The Captains of Legend

By Raphael Sohnn

On the brink of adulthood, Meena dreams of living life to the fullest. But she is a princess and the sole heir to her father's kingdom.

Holasiyan, Meena's oldest friend, has grown up with her in the Saffron Palace, India; only now, their friendship is blossoming into something far deeper. But Holasiyan, already an exceptional warrior, is d

• Language: English
• Publisher: Author In Me LTD
• Release date: Nov 18, 2022
• ISBN: 9781739686277

Book preview

The Captains of Legend – Character List

The Royals:

King Jeevan Pratap, ruler of Bhagava

Queen Naina, wife and queen of King Jeevan

Princess Meena, daughter of Jeevan & Naina

King Dileep Raj, brother of Queen Naina, ruler of a nearby kingdom and ally of King Jeevan

The Warriors:

Zalim Singh, erstwhile captain of the Royal Guard, and late father of Holasiyan

Holasiyan (Hola Singh), son of the late Zalim Singh

Dilawar Khan, current captain of the Royal Guard, lifelong soldier and student of the late Zalim Singh

Dharam Singh, lieutenant to Zalim Singh, then captain after Zalim

Ajay, Sikander, Veeru, lieutenants to Dilawar Khan

Bheem Singh, commander of King Dileep Raj’s forces, brother of Queen Naina

Employees of the Saffron Palace:

Iya, lady in waiting to Princess Meena

Puneet Lal, Prime Minister

Roop Sinha, senior courtier

Antagonists:

Raja, cousin of King Jeevan

Gulshan, son of Raja

Supporting characters:

Suleikha, the slave girl

Uday & Jiva, the villagers & neighbours of former captain, Dharam Singh

CHAPTER 1

Palanquins

They ran into the woods, happy and playful, with not a care in the world. Down the well-trodden paths they skipped, until they arrived at their private little space away from their parents. Sitting in the shade, taking turns on the swings on the enormous tree, they carried on with gay abandon.

Adolescent laughter echoed through the woods. Giggling amongst themselves, they talked about that which most girls of their youthful years are wont to discuss: boys. Teasing one another, they feigned offence, elbowing the offender, and then confirming the other’s suspicions with a mischievous smile. They whiled away the afternoon unconcerned with anything.

‘I wonder when your favourite will make an appearance, Meena,’ said Saloni, with a twinkle in her eye.

‘I do not have a favourite. I would just prefer that if I am to be guarded by someone that it be him.’

‘That’s quite understandable,’ said one. ‘Talking of which, shouldn’t he, or anyone for that matter, be here with us now?’

‘I suppose so, but he wasn’t available. It’s just that sometimes, Saloni, I only want to be with my friends, and I count him amongst them, amongst all of you.’

‘You know how your father will react once he finds out,’ said Heeri.

‘I do, but I also grow tired of constantly being watched over, waited upon hand and foot. You can’t imagine how nice it is to be out here without anyone fussing over me. The guard are ever present, at every corner. I feel constantly under scrutiny. Today, I even had to spend some time with the falconer before I came here with you. I used to find it interesting, once upon a time. But mostly, I feel like running out here without telling a soul. Just to see what happens.’

‘Actually we can imagine what it might be like,’ said Zora. ‘I wouldn’t mind that sort of existence at all. I would refuse to walk anywhere. I would have four of the most handsome guards carry me around in my own palanquin.’

She made extravagant gestures with her hands, mimicking the apparent idiosyncrasies of the wealthy and the powerful. The others laughed, copying her behaviour, each imagining that they had exchanged places with Meena, the princess. They sauntered around pretending to command something here, turning their noses up at something there, nonchalantly flicking away with their fingers at that which they deemed unacceptable.

Meena laughed at the charade, swinging back and forth in amusement. She wasn’t upset in the slightest; they were her friends. The girls continued to delight in their role-playing, taking it in turns to be the princess, or one of her ladies-in-waiting or unfortunate servants. Meena just smiled.

Up in the Grand Hall, a father had been sitting for quite a long while, pensive, almost motionless. In one of his hands he held a document handed to him by one of his counsel. Crumpled in his fist soon after having read it, not meant for keeping; its purpose had been served and the message delivered.

