The Conqueror

by Aditya Iyengar

Genres: Historical Fiction

Synopsis

Kingdoms are built by men. Legacies are built by emperors. It is AD 1025. The mighty Chola empire that controls much of southern Bharatvarsha is helmed by Emperor Rajendra Chola I - a man as enigmatic as his kingdom is renowned. Known for his might and vision, he has now set his sights upon the southern seas, governed by the powerful Srivijaya empire. But his victories also bring forth stories of those affected by his ambition. Of an unnamed princess forced to fend for herself among enemies after everything she has ever known is destroyed by the ravaging Chola forces. Of Maharaja Sangrama, captive in an alien land, who is torn between his enmity tempered by an unusual friendship with the elusive Rajendra Chola and his fierce determination to return to his kingdom. Told through the eyes of a prisoner of war and a princess without a kingdom, The Conqueror is a magnificent narrative - of war and conquest, of loss and death, of kingship and legacy.

Release date: May 20, 2018

Publisher: Hachette India

Print pages: 272

Sample

1

‘Sire, we’re under attack.’

I grunted. What kind of dream was this?

‘Sire?’

I rolled over on my side, forming a mountain range on the mattress, and lay, hovering between sleep and semi-consciousness. A pair of cold hands clutched my arm and shook it hard.

‘Sire!’ more urgently this time.

‘What?’ I mumbled.

‘War ships! Hundreds of them!’

‘What?’ I croaked, and prised open the stranglehold of sleep from my head.

‘Cholas! They’re here!’

I sat up in an instant. Let no one believe otherwise – I know what people are saying about me these days.

I cleared my throat of phlegm and spoke to Dhammavichai in an even tone.

‘Is it confirmed?’

‘Yes, Maharajah,’ he sniffled.

I nodded at him curtly, stood up and walked briskly outside my bedchamber. The wooden floor of the palace was still cold. I soon gave up the brisk trot and walked in a more leisurely manner to the palace courtyard. To run or even jog would have been seen as the first sign of panic. My men needed to believe that I would take care of it, whatever ‘it’ was. The sun had not risen, but the sky was already dark purple. People were hurrying about like frightened mice on the palace grounds that stretched out before me under the soft glow of the torch lights.

Dhammavichai caught up with me.

‘Where are the ministers?’ I asked him as he trembled, more out of habit than anything else. He was a timid little man, but a useful slave.

‘They’re on their way, my lord.’

No sooner than I said it, a group of men appeared before us. Jayanagara, my minister of war, was among them. I ignored the others and addressed him directly.

‘What’s happened?’

‘Cholas,’ he said, pausing briefly to catch his breath. ‘Their ships are coming down the river. Their army is marching towards the city walls. We’ve awoken five hundred elephants and every regiment at hand. Every man in the city is being given a sword to fight. General Samaratunga has already left for the river front. We’re getting as many ships out of the harbour as possible to meet them on the river.’

I nodded. Samaratunga was a bull-headed man who listened to none but the crazy voice in his head, which made him a capable general. He was also not the sort who would leave a battle midway either due to fear, or by carrying out what other less competent generals called ‘strategic retreats’. A useful quality in commanders. He would stay on his ships till he died, I was certain.

‘I’ve also sent word to Srideva, and the other Daatus. Every kadatuan will know in a few hours.’

I shrugged. My vassals were not very reliable. When I had ascended the throne, I administered a persumpahan, or an oath of allegiance. It was a formal ceremony where all the Daatus of Srivijaya would have to bow to me, and take an oath of loyalty to my line. The oath was protected by a curse that if broken could have supernatural repercussions on the traitorous chiefs. Of course, it was all just for show. I doubted their loyalty from the moment I began warming the cushions of my throne. They were just waiting for an opportunity to rally together and overthrow me – like grass in a bonfire, just waiting for the smallest spark to go up in flames and burn everything around it. If I didn’t drive the Cholas out from the city, no one would. It was all my father’s fault. He had not been firm with the kadatuans, unlike my grandfather who had always kept them under his thumb.

What? Oh, a Daatu is a chieftain of a kadatuan which is a principality. The kingdom of Srivijaya is made up of several small kadatuans, but the kingdom itself is also called a kadatuan. As the Maharajah, I am the most important Daatu and the ruler of the other Daatus. Try, as far as possible, to not interrupt me; it ruins the flow of my story. Attempt filling in the details yourself. The listener is as much a bricklayer as the storyteller. Now, back to my tale.

