Storm From Taxila: The Asoka Trilogy Book II

By Shreyas Bhave

Bharatvarsha, Land Of The Aryas: 272 EL
Bindusar, the Samrat Chakravartin of all the Aryas, ruler of the Indian sub¬continent, is dead. Chaos rules as the royal succession turns upon intrigue, dark coalitions, violence and death. The realm stands divided and civil war ensues.
In Vidishanagri: Asoka kills his brother's Ashwamedha stallion and marches to Patliputra with his army. The Ancient Brahminical Order rises in his support. Have they made the right choice?
In Taxila: The rightful heir, Sushem, raises an army to meet the challenge posed by his ambitious and gifted brother, Asoka. He prepares to march to the capital and seize the throne by force. Will history repeat itself? Will Sushem achieve what his grandfather Chandragupta did?
In Junagarh: Guildmaster Hardeo sets out on a private mission to cquire the great salt pans of Sindh. Will he succeed in his secret enterprise?
In Vidishanagri: Radhagupta travels to fulfill the task allotted to him by the Order. Kanakdatta, the Buddhist, stands up to stop him. Will Radhagupta fail in his mission?
The winds of war howl over the sub-continent, blowing every last person one way or the other. Blood will be spilled, secrets revealed and men ruined. History shall be made. In Book II of the epic Asoka Trilogy, the storm approaches — the harbinger of death and destruction. When the dust finally settles the great question will be answered: Who is the next Samrat of the revered lands of the Aryas?

• Language: English
• Publisher: One Point Six Technologies Pvt Ltd
• Release date: Aug 24, 2018
• ISBN: 9789352010813

Shreyas Bhave

SHREYAS BHAVE, an Electrical Engineer from VNIT Nagpur, is one of India’s youngest experts on railway electrification. He also administers an entrepreneurial YouTube channel at ‘Our First Million’. He also leads his rock music group ‘Shreyas and The Skinners’, who released their debut album Flux in 2021. Possessed by an abiding love of history, Shreyas was inspired to take on the challenge of writing a fictionalized account based on historical records supplemented by the rich folklore surrounding the legendary figure of Asoka. The trilogy was released to widespread acclaim and has been acquired for the screen. Prisoner Of Yakutsk, a modern-day thriller based on the mystery surrounding the disappearance of Netaji Subhash Bose, was published in 2019. The present book is the second in the trilogy based on the thrilling adventures of Chhatrapati Shivaji’s intelligenceduo, Bahirji-Naik (see Author’s Note at the end of the book). Shreyas enjoys song-writing, composing music, sketching and painting in watercolour. He plays the guitar and enjoys hiking up to the hill forts of Maharashtra, replete with their hoary history and ghosts from the past.Other books by Shreyas BhavePrince Of PatliputraStorm From TaxilaNemesis Of KalingaPrisoner Of Yakutsk

Book preview

PREFACE

BEFORE THE STORM

For many centuries the holy books of the Aryas have preached everything from eternal unity of one’s own kind to selfless service to one’s family and society. But aeons after they were written, we still cannot practice what we preach…

Our lands lie fragmented, divided by everything from regionalism to tribal sentiment and the petty selfishness of individual rulers. Our Rajas had fought over everything from women, to land and pride; so much so that wars with their neighbours has become a habit. And every time some powerful Arya rises above these squabbles and seeks to unify our lands, he turns out to be an evil monster rather than a rightful Samrat. Be it Jarasandha of yore or the tyrannical Nandas of our times, those who have tried to unify our lands have always brought pain and misery upon the people.

It is not that the learned men of our society have accepted or become resigned to this state of affairs. They have always attempted to stand against these evil rulers. Be it Lord Krishna of a thousand years ago, or I the humble servitor of my people in these unsettled times.

My name is Arya Chanakya, though I am known as Kautilya these days. Few are privy to my past so take heed of what I say; then hold the words sealed within your breast.

I was born eight decades ago in the northwest of our subcontinent, where the Land of the Aryas ends and those of foreigners like the Mlechhas and the Yavanas begin. For my entire youth I strived for only two things – to accumulate knowledge of our world; and unite our race as a single entity.