The content of the letter hadn’t triggered any emotions within him, ostensibly. He hadn’t seemed excited, but on the other hand he didn’t seem vexed either. Nevertheless, it had caused him to think, and not just momentarily. It was the provenance of the letter rather than its content that was occupying his thoughts.

He glanced outside then sprang to his feet and walked onto the terrace, gazing out over the land that stretched into the distance, eventually meeting the horizon. A welcome breeze made its way over the balcony and into the grand, vast room. The sun was at its zenith and all was at peace.

‘What a beautiful day,’ he thought.

Yet as much as he yearned for preoccupation elsewhere, to pretend his mind was elsewhere, he could not alas lie to himself. He had indeed been irked by the letter. He remembered how his free hand had grasped the armrest of his throne in a vice-like grip as he read through it.

With each passing moment he craved distraction all the more.

He wondered what she was doing right then, where she might be. Not wishing to pay further regard to the matters of state, he left to go and find her.

Walking back inside, he passed one of the tremendous stone pillars that supported the ceiling. In front of it and every other identical pillar were various items of battle paraphernalia on plinths. Suits of armour, swords, axes, spears, maces, shields. Statues of warriors from days past, and of their trusted steeds or elephants, stood as a testament to the rich history of their culture, the people and their clan.

At the end of the hall were two enormous doors decorated with intricate engravings, depictions of battles of times long gone. Multitudinous victories but also heart-breaking defeats, which, though fewer in number, could not be ignored. They were as much a part of the fabric of the people as their many successes. It was difficult to know where one was going, if one was not aware from where they had come. It was necessary to remember the defeats, just as it was to remember those brave souls who had perished in the many battles and wars it took to achieve glory, the glory of the great kingdom of Bhagava.

Either side of the doors were two sentinels, standing to attention. Each had a long sword in its scabbard around his waist and a long spear in his right hand. Their left hands rested behind their backs. The door opened, and in stepped a small man.

He had a diminutive frame and an unusual gait due to the modest length of his legs. He appeared to mimic the walk of girls from further east. The little man bowed. ‘Good day, Your Majesty.’

‘Ah, Puneet Lal, how are you?’ King Jeevan replied. His prime minister was formally attired and weighed down with documents of state, ready to go through the pressing business of monarchy.

‘Very well, Your Majesty. I have some papers that require your attention.’

‘I don’t feel like perusing them at this moment. I was off to find my daughter. Later, perhaps.’

‘As you wish, Your Majesty. Shall I send one of the guards to find her for you?’

‘No, no. I will go, thank you. I may be the king, but there are some things that I should occasionally do for myself. That being said, there is one thing you can do for me. Please dispose of this letter.’

The prime minister took the document and bowed in reverence. The king left him and made his way along the long corridors of his palace. He turned left, sometimes right, passing many more pillars and statues, and sentinels who saluted as he walked past. He arrived at his daughter’s private chambers, but the guards informed him she was not there, so he headed to his and the queen’s rooms.

His wife was standing on the terrace in the afternoon sun, looking out over the paddocks and across the fields. She was an image of resplendence. A beautiful woman, as understanding and kind of heart as she was fair, she was dressed in an elegant, flowing white-and-yellow sari of the most exquisite satins and silks.

‘My lady, the king is here,’ her lady-in-waiting announced.

The queen smiled, then turned and walked inside to where her husband was waiting.

‘Naina.’ The king had often remarked that he was very lucky, not necessarily because he was the king, but because he was fortunate enough to have her. He took her hands in his. ‘My love, what a vision you are, though I had actually come to see the other most important woman in my life.’

‘Isn’t she in the palace, dear?’

‘Apparently no one seems to know where she is. Out riding her horses again, perhaps. I thought she would have grown out of that by now. It just goes to show how little I know our daughter.’

‘You’re right, it does.’ She moved around the splendid chamber, as opulent as Meena’s friend had imagined and more. She picked up one of the pieces of lavish material that had been brought to her room and examined it, trying to decide if she would have it made into an ensemble.

‘Well, where is she then?’ he asked.

‘I really don’t know. Why don’t you send some of the men out to find her?’

The king’s cheerful gaze diminished, becoming decidedly pessimistic. ‘I wouldn’t be surprised if she was with him again.’

