The Aryavarta Chronicles Kaurava: Book 2 Page 15

  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 fa
ult 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.’

  It felt as though she had hardly sent the messenger back, or perhaps she thought it so for the shock and horror she felt, but Panchali was still standing where the pratikramin had left her when she heard the knock at the door. Her sairandhari looked at her, uncertain. ‘Mahamatra?’ she said, the question in her tone conveying concern.

  ‘Open it,’ Panchali said, but before the girl could act on her orders, the door splintered apart. The two eunuch guards posted in every royal woman’s chambers at Hastina stepped in to intercept the intruder, but immediately moved aside.

  Dussasan stood in the doorway, a hungry expression on his face. ‘You had a question for the assembly, had you not, my dear? I’ve been sent to escort you there, so that you may ask it in person.’ He sprang at her.

  Panchali wasted no time on protest or plaint. She elbowed Dussasan in the stomach as hard as could and he doubled over with a grunt of pain. She had hardly reached for her sword when he grabbed hold of her by her hair. She grimaced at the pain, but said nothing.

  Dussasan twisted her around, making her face him. ‘Slave!’ he cackled. ‘You whore! Come, you are ours now.’

  ‘This is madness! How dare you? Let go of me!’ Panchali demanded.

  ‘Hush, my dear,’ Dussasan said, unaffected. ‘You’ve been duly wagered and lost by your husband. You’re now rightfully our property, a slave to the Kuru princes.’ He caught her face in his thick fingers and forced her to look at him. The action prompted her handmaidens to gasp, but the same sway of authority that had led them to accept their Emperor’s untenable stakes without question now kept them from questioning a prince’s deeds, no matter how vile. They stayed silent and still, their eyes fixed on the floor.

  Oblivious to them, Dussasan bent his head and ran his thick tongue up the side of Panchali’ neck and face. She squirmed. In response, Dussasan trailed his thick fingers over her thigh, cupping her from behind to pull her close against him. He forced his fingers against her skin, howling with feral delight as they came away stained red with her monthly blood.

  ‘They say an insatiable woman like you is all the more desirable when your season is upon you…like a wild animal in heat.’

  Panchali let a defiant screech escape her, as she struggled against Dussasan’s hold. It only served to spur him on. His gaze leaving no doubt as to his future plans, he taunted her, ‘If you’d been any other slave in this palace, I’d have taken you right here, right now. The things I want to do to you…’ he left the sentence unfinished. With a chuckle he added, ‘But who knows, you might enjoy my…special attentions…insatiable as you are! We shall see. For now, slave, come along. Your masters are calling for you. Come now, whore!’ He began dragging her out of the door and towards the assembly.

  Panchali fought hard against his hold. She kicked, she slapped and scratched – but to no avail. Dussasan slammed her against the hard walls of the corridors and threw her to the floor, using her long hair to keep his hold on her. When that did not suffice to stop her struggling, he kicked her in the stomach and grabbed her again by her hair. Overcome by her own desperation and helplessness, she felt herself going numb. Her limbs felt heavy, and she could not struggle any more. Afraid that she would faint, she focussed on the raw, burning sensation on her legs from being scraped across the stone floor. Then, just when it seemed she had got used to the pain, she suddenly felt the cool smoothness of marble and heard the hum of conversation. Panchali looked up despite the painful grasp that Dussasan still had on her hair. She was in Hastina’s hallowed assembly hall.

  Each and every elder, every vassal, every ally of Kuru, was present and their eyes were on her and her alone. She was painfully aware that her robes had come loose and clung, disorderly, stained and wet with her own blood, to her thighs. Laughter, mocking and derisive, punctuated the air. Vasusena pointed, not at her but to her body. He clapped his hands in glee and cried out, ‘Look at the slave! Look at the whore of the Kaurava clan!’