People considered me foolish and stubborn. The Rajas laughed at my advice and continued to fight meaningless wars for worthless reasons. For three decades of my life my efforts were in vain as I tried and failed to instill the virtues of unity and service in our rulers.

Then, everything changed. I recognized my mistake. I had been counting on changing the mindset of our people from within. What I should have realized long before was that change of such proportions can only be brought about by a powerful external force.

Fifty years ago, that powerful force arrived at the boundaries of our Bharat, armed with insurmountable power. His name was Alexander, and he came from beyond the seven seas, from the lands of the Greeks. His objective was simple – to conquer the whole wide world. And our lands were next – the doorway to the far East.

The Rajas of the northwest reacted as I had expected. They made deals with this foreign foe in order to destroy the enemies of their own race. Even Raja Ambhi of Taxila, did so. Only one man refused to succumb to Alexander. His name was Puru, the mightiest Raja of the region.

But even Puru’s might was no match for Alexander’s tactics and deceit. On the banks of the holy Jhelum, everyone gasped with horror as Puru lost the battle to the Greeks – everyone except me; I just smiled.

As Alexander spent time consolidating power in the northwest, I travelled east to the greatest city of the known world – to Patliputra, ruled by the Nandas. My plan was simple: to ask the Nanda Maharaja to take his army northwest to defeat the Greeks. The people of the northwest were disgusted by the unmanly conduct of their Rajas, almost all of whom had surrendered without a fight. If The Nandas fought and won against the Greeks, the people of the northwest would accept them as their saviours, thereby uniting the subcontinent, north and south, east and west.

But my plan had a serious flaw. While everyone knew the Nandas had the largest standing army in the world, what few people beyond their borders knew was how they used it. I discovered that the army was used to terrorize their subjects. The Nandas were tyrannical kings who ruled with the force of an equally tyrannical army. I witnessed and experienced their tyranny first hand. I was imprisoned and tortured by Nanda lieutenants in Patliputra.

But I was rescued by an Ancient Brotherhood that had dwelled in the tunnels below the city for five centuries. Since its founder, Maharaja Ajatshatru, had laid down its mission, the brothers of the order had zealously safeguarded the interests of the Arya race, secretly. They rescued me from prison and inducted me into their ranks. They bestowed upon me their mission: To bring down the evil Nandas from their thrones.

As a Brother of the Order, and armed with its power and influence, I returned to the northwest.

Fortune ever favours the brave. Two of my old students had started a rebellion in the Rajya of Taxila, against the Greeks and their vassal Kings. Under my guidance, Chandragupta and Dileepa stormed the city of Taxila and killed Raja Ambhi. Chandragupta was hailed as their liberator by the people and they recognized him as the new Raja of Taxila.

As Chandragupta rose, Alexander fell. His weary army refused to fight more battles and forced him to turn back for home, to Greece. As Alexander left, I sensed the great opportunity that was upon us. The people of the northwest were already chanting the names of Chandragupta and Dileepa after their heroic actions in Taxila. I knew that I could use their popularity with the people to unite the whole northwest for one cause.

But how to create that cause? I turned to the Ancient Brahminical Order. In its ranks I found men more than willing to safeguard the future. Assassins from the Order killed Dileepa and made it seem like the Nandas had him killed. Chandragupta and the people of Taxila rose in rage, swearing vengeance. In one swift stoke, I united all the Rajyas of the northwest against the Nandas. When rulers like Puru refused, I reminded them that their own Generals loved Chandragupta above; that flimsy traditional bonds alone held them in place.

We marched against the Nandas. The Ancient Brahminical Order supported us secretly. The Nandas never stood a chance. The oppressed people of the empire rose with us against their older masters. Chandragupta was hailed as Samrat from the Jhelum to the Ganges. It seemed that peace and progress had finally come to Bharathvarsha

But I was wrong. Chandragupta’s son, Bindusar, was nothing like his father. A lazy man, he was more devoted to carnal pleasure than anything else. Although he did continue his father’s expansionist policies by launching the Southern Wars against the non-Arya kingdoms in the south, he did not have his father’s warrior skill. The Southern Wars were a disaster cloaked in victory, won at the cost of a generation of Aryas of Madhya Bharath.

