The Secret of the Nagas (6 page)

Karkotak, Prime Minister to the Queen of the Nagas, looked up at the sky, judging the time. Then he looked disconcertedly at the Naga in the distance. He wondered why the Lord of the People, as the Naga was referred to in his lands, was so interested in this particular puja. The Lord had far greater powers and knowledge. Some even considered him better than the Naga Queen.

‘Your Highness,’ said Karkotak to the Queen, ‘do you think it advisable to emphasise to the Lord of the People the importance of returning home?’

‘When I want your advice, Karkotak,’ said the Queen in a curt whisper, ‘I will ask for it.’

Karkotak immediately retreated, terrified as always of his Queen’s temper.

The Queen turned back towards the Naga, her mind considering Karkotak’s words. She had to admit that her Prime Minister was right. The Nagas had to return to their capital quickly. There was little time to waste. The
Rajya Sabha
, the Naga
Royal Council
was to be held soon. The issue of medical support to the Brangas would come up again. She knew that the severe cost of that support was turning many Nagas against the alliance with the Brangas, especially the peace-loving ones who wanted to live their ostracised lives quietly, calling it a product of their bad karma. And without the alliance, her vengeance was impossible. More importantly, she could not desert the Brangas in their hour of need when they had been unflinchingly loyal to her.

On the other hand, she could not abandon her nephew, the Lord of the People. He was troubled; the presence of that vile woman had disturbed his usual calm demeanour. He was taking unnecessary risks. Like the idiotic attack on Sati and Shiva at the Ramjanmabhoomi temple. If he didn’t want to kill her, why the hell did he put his own person in such grave peril? What if he had been killed? Or worse, caught alive? He had justified it later as an attempt to draw Sati out of Ayodhya, as capturing her within the city was impossible. For what it was worth, he had succeeded in drawing her out on a voyage to Kashi. But she was accompanied by her husband and a whole brigade. It was impossible to kidnap her.

The Queen saw her nephew move slightly. She stepped forward a little distance, motioning for Karkotak and the men to remain behind.

The Naga had taken out a knife from a newly built hold on his belt. It was the knife Sati had flung at him at the Ramjanmabhoomi temple. He looked at it longingly, letting the blade run up his thumb. Its sharp edge cut his skin lightly. He shook his head angrily, dug the knife hard into the sand and turned around to walk towards the Queen.

He stopped abruptly. Oddly hesitant.

The Queen, clearly out of her nephew’s earshot, willed her thoughts in a quiet whisper. ‘Let it go, my child. It’s not worth it. Let it go.’

The Naga stood rooted to his spot. Indecision weighed heavy on him. The men in the distance were shocked to see their Lord in such a weak state. To the Queen’s dismay, the Naga turned around and walked back to the spot where he had buried the knife. He picked it up carefully, held it reverentially to his forehead and put it back into his side hold.

The Queen snorted in disgust and turned around, signalling Karkotak to come forward. She knew she had no choice. She would have to leave her nephew with bodyguards, while she herself would ride out towards Panchavati, her capital.

‘Portage charges? What rubbish!’ bellowed Siamantak, Ayodhya’s Prime Minister. ‘This ship belongs to the Emperor of Swadweep. It carries a very important individual, the most important in the land.’

Siamantak was in the pilot boat of Andhak, Port Minister of Magadh, who unlike typical Chandravanshis, was known to turn a blind eye to everything except the letter of the law. Siamantak turned to look nervously at the massive ship that carried the Neelkanth. Shiva was standing on the balustrade with Parvateshwar and Bhagirath. Siamantak was aware that Shiva wanted to stop at Magadh. He had expressed a desire to visit the Narsimha temple on the outskirts of the city. Siamantak did not want to disappoint the Neelkanth. However, if he paid portage charges for the ship, it would set a dangerous precedent. How could the Emperor’s ship pay portage in his own empire? It would open a can of worms with all the river port kingdoms across the empire. The negotiations with Andhak were delicate.

‘I don’t care who the ship belongs to,’ said Andhak. ‘And I don’t care if you have Lord Ram himself on that ship. The law is the law. Any ship that ports at Magadh has to pay portage. Why should Emperor Dilipa be worried about a small fee of one thousand gold coins?’

