The Aryavarta Chronicles Kaurava: Book 2 (48 page)

As Bhuminjaya and Swetha had advanced, following Sankha’s command, Panchali had remained where she was, summoning courage to stand firm. But, for just an instant, she had turned to glance back, not quite seeing him. Her eyes had held, again, the look of a trapped, desperate animal, one that longed to live even as it was being led to slaughter. He had seen it in the eyes of a young girl, whom he had promised to protect, only to fail time and again.

In that moment Govinda knew he would do whatever it took to to shelter Panchali from any further suffering. He did not care any more for half-truths and conspiracies, for politics or honour. And, he admitted, a deep, angry part of him longed for Dharma to know the truth, the complete truth, and to see if that could finally pierce through his insufferable self-righteousness.

Govinda turned to Virat and said, ‘Dharma Yudhisthir, great-grandson of Queen Satya of the Kurus and once Crown Princess of Matsya… Nothing happens in isolation. Satya’s story is part of a larger, inevitable change. Even as the Firewrights grew unfettered in power and arrogance, within their own order there rose rebels – men and women who believed that fire is the light of knowledge and that it ought not to be tamed by a few. Ghora was one of those. He was the one who trained Satya, though she was an outsider – just as he later trained me, and many others.

‘Satya saw, as Ghora did, that the order had to be destroyed for the sake of all Aryavarta. And so, when the Firewrights failed to harness the waters of the Saraswati and turned all of Matsya into a desert, she set into motion a plan. I cannot say whether she intended vengeance on the order or not… But she did intend their downfall. She agreed to let her father send her away to live with Chief Dasha, but by that time she and Ghora had already begun to spur on the only power capable of bringing down the Firewrights: the Firstborn. You all know how the story goes after that. Satya kept the birth of her son, Dwaipayana, a secret till such time as Dwaipayana became surrogate father to her grandchildren, the Kuru princes. That was not without reason, for by her actions she had inextricably bound the fate of the Firstborn and the Firewrights – not the old, entrenched ones she wanted to destroy, but the rebels who would gladly disappear into obscurity if they could leave their craft and knowledge as a legacy for all Aryavarta.’

Govinda paused, aware that his audience hung on to his every word. After all, he was for the first time telling a tale that many had heard in bits and pieces, never in its entirety. He was also aware that with each word he spoke he was revealing Aryavarta’s greatest secret, tearing apart the immaculate plan that Ghora had set into motion with his own death.

All this for a woman?
The memory of a voice reared its head in his mind.

All this, because it is right
, Govinda answered.

Out loud he continued, ‘But we failed. I failed. Where there should have been no order of Firewrights in this empire, we now have two. The Secret Keeper…’ He looked up as gasps filled the air. ‘Yes, there is a Secret Keeper – Ghora Angirasa’s successor. I serve him… Virat, I once asked you to trust me, because there was something that I knew and you did not. This is that secret. Ghora Angirasa left it in my keeping as he died, and my knowledge of it was the reason Dwaipayana and the Firstborn have wanted me dead, but never exposed me as a Firewright. But now, I have put my faith in you. You must choose, Chief. Are we traitors? Or are we rebels, a few who stand for what is right against the might of many? Isn’t that what your nation is? An island of equality and hope within the moral desert that is Aryavarta? Do you not understand?’

‘Enough!’ Sankha stepped forward, drawing his sword. ‘Your lies and trickery won’t work on us, rebel! What happened to this land was punishment for Satya’s treachery. But since you feel so strongly for her cause, you can be the first to die for it.’

But before he could raise his weapon, Chief Virat was on his feet. ‘No, Sankha, wait! If it is him…if he has come back, then…then there is hope. Govinda? Govinda Shauri, is it really you? I thought you had forsaken us…’

Govinda opened his arms in a gesture of peace. ‘I had, Chief. I nearly had. But don’t lose faith in your fellow men and women just yet.’

As though punctuating Govinda’s words, the rest of his companions entered, the group dominating even the large hall. Balabadra and Yuyudhana were faces Virat and his sons recognized, though Shikandin and Dhrstyadymn were new to them. Abhimanyu, looking less youthful now and more sombre, stood behind them. Govinda looked around at them, their presence bringing a smile to his face. He said, his characteristic mischief returning to his voice, ‘I hope we are not unwelcome, Chief?’

