Priyadarshini dragged her feet towards the audience hall. Her father had summoned her again to his presence, this time to meet her groom. With a pounding heart and dread creeping through her veins, she entered the grand hall, her face covered with a sheer veil. At least, the veil provided her with a semblance of security, hiding her face from prying eyes. The moment she entered the room, her gaze fell on the huge man seated beside her father. She curtsied to them and was shown a place on the other side of her father. Raising her eyes a little, she stole a glance at the face of the Prince. With widening eyes, she looked at him in incredulity. Had she not been sitting, she would surely have fallen down from the sheer shock she received. The stranger from the woods! It had been he, who had kissed her so daringly.
Harshvardhan stared at the bent head of his betrothed. He knew she must have recognized him from their previous encounter, but was unable to breathe a word about it in front of Somdutt, her father. He had heard stories about her beauty but wanted to find out for himself if they were true or just fanciful tales. Seeing her uneasiness gave him a sense of satisfaction. He did not intend to make the alliance easy for her. She was, after all, the daughter of his enemy. He hated Reshamgarh and its ruler with a vengeance. Long ago, his grandfather had been defeated by Somdutt when the latter had been a young prince. He always suspected some foul play, for his grandfather had been a seasoned warrior. He had never let his family forget that humiliating defeat. Harshvardhan had grown up with only one aim, to bring Reshamgarh to its knees. Now, due to the pressure from the neighboring rulers, he was forced to sign the treaty with his enemy. His enemy's daughter in exchange for peace between the two kingdoms. He smiled to himself, as the prospect suddenly seemed profitable. She would be a hostage in Jaigarh. Somdutt doted on his only daughter and any harm done to her would make him squirm. He would enjoy seeing his enemy on tenterhooks regarding his daughter's life.
"My beloved child, you have been promised to Prince Harshvardhan now. You shall accompany him to his kingdom on the morrow," her father said, his voice choking with emotions. Priyadarshini nodded, her glance darting to the man seated opposite her. She could swear that she saw his lips twist in contempt. Had he no respect for the sanctity of the marriage bond, she mused. "Make your preparations child, for you depart at the first light of dawn. It will be a long way. Lalita will accompany you, apart from the other servants. I know she is the closest to you," he tried to smile though his heart grew heavy at the thought of handing over his daughter to the enemy.
Somdutt watched his daughter walk out of the hall. She was an obedient child and had never disappointed him by word or deed. He knew that she deserved better, but the treaty was crucial to the welfare of his kingdom. Turning to the man seated beside him, he said, a warning in his tone, "My daughter is the most precious to me, her well-being of utmost importance. Keep that in mind, Prince, before you think of harming a single hair of her head." Harshvardhan let out a loud laugh, before running his hand lovingly over his sword.
*****
"Lalita," she called out, "pack my robes, and don't forget to pack the medicine chest."
Lalita, accompanied by a couple of maids, worked diligently to pack all the effects of her mistress, folding the exquisite silks and linens, and placing them in huge trunks. Of course, she could not forget the medicine box. Her mistress was no ordinary princess, weak and helpless. Being the only child of King Somdutt had meant that she had been taught to read and write the alphabet, something seldom allowed to womenfolk. She could duel with the best of the swordsmen and was an excellent rider. After the queen had passed away from a prolonged illness, the princess had shown a willingness to learn about medicine. She had trained for two years under the best medicine man in the kingdom, learning about the effects of herbs, how to mix them, and how to make poultices. There was not a single woman of royal blood among all the neighboring kingdoms, who could boast of so many accomplishments, as her mistress could. Lalita was proud of her princess and thought it a pity that she was to wed such a man as Prince Harshvardhan of Jaigarh. She should have been married off a year ago when Rana Raj Singh of Haripur had sent a proposal, but King Somdutt never considered any man good enough for his only child. Alas, now she was to be sacrificed for the sake of the kingdom and handed over to that bloodthirsty devil.
*****
Morning dawned clear and bright, in contrast to Priyadarshini's mood which was somber, to say the least. It was the first time she would be going away from her beloved home, and that too forever. She would miss the palace with its magnificent marble statues, the formally laid gardens, and her comfortable bedchamber which had been her haven since childhood. But more than that, she would miss her father and his loving presence. It was some consolation that Lalita would be going along with her.
"Sit still, my lady," Lalita admonished as Priyadarshini fidgeted for the umpteenth time, making it difficult for the maid to arrange her hair in an elaborate do. "All of Jaigarh would be out to catch a glimpse of you. We cannot let the opportunity go. Let us show them that we, of Reshamgarh, are not uncouth brutes like them." Priyadarshini let out a long sigh. She was dreading the prospect of the journey and then the public appearance. What would the people think of her? What would the king and queen be like? She looked on in dismay as Lalita plied her with heavy necklaces and other pieces of jewelry.
