The Aryavarta Chronicles Kaurava: Book 2 (39 page)

After what felt like a long time, Shikandin drew his sword. ‘Sthuna, go round the village and make sure it’s clear. Give the signal.’

Sthuna appeared not to have heard and stood, rigid. His other companion was already on his knees, throwing up and crying at the same time.

Shikandin reached out. ‘Sthuna…Sthuna? Did you hear me?’

Finally, Sthuna stirred. Pulling out a short spear from the array of weapons on his back, he set off around the perimeter of the settlement, his tread cautious, as though he were hunting a wild creature.

Shikandin took a deep breath and began walking towards the gate, and the severed heads. He stopped when he was closer and took a count under his breath. ‘None of the children are here,’ he noted, with relief. ‘But…we have six women missing.’

‘Over here,’ Dhrstyadymn said, from between the first cluster of huts. ‘The women…are here…’

Shikandin walked to his side with the heavy tread of one who knew what to expect. The women lay dead, their bloodied bodies and naked forms leaving no doubt as to what had happened to them. Shikandin picked up one of their discarded robes from nearby, tore it in two, and covered up two of them. For three of the others, he pulled off and used his upper robe. As he walked over to the last woman, Dhrstyadymn held out his uttariya. Shikandin took it, and dropped to his knees next to the dead woman. He wrapped the robe around her with a tenderness that Dhrstyadymn had never seen in his brother and kissed her dirt-stained forehead.

By the time Sthuna returned, having finished his rounds of the area around the village, Shikandin and Dhrstyadymn had begun digging a large grave.

‘The children?’ Sthuna asked, a quiver in his voice.

Dhrstyadymn nodded to a still-smouldering hut.

Sthuna took a few steps towards it but as the smell of burnt flesh hit him, he stopped, not daring to go any closer. He turned to Shikandin. ‘Did you…?’

‘I did. About seven of the children are missing. Six boys and one girl. I think they must have gone to the forest to play or pick berries, and so have escaped. Kshtradharman and Uttamaujas are, I hope, among them. Their bodies are not here.’

‘And Guhyaka? My sister?’

Shikandin merely pointed. Sthuna fell to his knees and began sobbing.

‘Sthuna, your daughter too,’ Shikandin said. He picked up one of figures he had wrapped in his robe, and carried her over to where Sthuna was sprawled on the ground and laid her in his lap. It was all Dhrstyadymn could do to not scream, as he realized the dead girl could hardly be twelve or thirteen years old.

Unable to take it, he spat out, ‘Yabha! How…? What animals could do this?’

Shikandin replied, ‘Human beings do it, Dhrstyadymn. You’ve seen battle, but you haven’t seen massacre. There is something about war that fuels rage and lust and fear and every dark emotion there is. The best of soldiers turn into demons, and even the most noble generals and commanders cannot stop them.’

‘This is not war!’

‘Isn’t it? It is as much war as what is fought on a battlefield. You…you don’t know what the Great Scourge was like, brother. What has happened here…it is a re-enactment of those hunts. I guess, Devala has finally had his revenge against me for all those Panchala raids I once led.’

‘You? You’d have never let this happen if you had been in command.’

‘You didn’t know me when I was younger. I’ve made my share of mistakes.’

‘And so? So we forgive that bastard Devala? And Vasusena? It was his men who did this, wasn’t it? They must have planned to attack exactly when you were out. I don’t understand, Shikandin; nothing makes sense any more. What world is this, where we say: “This is how men are, this is how kings are.” Hai, is there no hope?’

‘There is always hope,’ Shikandin said. He spoke a few words of consolation to Sthuna and finally got him to his feet. ‘Get your brother,’ he instructed. Sthuna went back to where the other man had collapsed outside the village, but returned alone. He held out a bloody knife to Shikandin.

‘He didn’t have the courage.’

‘Neither do I, Sthuna. But this doesn’t take courage. It takes… emptiness.’

Together, the three men buried all the bodies in one grave. It was well past midnight by the time they finished.

‘What now?’ Dhrstyadymn asked, numb.

In response, Shikandin and Sthuna exchanged glances and began walking into the forest. Dhrstyadymn followed in silence. The men came to stop at what appeared to Dhrstyadymn as a relic of sort – a large stone pillar that bore the marks of the elements and worship both.

