The Aryavarta Chronicles Kurukshetra: Book 3 (5 page)

It was the utter lack of reaction on Syoddhan’s part that made Govinda turn, just in time. Even as he moved, his Yadu kinsmen, Kritavarman and Yuyudhana, leapt to his side, but they were too late.

The attack was a well-planned one, in both a strategic and a political sense. Many things happened at once. In a seemingly innocent move, the omnipresent serving girls who plied food and drink on the assembly clustered in a group right behind Govinda, effectively shielding Syoddhan, Dhritarastra and others of importance in the assembly. At the same time, one of the handmaidens dropped her wine-cask, apparently in shock, and a viscous liquid that certainly was not wine snaked its way across the floor, providing a further barrier. To allow oneself to be distracted by these small events would prove fatal, for the true danger came from the other direction.

A sudden throng burst in through the main doorway and surged forward. At first sight, it gave the impression of a mob of angry commoners, a fact strengthened by their chants, both those affirming Syoddhan’s rule over Hastina and Aryavarta as well as those calling for the death of the traitor, Govinda Shauri. But a little attention revealed that the chants sounded rehearsed, and that the members of the mob were far too organized and well-armed to be anything but soldiers.

It was, Govinda realized, a perfect trap. Not only did this apparent public outburst exonerate Syoddhan of all responsibility for Govinda’s safety as an emissary, but it also put Govinda in the heinous position of having to attack hapless commoners – an unacceptable show of aggression that would compromise his position and Dharma’s at once. He could not help but register Devala Asita’s touches, not only in the planning of the attack but also in the small details: the wine-like liquid, the small, concealed weapons that the pretend commoners now produced from inside their clothing. The assault, as much as it was intended to do away with Govinda, was also meant to be a demonstration of Syoddhan’s power to his allies.

‘Rudra save us!’ Kritavarman exclaimed next to Govinda, clearly sharing the latter’s assessment of the situation.

Yuyudhana was more direct. ‘Sons-of-whores! It’s a trap, Govinda!’

Both men drew their swords, preparing to go down with a fight. Govinda stood his ground, fists clenched, searching the mad throng for the one face he had missed in the assembly, the one face that could change everything about the situation. And then he saw the large figure skulking at the back of the throng, the clear leader of the mob despite his position. The man’s gaze brimmed over with bloodlust, a feral madness that left Govinda in no doubt as to his identify. Just as he had thought… Dussasan. A small, lightning-like spark exploded in the air right where Govinda stood, turning instantly into fire and smoke.

Govinda waited for the cries – mostly of alarm, but some of pain – to subside before turning around, a smile on his lips, to consider the scene, the cause for the stunned expressions writ on each face in the assembly. A wall of flame, dancing golden and blue, rose almost to the high roof of the hall. Against the curtain of fire and smoke stood Govinda, Kritavarman and Yuyudhana. A fleeting memory of a similar moment swept through Govinda’s mind as the soft crackle of fire filled the air.
A coronation and a beheading. Shisupala
. He looked toward Syoddhan, met the anger he found there with confident understanding. Then, with a flick of his wrist, he caused the wall of flame to descend and finally disappear. All that remained of the earlier episode was a mass of prone, bleeding, soot-stained forms, the light rise and fall of their chests the only sign of life in the men who had attacked them.

Adjusting the Wright-metal bracelet on his wrist, the source of the small explosion that had proved such an effective defence, Govinda turned to Yuyudhana and Kritavarman next to him. Kritavarman, particularly, Govinda would not have faulted for being slow in coming to his aid, or not coming at all. But war was only imminent and not yet declared, and Kritavarman had chosen to show unity with his fellow Dwaraka citizens. Smiling his thanks at his kinsmen, Govinda returned his attention to Syoddhan and the others. ‘I find this a rather novel welcome on your brothers’ part, Syoddhan. Though I must admit, Prince Dussasan and your other brothers look rather becoming in their guise as commoners. They bring a certain… authenticity…to the role, don’t you agree?’

Syoddhan did not respond to Govinda’s sarcasm, but with the silence thus broken a growl of a murmur rose all around. To attack an emissary was against law and morality, an act of dishonour and cowardice. Had Dussasan succeeded, the crime would have been its own redemption, but the Kuru prince’s failure was a fault in itself, one that left palpable awkwardness in its wake.

