Part two
500 BCE
The bullock cart went by the building Bhalla was leaning on with feigned nonchalance. Inside, he was squirming with pent up frustration and anxiety. When will the signal come? Glancing across the street, his gaze landed on Kattapa huddled around a clay bowl with a twisted staff, acting the part of a blind old beggar, and his frown deepened. He played the downtrodden flea-bitten part well, looking so helpless and nebbish, if Bhalla hadn't known him he would have been truly convinced the bald, sore covered man was indeed a beggar.
But he wasn't, he was the head of the armoury, leader of his own gotra and slave to the throne of Mahishmathi, bound to it by oath sworn in perpetuity by his ancestors, and the most dangerous man Bhalla has ever met. Adept in different kind of martial arts, including the marmashastram, he was a living weapon. Kattapa had overseen him and his cousin-brother's training as children making warriors out of them but Bhalla was sure there had been so much he didn't teach them. Or perhaps didn't teach him, he may have taught Bahu.
Bhalla felt a hot wave of deep resentment. Of course, he would have taught Bahu all those other things. Bahu was his favourite. He was everyone's favourite. The guards, the soldiers, the servants, the people, even Bhalla's own mother. He knew she had little affection for him and all he could get out of that was approval and perhaps her guilt that she didn't love her son enough or as much as she did the son of her brother-in-law.
Another bullock cart rumbled by and Kattapa looked up. Their eyes met. They looked away again.
Bhalla stared at the sky. Evening was falling fast, soon the nagarapalakas will be here to light the street lamps. Somehow, he doubted that. They were in the seediest part of the city, a place he was surprised his mother's reformative hand hasn't reached. It was a place of squalor and vice, a bad mix. Infamous gambling dens and houses of pleasure lined the streets along with small huddling huts of the poor. Every now and then when the wind blew the wrong way, it brought with it the stench of human waste and overflowing drains. Mayhap after their mission, he would mention it to mother. Wait! No! Let Bahu do that.
Thrice, some lady had asked if he in need of a service, showing broken brown teeth in a suggestive leer. He felt a surge of anger watching her ugly mien and the need to bash her face in; instead he fixed his eyes on the sky, his hand behind his back, under his tunic fingering the hilt of his Aruval. He guessed his cousin was waiting for nightfall before making his move and wished the sun would set faster.
Earlier today, their mother had gotten whiff of a group of conspirators plotting against the throne meeting here today. The conspirators have been threatening coup ever since Bhalla was a child but they never took any action and everyone ignored their threats as they were only toothless dogs. Years passed and they faded away. The sudden resurgence had worried Rajamata Sivagami Devi, their mother that she had instantly asked them to investigate. Any guard could have investigated, but this was to be one of her little tests to find which one of them would be the better king and Kattapa was to be the quiet invigilators, observing and reporting back to her about their performance.
The Princes had left the palace disguised in cheap clothing. Bahu, the charming one, had been nominated to go into the den and investigate and Bhalla would be the brute force needed when necessary. He didn't like that he was ascribed to the part of the brawn, the word 'brute' sounded wrong to him, like he didn't have a mind. But he won't have the arrangement any other way. He wasn't a charmer, he did not know how to and didn't bother to try to find how it was done. He tried more unhand methods when he wanted to manipulate and the effects lasted a long time and had mostly produced the results he wanted.
A hungry looking boy came out from one of the collapsing hut, walked past Kattapa to a corner round the next bend, squatted and let loose excrement. The stink wafted to them on the wings of the wind and Bhalla let expletives flows from his mouth in rapid angry waves. Of course he grumbled it so Kattapa would not hear a royal prince of Mahishmathi speak using words of the gutter as opposed to the divine speak he and his cousin were raised with. The little boy finished his business and wiped his arse with leaf then wandered away in the opposite direction.
Bhalla sighed.
Night fell and the slum was cloaked in semi-darkness. Someone came out of the den to hang a lantern by the gates, ignoring Kattapa and Bhalla before disappearing into the den. Bhalla was just wondering how long he would have to wait outside for when the signal came. Three sharp whistles, followed by two short ones. Bhalla became alert and out from the corner of his eyes, he saw Kattapa stand. But both weren't ready for the human tornado that barrelled out from the den, running as if death was hot on his heels. A second human gale swept by and Bhalla recognized the hilt of the sword as his cousin's and he took off after then.
