The maid poured some more hot water into the basin where Priyadarshini sat soaking her aching feet. The journey to the temple had been a tedious one. They had gone on foot up the Jagdamba hills, climbing the innumerable stairs which had been cut into the sides of the rock. The temple, situated right at the top of the hill, was an ancient one where the royal family had worshiped for centuries. Once or twice on the upward journey, she had felt herself falter, the next instant, finding the Prince's hand on her arm in a strong grip.
"Thank you, my lord," she had muttered unwillingly when he supported her the first time on the steep steps. Any misstep would lead to a fall into the deep gorge below.
He had thrown a mocking look her way. "I would not want you to die so soon in this manner. You are the surety of your father's good behavior." The hurtful words had pierced her heart but she had kept silent in deference to the pious nature of the trip. Soon, they had stood before the idol of the Goddess, while the priest performed the rituals, invoking the blessings of the Goddess so that they would have many strong sons. Priyadarshini smiled to herself. Little did he know that the blessings could do no magic. Her husband had no intention of consummating the marriage.
The return journey had been uneventful, though seeming to be inordinately long as they rode silently on the carriage, once down the hill. They had both been lost in their own musings. She had been cogitating on the futility of this union which was no union at all. Could his parents not see that he hated her? Why did they insist on such rituals?
With a sigh, Priyadarshini turned her mind to more urgent matters at hand. Rattan was still languishing in the dungeons. She felt bad for Lalita. Her companion nursed some feelings for the young lad. Lalita was a year older than her and should have been married by now, but she had chosen to serve her mistress. It was up to her now to bring the two lovers together.
It had been two days since the trip to the temple. Nothing had changed in her life, as she sat in the window seat, admiring the gardens below. She was restless, the ennui was killing her. In her father's house, she had ridden like the wind, galloping through the fields and forests. She had practiced her moves with the sword, training with the best of the warriors. Here she had nothing to do all day, except moon around her chamber. The other women who occupied the inner sanctums of the palace would surely welcome her in their midst, but they would talk about the Prince, which was abhorrent to her. They were opposites in personality, she disliked any altercation or destruction, while he thrived on both. Discord was second nature to him. His arrogance and insensitivity knew no bounds. How would she spend a lifetime with such a man? But spend she must. There was no way out for her without causing a further rift between the two kingdoms. Resigned to her fate, she turned to rise, when a maid rushed into the chamber with a message. King Yashvardhan wished to see her.
"You summoned me, father," she remarked, taking a seat as he waved her to one.
"Yes, daughter-in-law. Since the wedding, I have been meaning to say something to you," he looked at her with a smile, as if waiting to test her reaction. Priyadarshini nodded, waiting anxiously. What new trial was she to face?"I am happy at the union, my dear daughter. You have one wish. Ask for anything you want."
*****
The passage which led to the dungeons was dark and dank. Lalita held the taper high, as they descended the steps to the sturdy gates at the bottom, manned by two burly guards. They barred the entryway, as she and Lalita reached the gates. "You are not allowed here," one of them spat irritably. "Go away, before the Prince gets word of this."
"Yes, go away. Have you come to cause more trouble? Poor Rattan is suffering because of you." A group of men had gathered at the gate, jeering her. They clearly held her responsible for Rattan's incarceration. Someone pushed Lalita, and she almost lost her footing. Priyadarshini caught her arm in time, preventing a fall. Were all men of Jaigarh so lacking in good manners?
"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.