The Enemy's Daughter

Chapter Six

"Stop there! We haven't come here to cause further trouble. Here, see this...." she proffered the roll of parchment containing the royal order. The head guard took the edict, spreading it open and reading through it, his eyes widening in surprise. Then, nodding his head, he let them pass.

*****

"What did you say?" Harshvardhan looked up from the books of annual revenue, which he had been going over with his minister. The young man repeated his words, stuttering and trembling with fear to see the Prince enraged. Harshvardhan threw the books aside, rising to his feet in a swift motion, his face red with fury. Just what did his wife think she was doing, going to the dungeon and releasing his prisoner? Did she not fear for her own life? He could have her beheaded for this effrontery.

Accompanied by a group of his men, all armed with shining blades, he strode towards the women's quarters of the palace. His wife had a whole wing to herself, something he had opposed, but his mother would have none of it. She was a royal princess and deserved all the opulence that came with the position. With each step he became even more incensed, planning a hundred punishments for her, each fiercer than the other.

The maid who had been sitting beside his wife, oiling her hair, jumped to her feet, covering her face, as Harshvardhan entered the bedchamber with his men. The sweet smell of roses tickled his nose as she stumbled to her feet, taken aback by his sudden appearance. "My....my...lord?" she stuttered, her eyes widening at the swords glinting in the afternoon sunlight falling through the windows.

Priyadarshini guessed that he had got word of Rattan's freedom. His face was glowing a deep crimson with the force of his anger. She stood with her head bent, waiting for the tirade. "How dare you free the man I had sentenced, Princess? Did you not consider the outcome of your action? I can have you punished this very moment for your impunity..." he thundered, his voice booming inside the room.

"He was innocent, my lord..." she continued, but he cut her off.

"That is for me to decide, Princess, not you," he shook with fury, his fingers tightening on the hilt of his sword as if he would draw it out any moment.

"Not even for his majesty, the King?" she asked quietly.

He looked askance at that. "What has that got to do with him?"

She turned to pick up the parchment from where it was lying on a tray, then proffered it towards him. He took it with a scornful glance, not trusting her word. His baleful gaze went through it.

"Are you satisfied now, my lord, that it is not of my doing?" she asked sweetly, relishing the expression of helplessness on his face.

He gave a twisted smile, drawing her near, till they were almost nose to nose. "You may escape retribution this time, Princess, but I warn you not to try anything like this again in the future. You knew very well that he had exceeded his brief in engaging in swordplay with a royal lady. Of course, if you consider yourself one," he taunted.

Priyadarshini glared at him. He was abominable. "It would be better if you discuss this matter with the king. I refuse to explain myself any further." With that, she struggled out of his grasp and stood with her head held high, heaving a sigh of relief as the men turned and walked away. Why did she have the feeling that she had not heard the last on the matter? He would not take his defeat lightly, she was sure of that.

The next few days, she lived in anticipation, but surprisingly they passed without event. The days had grown hotter with the onset of the arid season. Priyadarshini fanned herself, lying on the couch. Something seemed to be amiss but she could not put her finger to it. It was best to wait and watch.

*****

The men had gathered in a group, brandishing their arms in front of them in the air. The trees cast shadows on their ferocious faces. Their leader, a brawny, middle-aged man in a black turban, swept a hand through his mustaches. The vermilion mark on his forehead glowed like a fierce sun. His bloodshot eyes gazed at the motley group standing below the rock on which he stood, his feet apart and arms folded. He cleared his throat. "Dear friends, we have gathered here for a great cause. Our motherland has called us, and it is time to achieve our dreams. The time is right. I have got word that the Arabs have planned an invasion. This is the moment for us to strike and seize the throne. Once it is ours, you all will get your due rewards."

The men raised a chant. "Victory, glory, liberty!" The forest echoed with their voices. They were ready to lay down their lives for the great cause. Fate had been unjust to their leader. He had been robbed of the throne. This was the only way to get it back.

"Sunder Singh, you will lead the charge with a hundred men, while I will endeavor to take the palace with twenty of my best warriors. Does anyone have any questions?" The men moved their heads in negation. Few would dare question their leader, a fierce warrior. The horses were hidden from view behind the scrub and dry grass. Now, they went to get them, adjusting the armor plates and flexing their muscles. Sunder Singh led his piebald horse to the front of the battalion. The men fell into rows behind him, following their commander. The northern border was a good place to start. Far from the city, the villages would fall soon. The northernmost outpost had only a handful of men guarding it. It would be easy to seize. While they engaged the royal army here, their leader would wrest the throne in the palace. It was a foolproof plan. It was his job to see that it succeeded. He had been promised lands of his own. He was determined to hold onto that dream as he put his life in jeopardy.

Their leader watched his men march. It would take at least two or more days to reach the northern outpost, giving him enough time to reach the city and lie low, until the royal army proceeded to the farthest borders. He hoped that Sunder Singh would not make undue haste and tire out the horses. Everything depended on the timing of the plan. He was so near to his lifelong ambition.