The Aryavarta Chronicles Kaurava: Book 2 (19 page)

It took a while before Syoddhan finally stirred. He felt devoid of sensation or emotion. Slowly, the beat of his own heart filled his ears, the throbbing a meaningless rhythm, as were his words and his actions. He turned, without really knowing that he did so, to one of the many attendants around them. He said, ‘Go, bring Panchali here. Dharma Yudhisthir, the man who was supposed to rule us all, has just condemned his wife to slavery. I shudder to think what would have become of this realm if he had remained Emperor. Go now. Bring her here and let her see for herself what her husband has done.’

19

THE SUN WAS SEARING DESPITE THE EARLY HOUR, ITS STRENGTH
leaving little hope of cloud or rain. A hot wind blew in from the north, dry and stinging. One by one, five huge galleys cruised out of the safety of Dwaraka’s harbour. Each carried a crew of three hundred oarsmen and another hundred fighting men, as well as a large supply of armaments. The sixth and last ship alone was much lighter and less heavily manned than the rest. Govinda stood on its deck, his light metal and hard leather chest armour gleaming under the bright sun, his curly hair dripping with perspiration, as his captain, Daruka, brought the ship into position. The six vessels were now arranged in the shape of an arrowhead, with this, the flagship, as the tip of the formation.

All of Dwaraka had gathered along the city walls and on its towers to watch what would be the final battle for their city. If they lost, there would be no hope left. Salwa’s soldiers, now thronging the beaches, reminded them of that with their taunts and rude jeers.

‘We’re in position, Commander,’ Daruka informed Govinda. The warrior nodded in response.

And then they were off. Hundreds of oars creaked in unison and cut the choppy waters with a loud splash. The arrowhead of ships slowly began to move north-west, against the headwind and towards the open sea.

King Saubha had astutely positioned his fleet as close as possible to the placid waters of the gulf off Dwaraka. They waited just ahead of the long-shore currents that ran from north to south, parallel to the coast, but were still close enough to use the tide to move his ships in and out of formation. The fleet loomed like a floating wall, the bare masts making the vessels look ominous, like the skeletons of dead ships. The northern wind was too strong for the Salwa navy to use their sails this close to shore; the wind would drive even the largest galley onto the treacherous shoals. Vayu the wind-god, it seemed, would favour neither side.

‘They’re expecting us,’ Govinda dryly commented as the enemy ships began raising anchor.

Daruka eyed the formidable array from his post at the ship’s wheel. ‘Commander,’ he pointed out, ‘King Saubha must already know that ten of our vessels left the harbour last night…’

‘He surely does…’ Govinda distractedly said as he took a look over the side, judging the depth by the colour of the water. He placed a light hand on the wheel, adjusting their course. ‘Hold this line,’ he instructed. Behind them, the other vessels of their force too veered, using the flagship’s wake as a guide.

Govinda went forward to the bow of the ship and surveyed the scene before him. Saubha’s forces, comprising over thirty vessels of navy and pirate origin, were arranged in the arc-shaped attack formation preferred by large navies. All they had to do was to encircle the smaller Yadu fleet and methodically sink each vessel. At sea, nothing determined the outcome of a battle as much as the size and strength of the navy. Occasionally, smaller navies would use decoys or set traps in the hope of averting an inevitable rout. One such trick was to lure the enemy fleet to form a tight circle around a few ships sent out as bait and have another fleet of ships attack from the outside. Govinda hoped that this was exactly what Saubha was expecting them to do.

It was.

Torches went on Saubha’s flagship, in a signal to the others of their group. The vessels began manoeuvring and the arc split into two, right down the middle. Anticipating that the ten ships Govinda had moved during the night would inevitably spring an attack, Saubha was dividing up his huge force. A group of ships, most of them of Danava make, heavy and massive, veered hard and to the left in a quarter-turn. They were now moving due east, directly towards the mouth of the gulf.

King Saubha’s command ship, however, was all set to engage Govinda’s fleet. The mighty Salwa war-craft, which had earlier been the centre of the arc, now veered right and forward. More vessels came up alongside to form a straight line. All of them pulled in their oars.