Bindusar bred nothing but drunkards and lechers like himself. He fathered a hundred sons, nearly all of whom them were unworthy of even a merchant’s position. Bindusar’s sins finally came to haunt him as his health declined because of his carnal obsession. The great question loomed: Who would succeed him as the Samrat of the Aryas?

Only Sushem, the eldest son, seemed to possess the ability to succeed his father. He had been Governor of Taxila for a decade and had done well. He knew how to administrate. Alas, he was half Greek by birth. The army did not support him due to his foreign lineage and he in turn hated the army. Sushem’s ascension to the throne would have caused turmoil.

I watched the crumbling Samrajya from afar. Bindusar had ousted me from his court and I had lost my powers. But I still had my old connections with the Order. And Bindusar’s Steward, Radhagupta, viewed me as a Guru.

With Radhagupta, I began working once again to save the land of the Aryas from imminent destruction. Our task was now harder than before. Earlier, I had the capable Chandragupta at hand. Now, none of the Samrat’s sons were able enough to rule. All seemed lost. But then we discovered Asoka.

Asoka was nothing a Prince was supposed to be. He had never had his father’s love; his mother was a Vaishya. He had spent most of his life in the army. He had no money, and had no influence. But he did have one thing –friends – comrades from the Southern Wars.

When the old province of Avanti rose in rebellion, Radhagupta and I, managed to have Asoka sent there as leader of the expedition. At Vidishanagri, Asoka found the city had been secretly taken over by the Buddhist Merchant’s Guild and its leader, Hardeo. Asoka had formed a romantic relationship with Hardeo’s daughter, Devi, and now reached the Guild Master using her and his friend Kanakdatta, now Hardeo’s right hand man.

The leader of the Avanti rebellion, Shiva of Ujjain, turned out to be Asoka’s old friend from the Wars as well. The rebellion ended without a drop of blood being shed. Asoka’s popularity soared.

But Sushem turned out to be more intelligent than I had anticipated. He offered Asoka his hand in friendship. Though the brothers had always been distant, the relationship between them had never been strained.

Something had to be done to turn Asoka against his elder brother. I turned once again to the Ancient Brahminical Order. We recruited Asoka’s Captain and bodyguard as an assassin. Sushem’s Prime Minister, Hariharan, already one of the Order, worked with us, making it seem that it had been his master, Sushem, who had sent the assassins after Asoka.

Enraged, Asoka went after the thing Sushem cared about the most – his Ashwamedha stallion, which was roaming the subcontinent in open display of his grandiose objective to be the next Samrat. Having killed the stallion, Asoka forged a quick alliance with Shiva of Ujjain, based on their friendship, and with Hardeo of Vidishanagri, by promising to marry his daughter.

Then he set out towards Patliputra, Devi in tow, to claim the throne.

We were waiting for him….

Sushem had heard what had happened to his Ashwamedha stallion. He quickly gathered his mercenary army and set out for Patliputra too.

We were waiting for him as well…

Sushem’s path was akin to Chandragupta’s and mine fifty years ago. Like us, he too, set out from Taxila to conquer the greatest city in the world. He had more men than Chandragupta then had… much more money…and better connections at court.

But he lacked one thing – me, Kautilya.

And so the great question loomed once again as it had half a century before: Who would be the next Samrat of the holy lands of the Aryas?

PROLOGUE

269 BC: CATACOMBS UNDER PATLIPUTRA

The man was covered from head to heel in a cloak as black as night. It exposed nothing but the frail old arm in the eery light of the torch he held high in his right hand.

Maharaja Sushem instinctively clutched his own torch as he observed the cloaked man leading the way through the narrow tunnel. He glanced back at his soldiers, grasping their swords. How much further? he asked the cloaked man.

You must have patience, Maharaja, the man said. An ambush cannot be rushed.

