Read Online The Aryavarta Chronicles Kurukshetra: Book 3 by Krishna Udayasankar - Free Book Online
Authors: Krishna Udayasankar
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better watch your back.’
‘I thought I have you for that, Captain.’
‘You do now, Govinda . You do now. But if there should be war… who will watch your back when I’m gone? Don’t depend on me too much, old friend.’ With that, he turned his attention back to Govinda’s wounds.
Flinching with renewed pain, Govinda said, ‘It must heal before we reach Matsya, Daruka. We can’t let anyone find out about this attack. The Secret Keeper aside, our friends will want to blame Syoddhan. We cannot risk stirring anger and resentment against him at the moment. It might jeopardize my plans.’
‘I know.’
Govinda let his head fall on to his forearms again. This time though, it was not pain that he wanted to hide, but the various emotions that threatened to surface all at once.
7
BY THE TIME THE LOW STRUCTURES OF UPAPLAVYA, THE MAIN CITY of the region of Matsya, were sighted through the desert mist, Govinda had little more to show for his recent battle than some stiffness where the gash on his back had been expertly tended to by Daruka. The swelling on his face had receded but traces of a bruise remained, not enough, he hoped, to draw comment. The journey from Hastina to Upaplavya had taken them nearly twice the estimated four days, but such things were easily blamed on the weather, or some fault with the carriage – excuses typically unavailable to riders.
Alighting from the carriage at the entrance to the royal quarters, Govinda dismissed Daruka with a grateful smile. Then he made his way into the palace that had been – and still was in name – Chief Virat’s, though it was Dharma Yudhisthir who sat on the Chief’s throne whenever the assembly was convened. He noticed the lone grey-white feather that littered the corridor, awaiting removal by palace attendants as part of their cleaning ritual at dawn. It had clearly not been long since Dharma had received a message. There were few people in all of Aryavarta who used these grey messenger pigeons and Govinda knew instantly that the missive had come from Vidur. It was the consequent implication of the messenger’s presence that interested Govinda further – few people in all of Aryavarta had enough influence over the wise courtier to make him preempt Govinda, and one alone had the immediacy.
Sukadeva Vasishta Varuni. The future Vyasa of the Firstborn.
Suka’s father, the former Vyasa, Krishna Dwaipayana, had been a prominent feature of Aryavarta’s politics as well as the personal history of the Kurus. But there had been more to that history, a fact that few had known – Dwaipayana, the one destined to lead the Firstborn to their greatest heights, was born of a Firewright womb. Satyavati, the Kuru queen and Dwaipayana’s mother, had been born Princess of Matsya, a land that had once been home to the Wrights.
These complex considerations had influenced Dwaipayana and, in turn, his direction of Aryavarta’s moral fabric. For his part, Govinda had never hesitated to twist those strands to his own ends. Suka, however, was spun of a different thread altogether. As far as Aryavarta was concerned, Suka remained a relatively unknown entity. A tall, handsome man who bore an uncanny resemblance to his famed grandfather, but none at all to the dark, diminutive Dwaipayana, he was to be seen occasionally at rituals and yagna-sacrifices as part of the large group of scholar-priests always by Dwaipayana’s side. He hardly spoke, and if at all he did it was in restrained tones that suggested a perpetual sense of being an imposition upon the moment. No one noticed him. No one bothered with him. He came and went as he wished, did as he wished, for no one stopped to think that he might wish anything at all.
The thought of Suka made Govinda stop in his tracks. He took a deep breath of the crisp morning air. He was not a man who lacked courage, but neither was he foolish enough to not know fear when it was due. The idea of having Suka for an enemy made him feel
‘I thought I have you for that, Captain.’
‘You do now, Govinda . You do now. But if there should be war… who will watch your back when I’m gone? Don’t depend on me too much, old friend.’ With that, he turned his attention back to Govinda’s wounds.
Flinching with renewed pain, Govinda said, ‘It must heal before we reach Matsya, Daruka. We can’t let anyone find out about this attack. The Secret Keeper aside, our friends will want to blame Syoddhan. We cannot risk stirring anger and resentment against him at the moment. It might jeopardize my plans.’
‘I know.’
Govinda let his head fall on to his forearms again. This time though, it was not pain that he wanted to hide, but the various emotions that threatened to surface all at once.
7
BY THE TIME THE LOW STRUCTURES OF UPAPLAVYA, THE MAIN CITY of the region of Matsya, were sighted through the desert mist, Govinda had little more to show for his recent battle than some stiffness where the gash on his back had been expertly tended to by Daruka. The swelling on his face had receded but traces of a bruise remained, not enough, he hoped, to draw comment. The journey from Hastina to Upaplavya had taken them nearly twice the estimated four days, but such things were easily blamed on the weather, or some fault with the carriage – excuses typically unavailable to riders.
Alighting from the carriage at the entrance to the royal quarters, Govinda dismissed Daruka with a grateful smile. Then he made his way into the palace that had been – and still was in name – Chief Virat’s, though it was Dharma Yudhisthir who sat on the Chief’s throne whenever the assembly was convened. He noticed the lone grey-white feather that littered the corridor, awaiting removal by palace attendants as part of their cleaning ritual at dawn. It had clearly not been long since Dharma had received a message. There were few people in all of Aryavarta who used these grey messenger pigeons and Govinda knew instantly that the missive had come from Vidur. It was the consequent implication of the messenger’s presence that interested Govinda further – few people in all of Aryavarta had enough influence over the wise courtier to make him preempt Govinda, and one alone had the immediacy.
Sukadeva Vasishta Varuni. The future Vyasa of the Firstborn.
Suka’s father, the former Vyasa, Krishna Dwaipayana, had been a prominent feature of Aryavarta’s politics as well as the personal history of the Kurus. But there had been more to that history, a fact that few had known – Dwaipayana, the one destined to lead the Firstborn to their greatest heights, was born of a Firewright womb. Satyavati, the Kuru queen and Dwaipayana’s mother, had been born Princess of Matsya, a land that had once been home to the Wrights.
These complex considerations had influenced Dwaipayana and, in turn, his direction of Aryavarta’s moral fabric. For his part, Govinda had never hesitated to twist those strands to his own ends. Suka, however, was spun of a different thread altogether. As far as Aryavarta was concerned, Suka remained a relatively unknown entity. A tall, handsome man who bore an uncanny resemblance to his famed grandfather, but none at all to the dark, diminutive Dwaipayana, he was to be seen occasionally at rituals and yagna-sacrifices as part of the large group of scholar-priests always by Dwaipayana’s side. He hardly spoke, and if at all he did it was in restrained tones that suggested a perpetual sense of being an imposition upon the moment. No one noticed him. No one bothered with him. He came and went as he wished, did as he wished, for no one stopped to think that he might wish anything at all.
The thought of Suka made Govinda stop in his tracks. He took a deep breath of the crisp morning air. He was not a man who lacked courage, but neither was he foolish enough to not know fear when it was due. The idea of having Suka for an enemy made him feel
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