The ships were little more than empty hulks, bobbing up and down on the waves. Suddenly, as though pushed by a powerful but invisible hand, the entire line began bearing down on the Yadu ships at great speed. Saubha had moved into the longshore drift. He planned to harness the powerful current to ram down and sink Dwaraka’s feeble fleet. A cheer rose from the shores as Saubha’s army realized what was happening. Once this was over, Dwaraka was theirs to plunder.

Saubha’s flagship was closing in fast, set to smash them on the side.

‘Commander…?’ Daruka hesitantly ventured, when Govinda did not give the expected order to take an evasive course.

Dwaraka’s vessels were fairly hardy, but not heavy enough to take the impact of a direct collision. Their ships would most likely keel over and capsize, or simply break into two and sink. Daruka normally would not have dared doubt his commander, but he had watched Govinda as Pradymna had been brought in from the previous day’s battle and knew that Govinda would undoubtedly conceal his own grief to keep up courage and morale among their troops.

‘I’ll take it,’ Govinda said, turning and walking to the ship’s wheel. He grabbed hold of it as Daruka let go and began issuing instructions in loud shouts. ‘Tell the rest of our ships to drop anchor. Keep them on alert to cut and run.’

The captain felt reassured. At least, Govinda was not going to be reckless with all their lives – the five ships behind them would come to a quick stop, requiring King Saubha to change his course if he still intended to run them down. If the others then cut free of the anchor instead of pulling it in, and ran, there was a chance they could evade the first attack. But to what end?

Govinda continued, answering the unspoken question, ‘Stand by to raise oars on one side. And ready the sails…’

Daruka’s jaw dropped, utter surprise defying his well-trained stoicism. They were going directly into the wind, which was blowing against them. Not only would they have to turn the entire ship around with just the oars, but with a wind as strong as this, even the smallest miscalculation – a little too loose, too soon – and the whole ship was doomed. Even if they succeeded they would still have to get control of the ship, wrestle her rudder, as it were, swiftly enough to avoid colliding into one of their own ships that would be anchored behind them.

Finally Daruka found his voice. ‘Yes, Commander,’ he said, and left to carry out the orders.

The sound of the oarsmen rowing dimmed as the other five ships dropped anchor. Soon, they were left behind a fair distance. Ahead of them, though, Saubha’s flagship was hardly ten lengths away. A few stray arrows shot into the sky fell into the water between the two vessels. The ship was still out of range, but Saubha was taunting them. He had no wish to put his archers to work. He wanted the satisfaction of physically crushing Govinda.

Govinda held his course till the ship’s wheel jerked hard, nearly wrenching itself out of his hands. Gripping the wheel tight, he shouted out to Daruka, ‘Now!’

Instantly, the rowing stopped. Oars were lifted out of the water and pulled in, but it took a short while for the ship to lose its momentum completely. In the uncanny stillness that followed, a sense of despair settled over the men. Then the ship began to move slowly turning around without sail or oar, like some possessed being. A few of the men cried out in alarm, fearful despite their natural bravery. Daruka knew full well how this was possible, how it was happening, but that made it no less astonishing. He now realized that all this while they had been rowing directly into a strong rip tide or reverse current, which headed away from land. The moment they had stopped moving forward, the current began to make the ship heel, or swing around. The captain ran forward, as it struck him that this was no accident.
Govinda must have known. He must have expected this.

Govinda was bent over the wheel, every muscle in his body tense as he fought both ship and sea. As the vessel swung around with the current, the force of the tide hitting squarely on one side would make her tilt over. When that happened, the ship’s rudder would get lifted out of the water and they would lose control of the craft. To avoid that, he had to let the rudder catch the current and use its force to stabilize the ship. The warrior instinctively adjusted his footing, balancing himself as the stern of the ship began to lift clear of the water. Buffeted by the waves, the rudder squirmed and twisted against the forces of nature, held in position by nothing more than Govinda’s entire weight against the ship’s wheel.

Daruka made to help, but Govinda shook his head. ‘Get…the… men…astern,’ he grunted through clenched teeth.

‘But…’

Warning shouts rent the air, drawing everyone’s attention. The second group of Salwa’s ships had been taken unawares by the reverse current. One had capsized, while another two had crashed into each other. One more was keeling over precariously, its mast touching the water. A few of the vessels had tried to navigate out of the current and were now caught in an undertow, which was dragging them towards the crags and shoals. Two of the enemy craft, however, were being pulled right towards them by the drift.

