The Enemy's Daughter

Chapter Eight

"My...my...father...would....never...do such...a thing," she croaked. How could she convince him of the fact that her father wanted peace at all costs?

He just laughed at her words before turning to his men. "Do you believe her words? Do you trust that scoundrel Somdutt?" he asked his men with a taunting smile. The men shook their heads, shouting 'No' in unison. "Then what are you waiting for? Arrest her and bring her to the dungeons," he commanded in a hard voice, sending a scornful look her way, before riding back to the palace.

The guards encircled her, nudging her forward, on foot, while her mount was led by the reins. They made her walk all the way, poking her with their spears when she stumbled. Enraged beyond words, Priyadarshini could not believe what was happening. How could the Prince treat her like a common criminal? It was preposterous. She was a princess and his wife. Tears of rage flowed down her cheeks and she brushed them aside, unwilling to show any signs of weakness. Even if she had to go to the gallows, she would go with her head held high. She would show them what honor was. With this thought firmly in place, she approached the dark dungeons and the fate which awaited her there.

*****

"My lord, let me march with the best of my men. We shall have those rebels routed within a day," Hiraman suggested, showing the route he had marked on a map. The prince nodded, acknowledging the wisdom of the plan. He was needed at the palace, which could not be left unguarded.

"You do that. I shall increase the security in the palace. The plan may be deeper than we know. We can't trust anybody at the moment," Harshvardhan pointed out, his instinct telling him that there was more to this rebellion than met the eye.

*****

Rajyavardhan peered out from behind the piece of leather which hung on the window, serving as a curtain. The night was about to fall. His men were already waiting outside the walls of the palace, hidden in the bushes. He was hiding in this shack, waiting for the right time to strike. Turning away from the window, he fingered his jeweled dagger. The sharp steel shone in the light of the single taper burning in the shack. He smiled to himself. His dream would soon come true.

*****

Priyadarshini stared unseeingly at the discolored stone walls which incarcerated her. The dampness from the hard floor was seeping into her clothes, making her shiver even at the height of summer. Sunlight did not reach the cell, the only light was from the small lamp which stood outside the barred doors. Beyond the bars, the men were engaged in jesting, with someone singing a rumbustious song lewdly. It had been three days now since she was pushed into the cell and the door was locked. A pitcher of water stood to one side and a plate made of leaves had been pushed under the door. Priyadarshini looked with contempt at the stale millet bread. Was she expected to eat that? Even the water tasted of salt and mud. She had spent the nights curled up on the grass pallet, until the previous night when a rat had scurried nearby. The rest of the night she had sat up in fear, resting her aching back against the damp wall. The stench inside the cell was enough to make her feel like vomiting, but she only retched dryly, not having eaten anything. Wouldn't death have been better than this, she wondered. The quick stroke of the executioner's sword would be more welcome than dying in this hell hole, in ignominy.

The palace was silent. No footfalls broke the stillness of the night. A hoot, like that of an owl, assured Rajyavardhan that his men were ready for his signal to enter the grounds by scaling the walls of the palace. He smiled to himself. The time was ripe to meet his nephew. Once he was out of the way, King Yashvardhan, his twin brother, could be easily captured and consigned to the deepest dungeons to spend the rest of his life there. In fact, he would relish seeing his brother's misery as he rotted in gaol. All his life he had waited for this moment when he would get his due. The throne belonged to him, not that simpering idiot or his reprobate son.

As he tried the doors of his nephew's chamber, he prayed that it would have been left unlocked as per the plan. He had bribed one of the servants to see that the doors were not locked that night. Although Harshvardhan spent most of his nights at the courtesan's mansion, that night he was in the palace. It was a stroke of good luck, as he could tackle both father and son together. He tiptoed inside the dark room. The moonlight was enough to show him the sleeping form of his nephew on the wide bed. Nearing the bed, he peered at the face, but it was covered with a silken sheet. Well, let him die in his sleep, he thought, kissing his steel. Just as he raised his dagger to bring it down in a fatal blow, the lamps in the room went up. Before he could react, the man on the bed threw aside the sheet and jumped out of it. Looking for a way to escape, Rajyavardhan found himself surrounded by armed men.

Harshvardhan walked out of the shadows. He had never been on that bed, instead, his place had been taken by a young warrior. He had got wind of the coup but had not expected his own uncle to be the mind behind it. As he stood face to face with his uncle, he wondered at the strange events of the last few days. Bringing his mind back to the matter at hand, he addressed Rajyavardhan. "So, it is you, Uncle, who has cast his evil gaze at the throne of Jaigarh. I was under the impression that you had been happy to be sent as our ambassador to Sinhala Dweepa*."

"Huh! An ambassador! Is that what I am good for when I can rule Jaigarh? This throne rightfully belongs to me, my dear nephew. Was it my fault that I was younger than my brother by a few minutes? It was always my arrow that went farther, my horse that sped faster. Your father never deserved to be king." Scorn dripped from his words. Harshvardhan had not expected his uncle to harbor so much resentment against his own brother.

"You are wrong, dear uncle. My father was made the king because he was liked by the people and had the support of the royal clan. Everyone admired him for his gentleness and wisdom. They still do. You, on the other hand, were hotheaded and profligate, whiling away your days in debauchery. I shudder to think of the fate of Jaigarh in your hands."

Rajyavardhan spat in contempt, before waving the dagger in his nephew's face. "Had luck been on my side, nephew, you would not have been standing here at the moment saying such unkind words to me. Behead me, if you will, but I shall never accept Yashvardhan as my king." At that, the men disarmed him, searching his person, for any hidden weapon, before they dragged him to where the king would decide his fate. Would he be put to death, he wondered as the men led him to the audience hall.