Prince of Dharma (86 page)

Shatrugan added in a mischievous tone: ‘Oh, and he’s recently been married.’ 

Bharat turned to stare at his brother. ‘How can you tell that? Sure, he’s wearing a yagna thread around his wrist, but that could be from any yagna ceremony. Not necessarily a marriage! How can you be sure he’s married?’ 

Shatrugan grinned back. ‘Because we attended his marriage. The day before Holi. Bejoo-chacha asked us personally to put in an appearance.’ 

To the senapati, Shatrugan added, ‘His name is Bheriya, first lieutenant to Vajra Captain Bejoo, commander of the maharaja’s personal Vajra.’ 

‘Damn!’ Bharat slapped his own thigh with a firmly muscled fist. ‘Of course! I should have remembered that!’ 

The senapati nodded approvingly, ignoring Bharat’s outburst. ‘Well done, rajkumars. Keen eyes and sharp minds are a Kshatriya’s best weapons. Now, I hand over the task of inspection to both of you equally.’ 

The two princes looked at each other, their playful rivalry forgotten at once. Over the past few days they had involved themselves in every aspect of Ayodhya’s security and defence, from joining in army training exercises to saddling elephants, putting in stints as weaponsmiths, attending classes in military strategy and philosophy, interviewing veterans on their personal experiences, and anything else they could find to occupy the time. It was difficult enough being forced to wait here impotently for news of their brothers, not knowing if Rama and Lakshman’s mission to the Southwoods had ended in failure or triumph, and the hectic schedule of activity the senapati had drawn up for them had helped them get through without yielding to frustration or anxiety. This was their third tour of duty on the city walls and they had enjoyed an unexciting morning, forced to wait behind the barred first gate and merely watch and listen as the senapati or his associates challenged visitors and checked their credentials before permitting or denying them access to the city. Now, finally, they were being given a chance to actually do something! 

Shatrugan took the lead by mutual consent. 

Stepping to the rampart, which shielded and protected his torso and lower body while allowing him to speak freely to the Kshatriya standing on the raj-marg below, he raised a hand as he had seen the senapati do a dozen times since sunrise. 

‘Identify yourself and state your business.’ 

The Kshatriya performed an Arya salute. ‘Rajkumar Shatrugan? It is I, Bheriya, second-in-command of the maharaja’s Vajra. I carry a message of great urgency from my commander Captain Bejoo to Maharaja Dasaratha.’ 

Bharat spoke next. ‘The city is on high alert. You will have to prove your identity before you are permitted to pass. Is there anyone who will vouch for you?’ The man inclined his head at Dheeraj Kumar. ‘Senapati Dheeraj Kumar knows me well. He was my guru of military strategy during my training. Senapatiji, I request you to acknowledge me.’ 

The senapati replied formally: ‘So acknowledged.’ 

‘Very well, Kshatriya,’ Shatrugan said. ‘You may hand over your message to us and be on your way. We shall see that it reaches the maharaja speedily.’ 

The Kshatriya shook his head slowly. ‘I beg your pardon, rajkumar, but my message is verbal, not scrolled. And my captain’s orders were to deliver it in person to the maharaja and none other. It is a matter of Kosala’s national security.’ 

Bharat and Shatrugan exchanged a glance. 

Bharat said, ‘Be that as it may, nobody is permitted to visit the maharaja.’ He didn’t add that Dasaratha was recovering and unable to receive visitors. It wasn’t relevant to the situation. 

‘You will have to deliver your message verbally to either Rajkumar Shatrugan or myself and trust us to make certain it reaches the maharaja’s ears. As fellow Kshatriyas and citizens of Kosala, we shall ensure its secure and swift passage.’ 

The man looked up unhappily, his grimy, blood-streaked face wan with exhaustion. ‘Once again I beg your pardon, rajkumar, but I would defy my captain’s orders by doing what you ask. His instructions were explicitly clear. My message must be delivered to the maharaja in person and spoken only in his presence.’ He indicated the sun shining down harshly. ‘Already precious time is wasting. As you can see, I almost killed these two fine Kambhoja stallions to get here as fast as possible. Pray, do not delay my business further. You have my word as an Arya and as a Kshatriya that my message is of grave importance to the well-being of the entire kingdom as well as the city of Ayodhya itself. I beg you, let me pass within the gates and address the maharaja directly.’ 