Sthuna broke into tears again at the foot of the pillar, while Shikandin stood resting his forehead against the stone.

‘What…who…what is this?’ Dhrstyadymn asked.

‘She is Amba. She is the spirit of all those who were burnt alive during the Great Scourge, the eternal spirit of the thousands of innocents whose sacrifice we remember and honour.’

‘But…’

Shikandin shook his head. ‘Not now, brother. Now is not the time for stories.’ He wrapped his fingers through the white beads around his neck, placing metal and flesh against the stone. He then drew back and began taking off his armour. ‘Sthuna. Stay here. The children know to come back here once it’s safe. Take them to your mother’s tribe. Give my armour to my son, to Uttamaujas. Tell him to train hard, for the next time we meet, we shall avenge his mother’s death together. Tell him…tell him to take care of his little brother.’

With that, he turned away and began walking back towards where they had tethered the horses. Dhrstyadymn refrained from asking any questions.

Shikandin said, swinging into the saddle. ‘I’m heading to Dwaraka. You should go home.’

‘Shikandin, please. What’s the point? Look, I don’t care that Govinda is a Firewright – not after everything that I’ve seen and heard now – but that doesn’t change the fact that he’s a broken man. In twelve years, we’ve not heard from him. Rather, we hear of him, of how all he cares about now is drink and women. Is that the Govinda we knew? And if the Govinda we knew still existed, would he have watched and waited all these years?’

‘We watched. We waited.’

Dhrstyadymn shouted, ‘But he has lost all hope!’

In response, Shikandin urged his horse forward.

Dhrstyadymn threw his hands up in exasperation. ‘Wait! Wherever it is you want to go, I’m coming with you,’ he said as he swung on to his steed. Muttering to himself, he added, ‘Might as well mate with crocodiles together.’ Sullenly, he spurred his horse, the forced humour doing nothing to dispel the smell of blood and burning flesh from his mind.

19

‘OUR PEOPLE CAN’T FIND ANYTHING WRONG WITH THE SHIP. BUT
the sailors insist that there is a problem with the rudder, and that the ship lists and veers at the slightest cross-current. They are demanding that Govinda Shauri himself check the vessel, else they won’t pay us the port charges due to us for docking and maintenance.’ The attendant tried to put all the authority he commanded, which was not much, into his voice. Failing at the effort, he conceded, ‘Or so I was instructed to tell you. And to ensure that Commander… I mean… that is…Govinda…accompany these soldiers here…’ He trailed off, partly embarrassed at having used a designation that Govinda no longer carried, and partly at now having to address the man in question with undue familiarity.

Balabadra did not care in the least for the messenger’s discomfort, certainly not after he had been woken up in the dead of night. ‘Surely,’ he argued, ‘the loss of a single ship’s charge is not worth the time of an emergency council meeting?’

‘It’s not just one ship. They refuse to pay for the whole fleet and also for the many times they have docked here this year. Commander Kritavarman says it may be best to indulge them. The Council agrees with him.’

‘Where is the ship now? In port?’

‘On the sea. Beyond the harbour. But one of the smaller sailboats can get us there.’

Balabadra looked questioningly at Govinda, who nodded. It was not enough to convince him. ‘Be careful,’ he cautioned, in a low whisper. ‘I trust these soldiers, and I think the Council has not yet stooped so low as to harm you, but I still don’t like this middle-of-the-night affair or the fact that they went on to call a meeting without me. That I could not be found is the silliest excuse I’ve ever heard. Keep your eyes open, and your sword close.’

If Govinda took note of the warning, he did not show it. Nor did he show the slightest suspicion when, on reaching the trading ship, he found no evidence of any defect or repair. Before he could comment on this, the Yadu soldiers escorting him were asked to return to shore and wait while he was taken below decks, ostensibly to meet the captain of the ship. He smiled the moment he was left alone in a small room. This would be his prison, but he gladly made it home, for he knew what it meant. If Syoddhan was coming after him, Panchali was, at least for the time-being, safe.

With that reasoning warming his heart, Govinda stretched himself out on the small wooden bunk that was the only fitting in the room, save for the shuttered wick lamp of the cautious make that was typical on ships. He had hardly closed his eyes, when the door opened and four men came in. Mercenaries, Govinda noted, wondering what it the world had come to that men such as these could be found in plenty. He did not protest or resist, when they threw him onto the floor and stripped him, or when the relentless whipping began. Govinda grit his teeth against the pain for as long as he could, but when the lash, wet with his blood, hit raw, broken flesh, he screamed.

