KRISHAVYAYAM

30. The Other Trial

She was as numb as an old wound, as new as a fresh scar itching to spill blood if it meant to stand victorious on the mangled carcasses of her miscreants. Vahnijaa ceased her hazy sight momentarily, a chant reverberating in the walls of her inner self as her fingers clenched together. An almost eerie poise edged her stance as her bronze irises moved to the aperture once, a pink smile curling her lips which baffled the spectators of the trial. Her lord would never let any harm befall her, this was the third and the last blood moon and the fyrgebraece were freed from the last shreds of manacles at last.

Her soul reveled in the pride of the fates cowering before her. The air was swamped in tension. The court then welcomed a servant who read out a foxing scroll with a foreign stamp pressed upon a corner of it. "May the gods bless Dvaraka with milk and honey." He bowed to the elders of the Vrishni clan who settled high above on the regal settees, acknowledging the intervention with urgency. "Arya Yuyudhana and Arya Kritavarma demand the delay of Her Majesty's retribution for they claim to possess evidence in her favor. They shall present themselves soon."

"Indeed, Her Majesty did not present anything in her favor and while she does today it's her right, like every side of a case does," the elderly Satyaka opined as a few of the courtiers scowled, but remained shrouded in impassivity nonetheless. "Granted," announced Anakadundubhi with a curt nod, his demeanor speaking of his faith in his daughter-in-law. "I had promised Maharaja Yajnasena that I shall look after his child like my own," he had whispered, immiserated, to an equally distraught Devaki who put ample faith in her family. "We know she won't do anything as such, but her silence in the first trial has encouraged pretty much gallimaufry."

"Greetings to the Sudharma!" Satyaki and the man of the Andhaka race barged in in haste, mechanical steps practiced to flawless ease faltering nowhere as they threw the accused queen's way a curtsey who smiled wider. "Pranaam Shri Maharani."

"Be glorious, brave ones."

A mighty shaft crafted with chisel impressions of lotus blooms and was then advanced by a determined Satyaki who addressed the sabha. "To put it mildly, we have been bamboozled to believe that the arrow shot at the Prince is hers- Maharani's. She does not make use of those designs in any of her arrows, nor is this particular poison found to be lacing her armaments." He slipped another arrow from his grasp to be visible to the naked eye. "This is the other one, with remnants of the prince's blood in it. We found it on the exact opposite of the arsenal, plunged in an oak tree."

On Halayudha's decree, the other weapons of Kamalnayani were fetched and as per the Varshneya's statement, were cross-checked to reveal the obvious difference. He grimaced to himself, the soldiers had been immensely negligent. Kamalnayani merely shook her head in approval with a rather monotonous look when the assembly turned to her for an explanation. "The flag of Panchala bears the auspicious flower, as do my weapons for identification," she expounded, her voice sounding foreign to her own ears from the sore throat as Vasudeva nodded. "You may send for Pita Maharaja to confirm my statement, Your Majesty."

Kritavarma sought permission to continue and he did, pointing at the other bolt, "This one, kind sir, is the one which lost the first half of its body when it was shot at Prince Bhanu's shoulder, the head was caught in a wood as proven by my comrade." Strikingly dissimilar to the other sort of arrows, this one stood out with serpentine carvings. "This one is of the intruder who raided. Her Majesty was delayed in her calculations when she intended on countering this very shaft, but managed to break it into two."

"Shouldn't have grown hysteric," Krisha murmured sourly, pursing her lips. "I wouldn't have been late then."

"Who is the prowler?" The mother of Balarama fumed as Kritavarma sighed to himself. "Long story, queen mother. We had an escapade to Anupa for this cause and we can, indeed prove that this blasphemy was conducted by the self-declared emperor's closest ally, King Vikral." Chanchalaa's nail dug into her palms as crimson dripped onto the marble floors, jaw taut with ire.