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He looked Ashvapati in the eyes and agreed.
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chapter 6
Kaikeyi’s Bride-Price
As the royal party rode home from the plains, Kaikeyi’s elation over her battle victory abated. She felt the grief over losing Surya, but restrained her tears from flowing openly. It was not manly to cry, and she valued being treated as an equal among the men. This meant, however, that she never had the luxury of being who she was. Her four personal guards rode in their formation around her, and because of Dvi’s recent threat, they would not allow her to break out from their protective square. Her brother had thoughtfully seen to a quick burial for Surya, understanding that she was not just any horse. Kaikeyi could not have borne riding away and letting nature run its course in decomposing the body. Surya deserved more. The mare would have lived for another twenty years at least if it hadn’t been for the vile Dvi.
Kaikeyi had been too compassionate toward him. She hoped the wound on his hand would fester and never heal. Dharma nickered beneath Kaikeyi, wanting her attention, but she continued to handle him automatically, something only an experienced rider could get away with. She didn’t want to bond with Dharma or any other horse for a while. She had loved Surya since she was a newborn filly. Kaikeyi had never lost anyone she loved before, and she almost was not in control of her tears. This told her that Father spoke truly. Manthara was right. It was never wise to love, for it ended always like this, in heartbreak, one way or the other.
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A slash on Kaikeyi’s right arm was bleeding. It was a light cut, nothing that would need the physician’s attention. She made sure to communicate this to her guards, lest they escort her straight to the physician. Kaikeyi longed to see Manthara and tell her what had happened. Would Manthara coax Kaikeyi’s tears out, or would she ignore Kaikeyi’s feelings?
Kaikeyi never knew how Manthara would react. But Manthara would tell her exactly what she had done correctly or perhaps wrongly. Her father loved her too much or was too absent-minded to scold her. He had always left that job to Manthara. She was the most caring person Kaikeyi knew, no matter what others whispered. Even now, it was Manthara’s face Kaikeyi saw first and last every day. It was a face Kaikeyi loved, although she had come to understand that Manthara was considered unpleasant. The strain of Manthara’s hunched back had etched premature lines into her face. But Kaikeyi did not think Manthara was ugly or mean, as others claimed. It also was not the etiquette in Kekaya to ridicule those like Manthara, who were disabled. But that didn’t stop people from talking behind Manthara’s back.
When the entourage of Kekayans and Ayodhyans finally arrived at the gates of Rajagriha, Kaikeyi felt her father’s eyes linger on her, as did the emperor’s. She had met the emperor’s eyes for a brief moment out on the plains and had known at once who he was. Of course they had expected his arrival, but he was also a man of authority, like her father. She hadn’t been able to meet the emperor’s eyes again and avoided him for reasons she could not articulate. She avoided other men for the same reason. She couldn’t help but notice, however, the fine silks and heavy gold jewelry he wore. Even his weapons gleamed, as if they were freshly forged.
At the palace, she dismounted Dharma and gave him a gentle pat on his muzzle. The stable hands ran forward to catch his reins and lead him away. They handled the guards’
horses just as swiftly. Her guards closed around her again. Usually Kaikeyi barely noticed her guards, for they had been with her since she turned thirteen and were quite unobtrusive.
Today, however, she felt that they were in the way, as if she might trip over one of their feet.
It was how Kaikeyi had initially felt when Manthara assigned them as her shadow. On that birthday Manthara had been hysterical, warning her about the ways of men. Kaikeyi was too decorous to ask, but rumor had it that Manthara had castrated the guards before allowing them near Kaikeyi. What Kaikeyi recalled most clearly from that birthday was her father’s words: “You have grown to be the spitting image of your mother.” That had truly frightened her. She knew her mother was very bad—so bad that her father had made her disappear.
Kaikeyi hurried away from her father and the guests from Ayodhya. Going straight to her chamber, Kaikeyi did not bother to speak to her guards, as she otherwise would have.
