The Aryavarta Chronicles Kaurava: Book 2 (47 page)

He half-emerged from under the chariot to see that the arrow had already burned down to a thumb-length from the explosive tip. ‘Uttara, hurry!’ he called out and reached under the chariot to help her out. He grabbed her hand and pulled at her.

‘Aaah!’ Uttara cried out, and slid out of his grasp with a jerk as the horse got to its feet and moved a few feet away from the rig, dragging her along the ground.

‘Yabha!’ Partha said. ‘The reins…they are tangled. Uttara, your foot, cut it loose. Cut the reins.’ More arrows fell. Partha had no choice but to take refuge under the chariot once again.

‘Run for it,’ Uttara told him. ‘Just go! They will be aiming at the rig, they won’t expect it. Run!’

Partha smiled, as though they had all the time in the world. ‘I have a son a little older than you, Uttara. No father would run for it.’ Uttara stopped struggling to free herself and closed her eyes, reaching out at the same time for Partha’s hand. He said, ‘You’ll make your father proud, just as you have made me proud.’

Silence. And then they heard the hiss of a single arrow, the crack of breaking wood and, all at once, many voices, shouts and the sounds of a fight.

Uttara opened her eyes to find Partha listening intently.

A man’s voice said, ‘Give me a hand here!’ and she felt the rig move. She cried out despite herself as the tangled reins pulled at her foot.

‘A woman! There’s a woman!’ A second man’s voice said.

‘By Rudra, you’re a genius!’

To Uttara’s utter confusion, Partha began laughing. Aloud, he said, ‘If it’s no bother, I’m here, too, Shikandin. And stop pulling at the rig, Princess Uttara’s foot is tangled in the reins.’

At that, a wild-looking man, his many tight braids of grey and black hair pulled back and tied together at his neck, peered under the rig. His eyes gleamed with amusement as he saw Partha, who still bore the traces of having been Brihannala. ‘And who might you be, my beautiful one? An apsara from above?’

Uttara recognized him as the first man whose voice she had heard earlier. She prickled at the statement and prepared to rudely counter it, but realized that Shikandin had not referred to her but to the long-haired Partha. She turned away as the second man crouched by her feet and began cutting the reins with his dagger. He was, she noticed, young and handsome. He smiled at her, and Uttara recognized it as the self-assured grin of a man used to having women swoon over him. She decided she did not like him and indicated as much by rejecting his offer of help to slide out from under the rig. Her next thought was for the hurt horse. Already, another man was tending to the animal despite the fact that he only had use of one arm – the other was in a sling that hung around his neck. He turned and rose to his feet as she rushed forward, sending a familiar sense of comfort coursing through her.

‘Govinda Shauri?’ she gasped.

Govinda said, ‘Surely, this is not little Uttara with the two tight plaits and the many dolls she kept wanting new clothes for? And you, Partha! Why, I’d wager that you are the most beautiful woman in all Matsya. Aah, those dark tresses would drive even the best of poets mad with wordlessness.’

‘You gwala, you!’ Partha retorted. He then asked, ‘How? And Vasusena…?’

‘Oh, we sent him running as if a hive of bees were attacking his backside,’ a man replied, riding up.

‘Yuyudhana!’ Partha greeted him.

Uttara saw that Yuyudhana’s bow was in his hand. Two more men were with him: a large, fair-skinned man, who still looked grim, and another man with impeccably chiselled features and an arrogant bearing.

Yuyudhana continued, detailing how their group had come down the cliffs and seen the attack in progress. ‘…but it wasn’t fair sport, really. Vasusena and his second turned back as soon as they saw us, so there wasn’t much for us to do. The other man didn’t take much killing. I must protest, Partha. You always end up taking the pick of lot, whether it is soldiers to kill or courtes…’ he stopped mid-word as he realized that a young woman was present in their midst. ‘Mahamatra…’ he respectfully acknowledged her, and Uttara in turn responded with a bow.

Partha said, ‘If you come late to the banquet, all you will get are leftovers. Besides, that was remarkable archery, my friend – shooting off the burning shaft before it could explode. I salute you!’ he declared, indicating where the small broken-off piece lay charred and harmless, on the sand.

‘That was not me. That was a boy who has archery in his blood. You might know him…’ The young man who had freed Uttara’s feet from the tangle of reins stepped forward. Despite her dislike of him, Uttara thought it only polite to thank him for his help. But before she could say a word, Partha had run forward and thrown his arms around the young man, embracing him tightly and with unrestrained affection. Not sure how to respond to the emotional exchange and backslapping between the two men, Uttara stepped back.

