The Secret of the Nagas
Page 23

Bhagirath shook his head and rose. ‘Thank you, Nandi. Lucky that you were around.’
‘It wasn’t luck, Your Highness,’ said Nandi softly. ‘The Neelkanth has asked me to follow you for the duration of your father’s visit. I honestly thought the Lord was over-reacting. No father would make an attempt on his child’s life. I guess I was wrong.’
Bhagirath shook his head. ‘It’s not my father. At least not directly.’
‘Not directly? What do you mean?’
‘He doesn’t have the guts. But he makes it well–known that I am not in his favour. That obviously encourages rival claimants to the throne, people who travel in his court. All they have to do is take me out of the equation. Make it appear as if I died in an accident.’
‘This,’ said Nandi, pointing to the dead assassins, ‘wouldn’t look like an accident.’
‘I know. It just means that they’re getting desperate.’
‘Why?’
‘My father’s health is not good. I think they feel that they don’t have time. If he dies while I am alive, I will be crowned king.’
Nandi shook his head.
Bhagirath patted Nandi. ‘I’m in your debt, my friend. Forever grateful. As long as I live.’
Nandi smiled. ‘And you will live a long life, Your Highness. Nothing will happen to you as long as I am around. I will stand between you and any man who dares to attack you. And there is a lot of me to cover you with!’
Bhagirath smiled at Nandi’s attempt at humour on his elephantine girth.
‘Did you get any names? Who sent them?’
‘I don’t know, My Lord,’ said Bhagirath. ‘They died before I could get any answers.’
Shiva sighed. ‘The dead bodies?’
‘Handed over to the Kashi police,’ said Bhagirath. ‘But I don’t expect that they will be able to gather any leads.’
‘Hmm,’ said Shiva.
‘For the second time, I owe you my life, My Lord.’
‘You owe me nothing,’ said Shiva, before turning towards Nandi. ‘Thank you, my friend. It is you who deserves credit.’
Nandi bowed low. ‘It’s my honour to serve you, My Lord.’
Shiva turned back to Bhagirath. ‘What are you going to tell Anandmayi?’
Bhagirath frowned. ‘Nothing. I don’t want her getting troubled unnecessarily. I am fine. There is no need for anyone to know.’
‘Why?’
‘Because I am sure that father will not even try to investigate this attack. Other nobles will see this as a sign of his tacit acceptance of a more aggressive attack on me rather than difficult-to-organise “accidents”. Letting this news become public will only encourage rival claimants further.’
‘Are there so many nobles after you?’
‘Half the court is related to my father, My Lord. All of them think that they have a right to the throne.’
Shiva breathed deeply. ‘Never stay alone while your father’s here. And you are coming with me on the voyage to Branga, far away from here.’
Bhagirath nodded.
Shiva patted Bhagirath on his shoulder. ‘Make sure that you don’t get yourself killed. You are important to me.’
Bhagirath smiled. ‘I will try to remain alive for you, My Lord!’
Shiva laughed softly. So did Nandi.
‘Your Highness, I don’t think it is wise for you to give away so much Somras powder,’ said Shiva.
Shiva and Daksha were in Shiva’s quarters. It had been a week since Kartik’s birth. Sati and Kartik were sleeping in the next room, with Krittika and a bevy of nurses in close attendance. Shiva was shocked at the large amount of Somras powder Daksha had got with him as a present for Kartik. Daksha wanted Kartik to start taking the Somras from birth, every day, so that he would grow to be a strong, powerful warrior. He had got enough powder to last until Kartik’s eighteenth birthday!
‘My Lord,’ said Daksha, ‘it’s not fair for you to tell a doting grandfather what he can or cannot give his first grandchild.’
‘But My Lord, with the destruction of Mount Mandar, you must be running short on Somras supplies. I don’t think it is right for so much to be given to my son, when your entire country could use the blessings of the Somras.’
‘Let me worry about that, My Lord. Please don’t say no.’
Shiva gave up. ‘How are the plans to rebuild Mount Mandar coming along?’
‘It’s taking too long,’ said Daksha, waving his hand dismissively. ‘Let’s forget about that. This is such a happy event. I have a grandchild. A whole, complete, handsome grandchild who will grow up to be the Emperor of India!’
The citizens of Kashi customarily celebrated the birth of a child with music and dance after exactly seven days of its birth. Shiva decided to honour the traditions of his hosts.
The Neelkanth was sitting on a throne in the dance theatre. Next to him, on the throne meant for the Queen of Kashi, sat Sati, cradling a sleeping Kartik in her arms. Daksha and Dilipa had the seat of honoured guests next to Shiva and Sati. The royal family of Kashi sat beyond them. It was unorthodox for the King of the kingdom to occupy such a low place in the seating protocol. But Athithigva did not mind.
Sati bent towards Shiva and whispered, ‘You danced marvellously. As always!’
‘You noticed?’ teased Shiva.
Earlier in the evening, Shiva had insisted on opening the celebrations with his own performance. The audience could not believe their good fortune at seeing the Neelkanth himself dance. And they applauded his fabulous dancing skills with a five-minute long standing ovation. The dance was one of his best ever. And the audience was moved to raptures. But Shiva had noticed, much to his chagrin, that Sati was distracted during his performance. She had been troubled since the time Shiva had told her of the Somras powder brought by Daksha.
‘Of course, I did,’ smiled Sati. ‘I’m just troubled that father is giving away so much Somras. It’s not right. It is for all of Meluha. Kartik should not get any special treatment just because he is a royal. This is against Lord Ram’s principles.’
‘Then, speak to your father.’
‘I will. At the right time.’
‘Good. For now, however, look at Anandmayi when she dances. She may not be as forgiving as me.’
Sati smiled and rested her head on Shiva’s shoulders as she turned to look at the stage just in time to see Anandmayi walk onto it. She was wearing a shockingly tiny dhoti and a tight blouse, leaving very little to the imagination. Sati raised her eyebrow and looked at Shiva. Shiva was smiling.
‘It’s the right costume for this dance,’ said Shiva.
Sati nodded and turned towards the stage again. Shiva sidled a glance at Parvateshwar and smiled. The General’s face was an impenetrable mask. His Suryavanshi training had kicked in, but the man’s clenched jaw and tick near his brow betrayed that he was far from unmoved.
Anandmayi bent low to touch the stage with her forehead, seeking blessings and inspiration for her performance. The Chandravanshis in the front row leaned forward to get a better view of the ample cleavage that was revealed. If it had been any other dancer, the audience would probably have been whistling by now. But this was the Princess of Swadweep. So, they just kept ogling silently at her.