‘It’s not the money. It’s the principle,’ argued Siamantak.

‘Precisely! It is the principle. So please pay up.’

Shiva was getting impatient. ‘What the hell are they talking about for so long?’

‘My Lord,’ said Bhagirath. ‘Andhak is the Port Minister. He must be insisting that the law of portage charges be followed. Siamantak cannot allow any ship owned by my father to pay portage. It is an insult to my father’s fragile ego. Andhak is an idiot.’

‘Why would you call a person who follows the law stupid?’ frowned Parvateshwar. ‘On the contrary, he should be respected.’

‘Sometimes even circumstances should be looked at, General.’

‘Prince Bhagirath, I can understand no circumstance under which the letter of the law should be ignored.’

Shiva did not want to witness yet another argument between the Suryavanshi and Chandravanshi way of life. ‘What kind of ruler is the King of Magadh?’

‘King
Mahendra
?’ asked Bhagirath.

‘Doesn’t that mean
the conqueror of the world?’

‘Yes, it does, My Lord. But he does not do justice to that name. Magadh was a great kingdom once. In fact, there was a time when it was the overlord kingdom of Swadweep and its kings were widely respected and honoured. But as it happens with many great kings, their unworthy descendants frittered away the wealth and power of their kingdoms. They have been trying hard to live up to Magadh’s past glory, but have been spectacularly unsuccessful. We share a prickly relationship with them.’

‘Really, why?’

‘Well, Ayodhya was the kingdom that defeated them more than three hundred years ago to become the overlord of Swadweep. It was a glorious Ashwamedh Yagna, for this was a time when Ayodhya had still not fallen prey to the wooden kings who rule it today. As you can imagine, Magadh was not quite pleased about the loss of status and revenue from tributes.’

‘Yes, but three hundred years is a long time to carry a grudge!’

Bhagirath smiled. ‘Kshatriyas have long memories, My Lord. And they still suffer from their defeat to Ayodhya. Magadh could theoretically benefit from the fact that it is at the confluence of two rivers. It becomes the most convenient trading hub for merchants travelling on river ports on the Sarayu or the Ganga. This advantage was negated after they lost the Ashwamedh to us. A ceiling was imposed on their portage and trading hub charges. And then, our enmity received a fresh lease of life a hundred years back.’

‘And how did that happen?’

‘There is a kingdom to the west, up the Ganga, called Prayag. It had historically been in close alliance with Magadh. In fact the ruling families are very closely related.’

‘And...’

‘And when the Yamuna changed course from Meluha and started flowing into Swadweep, it met the Ganga at Prayag,’ said Bhagirath.

‘That would have made Prayag very important?’ asked Shiva.

‘Yes, My Lord. Just like Magadh, it became a crucial junction for river trade. And unlike Magadh, it was not bound by any treaty on its portage and trading charges. Any trader or kingdom wanting to settle or trade in the newly opened hinterlands of the Yamuna had to pay charges at Prayag. Its prosperity and power grew exponentially. There were even rumours that they were planning to support Magadh in an Ashwamedh Yagna to challenge Ayodhya’s suzerainty. But when my great grandfather lost the battle to the Suryavanshis and a dam was built on the Yamuna to turn the flow towards Meluha, Prayag’s importance fell again. They have blamed Ayodhya ever since. They actually believe we purposely lost the war to give them a devastating blow.’

‘I see.’

‘Yes,’ said Bhagirath, shaking his head. ‘But to be honest, we lost the war because my great grandfather employed terrible battle strategy.’

‘So you people have hated each other forever?’

‘Not forever, My Lord. There was a time when Ayodhya and Magadh were close allies.’

‘So will you be welcome here?’

Bhagirath burst out laughing. ‘Everyone knows I don’t really represent Ayodhya. This is one place I will not be suspect. But King Mahendra is known to be highly suspicious. We should expect spies keeping a close tab on us all the time. He does that to every important visitor. Having said that, their spy network is not particularly efficient. I do not foresee any serious problems.’