At length, Partha turned to her. ‘Uttara, this is Abhimanyu, my son. Abhimanyu, this is Princess Uttara, daughter of Chief Virat of Matsya. She is one of the bravest people I’ve met in all my life.’

Uttara acknowledged him with a polite bow. She turned to Govinda, the one she felt most comfortable addressing, and said, ‘You should get that arm looked at, and soon. Come, Upaplavya is not too far a ride away. We can be there by early evening.’

‘Is that an invitation?’ Abhimanyu called out. ‘If it is, it’s not much…’

Uttara twisted around to look at him. ‘Would you like to wait here in the desert while I send someone along with a group of dancing girls?’

Govinda cut in. ‘We’d be delighted to follow you, Princess. Please lead the way.’

Uttara nodded, and went about fixing the harness and reins on the surviving horse. She thought she could feel Abhimanyu’s eyes on her for a long time.

30

DHARMA YUDHISTHIR WAS, BY HIS OWN BRUTALLY HONEST
reckoning, a man of considerable intellect. As such, it was not unusual for him to condense events around him into singular questions of philosophical or moral importance, which then allowed him to make his decisions. He was, therefore, not in the least discomfited by the news of all that was transpiring around them, nor the fact that it was his cousin, Syoddhan, who was behind the events.

He received the news that Syoddhan rode under the elephant banner of Emperor Hastin with a knowing smile. What he had not expected, however, was the enemy ranks also flying flags with symbols of a golden altar and a white umbrella, for those belonged to Kripa and Bhisma, respectively. Alongside theirs was another flag with the symbol of a flame – a sign that Dron, acharya to the Kuru clan, no longer felt the need to hide his origins. That his teachers and Grandsire Bhisma had taken up Syoddhan’s cause was the final sign Dharma needed to understand fully the many things Vidur had told him a year ago. The insight made him feel lighter than he had in a long time. He thought yet again of the man he loved and respected as a father and sent him silent thanks. Vidur had been insistent that Matsya was the answer to all the questions of morality Dharma had struggled with. By the time he, Chief Virat and a few of the others had ridden ahead to the capital, Dharma had made up his mind.

When rulers forgo what is right,

Know that evil shall delight…

My fault was not that I played dice, but that I lost at it. My duty was not only to protect, but also to guard. I failed at it then, but not anymore.
He had his brothers; they were all he needed. It was time to act.

With this conviction, Dharma turned his attention to the missive that awaited them at Upaplavya: Uttara and Brihannala had challenged the Kaurava leaders to single combat. Syoddhan’s army had retreated. Virat had insisted on riding out again to meet his daughter and her companion at once, but Sudeshna, urged gently on by Panchali, had prevailed on her husband to wait and to ensure that the armies were refitted before being deployed again in case the enemy should decide to return. Still, nothing could dull the anticipation with which Virat took his seat in the assembly, and went about giving the appropriate orders.

Dharma saw the situation as destiny providing him with an opportunity, one that he would be a coward to ignore. Virat was beholden to him and his brothers in more ways than one. This was a gamble he could not lose. And then, with the military might of Matsya at his disposal… He found his chain of thought broken as Virat began speaking. ‘Kanka, Vallabha…and you too, Granthika, Tantripala and…Brihannala, is it not – the one who is not here yet? Never mind. Tell me, what can I give you to show you my gratitude? Ask, and it shall be yours.’

Dharma thought, once more, of Vidur. He said, ‘Give us that which is ours by right, Chief. Give us Matsya.’

Virat laughed. ‘What do you mean, Kanka? I’m not a man without honour to disavow those who have served me well, and it is true that I might owe Vallabha my life. But Matsya belongs to the people, to these brave soldiers who fought for it, and the thousands who have stood behind them.’

‘What is
your
right to lead them, Virat? For mine is the same right.’

‘Silence!’ Virat thundered. A moment of silence ensued, followed by the sharp scrape of metal against metal as Bhim, Nakul and Sadev drew their swords. In response, Sankha, Bhuminjaya and Swetha too reached for theirs. Alert to the danger to their chief, Virat’s personal guards quickly surrounded their charge.