Shatrugan leaned over and spoke softly to Bharat, keeping his voice pitched just loud enough for the senapati to hear as well. ‘I say we let him pass. He has been acknowledged and identified. We can search his person and subject him to the scrutiny of Guru Vashishta before taking him before Father. There’s no point prolonging this conversation further. If his message really is that urgent, Father needs to hear it fast.’ 

Bharat nodded, agreeing. ‘And he is awake and alert again. Yes, he should hear this man’s message quickly.’ 

Both rajkumars glanced briefly at the senapati. Although he had left the entire exchange to them, he was still the superior officer on duty. 

‘With your permission, Senapati, we wish to permit the visitor to proceed to the seventh gate for further verification prior to his being granted an audience with the maharaja.’ 

Senapati Dheeraj Kumar was impressed. The rajkumars were doing their job admirably enough, but it wasn’t their ability to handle the gatewatch task that impressed him. It was the fact that they had both avoided making any mention of their brothers thus far. Both Shatrugan and Bharat knew that Captain Bejoo’s Vajra had been dispatched to accompany the rajkumars on their Southwoods mission. This lieutenant would surely know how that mission had transpired. Yet neither prince broke protocol to ask the personal questions that must certainly be burning in their minds at this moment: How are our brothers? Are Rama and Lakshman alive and well? They were too well disciplined. 

He nodded curtly at them. ‘I concur. However, before you proceed, I have a query of my own for the visitor.’ 

They bowed their heads at once, acknowledging his privilege. ‘Of course, Senapati.’ 

Dheeraj Kumar stepped forward to show himself over the rampart. He addressed the visitor directly. 

‘Kshatriya, on your last mission, you were stationed with the rajkumars Rama and Lakshman, is that right?’ 

‘Indeed, sire. It was my privilege.’ 

‘In that case, tell me when you last saw them and in what state they both were.’ 

Beside him, he felt Bharat and Shatrugan growing alert and tense as they awaited the Kshatriya’s reply. This was the moment of truth. Were Rama and Lakshman all right? Every citizen in Ayodhya had waited nine days to know the answer. 

The Vajra Kshatriya looked up at the senapati silently, then down at the ground, at his sandals worn threadbare and on the verge of falling apart, at the moat that still separated him from the first gate. The water level was a good ten yards below his feet, but the surface teemed with various predators hopeful of receiving an unexpected addition to their natural diet. An eager gharial’s long, swordlike snout scratched the side of the moat’s stone-lined wall, snapping eagerly up at the Kshatriya. Bheriya stared down at the gharial as if he wished he could leap straight into its gaping mouth. 

‘Kshatriya,’ Dheeraj Kumar called out. ‘Did you not hear my question? What of the rajkumars Rama and Lakshman? What news do you have of them?’ 

With obvious reluctance, the Vajra lieutenant raised his head and looked up at the senapati. His face, lined with exhaustion, grime and dried blood, looked pleadingly at the general. ‘Sire, I regret that I am unable to answer your question.’ 

Shatrugan clutched Bharat’s arm reflexively. The heftier prince had leaned forward at the visitor’s response, as if he wanted to leap down off the wall, over the moat, and on to the Kshatriya himself. To beat the answer out of that stubborn man, Dheeraj Kumar guessed. But privately, he admired the Vajra lieutenant’s steadfastness. The man was only doing his job. 

Still, that didn’t stop Dheeraj Kumar from steeling his voice when he spoke again. ‘You will answer my question or return with your task unfulfilled. The choice is yours, Kshatriya.’ 

The man looked stricken. He joined his hands together. ‘I beg of you, Senapati. Grant me my audience with the maharaja and your query shall be answered as well. My lips are sealed here because the information you seek is part of the message I am entrusted with passing on solely to the maharaja. I cannot violate my orders by speaking even that portion of the message here.’ 

Bharat and Shatrugan looked at each other. Senapati Dheeraj Kumar saw the expression on their faces and understood exactly what they were thinking. Even though the Vajra lieutenant hadn’t answered his question directly, his refusal itself was reply enough. Had the rajkumars been safe and sound, there would have been no need for secrecy. If news of their condition was part of the secret message, that could only mean one thing. 

Rama and Lakshman were either seriously injured, or dead. 

