10

Smiling palace staff welcomed the guests, ushering them through the many stone arches, into the spacious hall. The guests checked on the threshold, the Pearl Throne room bedazzling them. Ropes of white jasmine encircled the many pillars studded with pure white gems, and silver filigreed lights, hanging from the high ceiling, scattered a million yellow rays over the silk carpets covering the vast floor. Thousands of fragrant lamps twinkled from alcoves in the white walls, reflecting in the gleaming jewellery of the guests, in their flushed complexions and sparkling eyes. It was a vision in white, imbued with a golden iridescence.

It was obvious to a keen eye that the opalescent glow emanated not from the lights or the gems. It came from the pearl throne, atop a flight of twelve steps. In the shape of a large open oyster, it was encrusted with rare golden pearls, their shimmering brilliance radiating out in waves. According to one legend, the sea god Varuna had presented the first King of Aum with the throne, bringing it up from his palace under the sea. And according to another, it was King Yajatha who had dived deep into the stormy seas of the west, combing them for the rarest of rare oysters, the gold-lipped Seep, plundering them till he had enough pearls for his throne.

Resplendent in beige silk robes, King Vasuket smilingly observed the congregation, the green emeralds in his pagdi dazzling in the soft, yellow light. ‘Ah, this is delightful! An apt setting for what I am about to do,’ he murmured, his gaze alighting on Saahas. Greeting one acquaintance after another, the general moved towards him, his stride fluid and strong. ‘A lion amongst men,’ Vasuket observed approvingly.

Dressed in an ivory mulmul shirt and a matching dhoti, Saahas’s clothes were too unadorned for a royal reception. Yet, an innate regality made him stand out in the simple clothes, accentuating his sinewy, athletic frame. The deeply tanned face smiled easily, laughter lines crinkling the corners of his warm eyes. No turban covered his head, the sun-bleached brown hair tucked carelessly behind the ears.

Swiftly climbing the steps to the throne, he bent down to touch Vasuket’s feet and the latter clasped him in a tight embrace. A hush fell over the hall, all eyes on the king and the general. The affection between the two men was palpable, magnified by the warm halo of light.

Barely able to contain his excitement, Vasuket whispered into Saahas’s ear, ‘Stand with me. I am going to make an important announcement,’ and turned a beaming countenance towards the assembly.

Chakrawaru gulped, his ashen complexion rivalling the white walls. He threw a wild glance at the entrance, the bright lights blurring his vision. Blinking rapidly, he looked again and then he saw it, the glimmer of forest green silk. Manmaani appeared through the crowd, her sons and Hussuri following closely behind.

‘I held my breath,’ Destiny reminisces, ‘since I had offered the dice to the widow to throw just this once, all I could do was step aside and watch it roll.’

Vasuket took a step forward and in that instant, a movement in the crowd caught his eye. He frowned, disliking the distraction, more so when he was about to announce his successor.

There was a soft murmur and the gathering parted. It was a woman, very pale and shapely, swathed in a green dress. Searching anxiously for a familiar face, her kohl-darkened eyes flickered upwards, meeting Vasuket’s curious gaze. She blushed, fluttering her lashes in confusion.

‘Your Majesty,’ Chakrawaru broke in, ‘if I may be so bold as to interrupt you.’

‘What is it my good man?’

The advisor gestured to the lady, ‘This, Your Majesty, is an unfortunate widow, my departed friend’s wife. She and her children wish to pay their respects to you.’

Manmaani made a deep bow. When she looked up, Vasuket noticed her brimming eyes, the tremulous smile on her lips.

‘Hail King Vasuket, the paragon of mercy,’ she quavered. ‘I, a destitute woman, am indeed blessed today.’

Vasuket drew in a sharp breath. It was the colour of her dress, a shade of forest green that had been preferred by his queen. Emotions, long forgotten, stirred within his breast. It was summer again, deep green leaves rustling in the warm breeze, throwing cool shadows on the white walls of Sundernagari. Another soft rustle fell in his ears, the rustle of a green dress. And then the queen’s arms slipped around his neck, her cool cheek pressed to his.

Vasuket swallowed, tearing his eyes away, but despite his will, they were drawn back to Manmaani’s winsome face. That mysterious gaze beckoned him, pulling him into its velvety depths, the winking gold pin on the pert little nose making him aware of his terrible loneliness. Frowning, he looked away again.

Manmaani’s heart went pit-a-pat. ‘I . . . I am sorry, Your Majesty,’ she faltered, ‘perhaps we shouldn’t have . . .’

‘Oh, no, no, madam,’ he hastened to reassure her. ‘I am very pleased you are here.’

She inclined her head, dimpling shyly. ‘So kind of you, Your Majesty. May I introduce my children?’ They stood stiffly behind her, waiting their turn to greet him. Vasuket relaxed, smiling at the three young men and the gawking girl. When he patted Nandan’s curly head, a rush of affection engulfed him. Once again his eyes strayed to Manmaani, flitting like a bee over her rosebud mouth, and settled there.

Ashwath stood rooted to the spot. The moment he spotted the general, his hands bunched into fists, his gaze raking over the muscle-bound frame. ‘He’s tall . . . but not as tall as me,’ he seethed. ‘And yet he makes me feel . . .’ he trailed off.

Hussuri shot him a quizzical look, ‘Feel what?’

‘Let’s go outside,’ he growled.

‘No, I want to stay. Look, here come the entertainers.’

A roll of drums announced the start of festivities, and dancing troupes and singers made a dramatic entry. Observing the king applaud with enthusiasm, Saahas smiled, ‘Your Majesty, weren’t you about to make an announcement?’

‘Ah, yes,’ Vasuket hesitated, one hand going up to the glittering pagdi on his head. The moment was gone, lost. ‘Perhaps another time.’

‘As you wish, Your Majesty,’ Saahas bowed. Vasuket pursed his lips, a little annoyed with himself. But the next instant, the peacock dancers whirled in and his eyes sought Manmaani. A thrill of excitement ran through him. Watching her enjoy the ballet, he forgot the world, as if the reception had been organized just for the two of them.