Scion of Ikshvaku Read Free Page A

heir.
    No wonder then that when Kaushalya finally became pregnant, it was an occasion marked by both joy and trepidation. The queen was understandably desperate to ensure that the child was delivered safely. Her entire staff, most of whom were loyal retainers from her father’s household, understood the political implications of the birth of an heir. Abundant caution was the norm. This was not the first time that Nilanjana had been summoned, many a times over frivolous reasons and false alarms. However, since the doctor too was from Queen Kaushalya’s parental home, her loyalty forbade any overt signs of irritability.
    This time, though, it appeared to be the real thing. The queen had gone into labour.
    Even as she ran, Nilanjana’s lips fervently appealed to Lord Parshu Ram for a smooth delivery, and yes, a male child.

    ‘I order you to restore our commission to the very fair nine-tenths of your profits and, in return, I assure you I will let you live,’ growled Dashrath.
    In keeping with the rules of engagement, Dashrath had sent a messenger in advance to Kubaer for a negotiated settlement as a last resort. The adversaries had decided to meet in person on neutral ground. The chosen site was a beach midway between Dashrath’s military camp and the Karachapa fort. Dashrath was accompanied by Ashwapati, Mrigasya, and a bodyguard platoon of twenty soldiers. Kubaer had arrived along with his army’s general, Raavan, and twenty bodyguards.
    The Sapt Sindhu warriors could scarcely conceal their contempt as the obese Kubaer had waddled laboriously into the tent. A round, cherubic face with thinning hair was balanced on the humongous body of the seventy-year-old fabulously wealthy trader from Lanka. His smooth complexion and fair skin belied his age. He wore a bright green dhoti and pink angvastram and was bedecked with extravagant jewellery. A life of excess which, when added to his girth and effeminate manner, summed up in the mind of Dashrath what Kubaer was: the classic effete Vaishya.
    Dashrath restrained his thoughts as they struggled to escape through words. Does this ridiculous peacock actually think he can take me on?!
    ‘Your Highness…’ said Kubaer nervously, ‘I think it might be a little difficult to keep the commissions fixed at that level. Our costs have gone up and the trading margins are not what they—’
    ‘Don’t try your disgusting negotiating tactics with me!’ barked Dashrath as he banged his hand on the table for effect. ‘I am not a trader! I am an emperor! Civilised people understand the difference.’
    It had not escaped Dashrath’s notice that Kubaer seemed ill at ease. Perhaps the trader had not intended for events to reach this stage. The massive troop movement to Karachapa had evidently unnerved him. Dashrath presumed that a few harsh words would effectively dissuade Kubaer from persisting with his foolhardy quest. After which, to be fair, he had decided that he would let Kubaer keep an extra two percent. Dashrath understood that, sometimes, a little magnanimity quelled discontent.
    Dashrath leaned forward as he lowered his voice to a menacing whisper. ‘I can be merciful. I can forgive mistakes. But you really need to stop this nonsense and do as I say.’
    With a nervous gulp, Kubaer glanced at the impassive Raavan who sat to his right. Even sitting, Raavan’s great height and rippling musculature was intimidating. His battle-worn, swarthy skin was pock-marked, probably by a childhood disease. A thick beard valiantly attempted to cover his ugly marks while a handlebar moustache set off his menacing features. His attire was unremarkable though, consisting of a white dhoti and a cream angvastram . His headgear was singular, with two threatening six-inch-long horns reaching out from the top on either side.
    Kubaer helplessly turned back to Dashrath as his general remained deathly still. ‘But Your Highness, we are facing many problems and our invested capital is—’
    ‘You are