The Aryavarta Chronicles Kaurava: Book 2 (46 page)

Syoddhan stayed as he was for a while, glaring at Partha. Then he too turned and headed back to join his troops.

‘What just happened?’ Uttara asked amazed as, slowly, the enemy forces came into formation and, at the signal from many horns, began to retreat.

‘I think,’ Partha said, equally astounded, ‘we just won.’

The counsellors and commanders of Syoddhan’s forces had gathered in a circle. Three men stood at the centre of it all, fighting their own silent battle of wills. Around them, the sound of troops, marching as they fell back, filled the air.

It was Vasusena who spoke first, giving form to the tension in the air. ‘How could you, Syoddhan? Just because he said so…’ he pointed to Asvattama.

‘He had a point. We came here to conquer Matsya, not fight private battles.’

‘And you will turn away from Matsya with your tail between your legs because one man stood in your way? I don’t understand. What perverted sense of honour is this? Just because
he
told you he wouldn’t fight.’

Asvattama cut in, ‘
He
is standing right here, and can speak for himself.’

‘Then,’ Vasusena turned to face Asvattama, ‘I suggest
he
explain how an advice to retreat in these circumstances constitutes loyalty. You said you had an obligation not to fight. That sounds like you owe them more than you owe your liege-lord here.’

‘A man is not defined by one allegiance alone, Vasusena. If he were, then reason would have no value, nor would loyalty have meaning. I am capable of remaining true to a greater principle and yet serving Syoddhan as a faithful vassal. If it is my loyalty you question…’

‘If I may interrupt…’ Sanjaya’s voice gently intruded from those gathered around the trio.

Asvattama turned on him, visibly irate. ‘Welcome, Suta. Amazing how you are never to be found when we ride to battle, but as soon as we stop to talk there you are! An enviable talent, if cowardice were a thing to envy!’

‘Stop it! All of you!’ Syoddhan called out. His raised a hand, firmly forbidding Dron or Bhisma from adding to the argument. ‘My decision is final. And my reasons are my own. We fall back.’

‘And if,’ Vasusena persisted, despite the caution, ‘Susarman should have won in the west?’

‘Vathu, Vasusena!’ Bhisma did not pass up the opportunity to put down the other man. ‘Use your head, if you have one. We used Susarman to draw out the Matsya army, knowing full well that it would be difficult for him to win that battle. It was to be a distraction while we took Upaplavya. That which was difficult in any circumstances is surely impossible if Partha’s brothers ride with the Matsya army, which they most likely do. Susarman could not have won in the west.’

Dron added, ‘That being the case, if Matsya’s army is riding back towards Upaplavya before we take the city, we will have lost our only advantage. Our strategy was to take the capital in a surprise stroke. That may not be possible anymore. We lack the strength to meet Matsya’s forces in war. From what my spies tell me, they are about four to five divisions strong.’

Sanjaya edged his way into the triangle of confidence. Asvattama refused to move, forcing Sanjaya to stay a foot behind and to the left of Syoddhan. Sanjaya ignored the slight, and directed his words at Vasusena, ‘If Susarman has indeed lost in the west, then it is all the more to our
advantage
that we withdraw. You heard what Partha said. Clearly, he and the others have been living here in hiding. Now that he has revealed his identity, and that too in the presence of Matsya’s princess, Matsya’s Chief will take care of them for us. Won’t they, Grandsire?’

Bhisma was taken aback at being suddenly addressed. Recovering quickly, he gave a firm nod.

Vasusena said, ‘I’m not convinced.’

Sanjaya sighed. ‘What we need from Matsya we will get. Let us go.’

‘What do you mean, Sanjaya?’ As the implications of the statement dawned on him, Vasusena spat out, ‘Where is Devala?’

Sanjaya merely smiled.

Syoddhan frowned. ‘You should not have acted of your own accord, Sanjaya. Devala…’

‘Is expendable. If he fails, he will be seen as a traitor who wanted to take advantage of the situation. If he succeeds…’

As though the statement settled all concerns, the group slowly began to disperse. Each of the men went to oversee the retreat of their respective divisions, and to impress upon their men that it was a tactical move. Dron could be heard muttering an old adage about commanders who retreated not remaining in command for long. Syoddhan ignored it, and turned his attention again to Vasusena, who had not moved. ‘What is it now?’ he asked.

