The Guardians of the Halahala (19 page)

“No, we are
not
seeking any appointment, because we don't particularly care about meeting your king,” the second horseman, Dasra, said curtly. “We would be happy to wait right here, as long as your king just hands over the dagger to us.”

Although taken aback by this brazen display of disrespect, the captain merely cleared his throat. “So, you would like the palace to be informed that you are here for this dagger.”

“Yes,” Nasatya spoke again. “And while you're at it, my advice would be to hurry things up a bit. We are not used to being kept waiting.”

“Indeed,” Dasra snorted, exchanging a caustic smile with his brother. “Else, we might be tempted to dispense with courtesy and ride into your pretty little city without invitation.”

The undercurrent of hostility wasn't lost on the captain, who stole a glance beyond the shoulders of the two horsemen. A little distance away stood a phalanx of cavalrymen, helmeted and armed to the teeth with bows, swords and shields. In the captain's opinion, they numbered roughly five hundred, and he was painfully aware that his own platoon of the City Watch, with less than twenty men, was hopelessly outnumbered. Worse, they were quite some distance outside Ujjayini's walls, in a plain to the east of the city.

In case of an eventuality, there was no question of expecting speedy reinforcements.

“And who shall I say wants the dagger?” he asked, mustering some confidence.

“The Brotherhood of the Ashvins from the court of Indra, king of the devas,” replied Nasatya.

***

“Aren't you glad that we brought these chariots along, after all?”

Varahamihira cocked an eyebrow and smiled at Vararuchi, who was leaning against one of the chariots and running an appreciative hand along the stock of a heavy, wooden ballista that was mounted on the back of the chariot. An arrow measuring a little over five feet was already wedged in the ballista's sliding trough, ready to be fired at short notice.

“They slowed us down quite a bit, but yes, in the end they also proved to be life savers,” agreed Vararuchi, his gaze lingering on the contraption. “Without this thing, we would never have managed to kill that monster.” Heaving a huge sigh, he looked at Varahamihira. “Remarkable thing you've designed. We must induct more of these into the Imperial Army.”

The troops were resting in the shoulder of the hills bordering the village of Trehi. A few fires had been lit, and soldiers dispatched to Trehi to fetch provisions for a late lunch. The wounded were being tended to, while the dead were still being counted and laid out by the edge of the plain. As the horses grazed fitfully in the hills, the men sat around in small clumps talking in subdued tones, their expressions ranging from fatigue to relief to triumph.

“But how did you manage crossing the river?” asked Kalidasa, tying a crude bandage around his badly scraped knee. “The chariots just kept sinking in the mud when we crossed it.”

“We moved a little to the east and found a point where the ground was harder and the currents less strong,” Varahamihira explained, as he hobbled on his crutch and sat down beside Kalidasa. “Still, we had to abandon two of the chariots. That's what delayed us.”

“I think you made it against the odds, and you made it in the nick of time.”

“Yes, though you almost got me killed with that first arrow. The slightest error in your aim and I would be lying there.” Vararuchi pointed to the row of bodies being laid out.

“The way I saw it, with your head almost inside the monster's mouth, you were as good as dead,” Varahamihira said with an offhand shrug. “I figured being struck by Avanti's arrows was a more dignified way of dying.”

As Kalidasa and Varahamihira exchanged cheeky grins, Vararuchi pressed a palm to his forehead in mock exasperation. Just then, a captain approached the councilors. “Your honor,” he addressed Vararuchi. “We have taken the final count.”

“So what are the damages like?”

“Two hundred and forty two men dead, and over three hundred and fifty injured, some fifty of them very grievously, your honor. A few of them won't pull through, I'm afraid. We've also lost about seventy horses.”

Vararuchi stared at the row of dead soldiers somberly for a moment. “What about the attackers?”

“We have counted some four hundred and thirty pishacha bodies. Apart from that big one.”

Varahamihira opened his mouth to say something, but he was cut short by an agonized scream from one of the soldiers being lifted onto a makeshift stretcher. The soldier's upper arm and shoulder was a mass of bloodied, mangled tissue, the white of the bone showing where a pishacha's teeth had torn off a sizeable chunk of flesh.