‘Mih!’ Daruka swore under his breath, and began calling out orders, getting the men into action. Together, they scrambled to the end of the ship, trying to weigh it down. After what was a long and tense interval, the tilting slowed down, almost stopped. It was, however, only a matter of time. The rudder was still out of the water.

Govinda knew it was now or never. His arms had gone numb with exhaustion, a welcome relief from the spasms he had borne for a while, but now he needed to use them. He flexed his fingers as best as he could without letting go of the wheel, welcoming the pain that shot through them as sensation returned. Breathing deep, he focused on the wheel in his hands until he could feel its every move, the pull of the tide and the embrace of the sea. Then he knew it was time to let go. ‘Daruka!’ he ordered, ‘hoist the sails!’

As the wind filled the silk and linen canvas with the force of a storm, it drove the ship forward as though it were nothing more than a piece of wood. But only for an instant. Thrown ahead by the wind, the vessel hit the water evenly. With a perceptible jerk, the rudder sliced through the waves. Govinda was ready. He quickly spun the wheel around, getting the rudder to turn, steadying the ship in the current. The huge craft moved around completely, set to glide with the wind and the unexpected tide. Finally, filled with the power of the elements, the craft proudly rode the waves.

Cheers of celebration rose from the deck and turned to cries of war and victory as they cut effortlessly through the sea, heading straight for Saubha’s command vessel.

The hunted was now the hunter.

20

IT WAS NOT UNCOMMON FOR A MENIAL IN THE SERVICE OF THE
princes of Hastina to feel fear. Dussasana and many of his brothers were not known to tolerate failure, and anything that displeased them was often deemed as such. Yet, the kneeling messenger had never quite felt as terrified as he did now.

Panchali remained expressionless, but her voice was hoarse and cold. ‘What senselessness is this? What do you mean I have been wagered and lost?’

The messenger shifted uncomfortably, aware that it was the sheer ridiculousness of his statement that still kept him safe in the presence of the Empress and her guards.

‘Dh…Dharma Yudhisthir commands you to…to…’

‘That is
Emperor
Dharma Yudhisthir.’

‘Mahamatra… He…he is no longer… He…he…wagered his crown and lost…’

‘That’s impossible. The imperial crown is not a bauble to be wagered.’

‘Mahamatra,…that is what has happened. He first began with his personal possessions. Once those were lost he…he began to wager the tribute due from your…from the empire’s vassals…at first for a month or a year, and…and then in perpetuity. When that was gone, he began to wager…wager armies, then other tradesmen. And…’

Panchali smiled, as though reassured. ‘I don’t know who asked you to play this trick on me, pratikramin. As a joke it is not in good taste, but I know the fault is not yours. Now, tell me, who is this prankster?’

To that, the attendant could only respond with a horrified stare.

As the first tinges of doubt crept in, Panchali began to argue, with herself as much as with the menial before her. ‘But…he can’t wager people! It is madness to wager his treasury and lands and property, but he has no authority to wager people! No one stopped him?’

The man before her looked stricken at the suggestion. ‘Mahamatra, he was the Emperor…’

Panchali quailed – not at the statement, but at the honest conviction with which it was delivered and accepted by those around her. ‘And so he staked me? He had nothing left to stake?’

‘No…no, Mahamatra. When all his four brothers were lost to slavery, he then staked himself… Only then did he…’ the attendant began sobbing. The chilling and pitiful sound rankled in the always-festive surroundings of the women’s palace.

With great effort, he pulled himself together to deliver the last part of his message. ‘He also sends word for your ears alone, Mahamatra. He bids you to come as you are, distraught and, begging for mercy, to the assembly. He has asked me to say that as he is your husband and lawful master, he orders you thus…’ the man broke down completely, unable to speak.

Panchali did not know whether it was compassion or cowardice that had driven him to tears, and she didn’t care. Drawing in a deep breath, she made her decision. ‘Go back to the assembly,’ she directed the messenger. ‘Go back, and present my message to Dharma Yudhisthir, to Prince Syoddhan who gambled with him, and to the entire assembly that ruled this wager as lawful. Tell them… Tell Dharma Yudhisthir that I am Panchali Draupadi, and he had no right to stake me.’