14

The king and Kurikas watched Ashwath fence with the master, his grunts audible to them even from a discreet distance.

‘Do you see the way he charges at his opponent, Your Majesty? And the way he uses the blade?’

Vasuket nodded, ‘Yes, the hacking motion and the two-handed grip on the sword, as if it’s a club.’

‘Exactly,’ concurred Kurikas. ‘This is not his ideal weapon.’

‘Ah well, the poor boy has set his heart on it ever since he laid eyes on Saahas’s khanda. I had to promise him that you would forge one for him, otherwise he was determined to have Saahas’s blade.’

Closely following Ashwath’s moves, Kurikas exclaimed, ‘Your Majesty, let him try a mace. That is his weapon. I am certain of it.’

‘I am sure you are right, you always are. If it weren’t for your conviction, I would have believed Saahas all those years ago that he couldn’t ever handle a sword! Do you remember?’

Kurikas threw back his head laughing, and tapped his good eye, the other one disfigured and sightless, as if burnt by hot metal. ‘Our general was a young scamp then but his talent couldn’t remain hidden from me!’ Then he added, ‘Your Majesty, if you wish, I will talk the prince out of his obsession.’

Vasuket mounted his horse, ‘You can try, but I will still place an order for the steel ingots of Dakhini. One way or the other you will forge another khanda.’

‘Gladly, Your Majesty,’ the swordsmith saluted. ‘I’m ever delighted to work on that extraordinary metal.’ After a few moments of observing Ashwath vainly rush at his opponent, he shook his head, ‘I am willing to bet my life the khanda and you can never be friends.’

She dipped the little piece of bread in the milky white liquid before tossing it into the cage. ‘Come, my darling,’ she murmured, her curious gaze fixed on the mouse, ‘eat.’ But the small creature looked back at her, unmoving, a dull film dimming its eyes. Manmaani frowned, peering closely.

‘Move,’ she commanded tapping the cage, and the hapless mouse raised its head, dragging itself to the morsel. ‘Wonderful,’ she muttered. ‘The venom doesn’t kill, only weakens. So, you won’t interfere in my affairs.’ The mouse stopped nibbling, looking at her in a resigned sort of way. ‘And you will do as I say, put my sons in powerful positions—’ A knock on the door interrupted her. ‘What is it?’ she screeched.

‘Your Majesty, the Gondi chief is here.’

‘Ah, yes.’ Throwing a cloth over the cage, she hurried into her private salon.

‘Hail to you, Your Majesty, hail to you,’ Bukkal knelt at her feet.

‘Yes, yes, that will do. What perfumes have you got me today?’ She dismissed her attendants with a wave of her hand and as soon as they were gone, she leaned forward, her small eyes glinting.

‘The viper venom is remarkable,’ she breathed. ‘No smell, nothing. Get me some more.’ Bukkal shifted uneasily on his feet. ‘Now what?’ she snapped.

‘Queen of Aum, how I, a mere tribal can disregard your command? But . . .’

Manmaani arched an eyebrow. ‘There will be more gold, Gondi. Don’t worry.’

Bukkal wrung his hands. ‘Against my tribe, against my forest I will go. So many more vipers will I have to kill.’

‘Then do it. The tribe, the forest, the snakes, they all belong to me. Here, take this as an advance,’ and she flung him a purse.

‘All rise,’ the court herald announced impressively. ‘His Majesty, the Monarch of Aum, Her Majesty the Queen of Aum, the royal Princes and Princess Hussuri have arrived.’

Manmaani looked magnificent, like a glittering peacock. While her dress of muted gold was simplicity itself, it highlighted the multi-hued jewels on her person. Ashwath followed her, fiddling with the scarf on his shoulder, Hussuri grinning by his side.

‘The prince seems awkward in those clothes,’ a courtier murmured.

‘Yes,’ agreed the other, ‘like a clumsy actor trying to play his part.’