Finally, once she was ready, she accompanied her guards out of the palace, onto the platform at the front where her father was waiting with her intended. The enormous black stallion with its mean, beady eyes, was waiting alongside a palanquin which had been decorated with garlands of marigolds and roses. A retinue of soldiers and servants waited, their horses and elephants snorting impatiently. "Dear child," her father enveloped her in a warm hug, "I shall miss your lively presence. Remember, always hold your honor above everything else" he whispered in her ear.
"I shall do my best not to disappoint you, Father," she uttered as she put her arms around his waist and leaned on his chest, tears streaming down her face.
"Shall we cut it out? It is getting late and we have to travel a long way," her betrothed, dressed in a traditional jeweled headdress and a tunic of the finest silk, spoke, impatience clear in his tone. She glared at him under the cover of her veil. The heartless man! Here she was, leaving her beloved home forever, and he could not let her say her goodbyes properly? It did not auger well for their married life. With a heartfelt sigh, her father drew her by the hand towards the waiting palanquin, lifting the velvet curtains and handing her inside. Priyadarshini held on to his hand, loath to let go, as the prince mounted his steed, pulling the reins and guiding his horse towards the gateway leading out of the palace.
Hiding her face in her hennaed hands, she wept inconsolably, as the palace receded from sight. Wiping her tearful eyes, after some time, she leaned against the silken cushions. Weeping would not change anything. She needed all the courage she could garner, to face her ordeal. Soon, the swaying motion of the palanquin calmed her and she found herself drifting into a fitful doze.
"Halt," the loud command woke her up, as the palanquin bearers came to an abrupt stop. Pushing the curtains aside, Priyadarshini peeked out. The sun was about to set. It meant that she had slept for hours. Why did they stop here, in the middle of nowhere? She shrank as a masculine hand parted the curtains and a pair of eyes looked in on her, mockery evident in them.
"We rest here for the night, Princess. Get out and make yourself useful."
Priyadarshini pulled a face at the retreating back of the devil. What did he expect her to do? Pitch tents? Or fetch water from the small pond she could see in the distance? Lalita approached her, travel weary and dusty. "Come, my lady," she led her to where a small tent had been erected by the men within a few moments. Quickly, a woolen carpet was laid inside and cushions were placed on it, for her to rest. The nights could be quite cold, so, a rug was placed nearby. "You relax here, while I see to the meal," Lalita informed her, turning to walk out to where a fire had been started by the servants. She nodded, reclining on the cushions after being cooped up in the confines of the palanquin for hours.
Although plagued by the pangs of hunger, she felt too homesick to think of eating, as she waited for Lalita to return. The flap of the tent was parted, as a tall figure bent to enter the tiny space. In the light of the oil lamp, she saw the Prince cast a jaundiced eye at her. "I told you to make yourself useful, and you are hiding here? Come, the goat needs gutting." He waved a hand in the general direction of the pond. Her temper rose at his cavalier attitude. Did he expect her to do that bloody work, which no women were expected to do back home?
"My lord, I have never dressed an animal in my father's house. If you show me this one time then I promise to do it the next time you ask me to do so," she gave a saccharine sweet smile, looking, for all the world, eager to learn the job. He scowled at that.
'Let it be. It is already too late. The men are starving. The next time I won't take no for an answer, Princess," he warned, before striding out angrily. Priyadarshini heaved a sigh of relief, before sinking down on the cushions again. Soon, the aroma of roasting meat filled the air, and her stomach protested in hunger. Lalita walked in with the meal and they ate in silence, relishing the sweetmeats her father had sent along. It reminded her of home and lightened the grief in her heart a little.
Morning came with hurried activity, as the tents were taken down and the animals were readied for the onward journey. By the time the sun was up, they were on their way again, marching towards the stretch of forest which lay between their two neighboring kingdoms. Wild thorny bushes and stunted trees abounded in the path, the scenery broken sometimes by dry grass or a rare shady tree. Priyadarshini heard the men's excited chatter as they neared the borders of Jaigarh. Village after village passed as they plodded forward, raring to reach the city.
"City gates ahead," a guard shouted, as the procession picked up pace, with drums rolling and conch shells blowing. The palanquin bearers broke out into a song, a boisterous one about a beautiful bride won by a warrior in a duel. The sun was overhead, by the time, Priyadarshini peered out of the curtains to see the towering gates of the walled city looming ahead. Before she could draw the curtains again, the black stallion trotted alongside the palanquin, and the Prince bent down with a wicked smile.
"Welcome to your prison, my lady. I hope you will find life here as difficult as you imagined, and then some more." The horse galloped ahead, leaving a bitter taste in her mouth, and a heart pounding with dread. What did fate have in store for her, here?