Scion of Ikshvaku (5 page)

But things continued to deteriorate.

The troops on the Lankan ships in the distance abruptly weighed anchor, extended the oars, and began to row rapidly to the beach, with their sails up at full mast to help them catch the wind. Within moments, arrows were being fired from the ships into the densely packed forces under Dashrath’s command. The Lankan archers on the ships tore through the ranks of the Sapt Sindhus.

No brigadier in Dashrath’s army had factored in the possibility of the enemy ships beaching; it would have cracked their hulls. Unbeknownst to them, though, these were amphibious crafts, built by Kubaer’s ingenious ship-designers, with specially constructed hulls that could absorb the shock of landing. Even as these landing crafts stormed onto the beach with tremendous force, the broad bows of the hulls rolled out from the top. These were no ordinary bows of a standard hull. They were attached to the bottom of the hull by huge hinges which simply rolled out onto the sand like a landing ramp. This opened a gangway straight onto the beach, disgorging cavalrymen of the Lankan army mounted on disproportionately large horses imported from the west. The cavalry rode out of the ships and straight onto the beach, mercilessly slicing into all who lay in their path.

Even as he watched the destruction unleashed upon his forces near the fort, Dashrath’s instincts warned him that something terrible was ensuing at the rear guard. As the emperor stretched to gaze beyond the sea of frenzied battling humanity, he detected a quick movement to his left and raised his shield in time to block a vicious blow from a Lankan soldier. Screaming ferociously, the king of Ayodhya brutally swung low at his attacker, his sword slicing through a chink in the armour. The Lankan fell back as his abdomen ripped open with a massive spurt of blood, accompanied by slick pink intestines that tumbled out in a rush. Dashrath knew no mercy as he turned away from the poor sod even as he bled to his miserable end.

‘NO!’ he yelled. What he saw was enough to break his mighty warrior’s heart.

Caught between the vicious pincer attack of the brutal Lankan archers and infantry at the Karachapa walls from the front, and the fierce Lankan cavalry at the back, the spirit of his all-conquering army had all but collapsed. Dashrath stared at a scene he’d never imagined he would as the supreme commander of his glorious army. His men had broken rank and were in retreat.

‘NO!’ thundered Dashrath. ‘FIGHT! FIGHT! WE ARE AYODHYA! THE UNCONQUERABLES!’

Dashrath swung hard and decapitated a giant Lankan in one mighty blow. As he turned to face another of the seemingly never-ending waves of Raavan’s hordes, his gaze fell upon the monster who was the mastermind of this devastation. Raavan, on horseback, was leading his cavalry down the beach on the left, skirting the sea. It was the only flank of the Lankans that was open to counter-attack from the Ayodhya infantry. Accompanied by his well-trained cavalry, Raavan was shrieking maniacally and hacking his way brutally through the Ayodhya outer infantry lines before they could regroup. This was not a war anymore. It was a massacre.

Dashrath knew that he’d lost the battle. He also knew that he’d rather die than face defeat. But he had one last wish. Redemption lay in his spitting on the decapitated head of that ogre from Lanka.

‘YAAAAAHH!’ screamed Dashrath, as he hacked at the arm of a Lankan who jumped at him, severing the limb cleanly just above the wrist. Pushing his enemy out of the way, Dashrath lunged forward as he desperately tried to reach Raavan. He felt a shield crash into his calf and heard the crack of a bone above the din.

The mighty emperor of the Sapt Sindhu screamed as he spun around and swung his sword at the Lankan who had broken the rules of combat, decapitating him cleanly. He felt a hard knock on his back. He turned right back with a parry, but his broken leg gave way. As he fell forward, he felt a sharp thrust into his chest.
Someone had stabbed him.
He didn’t feel the blade go in too deep.
Or had it gone in deeper than he thought?
Maybe his body was shutting the pain out…
Dashrath felt darkness enveloping him. His fall was cushioned by another soldier from among the heaving mass of warriors battling in close combat. As his eyes slowly closed, he whispered his last prayers within the confines of his mind; to the God he revered the most: the sustainer of the world, the mighty Sun God Surya himself.

Don’t let me live to bear this, Lord Surya. Let me die. Let me die…

This is a disaster!

A panic-stricken Ashwapati rounded up his bravest mounted soldiers and raced across the battlefield on horseback. He negotiated his way through the clutter of bodies to quickly reach the kill zone right outside Karachapa fort, where Dashrath lay, probably seriously injured, if not dead.

Ashwapati knew the war had been lost. Vast numbers of the Sapt Sindhu soldiers were being massacred before his very eyes. All he wanted now was to save Emperor Dashrath, who was also his son-in-law. His Kaikeyi would not be widowed.

They rode hard through the battle zone, even as they held their shields high to protect themselves from the unrelenting barrage of arrows raining down from the Karachapa walls.

‘There!’ screamed a soldier.

Ashwapati saw Dashrath’s motionless form wedged between the corpses of two soldiers. His son-in-law lay there firmly clutching his sword. The king of Kekaya leapt off his horse even as two soldiers rushed forward to offer him protection. Ashwapati dragged Dashrath towards his own horse, lifted him, and laid the emperor’s severely injured body across the saddle. He then jumped astride and rode off towards the field of thorny bushes even as his soldiers struggled to keep up with him.

Kaikeyi stood resolute in her chariot near the clearing along the line of bushes, her demeanour admirably calm. As her father’s horse drew near, she reached across and dragged Dashrath’s prone body into the chariot. She didn’t turn to look at her father, who had also been pierced by many arrows. She picked up the reins and whipped the four horses tethered to her chariot.