‘Will my blue neck open doors here?’

Bhagirath looked embarrassed. ‘King Mahendra does not believe in anything my father believes in, My Lord. Since the Emperor of Ayodhya believes in the Neelkanth, the Magadh king will not.’

Their conversation was interrupted by Siamantak climbing up the ship ladder. He came up to the Neelkanth, saluted smartly and said, ‘A deal has been struck, My Lord. We can disembark. But we will have to stay here for at least ten days.’

Shiva frowned.

‘I have temporarily transferred the ownership of the ship to a palace guesthouse owner in Magadh, My Lord. We will stay in his guesthouse for ten days. He will pay the portage charges to Andhak from the guesthouse rent we pay. When we wish to leave, the ownership of the ship will be transferred back to King Dilipa. We have to stay for ten days so that the guesthouse owner can earn enough money for his own profit and for portage charges.’

Shiva gaped at Siamantak. He didn’t know whether to laugh at this strangely convoluted compromise or be impressed at Siamantak’s bureaucratic brilliance in achieving Shiva’s objective of visiting Magadh while upholding his Emperor’s prestige. The portage charges would be paid, but technically not by Emperor Dilipa.

The Naga and his soldiers had been silently tracking the fleet carrying Shiva, Sati and their entourage. The Naga Queen, Prime Minister Karkotak and her bodyguards had left for Panchavati, the Naga capital. The smaller platoon allowed the Naga to maintain a punishing pace, staying abreast with the fast moving ships of Shiva’s convoy.

They had wisely remained away from the banks. Far enough to not be visible to the boat look-outs but close enough to follow their paths. They had moved further inland to avoid Magadh and intended to move closer to the river once they had bypassed the city.

‘A short distance more, My Lord,’ said Vishwadyumna. ‘Then we can move back towards the river.’

The Naga nodded.

Suddenly, the still of the forest was shattered by a loud scream. ‘NOOOOO!’

The Naga immediately went down on his knees, giving Vishwadyumna rapid orders with hand signals. The entire platoon went down quickly and quietly, waiting for the danger to pass.

But trouble had just begun.

A woman screamed again. ‘No! Please! Leave him!’

Vishwadyumna silently gestured to his soldiers to stay down. As far as he was concerned, there was only one course of action to take. Retrace their steps, take a wide arc around this area and move back towards the river. He turned towards his Lord, about to offer this suggestion. The Naga, however, was transfixed, eyes glued to a heartbreaking sight.

At a distance, partially hidden by the trees and underbrush, lay a tribal woman, frantically clutching a boy, no older than six or seven years. Two armed men, possibly Magadhan soldiers, were trying to pull the child away. The woman, showing astounding strength for her frail frame, was holding on to the child desperately.

‘Dammit!’ screamed the leader of the Magadhans. ‘Push that woman off, you louts!’

In the wild and unsettled lands between the Ganga and Narmada lived scattered tribes of forest people. In the eyes of the civilised city folk living along the great rivers, these tribals were backward creatures because they insisted on living in harmony with nature. While most kingdoms ignored these forest tribes, others confiscated their lands at will as populations grew and need for farmlands increased. And a few particularly cruel ones preyed on these helpless groups for slave labour.

The Magadhan leader kicked the woman hard. ‘You can get another son! But I need this boy! He will drive my bulls to victory! My father will finally stop his endless preening about winning every race for the last three years!’

The Naga looked at the Magadhan with barely concealed hate. Bull-racing was a craze in the Chandravanshi areas, subject to massive bets, royal interest and intrigue. Riders were needed to scream and agitate the animals to keep them running on course. At the same time, if the riders were too heavy, they would slow down the animal. Therefore, boys between the ages of six and eight were considered perfect. They would shriek out of fear and their weight was inconsequential. The children would be tied to the beasts. If the bull went down, the boy rider would be seriously injured or killed. Therefore, tribal children were often kidnapped to slave away as riders. Nobody important missed them if they died.

The Magadhan leader nodded to one of his men who drew his sword. He then looked at the woman. ‘I am trying to be reasonable. Let your son go. Or I will have to hurt you.’