Ravi Shankar Etteth - 23 March

First published by Westland Publications Private Limited in 2018

61, 2nd Floor, Silverline Building, Alapakkam Main Road, Maduravoyal, Chennai 600095

Westland and the Westland logo are the trademarks of Westland Publications Private Limited, or its affiliates.

Copyright Ravi Shankar Etteth, 2018

ISBN: 9789386850713

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organisations, places, events and incidents are either products of the authors imagination or used fictitiously.

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Typeset in Bembo Std by SRYA, New Delhi

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For C: Someday.

CONTENTS

Ashoka: The ruler of the Magadha kingdom

Asandhimitra: The queen of Magadha

The Brahmin: Ashokas Head of Secret Service

Hao Tran: The Brahmins assistant

Lord Suma: Kalinga spy who is also the ambassador to Magadha

Mur: Sumas beautiful niece

Radhagupta: Ashokas prime minister

Antochlius: Greek soldier and spy

Aeimnestus: Soldier in Alexanders army and father of Antochlius

Kalanos: Brahmin seer and Alexanders friend

Telemachus: Renegade Greek mercenary

Chief Eunuch: Guardian of the harem

Devavarman: Viceroy of Ujjain

Asa: Asandhimitras nurse

267 BC

Pataliputra: The capital of the Mauryan kingdom

Someone is killing my concubines, King Ashoka roared. And you do nothing, Brahmin?

Ashokas feared spymaster stood before his liege with an inscrutable expression on his smooth, golden-skinned face. His hooded, expressionless eyes surveyed the monarch without flinching. Ashokas hands clenched and unclenched as if throttling an invisible foe, his chest heaving beneath his loose cambric robe in frustration. The Brahmin knew it was going to be one of those days.

They were in the royal garden, where Ashokas large frame occupied most of the gilded wooden bench under the tree that bore his name. The scent of flowers perfumed the falling dusk. Six slave women stood around the king , gently waving fans made of peacock feathers. Their shapely legs were wrapped in scarlet silk embroidered with gold, and strips of the same fabric bound their perfect breasts. The Brahmin thought of the dead concubine, the stench of her charred flesh, and the deadly token beside her corpse. He sighed.

It had happened like this. One of his spies had discovered a concubines corpse in a cremation ground beside the Gandaka river a week ago and promptly informed his master. The Brahmin instructed him to inform the Chief Eunuch, the guardian of the harem, without revealing his identity. A message was thrust into the eunuchs hand as he wound his way through the crowded bazar on his way to his favourite opium den. He promptly set aside all thoughts of heavenly oblivion and rushed off to see the girls body. His man followed. The spymaster had expected the eunuch to inform Ashoka immediately. He hadnt. Instead, he had tried to cover up the murder, fearing royal wrath.

The Brahmin had watched his movements for a week, surprised and increasingly alarmed. He had never suspected that the eunuch was on familiar terms with so many powerful men in the kingdom noblemen, court officials, spies working under diplomatic cover and, most surprising of all, the prime minister Radhagupta himself. How had he missed it, he thought, his mouth drawn in a grim line. His spies at court and in the harem had much to answer for.

When the Brahmin brought the news to the king, Ashoka flew into a rage and summoned the Chief Eunuch. Under the kings questioning, the eunuch was too terrified to speak coherently. The king immediately dispatched him to prison, where he would be tortured for information. He also ordered that Radhagupta would oversee the interrogation. Ashokas wrath was terrible to watch.

She was killed seven days ago? And this bastard doesnt even tell me? And you... Ashoka glared at the Brahmin, quite indifferent to the screams of the eunuch, who was being dragged away by the guards.

Perhaps he was scared, Y our Majesty, the Brahmin answered with a straight face.

When did you get to know of the murder?

Just seven days ago, Your Majesty. But I was watching the Chief Eunuch, hoping he would lead me to the killer.

Obviously he didnt, the king said drily. Except for following the damned fellow around, what else have your spies discovered?

When the Brahmin told him, the kings jaw dropped in surprise.

You found her in a cremation ground? One of my harem girls? What was she doing there?

My spies are investigating, sire. Her body had been flung on a half-burned pyre and was partially charred. Her face was gone. We also found a pair of black cestus lying a few feet away from the body, hidden under a pile of firewood.

What the hell is a cestus?

Its a glove made of leather straps, used by Greek fighters. Some ladies of the court of Philip of Macedon decided to stylise it. They made fine silk versions and introduced them in court as high fashion. I believe Olympias, Alexanders mother, started the trend, but it didnt quite catch on. He paused, then continued, Queen Asandhimitra wears them sometimes.

Asandhimitra was the queen of Magadha.

The queen can do what she likes. But why was my concubine wearing Greek gloves? If her face was destroyed by fire, how could you tell she was one of mine?

My spy came to know the Chief Eunuch had identified her by a crescent-shaped birthmark on her hand. Blood had congealed in her back, indicating that she had been killed and then burnt.

Go on.

There were no signs of a struggle, indicating that she knew the killer. She wasnt kidnapped either, or my agents would have heard of it.

It wasnt easy for an outsider to get into Ashokas harem, or any other part of the palace where the women lived. Male and female attendants constantly watched over them. Neither the king nor Queen Asandhimitra knew that some of these watchers were the Brahmins agents.

Arent you and your people supposed to keep track of the goings on in my palace, especially in my harem? Ashoka swore and flung his wine pot to the ground. The burnished clay shattered into pieces and wine splattered on the Brahmins feet. He did not react.

Find the killer and bring his head to me, Brahmin. For seven days, you kept this murder a secret from me. Now, you have seven days to solve it, or it will be your sacred skin in Chandagirikas hands, Ashoka warned.

Chandagirika, Girika for short, was Ashokas feared chief torturer. He practised his macabre craft in the infamous prison of Pataliputra, named Narak Vatika, the Palace of Hell. It was a large building, one of the most beautiful in the city. Inside, however, existed the most hellish prison and torture chamber in the kingdom.

So few days to solve a seven day-old murder?

The Brahmin couldnt believe that the king would carry out his threat. If Ashoka trusted anyone at all, it was him. A little.

The truth was that the king was as capable of trust as a horse of flying. He had captured the throne by murdering his brother Sushima, who had been tricked to death by Magadhas wily prime minister Radhagupta, who then went on to serve Ashoka. Radhagupta had an uncanny knack for survival.

The Brahmin knew the prime minister hated him; hated his independence and refusal to bow to him; hated how close he was to the king.