‘Maharajah, please leave the palace with the queen and the princess till we take care of matters,’ said Jayanagara, a little stiffly, perhaps anticipating my response.

The sky was draining of its darkness quickly and was almost pink. I ignored Jayanagara’s request.

‘How far are they?’

‘Maybe an hour away on the river, Maharajah. Their land forces are closer; they will reach our walls soon. Our scouts also report the presence of elephants, horses and catapults.’

The palace was at the centre of the city, a fair distance from the city walls. I was rather proud of the walls of my capital city. We had built them with the aid of Chinese engineers who had worked on repairing their own monstrosity that girded their nation from nomadic tribes – the wall they called the “Great Wall”. Our walls were built of solid stone and rose at least twenty feet above the ground.

‘How?’ I asked, genuinely dumbfounded. There had been no word of any Chola ship sighted on our oceans, leave alone near my city.

Jayanagara looked down at the ground. ‘We’re at a loss, my lord. No word had been received. Our scouts have spotted at least one thirisadai and several smaller warships.’

Battle talk? Oh, yes. I forget, you wouldn’t know. Thirisadai are what the Cholas call their largest ships. These can house many hundreds of your benighted race, I am told, and are used to carry troops and beasts around the sea.

Chola war ships were coming up the river and their soldiers around the city towards the city walls and my minister of war had no answer as to why. I would have him executed for this later. For now we needed every man able to carry a weapon.

We would meet them at the docks and the walls, I decided. Push them off the rim of our lands. I told Dhammavichai to get my armour and elephant ready and sent word to Samaratunga, through a messenger on horse, to hold the harbour. Jayanagara would assemble as many troops as possible and lead them there. I would take another group and mount the defence of the walls.

We waited in the palace courtyard and Jayanagara sent out orders to all the barracks to assemble at the docks. A gong was sounded and I knew that soon every able bodied man would be at the battlefront with whatever weapons they had at hand.

Dhammavichai soon came clattering behind me with two slaves who carried my armour.

An elephant was waiting outside the gate with its howdah upon it. She bent down and my slaves put a ladder against her so I could climb. Two steps up the ladder and one more into the wooden canopy with a seat that was the howdah. I had dressed the sides with curtains of mail that would protect me from stray arrows. An assortment of weapons were contained in the howdah. I strapped on the armour myself – a leather breastplate with my imperial seal upon it. There was no time for an attendant to do it.

Jayanagara inspected a helmet that his slave had brought him, and I told him to leave for the docks immediately. A regiment of the palace guards, with the exception of a few who would protect my Maharani and daughter, got into formation behind me.

Let no one believe I did not do enough to protect my family.

I picked out a bow and spoke to Dhammavichai who looked at me mournfully. I half-expected him to burst into tears. His greying hair was unkempt and he wore dirty white robes that I could tell had been worn in haste. An upper cloth that was slung around his chest left his left shoulder bare, and a baggy lower cloth, similar to your dhotis, that extended from his hips, sagged onto the ground. He wore no ornaments, no armlets, not even the necklace he normally wore while on royal duty. He looked more like a beggar than a royal steward to my house. On another day I would have laughed at the woeful figure that he cut.

‘Watch over my queen and daughter,’ I told him curtly. The elephant trumpeted and I told the mahout to take it forward. The beast was visibly restless. As she lumbered forward, the howdah shook from side to side. A group of soldiers and my royal guard followed, numbering no more than a hundred.

We made our way to the city walls, joined on the way by a ragtag assortment of horses and foot soldiers, whoever was at hand. As dawn lit the streets and the houses, I saw some guards going from house to house to wake up its residents, telling them to report to the armoury to get weapons and join us at the wall. The streets were slowly coming alive with noise – men shouting, hooves pounding, pots clattering.