  The words seared through Panchali, filling her with a bitter strength, stoking her fiery spirit out of its submissive resignation. She looked into the crowd around her, searching out, one by one those who ought to have known better. But neither Dharma nor his brothers could meet her eyes. She noted that Syoddhan was staring at her aghast, his mouth hanging open. He briefly looked away to glare, furious, at Dussasan, but the younger prince, consumed by his brutish power, remained oblivious to it. At that, Syoddhan turned back to Panchali, his eyes holding a helplessness that she understood far too well, as she did the controlled horror that she saw in Dron’s eyes, and Bhisma’s, and in every gaze that fell on her.

  Fear and ambition rule us all. Fear and ambition… Oh Rudra, how has it come to this?

  And then, Vasusena was speaking again. ‘Panchali! You are to proceed immediately to the attendant’s quarters of the king’s palace. There, you will change into the white hemp robes of a slave-woman and cast off all your jewels and begin the menial duties assigned to you.’ He paused, and pointedly added, ‘You are now a slave to the Kuru princes. You were wagered by Dharma Yudhisthir and lost. That is the law.’

  Panchali rose to her feet with effort. She turned to look at Dharma and his brothers. The five of them stood with their arms crossed in subservience, eyes downcast in shame and submission. Her own gaze fixed on Dharma, she said, ‘And whose master was Dharma Yudhisthir to make such a wager?’

  The assembly erupted in a roar, and indistinct murmurs of disbelief vied with cries of anger. Panchali knew that many of the abuses and admonition were directed at her. Shakuni and Vasusena called for silence and after much gesticulating managed to get the assembly to comply.

  ‘You dispute that Dharma had a right to stake you?’ Vasusena asked as soon as he could make himself heard.

  ‘Yes.’

  The chaos resumed. Now, even the elders, Dron, Kripa and Bhisma looked offended. Dharma’s head drooped further still. Shakuni stood up and gestured to the assembly to take their seats. Once again, the hall fell quiet and all eyes turned towards Panchali, who continued, unperturbed. ‘We speak of our role, our duty as the rulers of Aryavarta, to ensure that Divine Order is replicated here on this earth. And the greatest function that comes of that duty is to ensure that justice is served; a function that the Emperor of this land swore to discharge with
out fail. Unfortunately, neither the Emperor nor the Empress of Aryavarta are in a position to preserve that oath,’ she punctuated her words with a sarcasm that was as soft as it was scathing. ‘So it is, that I call on the rulers of Kuru, in whose jurisdiction this matter now lies. I call on the famed justice of Emperor Bharata’s line and submit to the authority of this royal assembly – now in effect a court of law.’ Her speech was more than many could take.

  ‘Slave!’ Dussasan cried out. ‘You’re a slave and a whore and, by the gods, you will give us brothers as much pleasure as you’ve given those five eunuch cousins of ours!’

  With an enraged cry, Bhim launched himself at Dussasana. It took the combined efforts of Partha, Sadev and Nakul to hold him back. Dharma did not stir. His inaction infuriated Panchali far more than Dussasana’s abuses had, and though she tried not to let it show her face was strained with wrath.

  Shakuni stepped forward, eager to break Panchali’s confidence in his own subtle way. ‘So, you maintain that you are not a slave?’

  ‘Yes,’ Panchali affirmed.

  ‘Because Dharma had no right to stake you?’

  ‘That is correct.’

  In a voice filled with mock astonishment, Shakuni said, ‘But you are his lawfully wedded wife, are you not? Doesn’t the husband have the right to stake his wife? Or do you admit that you are not his wife alone? For if the case is that you are wife to his brothers too, as some suggest… But then, we return to the question of whether a woman of…err…such distinction deserves any protection at all…’

  The statement was met with much crude laughter and applause.

  Panchali ignored it all. She said, ‘I am wife to Dharma Yudhisthir. However, the moment Dharma’s enslavement began, he ceased to have the rights accorded to free men…including rights as a husband over the property, if one should tastelessly call it so, that is his wife. Whether you deem him my overlord by virtue of his position as Emperor of Aryavarta, or as my husband, when a man has lost himself, he has no one left to command and nothing left to rule over.’