She left them without a word at the entrance of her chamber. Instead of bathing or undressing, she searched for the salve she kept to treat bruises and wounds. It was a salve Manthara used to alleviate pain in her back. She wasn’t sure what it contained, only that it produced a glorious numbness. Kaikeyi glanced at the door often, knowing that Manthara would come as soon as she knew Kaikeyi had returned.
At sixteen, Kaikeyi understood much about men and their ways, but not as much as she wanted. So much was still hidden from her. She had been foolish to ever think of Manthara 56
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as her mother. Her father and Manthara had never had that relationship. Her father had never loved another woman again. Love destroyed you like that.
The sound of Manthara’s cane preceded her entry. “Keyi?” she called, as though she didn’t know that Kaikeyi was within. Before Manthara was in the door, she ordered, “Wear your finest silks tonight.”
“Why?”
“Your father’s order.”
Manthara entered, and Kaikeyi’s suppressed tears rose to her eyes. Surya was dead. Kaikeyi rubbed her eyes, hiding her emotion from Manthara. She knew Manthara did not care for horses; they were nothing to her but a means to get from one place to the other.
“I cannot tell you yet,” Manthara said, with a glint in her eye, “but your father is up to something. Something that might change your life.”
Kaikeyi did not ask how Manthara knew this. Manthara always knew things. Also, it was not often that Kaikeyi was required to dress the part of the princess.
“What should I wear, then, for this life-changing event?” Kaikeyi was not interested in making these choices, though other girls seemed to speak of little else. Kaikeyi was happy to wear whatever Manthara told her to, only because she really did not care. When it came to her daily wear, she was her own mistress. In that sphere, she surpassed Manthara, knowing which clothes best suited the work she would do with her horses.
Manthara selected a light pink gown and a set of blue gemstone jewelry. Kaikeyi touched the gems as they lay around her neck.
“Were these my mother’s?”
“You know they were.” Manthara looked at Kaikeyi in the mirror. Her eyes asked, How often must you ask?
“I’m just surprised that he didn’t get rid of everything that was hers.”
Now they frowned at each other. Manthara worshipped everything Father said and did not want to hear a word of criticism against him. Kaikeyi decided not to tell Manthara about Surya. She understood nothing about true feelings, always telling Kaikeyi not to have any.
Manthara began brushing Kaikeyi’s hair with firm strokes. She insisted on doing it, though any of the other servants could have done it. Sukhi and Dukhi, the twins, were experts with hair and styled their own with great flair.
Kaikeyi thought about how complicated people were. Manthara said one thing, Father another. They both expected a lot from her, though it wasn’t always clear what. That’s why she preferred horses. They had simple needs and ways that Kaikeyi could handle effortlessly.
Communication with animals was easier. At least her father encouraged this aspect of her, letting her ride free in the lands—though after she’d turned thirteen, always in the company of her guards, even though she was capable of fighting her own battles.
“You are such a stubborn girl,” Manthara complained, untangling the knots in Kaikeyi’s hair. “How many times must I tell you to keep your hair braided?” She held up a long shank of Kaikeyi’s hair. “Just look at these knots!”
Kaikeyi shrugged. There were worse things than tangled hair, though maybe not in 58
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Manthara’s world. Just then, the old woman stopped, closed her eyes, and moaned. Kaikeyi felt a flash of guilt for being dismissive toward Manthara, when Manthara so courageously battled the chronic pain of her back. Manthara’s face contorted for a moment, but then she opened her eyes and continued, not even noticing Kaikeyi’s observant eyes.
“I can do it myself.” Kaikeyi began to pull away from Manthara. “You sit down and rest.”
“And be blamed for a princess with matted hair? Absolutely not!”
Manthara yanked Kaikeyi’s hair back into her hands. Kaikeyi clenched her teeth together; she would be surprised if she had any hair left after Manthara’s rough handiwork.
When Manthara was satisfied with Kaikeyi’s appearance, they went to the court. The light pink dress flowed softly around Kaikeyi with every step. Suddenly she felt feminine and nervous. Even the guards looked at her differently when she was dressed like this. She lifted her head high when she entered the hall. She knew she was the most beautiful women in all of Kekaya. Her people had donned their finest silks, and the hall was decorated festively.