Sushem felt a chill go down his spine as the deep nasal voice of the cloaked man hit his ears. I am miles below Patliputra, in a tunnel, following an old man I have just met! The truth registered itself in his mind. How did I end up here, he wondered?

This is not exactly an ambush, he said.

Is it not? The sound of the man’s hollow laugh made Sushem’s heart miss a beat. It’s clearly an ambush, Maharaja!

Sushem glanced back once again at the narrow corridor lined with his soldiers, following him. Their numbers and the naked weapons they held gave him strength. Be quick, he instructed the cloaked man fiercely.

A hundred feet more…

Sushem began silently counting his steps… one… two… three… It had been less than a year since he had left Taxila. He remembered the mountain passes, the river crossings, the small skirmishes along the way. The march had been made without much opposition. He had set siege to the city. He remembered the negotiations and the betrayal!

Seventy-nine…eighty…eighty-one... He really had no other choice. He had been backstabbed. He could not have lifted the siege and retreated; there simply wasn’t enough time. Nor could he have fought; that would have meant facing enemies on both sides.

Ninety…ninety-one…ninety-two… No, it was his destiny to walk these tunnels. It was what his grandfather Chandragupta had done, and emerged victorious. Now he, Sushem, would do the same; he would pay back his enemies in the same coin of deceit and treachery.

Hundred and one…hundred and two... He had more than a hundred soldiers behind him in the tunnel. Soon the walk through the darkness would end and they would be inside Patliputra, taking the defenders of the city by surprise. They would throw open the gates and his remaining troops would storm the city. If all went according to plan, he would pull this off just like Chandragupta had, years ago.

Hundred and twenty one…Hundred and twenty two.

The cloaked man stopped. They had reached a dead end. A dark stone wall blocked their path. Sushem felt his heart thud against his chest as the old man moved his hands over the wall, seeking a projection.

For the Ancient Bramhinical Order, Maharaja! the man said as his hand closed on a stone lever.

For the Order! Sushem echoed.

As the wall in front of them abruptly moved, Sushem’s left hand moved to the hilt of his sword.

Beyond this lies what you seek, Maharaja, the man said, his voice as chilly as the wind outside. May the Strong prey upon the Weak...

50 YEARS EARLIER

***

Men armed with swords and spears walked through a passageway, following a cloaked man. They stood at a dead end.

For the Ancient Bramhinical Order! the cloaked man declaimed.

For the Order! the man behind him said. In the light of the burning torches, the ring on his finger shone – a blood red curl in sparkling black stone.

The wall moved with a rumbling noise.

Beyond this lies what you seek, Chandragupta. May the Strong prey upon the Weak, the man with the mystical ring said, his eyes glittering in the firelight.

I

RADHAGUPTA:

WEB OF DARKNESS

270 BC PATLIPUTRA

There was darkness all around and no sound disturned the vast stillness in which he stood. As he moved forward, his own footsteps echoed in his ears like metal being beaten on a blacksmith’s anvil. The stillness and quiet of his surroundings unnerved him as he walked through the blackness, his arm held out to avoid colliding into something. The air was strangely moist and still. He felt the weight of every breath. Each gasp for air reminded him he was a hundred feet below the ground.

Radhagupta always knew when to stop and when to go on. He had the good habit of always stopping and asking for directions. That way he saved precious time that would otherwise be wasted in trying to find the way on his own. He had never believed that a man had to know the way to everywhere. It was alright to be lost sometimes he had told himself when he was young. But it was not acceptable to be lost today. Finding the way was all that mattered, and stopping was of no use because he was there all alone.

Strange place, Radhagupta thought as he walked on slowly through the underground passageway, careful not to stumble on the conical rock formations underfoot. The truth was stranger still. He was just a kos from the Samrat’s palace! This endless tunnel through which he walked, ended at one end, in the south passage of the Patliputra palace. But the knowledge did not comfort him since he could not find his way back to the palace either.

Radhagupta was lost. Hours ago he had entered the tunnels, confident that he would find the way to his destination. He no longer felt so sure as the passage kept going on and on. It sometimes forked in two, and sometimes divided into three directions. Now, hours later, he could not remember which turns he had taken.