Chief Virat laughed, the sound a boom that matched his bulk. The sound of her father laughing filled Uttara’s heart with joy, and she ran forward to embrace him. She whispered in his ears – apparently words of counsel from the thoughtful frown on Virat’s face. When she was done, he placed an affectionate hand on his daughter’s head as he turned back to the man before him. ‘Unwelcome? Govinda, you are a sight for sore eyes and a thirsty heart. Every day I have prayed that you would return, that the future that was promised us was not just a dream. Seeing you here today…’ Realizing the implications of the situation, Virat gestured to his sons to lower their weapons. ‘Dharma Yudhisthir…?’

Govinda said, ‘Dharma Yudhisthir. Dwaipayana promised Satya that he would see her line on the Kuru throne. He kept his word to her, but at the same time he was determined to fulfil his duty as a Firstborn. And so he did all he could to hide the truth of his origins even as he brought the Firewrights down. But in doing so, he subsumed much of the Wright’s craft and knowledge into his own fold. In a few generations we would not have remembered the Firewrights, but their skills would remain.’

Sankha said, ‘In a few generations…? That can’t happen anymore, can it? Not after what you’ve said and done right here. Unless you want to make us all part of your conspiracy? Wouldn’t that be sheer incompetence on your part?’

‘Absolutely, Prince. But I have no need for this particular secret anymore. You can send out heralds with proclamations for all I care.’

‘And why is that?’

‘Now
that
is a secret that I might have use for yet. Not a secret, really, but just a story for another time. What do you say, Chief?’

Virat looked at Govinda and then again at Dharma, seeing him through new eyes. ‘Dharma Yudhisthir! I understand now why Govinda urged us to wait. He said that your empire would be Matsya’s chance to rise to its rightful place of respect among its neighbours. He insisted that our patience and sacrifice would light Aryavarta’s future. But we didn’t believe him. We thought him a traitor too….’

Dharma frowned, but said nothing. The Chief did not notice. Instead he rested his hands on Govinda’s shoulders, and looked him up and down with unrestrained joy. ‘What now, Govinda?’

‘Now the true Emperor rules. We of Ghora Angirasa’s legacy stand by him and his empire. I see no better place for the Emperor to return to claim what is rightfully his than here, where it all began. Unless, Dharma, you have any objections…?’

Dharma finally brought himself to look at Govinda. Both men knew that the one objection he had raised, years ago at Kamakya, was no longer relevant. Dharma had thought himself tainted by Govinda’s association, but now he knew, everyone knew, that Syoddhan was as tainted as he was, as were those to whom they all turned for counsel and justice: the Firstborn, and Krishna Dwaipayana, the Veda Vyasa, not the least. He nodded.

Govinda smiled. Silence was, Govinda knew, the closest to warmth Dharma could show in the circumstances, and it was enough. He stepped back and let Virat guide Dharma to the Chief’s seat of honour.

To muted but respectful greetings, Dharma Yudhisthir sat on the throne of Matsya, the seat, heralds announced, of ancient emperors. His eyes remained on the man who had brought him this, his third crown. Govinda’s gaze, however, remained on Virat’s silent but disgruntled sons.

‘What was that?’ Shikandin pulled Panchali aside, making no effort to hide his amusement.

‘That, my dearest brother, is called politics. It so happens that I’ve had a lot of time on my hands these past years and I have spent much of it contemplating this rather consummate art.’

‘You’re good at it. I can’t imagine who else Dharma might have learnt from.’

‘You see it too?’

‘Yes. Dharma wants Matsya. He tolerates Govinda for he reasons that the ends justify the means, though he begrudges the fact that even now it has taken Govinda’s word to settle his affairs. No wonder Govinda wanted you to marry him. No matter what he does for Dharma he will always be the lesser man, because there is one thing that our esteemed Emperor has that Govinda can never have… You. Hai! The intrigue never ends. And so much so for Dharma’s moral stand.’

‘Ah, but morality is a subtle thing, as Dharma would say. Duty is constant. And Dharma Yudhisthir believes he is doing his duty.’ Panchali’s smiled faded as she thought of all that lay ahead, but she forced it back on to her face as Govinda approached them. She tried to give a name to the confused sensations that coursed through her.