‘Father!’ Uttara’s voice rang out from the doorway, Partha and Panchali by her side. Sankha ran to pull her away, even as Nakul shifted his position, anticipating an attack. In the middle of it all stood Dharma, unperturbed and unshaken. In fact, he looked all the more majestic for not drawing his weapon.

‘Chief Virat,’ he began. ‘Do you know who I am? I am your kinsman.’

‘Kinsman? Hah! I don’t care who you are, Kanka,’ Virat replied, pushing past his guards to come face to face with Dharma.

‘Oh, but you must! I am Dharma Yudhisthir Kauravya, the true Emperor of Aryavarta. The one who stood by your brave daughter, the one whose presence caused Syoddhan to retreat from battle – he is my brother Partha Savyasachin. My other brothers, Bhim Vikrodara, and Nakul and Sadev Madriputra, you already know as men in your employ, and the handmaiden Malini is Panchali, daughter of Dhrupad. Most importantly, I am descended from Satya, Queen of the Kurus, whom many believe to be a woman of Matsya. But both you and I know that she was more than that. She was Crown Princess of Matsya, was she not, Virat? It is only when she left these lands to live in hiding as a fisherman’s daughter that her brother – your great-grandfather – became Chief to hold the throne in trust for its true heirs. By all law and all morality, your throne is mine.’

Virat stared at him, incredulous. Then, slowly, he raised his hand and laid a single, resounding slap on Dharma’s cheek. A silence hung over them all.

It was Sankha who stirred first. He turned to Swetha and said, ‘Arrest them. The woman too.’

‘No!’ Uttara protested.

‘This is outrageous!’ Bhim growled.

Bhuminjaya and Swetha both came forward, exchanging confused looks. ‘Arrest them all right now,’ Sankha insisted.

Sadev said, ‘But why? What is our crime?’

Sankha glared through bloodshot eyes. ‘Your brother’s crime, firstly, is that he is a fool! Have you never wondered why even Bhisma of the Kurus never dared step into these lands – though he is the only one of that line who might have survived, for he is not of Satya’s blood. If you truly consider yourself my kin, on account of Satya, then wouldn’t your cousin Syoddhan be my kin, too? And he just went running from our borders, did he not? Yes, Satya was from Matsya. That is well known. But do you know why she left these lands? Because she was a traitor, she betrayed those whom you and your family have spent years hunting down. You see, Dharma Yudhisthir,
your
ancestress Satya was trained as a Firewright by the man who loved her, and whom she eventually betrayed. Generations later, Matsya still pays the price, we stand alone and forsaken. Finally, we shall have our vengeance and the barren earth of our motherland, the parched course of the river, shall slake its thirst with your blood.’

‘But…’ Dharma had no words, merely the vague thought that he wished Sankha would kill him right there, right then. He did not know whether to feel shame at the tainted, Firewright blood that ran in him, or to rejoice that his ancestress had dared bring those heathens down. Yet, at the same time, questions stirred in him, all the more for his recent experiences.
Had Vidur not known? Had Dwaipayana not known?
But the answers came to him even as the questions formed in his mind.
No…of course, they knew. That is why Dwaipayana had chosen him and not Syoddhan to become Emperor. Protect the good, guard the evil.

Bhuminjaya’s touch on his arm drew him out of his introspection. The prince still remained hesitant and respectful. ‘Come, Kanka.’

‘Sankha, please…’ Uttara interjected.

‘Vathu, Uttara!’

‘My lord, Chief Virat…’ Dharma felt a searing pain as he heard the voice, far worse than what his body or honour had endured when Virat had struck him or Sankha had ordered him arrested. The speaker’s next words, however, stirred a whirlwind of emotions: shock, confusion, joy and sadness, and others sensations that he could not identify. ‘You owe that man your greatest allegiance, Sankha. Because truly this throne is Dharma Yudhisthir’s. In him survives the true legacy of Matsya, and the secret of the Firewrights.’

31

GOVINDA FELT BLOOD RUSH TO HIS HEAD, RISING WITH THE HEAT
of fury, self-loathing and rage. Guilt and recrimination followed as he realized he had betrayed the one secret that had allowed him to weave his web of intrigue over Aryavarta, the one secret that Ghora Angirasa, once Secret Keeper, had left in his possession. The secret had bought him his legitimacy, his influence with the Firstborn despite the burden of his own origin and allegiance; it was the one thing that had kept him even remotely useful to Dwaipayana and, so, alive. It had been the one thing he had left to trade. But it had taken just one glance to dismiss all reason and do what he had to do.