Radhagupta stopped when his feet touched something familiar. In the darkness he bent to examine the object with both hands and then sighed. His feet had touched a silk scarf, which lay covered in dust. It was the same scarf he had dropped some time earlier to mark a certain passageway. Radhagupta wrapped the scarf around his wrist as he stood up. He was going round in circles. There was no point in going further. Anyone there? he shouted.

Only the echo of his own voice filled the tunnel, reveberating around him.

Hello! Radhagupta shouted again, feeling foolish. The echo mocked him… No one’s going to answer, he told himself. There’s no one here but me.

Suddenly he heard a faint sound. Were the tunnels echoing his thoughts too? Radhagupta stood still and listened. He heard what sounded like the rustling of leaves. As the sounds grew louder and nearer, he realized they were footsteps. Someone was coming towards him! Almost as abruptly as they had begun, the footsteps stopped.

Who’s there? a frail voice asked from the darkness in front of him. The echo repeated the words, adding to the mystique of the question.

The frailty in the voice comforted Radhagupta. It was not the voice of a warrior. The words had certainly been spoken by an old man. Radhagupta lost his fear and replied into the darkness, It is I.

There was a pause and then the old man spoke again. Who is I? he asked irritably.

Radhagupta frowned. Who was this old man? Only he was supposed to walk these tunnels tonight. The others were supposed to know this. Tell me who you are first, he shouted back.

Now that he had heard a human voice, his sense of fear and despair were replaced by suspicion.

I am Dasharath.

And I am Radhagupta.

The old man broke into a fit of deep coughing, which resounded like thunder in the enclosed rocky space of the tunnel. Finally he said, You’re early, Radhagupta.

Am I? It felt like an eternity since he had stepped into the maze.

Either that, or I am late.

Are you a Brother of the Ancient Brahminical Order?

I am.

Then our destination is the same! Radhagupta felt relieved; he had finally discovered the key out of this maze. I am to be initiated into the Order today and have been tasked to find the way to the ceremonial chamber for that purpose. But you must know the way!

There was silence and then the old man replied thoughtfully, It would be highly unconventional. No initiate of the Order has ever been shown the way to the chamber by a Brother. You must find your own way. That is the challenge.

Radhagupta fell silent. If the old man deserted him now and walked away, it would be an easy matter to follow him, so it didn’t really matter.

But now that you have found me, Dasharath continued after a moment, you could just follow me to our destination. So I could as well tell you the secret to this maze.

You could, Radhagupta agreed, taking a few steps forward. The old man was just ahead of him.

Listen closely. Touch the rocky wall.

Which wall? Radhagupta asked, looking to both sides.

Either one.

Radhagupta turned towards where the old man’s voice was coming from and touched the rocky surface with his fingers.

Now walk… the old man ordered, without taking your fingers off the wall.

That’s all? Radhagupta asked doubtfully. He sensed the old man walking away slowly and followed, trailing his fingers along the rocky wall.

How is it you were here in the tunnels? Radhagupta asked as they walked on.

I am old now, Dasharath said morosely. I was late and it takes me a while to walk the distance. And it appears you walk quite fast. He sighed and continued. I should have been at the ceremonial chamber hours before you. The others will already be there. But sadly my body does not always keep up with my mind!

It is my good fortune that you came, Radhagupta said.

It is most unconventional, what we are doing...a Brother showing the way to an initiate, Dasharath mumbled. Remember to keep this quiet once you get to the chamber,he admonished.

I will, Radhagupta promised, smiling.

They spoke no more and walked on in silence. Where the tunnel turned or divided, Dasharath followed the chosen wall, and Radhagupta followed, not taking his fingers off the wall.

Listen! Dasharath said all of a sudden. We are close.

Radhagupta closed his eyes and listened. The quiet of the place had changed. He could hear faint noises, like the distant buzzing of bees. As they walked on, he realized he was hearing murmuring from the other side of the wall they were walking along.

The entrance to the ceremonial chamber is at the next turning, Dasharath whispered. We should not go in together. You go first.

