The Enemy's Daughter

Chapter Seventeen

 Priyadarshini watched with wide-eyed fascination as Harshvardhan stood up, facing the guests. "Silence," he called out. "It is no laughing matter, gentlemen. My wife, the Princess, truly has a magic touch. She is responsible for saving my life and I am eternally grateful to her."

King Yashvardhan too rose from the throne, clasping his son in an embrace, then faced the gathering. "I second what my son has said. We are indeed proud of our daughter-in-law, and I confer a new summer palace on her as a gift. I hope she will be happy to accept it," he declared with a benevolent smile at her.

Pleased at the way things had turned out to be, Priyadarshini felt the words like a soothing unguent on her lacerated emotions. Rising with all the dignity she could muster, she bowed to her father-in-law, who along with the queen caught her and the prince in a warm and encouraging hug. The hall once again resounded with cheers, as the guests rose to congratulate the fortunate couple.

In the midst of all the wishes that she received, she felt her attention drawn again to the woman who now stood in a corner of the grand hall. Her face was ashen and pinched with disappointment and Priyadarshini could glimpse pure malice in her gaze as their eyes met across the room. The look which she cast at her promised retribution at a later date, and Priyadarshini felt a frisson of fear at the prospect. Unable to share her misgivings at the moment, she decided that the best course would be to ignore the courtesan for the time being and hope for the best.

*****

Madho loaded the earthen pots on his donkey and knotted the cloth containing his lunch, a frugal meal of dry millet flatbread. He was going to the market to sell his wares, and would not be back till late evening. It was a real struggle and he did not expect to make a good sale just like the previous few days. Business had been slow around this time of the year. On the way he met Bheem, his neighbor, who was carrying his own load of small figurines which he had carved out of the pink stone which abounded in the region. The two men greeted each other and discussed the unusually hot weather, with the sun burning down on the land fiercely.

On the long way to the market at the heart of the city, the men were discussing their troubles and hardships, when Bheem remarked, "Have you heard that the enemy's daughter has been gifted a palace by our king? What is the world coming to! No wonder we have had harsh weather with the crops withering away."

"You don't say!" exclaimed Madho, surprised to hear the unwelcome news. "I can't believe my ears. That woman is nothing but ill luck for the kingdom. Our Prince should send her to her father's house, but here you tell me that the king has gifted her a palace. We will all suffer if the gods are displeased..." He wiped his brow and frowned in anxiety. They hated those from Reshamgarh for the war had brought nothing but misfortune to them. He had lost his own young son who had joined the army, in one of the battles. So, had many others in his village. Some had lost limbs and some dear ones. They must sit and discuss this calamity with the village headman. The royals must be apprised of their fears.

*****

Harshvardhan inspected the sacks lining the granary. The arid spell meant that few crops had survived. The scorching heat was enough to bake the land dry. Although the granary was filled with the grain from the annual tributes and taxes paid by the people, it may not last if a famine broke out. The prospects were grim, and he was worried. He would have to discuss all possibilities with his father.

Harshvardhan was in the process of ordering the scribe to count the sacks and make a note when a messenger rushed to his side, breathless and visibly shaken. "What is it man?" he asked, annoyance clear in his voice.