Varahamihira winced, waiting for the scream to die down. Once silence was restored, he asked, “Have we captured any of the attackers alive?”

“None, your honor. They all managed to flee.”

“I want all the pishachas and that monster to be dumped into a pit and burned to ash,” instructed Vararuchi, his face clouding with rage.

“Yes, your honor. And... what about our dead?” the captain gestured to the line behind him. “Are we taking them back with us?”

“Ujjayini is just half a day's journey,” said Vararuchi with a brusque nod. “Avanti's fallen deserve to have their last rites performed on the banks of the sacred Kshipra.”

***

“From their manner, it is plain that they want to intimidate us into giving up the Halahala, or provoke us into a confrontation,” said Vetala Bhatta, glancing from the samrat to Kshapanaka. Dhanavantri was standing by the Acharya's side, while Shanku, as always, hung back deferentially. “No kind words or sweet enticements of the kind Narada dished out the other day.”

The king and the four councilors were in a private chamber annexed to the royal court, holding a hurried consultation over the demand placed by the horsemen from Devaloka.

“With a force that's just five hundred strong, I don't think intimidation is a particularly good strategy to adopt,” Dhanavantri shrugged his fat shoulders.

“Well, if the idea is to intimidate, it's not going to work, no matter what their numerical strength is,” said Vikramaditya hotly. “And if they are spoiling for a fight, they shall not return disappointed. Acharya, please inform the City Watch to barricade the gates and set up archers along the walls. And let the Imperial garrison know that I want a thousand cavalrymen and infantrymen each to ride with me into battle.”

“Surely you're not planning to go out there yourself, samrat?” The raj-guru assessed the king with his shrewd eyes.

“Of course I am.” Vikramaditya looked at Vetala Bhatta in surprise. “By refusing to come to the court of Ujjayini and insisting that
we
go to them with the dagger, the Ashvins have issued a direct challenge to Avanti. I have decided to accept it – though I will give them one opportunity to change their minds and return in peace.”

“But if you ride into battle, you'd be playing straight into their hands, Vikrama.”

The samrat considered the Acharya narrowly, even as the other three councilors exchanged puzzled glances.

“Those horsemen aren't fools – they probably know we won't surrender the dagger without a fight. What they expect, however, is that you will be provoked by their insolence and will ride out to meet them. If you do that, they would have succeeded in dictating the terms of the engagement. Without raising a finger, they would have got the king of Avanti to leave his palace and come to them, instead of the other way round.”

“Mind games...” the king nodded ponderingly. “I see what you mean, Acharya.”

“Yes. Your going there would mean that you concede that the Ashvins are important enough to merit your attention – we mustn't give the Ashvin commanders that satisfaction. The message from the court of Ujjayini should convey that the king of Avanti cannot be bothered by a band of horsemen and their petty threats.”

“But the Ashvins have made the first move by ordering us to yield the dagger,” Vikramaditya contested. “It's an open challenge, and not responding to it would be cowardice. We can't just ignore the challenge by hiding inside the palace gates; we have to counter it.”

“I said nothing about ignoring the challenge,” the raj-guru pointed out. “I only said
you
shouldn't be the one seen to be affected by it.”

A pregnant pause ensued, the stillness so intense that the hushed murmurs in the adjoining court magnified into a steady, monotonous drone. Vetala Bhatta looked at the four faces around him, his gaze finally settling on the samrat.

“With your permission, let the four of us deal with the Brotherhood of the Ashvins.”

***

The cavalcade from Kosala wound its way down the wooded hill, the gates to the palace of Magadha slowly receding from view.

Pallavan, who was seated inside a shuttered carriage, peeked through the curtains, observing the city of Girivraja through the breaks in the trees. The city appeared quiet and peaceful from these hilly heights, but the envoy knew things were always deceptive when viewed from a distance. And anyway, he could see smears of black smoke still rising from a few quarters of the capital – grim reminders of the crude justice that Magadha's arsonists and lynch mobs had very recently meted out on the hapless population of Kikatas.

