speak of it, High Priest.’
Adhrigu smiled and nodded. ‘Just like our Mysteries, eh, Kurusti? Aye, if everyone spoke of them, they would not stay Mysteries for very long, would they? That is why we have guards at every entrance to our city, sir, because we do not want people watching our farmers and whispering that they may be shamans.’ He bared his gums at them and fiddled with the hair growing out of his ear. ‘The only people we do allow are the men from Magadha; with them we trade for our lives, so we let them in on our secret. Only a little bit, though.’
‘I understand, sir,’ said Durvasa. ‘I have come to ask you about the black stones that you create.’
‘I am not allowed to speak of them, sir,’ said Adhrigu, smiling.
‘By whom?’
‘By myself! I am the creator of the Mystery! I decree that no one shall speak of it, and if they do, they shall not understand it.’ He waved unsteadily in the direction of Kurusti. ‘These men know only the outside working of the stone, sir. Only three of us – just three men in the whole kingdom – know how to build one, and indeed, how to take one apart.’
‘Perhaps you could show me how one works, then?’
Adhrigu raised his grey eyebrows at Durvasa and grinned. ‘Perhaps I could. But what shall I get in return?’
Durvasa looked straight at the old man. His eyes were hard, yet kind. He sat erect in his seat, much like a man of god giving a sermon, and under his loose upper garment, Pritha could see his hairless torso, tight and tender. For some reason a nameless fear struck her as she saw him at this moment, and she shifted away from him a little, though she found herself unable to wrench her eyes off him.
‘I shall give you means by which you can get to the bottom of the Mystery you study,’ he said.
A long bout of dry, retching coughs took over Adhrigu’s body. When he recovered, he said, ‘I am an old man, sir. It does not do you justice to give me hopes that you must later crush. I do not have time to study my Mystery fully; why, I shall be sur
prised if I even last the year and see next midwinter’s feast.’
‘I shall give you all the time that you need,’ Durvasa assured him.
‘Indeed? Do you know what is wrong with me?’ Adhrigu’s voice grew louder. ‘Do you have a cure for my disease?’
‘I can examine you. And I can tell you I have not yet seen a disease I could not cure.’
Adhrigu looked up at Kurusti, and Pritha saw the man’s feeble eyes perk up in hope. But something held him back, and he shook his head. ‘I need to finish my book. I need to be certain that men after me will take my work forward; but I need time. I need time!’
Durvasa went and sat next to him. He took the twig-like wrist in his hands and ran his long fingers over the black spots. ‘Do you cough more at night than during the day, sir?’ he asked.
Adhrigu nodded weakly.
‘And your body becomes warm, does it not, as though someone had set your bed on fire?’
‘Yes.’
‘You do not feel like eating a morsel of food, and you feel forever weak. So weak that writing even a single word would break your arm in two.’
‘Yes … that is how I feel.’ Adhrigu leaned his head on Durvasa’s shoulder, and his body shivered against the sage’s. Durvasa held the priest with one arm and extended the other arm to his sack, pulling it closer to him. ‘I may have something for you, High Priest. Lie down and rest your head against the pillow.’ As Adhrigu leaned back with a sigh and supported his neck against the spine of the cot, Durvasa dug into his sack and brought out a bag tied together by animal hide. He untied the cap and asked for a vessel. The boy who had received them scurried away and returned in a moment with one.
Touching the vessel to Adhrigu’s lips and holding the base of his neck with one hand, Durvasa said, ‘Only take two gulps, sir, and no more.’ Adhrigu spluttered and swallowed, and his eyes grew heavy. ‘Yes, it will make you sleepy, but tomorrow you shall be well. Let us not speak of the stone today.’ Adhrigu nodded with his eyes closed, and before Durvasa could finish his sentence, his breathing had become steady and easy.
The Rise of Hastinapur Page 18