Govinda waited for the burning sensation to drive him to unconsciousness or even death, but it did not. The whipping stopped, and he felt afloat in a sea of fire, his body in flames yet whole. He willed himself to let go, as though holding on to the idea of being alive was all that had kept him so, and now it was time, it was finally time, for the release he had been waiting for all these years. Reason told him that it was meant to be so. It was the only thing that gave meaning to everything, to believe what he had once stood for was not flawed, though he himself was; a creature one with the same frail, flawed humanity that he so loved.

Blood flowed from a cut on his forehead to pool, hot and searing, in his eyes. Govinda tried to wipe it away but he could not move. Through the blurred haze he saw a familiar figure, her red hair framing her face in a soft glow.

‘Philista?’ he gasped as the sting of betrayal hit him, forcing him to focus beyond the physical pain.

‘I’m sorry, Govinda,’ she evenly replied. ‘But you have to understand that you ask for the impossible. Your ideas, your dreams – assume that we…people…always act rationally, and that there is nothing more rational than goodness. It is not so. I am not so. You made me believe and hope in the idea of greater good. Now that you have lost hope, though my mind still sees the power of your ideas, my heart fears for my people, my nation. I will not act towards the greater good, Govinda. Nor will anyone else. Fear distorts reason. Chaos is inevitable. I am sorry.’

She paused, waiting for Govinda to speak, but he remained silent. Philista continued, ‘I…my people have been promised a favourable alliance with the new Emperor – Syoddhan of the Kauravas. All I have to do in return is to…’

‘Kill me?’ Govinda grit his teeth against the pain, trying to find the strength to speak clearly. ‘I knew it was to happen, sooner or later. But, I’m curious: did they specify how badly torn up I must be?’

‘That is…personal. Though not in the way you think. I need to know, Govinda. The last astra-weapon Agniveshya created, when he was in hiding after the Scourge, I need to know where it is.’

‘And how much will Syoddhan pay you for that?’

‘I said it was personal. By which I meant it is for my country, my people. Each kingdom in Aryavarta is now bent upon outdoing the other. Can you imagine what would happen if they all came together – if this Syoddhan really does hold the empire together? What about the rest of the world, Govinda? We wouldn’t want to trade with such an empire; we would fear it, and would defend our land against it. Now tell me where this last weapon is…this Naga-astra…’

‘And you think torture will make me talk?’

Philista said, ‘I should have known it wouldn’t, but my benefactors insisted. I know that the only thing that matters to you is cold reason. And cold reason says you should tell me the secret. You know why? Because it is your fault that the entire world is in danger now. Can you imagine the horror if all the nations of the world went to war with each other? Isn’t that terrible prospect what made you and Ghora Angirasa want to break the Firewright order as it was? Well, you should have done a better task of it. You should have done a better task of building your peaceful, glorious new empire, and then none of us would be in this position. This is your fault, Govinda, and this is your last chance to save the world. Tell me. Where is the Naga-astra hidden? What is it?’

‘Syoddhan is far from a bad man, Philista. He is capable of bringing peace and glory to Aryavarta, and beyond. If my death is what it will take for him to do so, it is not a bad trade, at all.’

‘Aah yes…one for a family, a family for a village, a village for a nation, a nation for an empire… That is how the saying goes, no? I hope you are right, Govinda. That your blood, and that of the Matsya nation, is enough.’

‘Matsya?’ Govinda’s voice shook, just a little.

Philista did not miss it. ‘Sentimental? I believe that was home to the Firewrights once, was it not? Now that its protector, General Keechak, is dead, perhaps it can be home to them again. Are you still willing to die, Govinda? Are you still willing to trust Syoddhan?’

Govinda did not answer with words, but Philista could see him transform, shrink into something smaller than the pathetic creature he had already been reduced to. For the first time in all the years that she had known Govinda Shauri, she saw his eyes brim and overflow, his tears mingling with blood to stain the dark skin of his cheeks. She gasped, and it took her every bit of self-restraint to not go to him, to not comfort him now that she saw how utterly broken he was.