After his meeting with Shoorasena, Pallavan was left with no doubt that the killing of the Kikatas was taking the form of a systematic extermination, with the full backing of the palace of Magadha. What he wasn't sure about was the cause behind this sudden animosity. He knew that the Kikatas were largely peaceloving, had integrated well into Magadhan society, and were, by and large, unresponsive to the few voices of dissent raised against Magadhan rule.

So, even if the late king's bodyguard had been part of that lunatic fringe, there was no reason for Magadha to turn against all its Kikata subjects...

Pallavan was lost in his thoughts when his carriage drew to a sudden, unexpected halt. At the same instant, the envoy heard a minor commotion from somewhere up ahead. Pulling a curtain aside, he poked his head out and craned his neck to see what was happening; however, a bend in the road obstructed his view.

Sliding across the seat, the envoy pushed open the curtain on the other side and looked out. He saw five horsemen from his escort milling around a puny man, who seemed to be making an entreaty of some sort. The escorts appeared to be arguing and pushing the man away.

“What's happening?” Pallavan inquired of an escort who was standing by his carriage.

The horseman rode up to the group and exchanged a few words with one of the escorts in front. Pallavan noticed that the small man stood to one side, defenseless and miserable, his hands joined in supplication. Shortly, the horseman turned back.

“That man is obstructing our path, sir,” the horseman explained. “He insists on meeting you, and he won't let us pass, even when whipped. He says his life is in danger and that you must save him.”

“Who is he?”

“He says he is a traveling musician, sir.”

Baffled, Pallavan looked at the man cringing by the side of the road. Then, obeying an instinct that even he couldn't fully explain, the envoy raised his voice and addressed the escorts in front.

“Let him come.”

The horsemen reluctantly allowed the man to pass, and he immediately approached the carriage, cowering and trembling with fear.

“What do you want?” Pallavan asked kindly.

“You must help me, good sir. I am a musician. I heard you are from Kosala. My grandmother was from Kosala too. I have come running to you. You must help me, please.”

“Okay, but what do you want from me?” the envoy urged patiently.

“My life is at risk in Magadha, sir. I want you to take me to Kosala with you.” This time the man was a little more lucid.

“Are you a Kikata?”

“No sir. But I have seen something and I fear I will be discovered...” A look of terror eclipsed the man's face as he looked around and shivered. “If they find out that I saw what really happened in the palace, they will kill me the way they killed the old king's bodyguard.”

For a fraction of a second, Pallavan's face froze as he processed the implications of the man's words. Then, looking around swiftly to check if they were being observed, he swung open the carriage door.

“Get inside,” he said sharply. He knew that the cavalcade had diplomatic immunity and that it wouldn't be stopped and searched without good reason.

Once the man had clambered onto the carriage, Pallavan looked up at his escorts. “We ride full speed here onwards. No slowing down till we are beyond Magadha's borders.”

As the cavalcade gathered momentum, the envoy cursed and drew the flimsy curtains close together. He then looked expectantly at the man seated on the floor of the carriage.

“As long as you keep your head down, you are safe inside my carriage. Now tell me what happened in the palace... what you saw. Tell me everything.”

***

A shaft of golden yellow sunshine burst through the gloomy, westerly sky, drenching the plain outside Ujjayini in its fleeting exuberance, as the four councilors rode past the city's eastern gate to meet the Ashvin cavalry. The Acharya's horse was marginally in front, with Kshapanaka following him, flanked by Shanku and Dhanavantri. A small posse of soldiers brought up the rear.

Behind the cavalcade, high on the ramparts, archers of the City Watch crouched behind the fortifications, carefully observing the Ashvins clustered in the distance. Down below, Avanti's infantry and cavalry stood in orderly lines behind the heavily barricaded gate.

Seeing the small group emerge from the city's shadows into the sunlight, Nasatya, who sat astride his horse, leaning an elbow on his thigh, casually flicked back a lock of hair from his handsome face and looked across at his brother with a smirk.