Govinda said, ‘Panchali, I need you to speak to Uttara.’ And then he was gone, weaving through the crowd to fall in step with Virat and Dharma as the assembly concluded and they left the room. He struck up a conversation with the two monarchs as though the occasion were nothing but a pleasant visit.

Dhrstyadymn walked up to Panchali and Shikandin, looking at Govinda with displeasure, and said, ‘What just happened?’

Panchali sighed. ‘Ah yes, you wouldn’t see it. You never did. It’s rather simple, brother. This realm isn’t quite Dharma’s yet. Sankha and his brothers are not fully convinced. No doubt their father will explain things to them in private, but we need a bond stronger than Virat’s word and his sense of ancient honour. We need another kind of alliance to hold this together.’

‘I don’t get it. I simply don’t understand. Why, after all that has happened… Why would Govinda let Dharma Yudhisthir reclaim a throne, any throne?’

As if of one mind, Panchali and Shikandin looked at each other and burst out laughing.

‘What?’ An uncomprehending Dhrstyadymn stared at his siblings.

‘My dear brother,’ Panchali began.

Shikandin continued, ‘If after all this while there is just…’

‘…one thing you should know…’

‘…about Govinda Shauri, it must be this…’

Panchali concluded, ‘Govinda Shauri always has a plan.’

32

PANCHALI SUSPECTED THAT A CLEVER WOMAN LIKE UTTARA KNEW
well what was to come, but facing her now, she found no satisfaction in knowing that her assessment had been accurate. No sooner did she enter the room than Uttara came striding forward to face her, confusion writ large on her face. ‘Are you here to help me or to counsel me, Panchali?’

‘What if they are one and the same, Uttara?’

‘The last time you and I were alone in a room, I made a few choices. Choices I did not regret till a short while ago, but now…’

Panchali sighed. ‘I take it, then, that your father has already told you of his plans to wed you to Abhimanyu.’

In response, Uttara grunted, disdainful.

Panchali went on, ‘I also take it you don’t want to marry Abhimanyu?’

‘What makes you think I’d want to marry him? Or do you think me obligated to do so? Yabha! I’m not some puppet for you to treat me this way, nor am I a child who plays with them that you can cajole consent out of me.’

‘Your father initially offered you to Partha, Uttara. But Partha can’t think of you that way, not after he’s cared for you and protected you as a daughter. That’s why I suggested you marry his son…’

‘I don’t want to marry his son! I’d rather die than… What is this, Panchali? Conquest without bloodshed? I have seen my father bow to the General and bend under the weight of ancient promises and lies that meant nothing. How do you expect me to have any regard whatsoever for a man who comes to my home, lives under my father’s protection and in return takes away my father’s throne and honour with it. And what of my brother? The throne is rightfully Sankha’s! Just because my family has been the custodian of a right that Dharma now claims, I don’t have to like it. And even if Matsya is Dharma’s by law, it certainly doesn’t come with me as tribute!’

‘Your father should have thought of that before…’

‘Before what, Panchali? Before he kept his oath as Chief to give up his throne to Satya’s heir? Or before he put me up as a prize? Isn’t that what happened to you? Where were your ideals then? Where were your brothers? And where was your precious Govinda Shauri?’

‘Uttara, please…’

‘What now,
Malini
? Will you cry and plead? Will you counsel me that this is the fate of our kind? And what kind is that? Women? Princesses? Or just those of us unfortunate enough to be of political use? And don’t give me all that piss about putting my nation’s interests before mine. We both know what this wedding really means. As it stands, every monarch in Aryavarta would give an arm and a leg to call himself kinsman to Matsya!’

‘And does that make you feel less like an object of use, a political puppet?’ Panchali snapped back. ‘At the end of it all, you’re obsessed with your own self-worth, aren’t you, Princess? All that…what did you call it…“piss about my nation’s interests”…I’ve been through that and more. I’ve seen the one I trusted the most throw me away, trade me in the interests of all Aryavarta, and I’ve felt more anger and rage than you can begin to imagine. But there is a difference between use and sacrifice. Do you even know what that word means? Sacrifice? It is when you surrender…not because you think you mean nothing. One cannot give up that which means nothing. I was not a puppet, Uttara, I was a sacrifice. Just as
your
ancestress Satya was. There are many who have given up everything because they believed in the ideal of Aryavarta, of a united realm beyond the politics of Firstborn and Firewright. I will leave you to choose what you believe in and what you wish to be.’