Radhagupta nodded and walked forward, crossing the old man, his fingers still on the wall. As he passed him, Radhagupta noticed the long black cloak the man wore and his tall stature. He could not see the face. As he walked on, the sounds of voices from the other side grew louder.

The turning came soon enough and he bumped into something solid, his forehead taking the brunt of the collision. The voices stopped and an eerie silence followed. Radhagupta rubbed his forehead and then groped along the surface, into which he had collided. He smiled as he felt a wooden door. He searched for a handle or a key, but there was nothing. He realized he should knock.

Two taps and the silence in the next chamber was broken by the sound of firm footsteps coming towards the door.

Who is it? a voice asked.

Radhagupta.

Beyond lies what you seek... the voice on the other side said.

Radhagupta knew the line. The man was asking him for a password. He had been specifically told the words of the password just hours before stepping into the tunnels.

May the strong prey upon the weak… he responded, taking care to keep his voice steady. He had heard strange things about these men of the Ancient Brahminical Order, but had ignored the rumours, thinking they were just men, like himself. Now, as the door slowly creaked open inwards, he did not feel as sure. His his legs trembled a little and his throat felt dry. As the door opened, a diffused orange light fell on his face, hurting his eyes, accustomed to darkness. Everything appeared bright to him, as if he was looking at the sun. His eyes hurt and the strange shapes slowly swirled into forms he could understand. Exactly opposite the door was a fireplace. It was the light from the burning logs that had illumined his face.

Radhagupta rubbed his eyes and then entered the firelit chamber. Another cloaked man stood there to welcome him in. A hood covered his head and the black cloak fell to his feet. He brought out one hand from the folds, holding a sand clock, with almost three quarters of the sand remaining in the upper half. You found us very quickly, Initiate, he said.

It was luck, Radhagupta responded with a forced smile.

Come, the others await you.

The man led the way. They walked past the fireplace into a vast chamber with a vaulted ceiling, ribbed with wooden beams. Torches burned in holders on the walls and a long table stood in the centre, with numerous stools around it, on which sat men covered from head to feet in black cloaks.

He has arrived, Brothers, the man who had led Radhagupta into the chamber announced. Walking to the table, he took his place on a stool.

In one movement, all the men around the table removed their hoods, revealing their faces. Radhagupta counted twenty-four men. Then his eyes lingered on the familiar face at the head of the table. Arya Chanakya’s lips quirked into what might have been a smile before his face became expressionless again.

Radhagupta let out a deep breath. It was Arya Chanakya, who had enticed him here in the first place. All the others stared at him intently, studying him. The silent scrutiny unnerved him a little. Radhagupta quickly surveyed the room and saw two empty chairs remained at the table.

Arya Chanakya cleared his throat and immediately every eye turned to him, leaving Radhagupta. Brothers! Arya Chanakya’s raspy voice sounded like that of a child learning to speak through a toothless mouth. Five decades ago, I brought a man here to this Council, on a day just like this. Some of you were present then and may remember; though most of you were not.

Aye…the men said in unison, their voices echoing in the vaulted chamber.

That was a holy day, Chanakya said, for the name of the man was Chandragupta Maurya. He freed our city and the whole of Bharathvarsha, from the tyranny of Nanda rule.

The men nodded in agreement.

The day Chandragupta walked into this chamber, Chanakya continued, he was merely Raja of Taxila, a small, distant city in the northwest. But he had managed to invade and defeat the tyrannical rulers of Patliputra, the largest city of the known world.

The men hammered their fists twice on the table, signifying agreement.

But when Chandragupta walked out of this chamber that day, he was no longer merely the Raja of Taxila but accepted and hailed by all as…

"Samrat of Bharathvarsha!" Twenty-four voices responded in unison.

Yes…Leader of all the Aryas; Master of all the lands between the Jhelum and the Ganga.Chanakya spoke softly, almost afraid to disturb the ghosts of things past. He closed his eyes for a moment and then opened them again, his voice stronger. "That is the power this council wields; that exists in this chamber. I wish our young initiate to understand that before he steps