‘Let me go after him, Syoddhan. Alone, or with just a few men. Just as your outstanding debt makes you retreat, mine compels me to go after him. I cannot forgive or forget my humiliation at Panchali’s wedding contest. I want Partha’s blood.’

‘What… After all these years?’ Syoddhan looked at his dear friend with incomprehension, for he had thought that nothing meant more to the Anga king than loyalty and friendship. Vasusena, however, brimmed with vengeance, an old vengeance that had been all but forgotten. Seeing his friend this way left Syoddhan at a loss for words.

Vasusena said quietly, ‘I have always been your friend, Syoddhan. Please be mine. If I fail, you can disavow all knowledge of it. The blame for anything that comes of this shall lie on me alone.’

Syoddhan started at the words, then he said, ‘Is that all you want from me, Vasusena? All right. Go. I will lead your divisions back for now.’

Vasusena pulled Syoddhan into an impulsive embrace and then went straight for his horse. He let out a low whistle as he mounted his steed. Ten of his best men fell in behind him. Syoddhan watched as they rode out before anyone could notice. Except Asvattama. ‘I didn’t know, Syoddhan, that to you friendship means letting your friends do things that are foolish, even wrong,’ he remarked.

‘Friendship means respecting the other person’s priorities even if they are not your own,’ Syoddhan said, adding, ‘I learnt that from you, my friend.’

Asvattama did not answer. He watched the lone eagle circling the sky above, as he placed his hands behind his head and brought his elbows together, stretching his upper back till muscle and bone settled into place with a creak. ‘I grow old. We all do. What now? I suppose it’s too much to expect that it is over?’

Syoddhan was about to answer, but stopped short as he felt a strange chill descend on him. The hair on the back of his neck stood on end and his spine tingled. He turned to see if anyone were watching him. He saw no one in the vicinity except for Sanjaya.

Turning back, he said, ‘No, Asvattama. Something tells me that it is far from over. And I cannot help but feel a little…afraid…of what might come next. I do not know or understand what it is we do anymore. What has happened to us, to this realm? Or is this what all who live to see such times, who stand as emperors and kings, feel? Is this our destiny? Or can we make our own? No, Acharya,’ Syoddhan respectfully stopped Asvattama, who was about to speak, ‘no philosophy, no advice, no observations. Not now. If you must speak, just say that you will stand by me no matter what comes next.’

Asvattama squeezed Syoddhan’s shoulder. ‘I will. You’ve always helped me meet the demands of my conscience. The least I can do is help you meet yours. You have my word. No matter what comes next, I will stand by you.’

Syoddhan smiled. ‘On that note, let us go home.’

29

‘
WE ARE OUT OF WATER,’ UTTARA SAID. ‘WE NEED TO STOP AT THE
next oasis and let the horses drink.’

Partha said, ‘You make it sound like we need to stop at the next wayside inn! I don’t suppose you have any of those between here and the city?’

Uttara laughed. ‘One year in Matsya and you still haven’t learnt anything about the desert, have you?’

‘It’s not my fault,’ Partha grumbled. ‘All Brihannala ever had to do was string garlands and play music and dance and…I’ll have you know, I’ve learnt to plait a woman’s hair in thirty-seven different ways! How is that for a survival skill?’

‘It might be, depending on who you marry!’

Partha thought of the simple, bold Subadra. ‘I’m not sure she’d care about it…my wife, that is.’

‘You are married?’

‘Yes, to Govinda Shauri’s sister. We… Wait, what are you doing?’ he said as Uttara brought the horses to a halt in the low valley between a cluster of sand dunes.

‘Water,’ Uttara replied, pulling out what looked like a cylindrical metal vessel from where it had been secured to the side of their chariot rig. The vessel was open at both ends and had a perforated partition in the middle. ‘Could you unharness the horses, please?’ she instructed.

Partha complied, but asked, sounding puzzled, ‘This is an oasis? There is nothing here!’

Uttara did not reply as she got down on her knees. She ran her hands across the sand till she found what she was looking for. Slowly, but with what appeared to be the ease of experience, she forced the cylinder into the sand at that precise point, pressing down on it with all her strength. She stepped back and waited as, slowly, clean water gathered in the upper half of the receptacle. Uttara filled both their waterskins before letting the horses drink their fill from the ground. She passed one to Partha, and raised the other to her lips, drinking in a slow, measured way. Then she lifted the skin high to pour some water on to her face. Both of them heard the dull thud before the water-skin waterskin is one word burst from the impact of an arrow.

