Prince Harshvardhan, the crown prince of Jaigarh, looked down at his robes. He was wearing his best attire. A silk tunic, narrow pants, and a jeweled headdress adorned his tall and well-muscled form. His overlong dark hair was tied in the current style popular among the royalty and noblemen. Dark, mesmerizing eyes and classically beautiful features made him a pleasing sight for sore eyes. His sword hung from his side, and a jewel-encrusted dagger was tucked into his waistband.
"I see that you're ready," said another young man, walking into the prince's bedchamber. He too was well built, handsome and his eyes danced merrily, hinting at his jolly nature.
"Hmm...." said Harshvardhan, watching his reflection in the small, clear pool of water that held the center place in his room. It was a luxury during the hot and sultry summer nights.
"Come, let's go," he threw behind his shoulder, walking out of the chamber.
His companion, his childhood friend, Prithviraj, was always up for some fun. He was fond of visiting houses of entertainment, often spending the night there, drinking and making merry. Most of the time Hashvardhan did not mind joining him. That day was no exception.
The war was imminent, looming large on the horizon. Reshamgarh, their neighboring kingdom, was a thorn in Harshvardhan's side. King Somdutt had defeated his grandfather using foul means. The old king had never forgiven him for that and ranted about it to his grandson. Harshvardhan had grown up listening to the tales of Somdutt's chicanery. The prince did not intend to make it easy for his enemy. He planned to invade Reshamgarh, till they were weakened and surrendered to Jaigarh. He would be leaving for the front within the week. Before that, he wanted to enjoy himself to the full.
Prithviraj had heard of a tavern situated in the less reputable quarters of the city. Bhan Mal, the old minister, had confessed to him about the girl he had lain with there. The old coot had taken great pleasure in describing her beauty, and how he had rejoiced in taking her. Since then, Prithviraj had been on fire for her. He had even shared that bit of juicy gossip with the prince. They could both have some fun with her, he thought, checking the pouch of gold coins tucked away in his waistband.
They rode their horses, passing through the wide, tree-lined thoroughfare, crossing the marketplace, and then entering the narrow lanes of the shady neighborhood. Soon, the tavern came into sight, its two-storied stone building with the sign proclaiming the name of the establishment.
They dismounted from their horses, tied them to the pole outside, and walked into the dim interior.
Neelanjana watched from the shadows as the old man tried to strike a deal with another traveler, a fat, middle-aged merchant, who seemed more interested in his porridge than in her. She smiled to herself. The man was more likely to fall asleep before he could get her in his bed. She was an expert in dealing with such men. The old men did not bother her much. They hardly lasted a few minutes, then happily let her go with a coin or two. It was the young men, champing at the bit, who spelled trouble. She could get this middle-aged merchant tired out within seconds.
At that moment, the door of the tavern opened, and in walked two young men. Neelanjana felt her breath catch in her chest. They were just the type of men that she feared, strong, and energetic. They made a beeline for the tavern keeper, who bobbed a curtsy when he saw them.
Against her will, she felt herself drawn to the goings-on. Coming out of the shadows, she stood a short distance away, trying to listen to the conversation.
One of the men, dressed in a silk tunic and a colorful headdress, whispered something to the old man, while the other stood aloof. He had an air of command and hauteur about him and seemed bored of the whole exercise until his gaze fell on her.
Her breath almost stopped and she colored with shyness for the first time in all these years. Her heart raced like the horses on the thoroughfare. What was happening to her?
Harshvardhan could not believe his eyes. The girl who stood before him was one of the most exquisite creatures he had ever laid eyes on. With her dark, lustrous curls, pale complexion, and bright blue eyes, shining like lapis lazuli, she appeared to be some goddess come down to earth, or at the very least an angel who had lost her way and was stuck on the earth.
In the meanwhile, Prithviraj had struck a deal with the old man, the whole night for the two of them for a large sum of money. He took out the pouch and handed it to the eager tavern keeper.
The old man turned to her, saw her staring, and snapped in anger.
"What are you staring at? Bow down, you fool. Don't you know, he's the crown prince of Jaigarh who has graced this establishment with his presence?"
The words fell into her ears like an onslaught. Had she heard right? The crown prince, the same one who was known and feared for his blood lust? Her knees trembled and her legs seemed unable to support her. She caught hold of a table to steady herself and sent a fervent prayer to her maker. What did the night hold for her? He was sure to cleave her in two if she failed to please him.
She bobbed a curtsy on shaking legs, then took a deep breath and pulled herself together. It would not do to fall at his feet in a dead swoon.
"Take us to the room upstairs, girl," Prithviraj spoke to the trembling young woman in front of him. He was getting impatient. He would like nothing better than to throw her on the bed and have his way with her.
"No." The prince spoke for the first time. A clear, emphatic word, that no one dared to ignore.
"Why...." his friend started, but he silenced him with the wave of a hand.
He addressed the old man then, his voice full of purpose and authority.
"I do not want her for one night. Such a gem should grace the court of Jaigarh. How much for her, innkeeper?"
Neelanjana could not believe what she was hearing. She stood with her mouth open, sure that she looked like a fool.
The old man shook his head.
"She's like a daughter to me, Your Majesty. I can't let her go."
Prithviraj drew his sword at his words, his eyes glowing with displeasure.
"You dare say nay to the prince?" he shouted, taking a step forward and waving the sword in the old man's face.
The prince stopped him once again with a raised hand.
"Name your price, man. I'm ready to pay any price for her," he offered in a tight voice, keeping a rein on his anger.
The old man looked at the sword dangling over his head and thought it better to acquiesce. He stammered out a sum, his greed still evident in the large amount he named.
Prithviraj handed him another pouch full of gold and pointed to her.
"Follow us, girl," he said.
"My...my...things...." she mumbled through a throat gone dry with mortal fear.
'You have no need of them. Come, my dear," said the prince, and taking hold of her hand, pulled her to himself.
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THE COURTESAN OF JAIGARH (Complete)
التاريخيةA little girl is forced into prostitution by circumstances. One fortunate day, she catches the eye of the Prince of Jaigarh, who becomes besotted with her blue-eyed beauty. How she is rescued by him and goes on to become the chief courtesan of Jaiga...