Slap! Slap! The sound of their shoes hitting the un-cobbled road echoed around the slum. Bahu chased someone, Bhalla chased Bahu and he could hear Kattapa coming after him. The light of the moon was strong, strong enough to see what was in front of him. So when Bahu banked sharply to the right, he saw and altered his direction. Foul smell assaulted his nostrils even before he stepped into the putrid water. They had come into an alley, wide enough for two bulls to stand shoulder to shoulder. The fetid water soaked the hem of his dhoti but Bhalla did not seem to notice. His cousin had stopped running, the person he was pursuing at sword point. Bhalla stepped up to his side and stared down at the man. He was richly dressed but Bhalla did not recognise him, he was surprised to see him smiling confidently instead of cowering in fear at being caught.
It was at that moment the two cousin-brothers realised what they had been lured into. A trap. Bhalla drew out his double swords as Bahu stepped back from the man. The ring of a dozen blades being drawn echoed through the enclosed space.
Someone chuckled in the dark. 'Yuvrajs, how kind of you to accept our invitation! We've been expecting you.'
'Show yourself!' Bahu challenged.
‘No thank you very much. I'll stay in the shadows. I like the aura of mystery it gives me. Your mother hasn't been very smart, showing her hand by sending you two with a slave as protection. No matter, I will divest her of that hand.'
Bhalla bristled. 'You can try,’ he snarled.
‘I will try and I will succeed, ushering in a new dawn into Mahishmathi. Enough talk, kill the princes!’ and the voice was gone.
Bhalla heard the first assassin come, splashing through the water. He dropped his body hunching his shoulders, his legs splayed and rooted firmly. A swing of his blade, blood sprayed some landing on his face. There was a big splash as the body fell down, dead. They came rushing then.
This was what Bhalla lived for, what his blood sang for. The thrill of battle, the luxurious tune it played for him. His blade slashed, thrust and parried, meeting with little resistance as it pierced and slashed flesh. Their pitiful moans and groans as they died were amusing. Behind and beside him, his cousin and Kattapa fought as fiercely and soon they were done. As the last man slid off his blade, Bhalla blinked off the haze that settled over him.
‘Is that all?’ he asked, his voice rather gruff.
There was no need for answer as no more came at them but Bahu answered yes. Kattapa light a torch which he handed to Bahu and he held it over his head, illuminating the bodies on the floor. Bhalla counted two scores; the body of the one they had been pursuing wasn't among. He must have slipped away during the fight.
Something caught Bhalla's eyes. He stared. It glinted again in the torchlight from one of the corpse. He bent to pick it up. It was a brooch, the shape of a beetle, it tugged at his memory string but try as he might to concentrate he couldn't remember.
‘Bahu!' he invited. His cousin came closer and they both peered down at it. It was at that very moment, the missing man lunged out from the darkness with a gleaming dagger. Both looked up at his yell but were slow to react.
‘Look out!' someone, a woman yelled and something barrelled into him, thrusting him aside and away from danger. He stumbled but didn't fall.
There was a slashing noise and a gasp of pain. Bhalla reacted instinctively, moving to catch her before she fell. He landed on a knee, the force of her weight drove him there. His cousin made quick work of the attacker, chopping off limbs and rendering him immobile and harmless before coming to kneel by his side bringing the light with him. He could now see his saviour's face.
His lungs seized refusing to draw air again. She was beautiful. Even with her face contorted in pain, she looked an apsara. Firelight danced on her face, giving her an attractive orange gleam. Clear green eyes glared out from her beautiful face, full of pain and knowledge. Her hair was a waterfall of dark curls and felt soft to the hand that was cradling her head. He wanted to stare at her forever.
‘This is bad,' Bahu said, distracting him from her. He looked away from her face and down at where his cousin was staring at. A thick slash of weeping wound marred her belly; it was deep enough to be worrying. Bhalla immediately felt concerned. This apsara could not die.
‘Yuvraj,’ Kattapa called their attention to the sound of footsteps approaching.
Bhalla felt a stirring of rage. Bahu stood up and he had no choice to do too, he would have preferred to stare at her, presumably forever, instead he tore out of her voluminous skirts and bound her wound with it then propped her against the wall.
‘Hold on, I will be back,' he whispered to her. She gave a little nod and his heart gave a little lurch when her eyes drifted close.
He fought with extra intensity this time, determined to end this quickly and return to the apsara before she shuffled off this mortal coil. He didn't want that, he wanted to save her and keep her.
Bhalla was slick with sweat and blood when it was over, his swords dripping and his muscles tired. But none of that mattered he wanted to see her. He went back to the alley for the apsara but she had disappeared.
The disappointment that overwhelmed him was unprecedented. Not for the first time in his life, he felt the crushing weight of loneliness.
So back in the past and I've introduced known characters. Please comment about how you feel about their portrayals. Thanks!!