Chapter Text
"Indira", said her mother. "You have learnt the arts of queenly conduct, war, archery, medicine, lexicographies, dance and music. We have also tutored you in the finer arts of perfumery, painting, weaving and in playing the veena.”
“And I am an expert at them”, declared Indira, tossing her braid over her shoulder.
“Yes dear”, smiled the Queen of Anupa. “You are skilled in conversation and style. I believe it is time you took over the reins and learnt to act as a Queen in your own right.”
“When is the coronation?”, enquired the King laughingly as he entered the room.
“Just as soon as Indira finds herself a match!” the Queen said with a smile.
“Mother, can't I rule without a King?”
“A Queen without a King? Tongues will wag, Indira.”
“There is no man who can match me. Do you not remember how horrifyingly inept all these boys are?” whined Indira.
“The law does not permit it, my pearl. And be you ever so high…”
“… the law is above you!” , finished Indira with a sigh.
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The Court was abuzz with excited whispers the next morning. The King interviewed the messenger with a hundred questions about the Mahishmati kingdom, the people, the disposition of the rulers, and found the answers not only adequate but also meaningfully explained. The Queen, upon learning of the procession of messengers entering the Anupa capital of Veerendranam, had ordered her courtesans to find out every scrap of information about Mahishmati’s ruling family. By mid-day, while the messengers were still being interrogated (albeit kindly) by the King, the courtesans had collated every piece of news straight from the Minister’s beds, the Trader’s outhouses and the Fishermen’s markets, and cross-verified amongst themselves, before laying it all out for the Queen.
Indira for her part had asked her gaggle of hand-maidens to intercept the Chief courtesan and deliver the information to her first, before it went to the Queen. She was nothing if not resourceful. A lovesick artist hopelessly bonded to her had worked feverishly and delivered a portrait of the Mahishmati Prince by sundown, and was paid a measured smile for his efforts. The guards escorted out him when he wept and fell at her feet in joy.
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“Rajamatha, this is the right time. Anupa could become one of ours too. It is an easy conquest to make. Their minerals are unmatched, and their fabrics, perfumes and spices always beat us to be on the Silk Route first. We must control them or have the rug pulled out from beneath us every day.” The Minister for Peace advocated war.
Sivagami sighed. “Have you heard of a conquest by silence?”
“The Chinese have perfected the guerilla maneuver, but isn’t it too complicated an operation to undertake for as small a kingdom as Anupa?”
“Minister! Thank you. We will not be requiring anything else.” Sivagami dismissed him curtly and turned to Bhalla.
“Why do we employ idiots, Bhalla?” she inquired coldly.
“Mother, he knows of nothing but war. If given a pink rose he would ask if he could stain it a deeper red with the blood of enemies. Why do you try to play subtle with them!” laughed Bhalla.
She discarded the thoughts of her single-minded council members and gripped Bhalla by his shoulder. Seating him on the divan, she said softly, “Bhalla, you are a Prince of Mahishmati. Soon you may be King, and you are aware of the Matrimonial Treaties.”
Bhalla threw his memory back to the tense days of Baahubali’s engagement with Devasena. The two courts had been nearly in blows while the couple themselves near tears. Conflicting laws of marriage and royal succession between the two kingdoms had almost collapsed the wedding before it happened, and it was only through a thorough revision of their respective legislations that the pair were united in matrimony.
Sivagami had learnt her lesson there and signed Treaties with all the peace allies that declared that marriage laws of the bride’s side shall prevail “to preserve the traditions”, when it really meant no princesses could be used as political pawns by ill-meaning Councils. It was in part an apology to her younger self, although that was a secret only she knew.
“A future for our daughters that our mothers could not give us!” the message was written in silk and sent round by visiting courtesans to the harems in each of these nations. As soon as the Treaties were signed, all the shrewd Queens of each nation connived with their respective factions in the courts to change the laws to be harsher and remove any loopholes that had existed.
“So Mother, does that mean I should pick a bride and then see if her laws allow her to marry me? Or do we wait for a proposal and accept whatever Fate throws my way?” Bhalla raised an eyebrow. Having been placed in charge of the treasury, espionage and armory, Bhalla had not investigated the Matrimonial Treaties with a keen eye, but he had known at the time of raising his hand in favor at that council, that something had changed right then that only Sivagami Devi could maneuver them through.
“Bhalla, the fact is, I have a girl in mind. If you would be amicable, I can have a messenger start on the journey to enquire of their customs of marriage. You do reserve the right to change your mind later, but I would appreciate an open mind now.” Bhalla looked away and rolled his eyes. His mother had a way of presenting ideas to him that he could not reasonably reject without appearing rude and narrow-minded.
“Yes Mother. Send the caravan to your bride of choice. I only ask that she be more than a pretty face.”
“Of course Bhalla! Do you think I would marry you off to every tawdry imp that came dancing in? My son deserves the very best!” Smiling approvingly, Sivagami Devi turned to other matters.
--End--