‘Hyaah!’ screamed Kaikeyi, as she charged into the bushes. Thorns tore mercilessly into the sides of the horses, ripping skin and even some flesh off the hapless animals. But Kaikeyi only kept whipping them harder and harder. Bloodied and tired, the horses soon broke through to the other side, onto clear land.

Kaikeyi finally pulled the reins and looked back. Riding furiously on the other side of the field of thorns, her father and his bodyguards were being chased by a group of mounted soldiers from Raavan’s army. Kaikeyi understood immediately what her father was trying to do. He was leading Raavan’s soldiers away from her.

The sun had nearly reached its zenith now. It was close to midday.

Kaikeyi cursed.
Damn you, Lord Surya! How could you allow this to happen to your most fervent devotee?

She kneeled beside her unconscious husband, ripped off a large piece of her
angvastram,
and tied it firmly around a deep wound on his chest, which was losing blood at an alarming rate. Having staunched the blood flow somewhat, she stood and picked up the reins. She desperately wanted to cry but this was not the time. She had to save her husband first. She needed her wits about her.

She looked at the horses. Blood was pouring down their sides in torrents, and specks of flesh hung limply where the skin had been ripped off. They were panting frantically, exhausted by the effort of having pulled the chariot through the dense field of thorns. But she couldn’t allow them any respite. Not yet.

‘Forgive me,’ whispered Kaikeyi, as she raised her whip.

The leather hummed through the air and lashed the horses cruelly. Neighing for mercy, they refused to move. Kaikeyi cracked her whip again and the horses edged forward.

‘MOVE!’ screamed Kaikeyi as she whipped the horses ruthlessly, again and again, forcing them to pick up a desperate but fearsome momentum.

She had to save her husband.

Suddenly an arrow whizzed past her and crashed into the front board of the chariot with frightening intensity. Kaikeyi spun around in alarm. One of Raavan’s cavalrymen had broken off from his group and was in pursuit.

Kaikeyi turned back and whipped her horses harder. ‘FASTER! FASTER!’

Even as she whipped her horses into delirious frenzy, Kaikeyi had the presence of mind to shift slightly and use her body to shield her husband.

Even Raavan’s demons would be chivalrous enough not to attack an unarmed woman.

She was wrong.

She heard the arrow’s threatening hum before it slammed into her back with vicious force. Its shock was so massive that it threw her forward as her head flung back. Her eyes beheld the sky as Kaikeyi screamed in agony. But she recovered immediately, the adrenaline pumping furiously through her body, compelling her to focus.

‘FASTER!’ she screamed, as she whipped the horses ferociously.

Another arrow whizzed by her ears, missing the back of her head by a tiny whisker. Kaikeyi cast a quick look at her husband’s immobile body bouncing furiously as the chariot tore through the uneven countryside.

‘FASTER!’

She heard another arrow approach, and within a flash it slammed into her right hand, slicing through the forefinger cleanly; it bounced away like a pebble thrown to the side. The whip fell from her suddenly-loosened grip. Her mind was ready for further injuries now, her body equipped for pain. She didn’t scream. She didn’t cry.

She bent quickly and picked up the whip with her left hand, transferring the reins to her bloodied right hand. She resumed the whipping with mechanical precision.

‘MOVE! YOUR EMPEROR’S LIFE IS AT STAKE!’

She heard the dreaded whizz of another arrow. She steeled herself for another hit; instead, she now heard a scream of agony from behind her. A quick side glance revealed her injured foe; the arrow had buried itself deep into his right eye. What she also perceived was a band of horsemen moving in; her father and his faithful bodyguards. A flurry of arrows ensured that the Lankan attacker toppled off his animal, even as his leg got entangled in the stirrup. Raavan’s soldier was dragged for many metres by his still galloping horse, his head smashing repeatedly against the rocks strewn on the path.

Kaikeyi looked ahead once again. She did not have the time to savour the brutal death of the man who’d injured her.
Dashrath must be saved.

The rhythmic whipping continued ceaselessly.

‘FASTER! FASTER!’

Nilanjana was patting the baby’s back insistently. He still wasn’t breathing.

‘Come on! Breathe!’

Kaushalya watched anxiously as she lay exhausted from the abnormally long labour. She tried to prop herself up on her elbows. ‘What’s wrong? What’s the matter with my boy?’

‘Get the queen to rest, will you?’ Nilanjana admonished the attendant who was peering over her shoulder.

Rushing over, the attendant put her hand on the queen’s shoulder and attempted to coax her to lie down. A severely weakened Kaushalya, however, refused to submit. ‘Give him to me!’

‘Your Highness…’ whispered Nilanjana as tears welled up in her eyes.

‘Give him to me!’

‘I don’t think that…’

‘GIVE HIM TO ME!’

Nilanjana hurried over to her side and placed the lifeless baby next to Kaushalya. The queen held her motionless son close to her bosom. Almost instantly the baby moved and intuitively gripped Kaushalya’s long hair.

‘Ram!’ said Kaushalya loudly.

With a loud and vigorous cry, Ram sucked in his first breath in this, his current worldly life.

‘Ram!’ cried Kaushalya once again, as tears streamed down her cheeks.

Ram continued to bawl with robust gusto, holding on to his mother’s hair as firmly as his tiny hands would permit. He opened his mouth and suckled reflexively.

Nilanjana felt as if a dam had burst and began to bawl like a child. Her mistress had given birth to a beautiful baby boy. The prince had been born!

Despite her evident delirium, Nilanjana did not forget her training. She looked to the far corner of the room at the
prahar
lamp to record the exact time of birth. She knew that the royal astrologer would need that information.