The situation would have persisted, but for Vidur’s intervention. ‘See to the injured,’ he called out to the omnipresent attendants. In response, a host of servants ran to aid Dussasan and his companions, while others went to summon the medics. The crisp efficiency of the Kurus quickly restored order to the room, with all debris cleared and the injured moved out, except for an insistent Dussasan. The impressive efforts at housekeeping, however, did little to restore what little air of conciliation may have remained.

Govinda’s eyes ran over the recently cleaned surrounds, noting that the same marble that had occupied his entire attention when he had first entered this hall was, in fact, well-worn and the walls of the palace reeked of past grandeur and dust. The men around him, too, gave the impression of being tired and weary, and youthful faces and eager hearts were few and far between. If any man stood out in that jaded, time-worn lot, it was Bhisma.

The Grandsire was unchanged, his hair and beard the same white since the very day Govinda had first encountered the elder. His towering, powerful build, sharp intellect and impeccable ability to maintain his calm under duress had all endured, the last quality in clear evidence at the moment. By contrast, Govinda found Dhritarastra withered. Age clearly showed on the king’s face as he stared with incomprehension and awe, a sentiment that most in the hall mirrored – except for Dron and Asvattama, as well as Devala and Vasusena. Clearly, Govinda’s methods had not come as a shock to them.

Govinda smiled at the thought, but said nothing of it out loud. Instead, he declared, ‘With your permission, I shall leave now. Dharma will be expecting me…’

‘You make no offer of peace…?’ Syoddhan’s voice held no expectation as he said the words, and his face remained devoid of expression, as it had been since Govinda had entered the hall. It was a feat that many knew the prince could not have managed some decades ago. But much had come to pass over the years, which had left a mark on the man in significant ways. Syoddhan’s newfound equanimity, both practised and effortless, was a quality that Govinda found most suggestive and he saw no sense in further baiting or in games. He asked, his voice sincere, ‘Will you consider peace?’

Syoddhan said, ‘On reasonable terms, yes.’

‘I am known to be a reasonable man.’

‘My brothers might disagree.’

‘If,’ Govinda said, with a sidelong glance at Dussasan, ‘you play with fire, you must risk getting burnt.’

‘It is not fire that is the problem here, Govinda. It is that you are a Firewright.’

‘A fact that has been long in evidence and needs no further discussion. Which is why I made no attempt to hide it. Why do you bring it up now?’

‘Only to add that even the Wrights found you to be a heretic and far too untrustworthy. There is no one you have not betrayed yet. The only rational thought one expects of you is that which is driven by your self-interest. So do me the courtesy of being plain. State
your
terms, Govinda Shauri, for that is what these negotiations are truly about.’

Govinda shrugged. ‘I don’t care what you call my
terms
, or me – as long as you consider them. I thought I had made them clear, but since there seems to be some doubt: I wish you to declare Dharma Yudhisthir the rightful Emperor of Aryavarta.’

Cries of outrage rang through the hall, with Dussasan too calling out weak protests from the secluded corner of the hall where he was being tended to. Others such as Vasusena were more vocal, and Bhisma Devavrata appeared far from pleased. If any remained placid, it was those who were affected more by the consequences of the statement than its content. Sanjaya and Devala were pointedly taciturn. The Firstborn scholar-seers continued to mumble prayers for the welfare of all, Suka amongst them.

Syoddhan gestured for calm, but it took some prompting by others in the hall before the uproar faded into a buzz. He then said, ‘You really wish me to accede to Dharma Yudhisthir? Do you not know that there is no greater dishonour than surrender? Govinda, often have others called you “gwala”, accused you of lacking nobility, but I have never shared their opinion…till this moment. Now I must wonder, do you really not understand a thing about our way of life?’

‘You misunderstand me, Syoddhan,’ Govinda said. ‘It was not my intent to ask you to surrender. Rather, I ask you to exercise your power as the ruler of the Kuru kingdom and declare unlawful and untenable the dice game that took place here. Speak the words that you asked Panchali and Dharma’s brothers to say: that Dharma Yudhisthir had no right to wager what he did…his brothers, his wife, his people, his empire. Say that Dharma was in error and declare the gamble invalid.’