We hurried our pace and reached the city walls at the point where the scouts had reported the Chola army had been sighted. My elephant trumpeted her displeasure again at being awoken so early and was immediately shushed by her mahout. The walls towered before us; I felt secure in their shadow. They had been crenellated too, meaning empty gaps had been built into the parapet at the top of the wall that allowed our archers to pour fury onto the attackers. The walls were unlike anything anyone had seen in this region. I had even designed a gateway arch on the inner gateway of the walls – a war gate to remind the men that passed through it of the glory of the land they fought for. It was called the vidyadharatorana, and it was a large arch of stone encrusted with all kinds of gems from across the many countries with which we traded or to which we extended our influence. A truly magnificent structure that inspired awe among all who beheld it.

But now was not the time to admire the torana. A flight of 168 stone steps led to the top of the wall and I wheezed my way upwards. The monsoon was going to arrive, and I had spent most of the dry season sitting at banquet tables. The weather in our parts does not swing as readily as in yours and is anchored by the rain. There are essentially two seasons: a dry season where it rains little, and a wet season, where it rains enough to fill the ocean.

I reached the parapet and acknowledged the salute of the captain in charge of the wall. I remember the light of the sun that morning, bright in my eyes. It made me put up a hand to block it, almost unconsciously, as I looked beyond the wall. The ground outside the fort was clear and unblemished by vegetation and, in the distance, I could make out men marching towards us followed by elephants and horses. They marched across the land in disciplined squares – almost leisurely, making clear their disdain for us.

A solitary man rode on a horse a little ahead of them. As he came closer, I saw that he was dressed in blackened leather armour with a coat of mail draped upon it. He was a heavily bearded man, with facial hair that grew down to chest, and long hair that had been tied into a top knot on his head.

‘I will give the initial order,’ I told the captain.

He grinned wolfishly then looked back at the men on the wall and shouted at them. ‘Hear that, men! Your Maharajah is up here fighting for you.’

The men roared their approval.

I looked at the bearded man in black armour. He stopped just outside the range of my arrows and raised his fist. The soldiers behind him stopped their advance and formed a line of squares. My first instinct was relief. There didn’t seem to be too many of them.

I could count four squares of foot soldiers with perhaps a thousand men in each of them. Each square wore a different regimental turban and, from a distance, they looked like a field of flowers. The men carried long spears, had swords fastened to their sides and large round shields that covered most of their bodies.

Behind the men were platoons of archers holding long wooden bows and quivers slung behind their back. They were followed by two rows of horses and two rows of elephants. The horses were of medium height, suitable for cavalry charges. Unlike Arab horses that were short and swift and the heavy Frankish horses from Europe that could pound through men as if they were grain, these possessed a combination of strength and speed, and had almost certainly been procured from the kingdoms north of Tamil territory, even as far ahead as lands on the silk routes. I made a mental note to find out where these horses came from once the battle was over.

The elephants stood placidly behind the horses and infantry. They were armoured in chain mail and had wooden howdahs perched on their backs. I presumed they carried four to six archers each. I was so distracted by the sight of the troops that I almost didn’t notice the catapults being wheeled out from behind them.

The Cholas had attacked us before – nearly eight years ago – but it had been a naval raid. We hadn’t been ready back then. Our ports had burned for days.

We were ready now.

I had an army of at least eight thousand men and a navy of three hundred ships of all sizes ready to do battle. I looked behind me and saw my troops in the familiar Srivijaya blue come out and form organized lines underneath the walls. More would join soon. The Chola army, if it could be called so, was more of a raiding party of two to three thousand men. A small force, but one that needed to be dealt with firmly and kept outside the walls.

Six catapults faced us. Though catapults come in different forms, these consisted principally of a large wooden arm with a sling at the end in which large stones were placed to be flung at a target. Each of them was manned by a crew of ten to twelve men.

Yes, there are specific military terms to describe each part, young scribe, but I fear you are not familiar with them. Which is why, when I explain things to you as if you were a child, it is for your own clarity.

For a moment, the trader in me wondered where they had got these from. The Chinese, maybe? I had not heard of Chola troops using siege weapons. To the best of my knowledge, they used elephants. And how much had they bought them for? The crews drew the arms of the catapults down and began loading their slings with heavy stones.

I was not afraid. My walls were firm; a few rocks wouldn’t deface it. I waited patiently till they had loaded them. Then, the bearded man in the black armour led his horse to the catapults. He had a word with one of the men operating it and pointed towards the wall. The man nodded, and gave some instruction to the rest of the crew around the catapult. The bearded man raised his arm, and lowered it sharply. A great roar went up from the Chola troops as the catapult flung the stones in our direction.