SIXTEEN 

Sumitra swam up out of a nightmarish vision of a giant cobra attacking her sons. In her dream, the twins were still mere infants, peacefully asleep in their cribs, gaining a few scant hours of rest from their perennial squabbling. Even in his sleep, Lakshman still hitched in his breath resentfully at irregular intervals–he had lost the last bout to Shatrugan. Both boys had their thumbs securely stuck in their mouths, and each clutched a separate corner of the same favourite blanket in his tiny fist. Lying facing away from one another, the blanket tugged taut between them, they resembled each other so perfectly, even down to their grumpy expressions, that even Sumitra could only tell them apart by Lakshman’s irregular breathing. 

She was lying right beside them, her fingers gently brushing away curls of hair from their chubby faces, when the cobra appeared. It reared up from behind the bed, its enormous hood fanning out and casting the entire room into shadow. Its black eyes glinted demonically as it hissed, the long, sharply forked tongue flicking out to spatter droplets of venom all over the blanket. It grew impossibly huge in size, looming over them all, its hooded head bursting through the roof of the chamber, rising above the chamber, the palace, the city itself, so aweinspiring in its power and deadly beauty that she knew it could be none other than Takshak himself, king of the cobras. 

But its face was the face of the Second Queen. 

Kaikeyi looked directly into Sumitra’s eyes and issued a sibilant cry that was as deafening as a squalling ocean battering against the sides of a storm-tossed ship.’ 

‘SSSSSUMITRA! NEXT IT’LL BE THE TURN OF YOUR SONSSSSSS!’ 

Sumitra woke up screaming. 

Kausalya’s gentle hand caught her in time before she could fall out of bed. ‘Hush, Sumitra,’ the First Queen said softly. ‘There’s no danger here. You’re safe.’ 

Sumitra sat up, her chest heaving, sari unwound, hair over her face. She looked around the chamber, assuring herself that it had been just a nightmare. Her breathing gradually slowed enough to permit speech. ‘It was Kaikeyi again. This time she was after Lakshman and Shatrugan.’ 

‘It was just a bad dream. You’re still in shock.’ 

Sumitra looked around wild-eyed, still needing confirmation that the chamber was clear. Kausalya and she were alone in the room. A maid appeared at the doorway, looking in inquisitively. Kausalya waved her away, then picked up something from the bedside table. She turned back with a drinking vessel in her hands and brought it slowly to Sumitra’s lips. ‘Here, drink some water.’ 

Sumitra took a sip, still shivering from the memory of the dream. 

‘Enough,’ she said, sitting up further. She caught Kausalya’s wrist, spilling a little water. ‘Kausalya, tell me. Were you able to catch the shrew? Did you and Guru Vashishta confront her and tell her that I saw it all?’ 

Kausalya moved the vessel to her other hand and put it back on the bedside table. ‘We confronted her. We told her all that you described to the guru and me. About your seeing her in the maharaja’s room, straddling him, biting him … ‘ 

‘Like a snake! A giant she-snake with huge fangs!’ Sumitra held up two fingers inverted before her own lips to show how large the fangs had been. ‘And she wasn’t just biting him. She was poisoning him. I saw the venom dripping, Kausalya. It stained his ang-vastra. The mark must still be there. And devi help us, I think she put her fangs into his neck. Devi alone knows what the venom would have done to him in his sickly state.’ 

Kausalya looked down at the space between them, smoothing the ruffled bedcover. ‘Sumitra, Kaikeyi was in her own bedchamber, deep in meditation. She hasn’t left her chamber for the past nine days. I had placed my own guards on double watch at the hallway to her apartments; they confirmed that the Second Queen hasn’t come out from her rooms even once in all that time.’ 

Sumitra stared at her. ‘What do you mean? I saw her, Kausalya. I saw her right there in the sick-chamber!’ 

Kausalya looked up, her face gentle but apologetic. ‘Sumitra, she couldn’t have been in the maharaja’s sickroom. Even the maharaja’s palace guards confirm it. Nobody saw Kaikeyi leave her rooms or enter Dasaratha’s chambers.’ 

‘Nobody except me, you mean?’ Sumitra got out of bed, pushing away the sheet with which Kausalya had covered her while she had slept. She went to the window, looking out. The thick drapes were tightly drawn, but the spring sunshine shone brightly through the cracks. She guessed from the angle of light that it was past noon. She had slept the whole morning away.