to the Andhaka camp a mile or two upstream. Kamsa and his ravagers tended to ride much ahead of the main force, leaving the sluggish supply caravans trailing in their wake.
‘It’s just a scratch,’ Kamsa said absently, gazing out across the village. The woman’s screams had stopped, although other equally terrible cries could be heard across the ruined settlement as other women and victims suffered at the hands of the Andhakas. To Kamsa, the screams were like sweet music, acknowledging his superiority as a military commander and soldier.
‘ Tell me,’ he said to Bana, who knew at once what he wished to know.
Bana began recounting the tally of the dead. The ratio of ‘enemy’ dead to their own dead was ludicrous. They had killed or left for dead some two hundred and lost only three men.
‘Because we take them by surprise and after the treaty many have returned to herding and farming, they rarely have weapons close at hand,’ smirked Bana, licking his lips.‘And the women and children are almost always alone and defenceless in their homes.’
Bana then proceeded to recount the spoils of private treasures they had appropriated as tax – Kamsa had forbiddentheuseoftheterm‘looted’–measuringup to a substantial amount.
Bana chuckled as he finished the tally.‘A good day’s work, My Lord. These herders and farmers make for easy prey. Almost too easy. We roll across the landscape like chariots across millet, crushing them underfoot like crisp grain.’
‘Yes, well, that won’t continue much longer,’Kamsa said. ‘Word must be spreading already about our campaign.We should expect to meet some resistance soon.’ He raised a clenched fist, adding,‘I pray we do. I am tired of hacking down feeble herders caught unawares and boys with sheep crooks!’
Canura grinned slyly. ‘It has its advantages.’ He jerked his head in the direction of the village where the screams of dying women rent the air and the crackling of burning straw-and-mud huts filled it with smoke. ‘The men enjoy it too.’
Kamsa didn’t respond. He stared into the distance. Bana and Canura exchanged a glance. Kamsa often had these phases when he would just stare into the horizon, brooding. Such periods almost always preceded some new plan or strategy.
Finally, he said, ‘We shall swing north and east. Towards Vrindavan.’
‘Vrindavan?’ Bana repeated. Even Canura gaped. ‘But My Lord, that is the heart of Sura territory. King Vasudeva will not brook an assault on his heartland silently.’
‘Bhraatr Bana speaks the truth,’ Canura added cautiously. Kamsa did not always appreciate being corrected or having his plans questioned. A scar on Canura’s cheek testified to that fact, as did the rotting corpses of two of Kamsa’s previous advisors. ‘Until now, we have only, uh, taxed outlying villages and border territories of the three nations. Our actions could be defended as legitimate policy against border crossings and water or cattle thefts. But if we ride that far into Vraj heartland, it would be a total violation of the peace treaty and a declaration of open war against Vasudeva himself. The Sura nation might respond with an all-out war. And the Bhoja Yadav as might feel outraged enough to get involved as well.’
Bana cleared his throat, also careful to couch his suggestions in cautious terms. ‘Besides which, Vasudeva does happen to be the betrothed of your sister Lady Devaki, My Lord. The wedding is set to take place in—’
Kamsa gestured them both to be silent. They subsided at once. The wind changed, bringing a heavy odour of smoke and the stench of burning corpses along with the fading screams of the last suffering victims.
‘I am sick of this peace treaty,’ Kamsa said. ‘My father did not consult me, the crown prince, before signing it. Why should I be compelled to uphold it?’ At the mention of his father, Kamsa’s eyes glinted – both Bana and Canura noted this with growing nervousness – and a
‘It’s just a scratch,’ Kamsa said absently, gazing out across the village. The woman’s screams had stopped, although other equally terrible cries could be heard across the ruined settlement as other women and victims suffered at the hands of the Andhakas. To Kamsa, the screams were like sweet music, acknowledging his superiority as a military commander and soldier.
‘ Tell me,’ he said to Bana, who knew at once what he wished to know.
Bana began recounting the tally of the dead. The ratio of ‘enemy’ dead to their own dead was ludicrous. They had killed or left for dead some two hundred and lost only three men.
‘Because we take them by surprise and after the treaty many have returned to herding and farming, they rarely have weapons close at hand,’ smirked Bana, licking his lips.‘And the women and children are almost always alone and defenceless in their homes.’
Bana then proceeded to recount the spoils of private treasures they had appropriated as tax – Kamsa had forbiddentheuseoftheterm‘looted’–measuringup to a substantial amount.
Bana chuckled as he finished the tally.‘A good day’s work, My Lord. These herders and farmers make for easy prey. Almost too easy. We roll across the landscape like chariots across millet, crushing them underfoot like crisp grain.’
‘Yes, well, that won’t continue much longer,’Kamsa said. ‘Word must be spreading already about our campaign.We should expect to meet some resistance soon.’ He raised a clenched fist, adding,‘I pray we do. I am tired of hacking down feeble herders caught unawares and boys with sheep crooks!’
Canura grinned slyly. ‘It has its advantages.’ He jerked his head in the direction of the village where the screams of dying women rent the air and the crackling of burning straw-and-mud huts filled it with smoke. ‘The men enjoy it too.’
Kamsa didn’t respond. He stared into the distance. Bana and Canura exchanged a glance. Kamsa often had these phases when he would just stare into the horizon, brooding. Such periods almost always preceded some new plan or strategy.
Finally, he said, ‘We shall swing north and east. Towards Vrindavan.’
‘Vrindavan?’ Bana repeated. Even Canura gaped. ‘But My Lord, that is the heart of Sura territory. King Vasudeva will not brook an assault on his heartland silently.’
‘Bhraatr Bana speaks the truth,’ Canura added cautiously. Kamsa did not always appreciate being corrected or having his plans questioned. A scar on Canura’s cheek testified to that fact, as did the rotting corpses of two of Kamsa’s previous advisors. ‘Until now, we have only, uh, taxed outlying villages and border territories of the three nations. Our actions could be defended as legitimate policy against border crossings and water or cattle thefts. But if we ride that far into Vraj heartland, it would be a total violation of the peace treaty and a declaration of open war against Vasudeva himself. The Sura nation might respond with an all-out war. And the Bhoja Yadav as might feel outraged enough to get involved as well.’
Bana cleared his throat, also careful to couch his suggestions in cautious terms. ‘Besides which, Vasudeva does happen to be the betrothed of your sister Lady Devaki, My Lord. The wedding is set to take place in—’
Kamsa gestured them both to be silent. They subsided at once. The wind changed, bringing a heavy odour of smoke and the stench of burning corpses along with the fading screams of the last suffering victims.
‘I am sick of this peace treaty,’ Kamsa said. ‘My father did not consult me, the crown prince, before signing it. Why should I be compelled to uphold it?’ At the mention of his father, Kamsa’s eyes glinted – both Bana and Canura noted this with growing nervousness – and a
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