‘Down!’ Partha cried, but Uttara was already on the ground. She crawled towards the rig, whistling to the horses, which had wandered beyond the dunes and into the attackers’ line of sight.

‘No!’ she shouted as a flurry of precise arrows took three of the horses down. She was about to run to them, when Partha grabbed her hand and pulled her under the cover of the chariot rig. She realized the futility of her actions, but still shrugged off Partha’s grip and jumped up, grabbing the reins of the fourth horse. She coaxed the animal down on to all fours, trying her best to get him behind the rig. As one of the other horses let out a dying whinny, Uttara settled into a cold rage.

‘Stay down,’ Partha instructed. ‘They can’t see us as long as we stay behind the dune.’

‘Yes, but we can’t see them either! Wait here.’ Before he could protest, Uttara wrapped her upper robe around her face, and dived into the sand, as though it were water. Crawling low, she made her way up to the edge of a dune and peered over without letting herself be seen.

Partha could see her hand as she signalled to him. She counted eleven men, all mounted. She moved her hand in an arc, indicating the direction of their approach. It was enough. Partha closed his eyes, trying to focus his hearing to locate his quarry, but the sand dulled all noises. He made a swift calculation from the speed and number of soldiers advancing on them, and estimated the distance between them. All Partha had to do now was find one by sound, and he could shoot them all down. He looked up to find Uttara staring at him, waiting for him to act. He tried to signal his predicament and urged her to fall back to safety. She nodded, and then did something that Partha had not expected. She stood up, letting herself be seen. As she had hoped, one of the attackers shouted out to his companions even as he raised his bow to shoot at her.

It was all Partha needed. He let fly a quick succession of arrows.

Uttara threw herself back on to the ground. The impact drew a gasp of pain from her, the sound of which immediately attracted more arrows. Scrambling to her feet, she ran down to join Partha. ‘What sort of training do they give you Kaurava archers?’ she said. ‘Not only do you shoot by sound, so does whoever it is out there.’

‘In that case, it can only be Vasusena. And just so that you know…he is not a Kaurava!’

‘I don’t care what he is, what do we do now?’

‘You said there were eleven. I’m sure I got five of them in the last round, maybe six.’ He let loose another round of arrows, aiming in the general direction of Vasusena and his men. He heard a faint cry, possibly from a man wounded by one of his shafts and he followed with another volley of arrows. This time, the loud screams told him that two more men were down. ‘That leaves just three,’ he counted.

‘Which might include your not-a-Kaurava-but-can-shoot-by-sound Vasusena,’ Uttara pointed out. ‘What is he doing chasing us, anyway? This is treachery! Syoddhan said…’

‘Never mind what Syoddhan said!’ Partha snapped as another rain of arrows descended on them. Partha pushed himself and Uttara under the rig just in time. Many of the arrows hit the floor of the chariot rig, but none of the shafts could pierce through the metal-overlaid wood.

The horse gave a chilling shriek as a dart pierced one of its haunches. Uttara grit her teeth. She said, ‘Let’s charge at them.’

‘What?’

‘Let’s charge at them. We are not going to get out of this anyway. We might as well die honourably.’

Partha was not amused. ‘Stupid girl! Take it from a veteran: Stay a little afraid, and you will stay alive. Dead men…and women…are of no use to anyone, and…’

‘Out! Now!’

‘What?’

‘Can’t you smell it? That’s a flame-tailed arrow.’

‘We’d feel the fire if it were a flame-tipped arrow. Calm down, you are panicking!’

Uttara gave him a disgusted look. ‘I said flame-
tailed
, not flame-tipped! Once the shaft burns all the way down to the arrowhead, it ignites the… Oh never mind, we aren’t arguing about this now. Just move!’

Partha weighed the dangers of coming out from under cover of the rig against staying there. He had heard of flame-tipped arrows but flame-tailed ones, he knew, were still an imperfect, no, an impossible, weapon. Frowning, he said, ‘But…’

‘Out! Go!’ Uttara shouted. Her voice drew a fresh rain of arrows, another one of them hitting their equine companion. ‘Mih!’ Uttara crawled closer to the animal. Even as she tried to she scramble out from under the rig, she slapped the horse on its rump, trying to get it to move. Finally, the horse staggered to its feet. ‘Come on!’ she called out again to Partha. This time, he did not protest, for the smell of burning wood filled the air.