THE COURTESAN OF JAIGARH (Complete)

Part 26-The Plan

 The moon was shining in all its glory. There wasn't a cloud in sight. The full moon threw its light on the path that ran through the desolate landscape leading to an abandoned settlement. There were many folklore about the settlement. Some said that a mysterious illness had decimated its population, and the remaining few had left for another village. Another story told of the curse of a sage that led to an exodus. Whatever be the case, few people ventured out there even during the day, let alone at night.

The small village lay in ruins. Creepers and bushes had claimed the land and structures. Few houses boasted of a roof still overhead. One could hear the scurrying of small animals in the bushes and the howling of jackals. Bats circled in the night sky, screeching eerily.

The palanquin swayed as the two bearers walked barefoot over the rocky path. Madhulika cursed under her breath. Was this the only place Rajyavardhan could think of for their meeting? Who had ever heard of a meeting in this god-forsaken place, that too at night? What if the evil spirits that were said to reside here, troubled her?

"How far still?" she put her head out and inquired from the men.

"Almost there, milady," one of them answered, wiping the beads of sweat on his brow. He hadn't been too keen on coming here, but the money was good and he was in need. His wife had just delivered another daughter. But now he was forced to rethink his decision. The place was giving him the creeps.

Seconds later, the palanquin came to a halt near a house. It was one of those with the roof still intact. A small lamp burned inside, the only inviting thing in that lonely site.

Madhulika came out gingerly, her heart pounding with a mix of fear and anticipation. Her anklets rang out loudly in the stillness of the night. She swore under her breath. She should have left them at home. She raised her hand to knock on the makeshift door, but it fell open before that.

Rajyavardhan stood at the doorway, along with another man who stood behind him. Madhulika cast a glance at the man who stood in front of her. How different he looked from the one she had lain with more than a year ago. Gone was the sheen of luxury and comforts that the palace provided. In his place was a man roughened by the life of a rebel. But it was his own choice. His ambition had driven him to this life, hiding in the company of outlaws, for that was what the other man was, she guessed.

"You're late," Rajyavardhan accused in a dry tone, though his eyes did light up at the sight of the beautiful woman.

"It's enough that I came here, Prince. This isn't the best of places to meet," she retorted, waving at the ruins.

"I can hardly walk down the high street in Jaigarh when I'm still supposed to be in Sinhala Dweepa. I make do with what is best."

"State your purpose, Prince? What do you wish me to do?" she asked, casting a wary glance at the other man who was polishing his dagger on a stone.

"My brother, the king, is a trusting fool. I can get him behind bars any time, but I'm worried about that nephew of mine. I cannot sit easy on the throne as long as he is alive," Rajyavardhan answered, scratching his beard thoughtfully.

"So, kill him...." she mumbled.

"It's not as easy as it sounds, woman. He is a cunning fellow and a great warrior. He needs to be felled by stealth."

Madhulika nodded. Harshvardhan had a reputation for being as hungry for blood as the lion and as sly as a fox. He wouldn't be easy to kill.

"Where do I come in, then?" she queried, having some inkling.

Rajyavardhan answered with great deliberation.

"He has a weakness for a pretty face. Can you not get near to him and sink your dagger into his black heart?"

"Do you even know what you're asking of me, Prince? Any mistake and I shall be fodder for the ax."

He let out a deep sigh, then sat down on a stone that might have served as the altar of some village god, once. She sat down beside him.

"Our cause is a big one, Madhulika. It entails many hazards, to life and limb. I thought you were ready to take the chance. After all, if you succeed, nothing can stop you from being the chief courtesan of Jaigarh, and the king's favorite," he said, placing an arm around her shoulders.

Madhulika nodded acceptance of the offer. If Rajyavardhan wrested the throne from his brother, she would have it made. Riches and fame, both would be hers.

"So, what's the plan?" she asked, a feeling of nervous excitement starting in the pit of her stomach.

Hassan pulled the strings of the pouch and counted the money within. He had made a neat profit. His first tour to a foreign land had been successful. He had made new acquaintances, who would help him in his trade in the future. He had returned home with lots of gifts for his younger siblings. There was even a bolt of material for Miriam. She could sew dresses for herself out of the fine cotton to be worn during the summer months.

His mother had mentioned the matter of Rashid's daughter while handing him his meal. Apparently, she was still unmarried, waiting for some fool to wed her. Hassan looked at Miriam in exasperation. Had she nothing better to do than look for an alliance for him? He asked her as much.

"I wish to see you happy, my child," she said, plying him with more of her excellent stew.

"I'm as happy as I'll ever be, Mother. Do not think that I'll look at another woman. My heart lies with Salima in her grave."

That ended the matter for the time being.

After a leisurely lunch, he walked out of the house. His feet took him out of the village, to the very outskirts. The cemetery lay in front of him. He pushed open the gate and stepped inside. Walking through the graves, some old and a couple of fresh ones, he stopped beside one. It was not a fresh one. Weeds had grown on the stone that marked it. He knelt down and worked diligently to remove the last one. Then he brushed the dust from the stone with a cloth, till it shone as new. Carefully, he placed the flowers he had brought with him, on the grave, his eyes swimming with tears.

That was the only gift he had for Salima and their boy. He whispered sweet words to her, calling her name and recounting his experiences to her as if she was really sitting there. Of course, he could not bring himself to mention the incident in the hut. What would Salima have thought of him? He was ashamed that he had been tempted for even a moment. He would make sure that didn't happen again, for he was sure that he would never find a woman like her. Love had touched his life briefly, then left him bereft. Now he was cursed to live with this loneliness.

He wished that he could lie down beside her and close his eyes in eternal sleep, but that was not to be. He had to live for his family. Who would look after his mother? No, he had to live on with Salima's memory for company. That was all he could do. Maybe, one day the almighty would take pity on him and let him forget her. Till then, he would visit her here, whenever he could.