The first two stones flew above us and crashed somewhere in the city; the third one broke against the parapet, spraying bits of rock over the soldiers. The catapult arms were lowered again. The stones rolled onto their mouths and were spat out vehemently towards our walls. This time three of the stones crashed into the centre of the walls without doing much damage.

They could fire their rocks all they wanted. Nothing was going to come of it. Along the parapet, my archers stood ready. Behind them were two lines of infantry men, with swords fastened to their sides and long spears in their hands, to repel anyone that dared cross the parapet. Below us more men were gathering in Srivijaya blue. They stood in small crescent-shaped formations outside the gate with their swords drawn. If the Cholas ever got inside, they would be slaughtered.

When I focused my attention back on the Chola troops in front of me, I noticed that something was the matter. A ripple passed through the squares of infantry. From each square now, groups of men emerged holding long wooden ladders.

I knew what was coming.

‘Archers, ready!’ I roared, and my archers flexed their long bamboo bows and fastened arrows onto them. The Chola soldiers burst out into their war cry. Like any good war cry, it was short, easily repeatable and was structured with alliteration.

Vetrivel! Veeravel! ‘Victorious spear, valorous spear.’

We would see whose spear was victorious after the battle, I thought. The Chola troops whooped and screamed and charged while my bowmen waited patiently for the sea of troops to come within the reach of the arrows. Once they were close enough, a wave of arrows was released onto the troops, skewering many of them as they made their way towards us. A sea of dark red stained the flat ground, human ink on nature’s parchment.

Still they came.

Their archers now began returning fire. Hundreds of arrows flew towards us, forcing us to duck. Six more stones were flung, and each of them crashed into our walls, blinding our archers with dust and rock.

It had been a distraction of only a few moments, but it was all the time the Chola foot soldiers needed to reach the base of our walls. They thrust the tall ladders against the parapet and began climbing. The soldiers on our walls tried to push the ladders off but were held back by the withering fire of their archers as their infantry scampered up our walls like monkeys.

I peered over the parapet to take stock of the situation. The cavalry had stayed back beyond our range but the elephants were now streaming forward. Behind the parapet, we heated coconut oil in large cauldrons that gave off a lovely fragrance. Once heated, the cauldrons were emptied on the men climbing the ladders. I saw the oil peel off the face of a Chola soldier who was climbing up the ladder and he fell onto the men who were coming up behind him. One of our sergeants lit a torch, and flung it onto the ladder; it burst into flames along with the soldiers trapped on it. The men below cleared away as the ladder and burning men fell among them.

But not all our attempts at thwarting the ladders had been successful. I saw one or two Cholas climbing over the wall but they were brutally hacked down by our men.

Suddenly, an arrow flew over the wall and embedded itself into the ground at my feet. I looked up to find its source and saw more of them flying towards us. The elephant archers, perched as they were at a height, were releasing arrows in my direction. We had no choice but to huddle together underneath the parapet of the wall helpless as the arrows flew over our heads. Some of the archers tried to stand up and return fire but were shot down almost instantly.

More Chola troops had begun clearing our walls, their red jackets mingling with our blue tunics. Two of them emerged directly in front of me. As soon as they touched the ground, they swivelled around with a mighty roar each and began hacking away blindly at anything in their path. I took a step back as a blow aimed by a soldier glanced past me. I clenched my sword as I waited for an opening and soon managed to slash my assailant across his neck. He tottered and fell a few feet away from where I stood. My bodyguards surrounded me and began fighting the Chola troops that were now steadily pouring over the parapet.

The captain of the wall came up to me.

‘I’ll handle it from here, my lord. We’ll keep them from the city as long as we can.’

I nodded at him, and a group of the royal guard surrounded and escorted me down even as more red coats began to be seen on our parapet.

It had all happened so fast. I was sure of our victory and yet now we seemed to be barely holding the wall.

Arrows bit the ground around us and my men formed a cordon around me with their round shields raised. My troops were now fighting the Cholas for control of the parapet desperately. I was tempted, for an instant, to stay with my men and fight to the death there, but decided against it. I had to find a way to mount a defence of the city if they managed to overcome our walls.

My bodyguards manag. . .