Syoddhan chuckled. ‘Dharma was in error; there is no doubt about that. But you’re a clever one, Govinda. Would not going further to declare the gamble void require that all that was lost revert to the one who played it as stake? And would that not further imply that Dharma Yudhisthir is still Emperor of Aryavarta?

‘At its furthest extent, it would.’

‘And I cannot bear the thought of a man who could treat his people, his family, as he did being in command of all our destinies.’

‘But he would not be in command. Reinstating him only proves the limits of his power, of any Emperor’s power.’

‘One cannot protect an ideal by destroying it, and that is what you’re suggesting I do, Govinda.’

Govinda smiled. ‘The ideal is upheld not by the specific instance, but by the larger truth. Help me make the larger truth apparent. Declare that neither you nor he had the authority to make those wagers. We shall consider the Empire relinquished to you. Let Dharma remain King of Indr-prastha, as he once was.’

‘That is impossible.’

‘It is necessary. You see, it is not the moral outcome of one dice game, but two, that must be reversed. There was one last throw, where you both wagered your kingdoms. His loss was what forced him into exile. Five villages, then? Five villages would make Dharma a vassal – your vassal. It should suffice.’

‘How often must I explain, Govinda?’ Syoddhan hissed through clenched teeth. ‘That man has no moral authority to command another person, ever again. You want him to be made King? I would not make him chief of a single village; why, I think he doesn’t deserve to command those of his own household. No. I will give Dharma nothing.’

Govinda sighed and took a while to consider his next words. He then addressed the entire assembly. ‘Is there anyone here who has never made a mistake? Does not every person deserve forgiveness for their errors?’

‘They do,’ Syoddhan answered. ‘But not when their penitence is wrought by their self-interest, and the admission of error is to their benefit. I too have made mistakes, Govinda. For one, I believe I have stood by in silence far too often while wrong was done. And for that I know I will go down in our history as an ambitious, evil man, and now here I am rejecting your so-called offer of peace as well. But such is justice. Such is Divine Order. Nothing matters more.’

‘Then it is war.’

‘Unless,
you
accept
my
offer of peace. Peace on my terms; fair and
reasonable
terms.’

‘And what are those terms?’

It was Syoddhan’s turn to smile, though what showed on his face was more of a sneer. He said, ‘Sit down, Govinda. It would not do to keep an emissary of your eminence standing.’

5

FOR MANY YEARS, SYODDHAN HAD RECOGNIZED THE EMOTION
he felt at the thought of Govinda Shauri to be curiosity. Govinda had been an unknown entity, a man cloaked in questions, but that had always stirred Syoddhan’s interest rather than disturbed him. Now, watching Govinda as he allowed himself to be led to a well-decked seat of honour and plied with signs of welcome and hospitality, Syoddhan realized that it was not curiosity; rather, it was a contradicting mix to which he could give no appropriate name.

Syoddhan envied Govinda his conviction and despised his lack of moral allegiance. He admired Govinda’s courage – for a lesser man could not have unified Aryavarta in the name of Dharma Yudhisthir – and he hated Govinda’s obvious cowardice for not daring to rule the realm that he controlled, other than through his puppet emperor. He enjoyed Govinda’s wit, but found his flippant nature irksome. He felt lighthearted when Govinda laughed, and cringed when he spoke. He wished Govinda were his friend. But right now, more than all of that, he wished Govinda were dead. Govinda was a Firewright and a friend to the Firstborn. Govinda was a traitor, a man with no allegiance. He was the essence of all that threatened Aryavarta, Divine Order and their noble way of life.

Syoddhan turned, as he often had, to the Grandsire, Bhisma Devavrata. He found his gaze returned. Today it was he, Syoddhan, whom Bhisma looked to with affection and trust, not Dharma Yudhisthir. It was all he could have wanted.

Letting the moment brand itself on his heart, Syoddhan said out loud, ‘Dharma must submit, in public, to my authority.’

‘Done,’ Govinda said.

‘Don’t be hasty, Govinda. Dharma must admit that he lost all to me in fair game and declare that he holds no title, no standing whatsoever. In return, I will host him, his brothers and their families here at Hastina, in state. They will be accorded all respect that is due to them as my cousins, and shall never be in fear for their safety. On that you have my word.’

‘I don’t doubt your word. But this serves no purpose as far as reversing the policy that was set by the game. You only affirm that Dharma indeed had the right to make those wagers, and thus passed his powers on to you.’