Yet, the wealth of Ayodhya clearly surpassed Kekaya’s; it was clear in every sparkle of every gem the Ayodhyan entourage wore. Father was in a strange mood. He smiled broadly one moment, which was not his habit, then frowned and turned away. He practically ignored Kaikeyi. One didn’t have to be Manthara to guess something strange was afoot.
Like all other celebrations, this one centered on food. To begin, steaming trays of rice were served with a rich and spicy stew. The memory of Surya laying dead on the plains, however, made Kaikeyi’s appetite disappear. The emperor and his guests ate heartily, and Yuddhajit and his men did too. Kaikeyi’s attention was trained on her father, but she glanced several times at the emperor, noticing his frequent smile and manly features. When the feast was over, Father called her close and put a hand on her shoulders. He turned her so that she directly faced the emperor, who was engaged in a conversation with Yuddhajit by the center-piece of the hall, a life-size carving of a stallion rearing on its hind legs.
Father put his mouth close to her ears and asked, “What do you think you are worth?”
Kaikeyi froze. “Father?”
She turned her eyes to her father, noticing the unusual flush of his skin. Father looked steadily at the emperor and inclined his head toward him. “He thinks you are worth the entire world.”
Kaikeyi’s eyes fastened on the handsome king of kings. “He said that?”
“In return for your hand in marriage, the emperor has agreed to the highest bride-price.
His whole kingdom. The entire world. The son you bear will rule after him.”
Her heart beat strangely. She touched the cool blue gems at her throat.
Her father turned her back to face him. “I will not force you. You have to decide. But a better proposal can hardly be imagined. You will become a powerful queen. As long as you don’t give him the power to break your heart. Understand?”
Kaikeyi listened and nodded. She knew marriage was inevitable. Other girls of her age were long since married. Her father looked over her shoulder and then said, “Here he comes.”
Kaikeyi felt the emperor approach; his presence made her back tingle. Slowly she turned 59
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to face King Dasharatha, feeling her father’s expectation by her side. When she tried to meet the emperor’s eyes, Kaikeyi’s eyes strayed. She who usually was bold and direct, the opposite of coy, couldn’t look him in the eye. Her father wasted no time and placed her hand in King Dasharatha’s hand.
It was a bold move; he knew her temperament. She had not yet expressed her acceptance of this royal alliance. Aside from the brief glance, Kaikeyi had not properly seen the emperor’s face. She felt the warmth at once in Dasharatha’s grasp, the first male hand she had ever touched that wasn’t her father’s or brother’s. Officially, this touch sealed the alliance, and instinctively Kaikeyi wanted to snatch her hand away and assert her power. She would choose her own husband!
As she was about to do this, she felt Dasharatha tighten his grip ever so slightly. Startled, she looked into the king’s eyes, this man who might be her future—and she forgot to snatch her hand away. She heard her father laugh.
“It’s done, then,” he said.
But Dasharatha did not laugh. Instead, Kaikeyi saw the question in his eyes—and the desire. He was very attractive, with dark eyes and thick eyebrows. A vigorous man whose strength was visible in his broad chest and muscled arms. There were thin scars on his face and arms, and more on the rest of his body, she was sure. A thin white scar cut into his upper lip, which looked soft and full under his beard. She continued to stand, indecisive, spell-bound by something she could not understand.
Yuddhajit would have scolded her for her hesitation. “One moment of hesitation,” he had said countless times, “is all it ever takes to lose your life.” How right he was. While Kaikeyi hesitated, her life was taken away. She looked into Dasharatha’s eyes. They were sharp as steel, like her own, but tempered by something that Kaikeyi was thirsty for. She could not yet put her finger on what it was. Already, she did not belong to herself anymore, but to this man.