Shunen came in next and all eyes widened. He had shaved his head, the bald dome accentuating the harsh lines of his face, and his all-black ensemble filled many a heart with dread. With a sigh of relief, the court turned its gaze on Nandan’s slim form.

The outfit of charcoal-grey, combined with deep red rubies around his creamy throat, heightened Nandan’s rosy complexion, and his almond eyes outshone the gold band encircling his dark curls. A prince indeed, the court sighed, in the same mould as the late Agraj and Anuj.

Surveying the packed court, Vasuket’s eyes met a pair of steady, brown ones. The general’s face softened from a rush of warm affection. ‘He alone is distinguished,’ Saahas murmured to Tota.

‘But he looks a little peaky, sire,’ the aide-de-camp whispered back.

The king acknowledged Saahas with an intimate smile and rose to his feet. It was time to satisfy the court’s curiosity.

‘I am an old man, who has begun to feel his years,’ Vasuket smiled. ‘The day is not far when one of my sons will succeed me to the throne, so it is appropriate I hand over some of my duties to them. I hope you will forgive their mistakes, guiding them as I know only you can. Prince Nandan has an artistic bent of mind, so I have decided he will be in charge of cultural activities.’

Nandan dimpled at the deafening applause. Vasuket swept on, ‘Prince Shunen has a deep interest in law and justice, and it is his observance that for Aum to live up to its name, the laws need to be revised, that the people of Aum enjoy far too much freedom. What is too much freedom, you might ask. Well, let the new Chief Justice of Aum define that for you.’ The cheers this time were muted.

‘And finally, my eldest son.’ The court fell silent, noting Vasuket’s gaze. It was fixed on one man alone. Instinctively all heads swivelled in the same direction, towards the General of Aum. Vasuket glanced away, and when he spoke, his voice quivered a little, ‘Ashwath possesses not just a strong physique, but also a strong will. He has been training hard at the Defence Academy with only one aim—to serve Aum.’ After a tiny pause, he said in a rush, ‘And so I have decided, because I believe in his capabilities, that he shall be Commander of the Military.’

In the awkward silence, only one sound made itself heard, the sound of footsteps. Saahas was hardly conscious of walking up to the king, of his embrace, of the whispered ‘Thank you, my boy’, of removing Shakti from her scabbard and offering the blade, hilt first to Ashwath.

‘Power is capricious. It wastes no time in switching loyalties,’ Amsha’s warning ran like a loop in his head, a hard knot growing in his chest, threatening to burst.

‘Truth at any cost’, the motto on the polished hilt danced before Ashwath’s eyes. His hand shot out to grasp it, but Vasuket stopped him. ‘This is a symbolic gesture, signifying that the general will remain obedient to your command. You are now the supreme leader of the armed forces, Ashwath.’

The startled court chanted ‘Hail to the Commander’, but Ashwath, his gaze fixed on the khanda, heard only one voice, that of Kurikas, ‘The mace is your weapon, not the sword.’

Chakrawaru remained out in the yard long after the court had emptied. The appointments had taken him unawares, unnerving him, leaving a vile taste on his tongue, the bitter taste of defeat. Leaves falling from the semal tree rustled dryly and he absently caught one as it drifted towards him, crunching it between his fingers. ‘Autumn,’ he muttered, ‘it has a way of stealing upon us.’

‘Like our sins,’ a familiar voice breathed in his ear.

Gulping audibly, he forced a smile to his lips. ‘Shunen! You startled me—’

‘Chief Justice, please.’

‘Yes, yes, of course.’

Shunen eyed him speculatively. ‘Nervous, uncle?’

‘No, of course not!’

‘Well, you should be. You are going to hand me a bit of paper. You know, the affidavit my mother signed.’

Chakrawaru shivered, Shunen’s cold gaze freezing his blood. And then, unbidden, a face swam into his mind, a face with smiling lips and warm, brown eyes. The face of an enemy. But now, he admitted, his only hope.