“The bride-price has been set,” her father said, addressing the entire court. “As you all know, Kaikeyi is my only daughter. She is valuable to me beyond any material wealth. The emperor has agreed that Kaikeyi’s son will rule the world from Ayodhya’s throne. Her future is secured.”
Dasharatha’s grip tightened around Kaikeyi’s hand as he solemnly swore for all to hear.
“Your son, our son, will be the king of Earth after me.”
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Kaikeyi longed to retrieve her hand, not out of anger but to regain her self. The pulsating energy between their hands was too strong. She wanted to run away and hide; she felt both like a little child in his presence and as a full-grown woman.
Her father laughed again; he had never seen her so passive. “All hail the future queen of Ayodhya!”
All hailed. Kaikeyi was dazed. Manthara came to her rescue. Her cane pounded against the stone floor with each step. Kaikeyi’s heartbeat. What had just happened? Was she betrothed to King Dasharatha?
Manthara was not pleased. Kaikeyi felt it in the way the old woman’s finger sank into her arm and made her wince. It was where she had recently been wounded. Manthara loosened her hold, but as soon as they were out of the emperor’s hearing, she pulled Kaikeyi down toward her and whispered, “He is too old for you. Maybe he cannot even sire a child. You can still say no.”
Too old? Kaikeyi had not noticed his age. She looked back at the king, who was facing her father and saw him as Manthara did. A tall and strong man, but closer to her father’s age than her own. She did not follow Manthara’s train of thought. Perhaps she didn’t want to.
“It is too late,” she said, squeezing the woman’s hand.
Suddenly she felt like a trapped horse. Skittish. Intensely desiring to break free from her captors and run. Manthara always made things that were simple become complicated. The
“reality of the situation,” she called it. This was already complicated enough. Kaikeyi was not sure she could handle such talk from Manthara right now, when her body was a stranger to her.
The princess and the hunchback walked out from the hall in silence. If Manthara had more to say, she would contain herself while the guards were within hearing. Over the years, Manthara had helped Kaikeyi see the reality of many situations. Kaikeyi could not, for example, be the king of Kekaya. Kaikeyi had been a foolish six-year-old and very sure that her father would choose her to be the next king. When Manthara insisted that Kaikeyi see the reality, Kaikeyi kicked her cane and ran off. Manthara was not allowed to punish her.
She was the princess, Manthara the servant; this had dawned on the princess at six years of age. But Manthara was smarter than Kaikeyi, meting out punishment in her own way.
She simply withdrew and started acting like the other servants. She did not come to Kaikeyi unless summoned, and even then she kept her distance and was silent. She refused to hold Kaikeyi’s hand and was like a statue when Kaikeyi hugged her. It had taken Kaikeyi months to get Manthara back to her side. Manthara had never been Kaikeyi’s servant, but a mother and best friend. And Manthara’s words turned out to be the truth: no woman had ever sat on any throne in her own right.
As the two stepped into Kaikeyi’s quarters, leaving guards and attendants without, Manthara sighed, “What a pleasure to be alone.”
Kaikeyi sighed deeply too. She didn’t know what to think, but her mind was drawn back toward the hall where the emperor stood. Manthara sat herself down on Kaikeyi’s bed, looking into the distance. Kaikeyi looked at the old woman, wondering why others whispered 61
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that Manthara was as crooked in mind as her back. Kaikeyi loved Manthara’s crooked back.
She saw how Manthara labored through the day with the pain it caused her; she knew Manthara was unlike anyone else in the world. Kaikeyi was scared of the very thought of being without Manthara.
Still skittish, Kaikeyi walked around her chamber, examining objects she might take with her to Ayodhya. While she did this, she thought about what she really felt for Manthara.
After a few minutes, she said, “Manthara, I’m so glad that you are not my mother.”
Manthara’s mouth became a tight line. Kaikeyi smiled. “Oh, it’s too easy to upset you.”
She went to Manthara and put one arm around her curve. “If you were my real mother, then you would have to stay here. With Father. You will come with me to Ayodhya, won’t you?”
“Of course,” Manthara said. “If you choose to marry.”