The queen turned to her husband, responding to the change in his tone. Though disappointed with what she had heard, she was not prepared to quarrel. She simply smiled with a hint of dismissal, which only served to exasperate him.

‘My love, have I not made my feelings on this subject clear? Why is it that she spends so much of her time with him?’

‘You don’t know that she does.’ She peered closely at a piece of blue silk.

‘And you can’t say for certain that she doesn’t, unless you are keeping something from me.’

The queen tried to reassure him that it was of no concern and that he shouldn’t dwell on it too much, well aware that in his eyes it was improper and needed to be dealt with as soon as possible. He regarded his wife’s patience as leniency at best, and acquiescence at worst.

‘Come walk with me, my love. Let us go out to the gardens.’

‘I would like to go and find her, if it’s all the same?’

‘Very well, my dear. I’ll meet you there afterwards.’

The king, determined to seek out his daughter, stomped off without another word. As he had not the slightest clue as to her whereabouts, it was going to necessitate quite a walk. He hadn’t exercised his legs for a few days. Well, now was as good a time as any, he thought. He strode through the palace with purpose. The odd leaves that had settled on the ground shuffled out of his path, giving him a wide berth, as if aware of his frustration. Saluting sentinels received even less in the form of acknowledgement than they were accustomed to.

Back in their room, Naina’s mind was mulling over what could only be described as her husband’s petulance. Meena’s feelings for the young man in question were substantial, and her husband wasn’t going to ignore it. Whether she was prepared to admit it or not, something would inevitably have to give.

CHAPTER 2

Saffron

Known as the Saffron Palace owing to its colour, the royal home of Bhagava had been strategically built midway down an enormous hill that itself was not far from the foot of a mountain range. The mountains ran from north-west to south-south-east, partially circling the palace, providing nature’s own protection.

The king made his way from the largest, highest levels of the palace, which housed the royal quarters and the main halls. He continued down through the other levels, past all the gloriously maintained gardens he had no intention of admiring, towards the enormous rampart wall. It encompassed and protected the entire palace. Along it were domed turrets in which sentinels stood on guard. Even from their elevated positions, they could sense his conviction as he marched further down, past the maids’ quarters and near to where the fighting men of the kingdom dwelled.

As he approached the annexed fortifications at the bottom of the hill, the gradient eventually petered out. His stride became less belligerent and more refined, befitting a king. But his resolve hadn’t diminished. Through the exercise and parade grounds and past the barracks he continued apace.

Word circulated amongst the sentinels that the king sought his daughter. One soldier in particular had an idea of where she might be. Knowing that he wouldn’t be missed for a few minutes, he crept out of the barracks and towards the woods just outside the palace walls. His comrades on the ramparts and turrets smiled to themselves as their young friend rushed off in search of the elusive princess. On watch continually, they had seen him and the princess grow up together, playing in and around the woods, developing an unbreakable bond.

In no time at all, the young soldier had made his way deep into the woods, where he found the frolicking quartet. As they caught sight of him they fell silent. Each looked at Meena with playful eyes. Saloni’s expression said it all. The tall, broad-shouldered and athletically built young man was indeed the handsome soldier who had been alluded to earlier. It was Holasiyan, the fourth of her closest friends.

Heeri skipped over and said hello with a glint in her eye. There usually was one whenever she met the dashing young man. Holasiyan politely greeted her then immediately turned his gaze to Meena.

The princess knew why he was there, yet pretended for a moment to be quite unaware. More than anything it was in an effort to engage Holasiyan a little more. Although she was young, she was precocious and knew what she wanted. And what she wanted was to keep him there with her for as long as she could. She sensed the envy in the rest of her friends, his glare being fixed solely on her, as she continued to pretend.

Inexperienced in matters of the fairer sex Holasiyan may have been, but stupid he was not. He informed her that her father was extremely keen to see her. The princess became agitated. Her idyll had come to an end, and she was certain that if she didn’t return with haste the consequences could be severe. She was outside the palace alone; her friends absolutely did not represent the appropriate accompaniment. She’d broken the cardinal rule, and she was about to incur her father’s ire. She took Holasiyan by the hand and ran.

They thought of how best to respond to the king’s obvious questions. Holasiyan could see the dilemma on her face as they cleared the woods. He suggested they pause for a moment to gather their thoughts.

Meena bit her lip. ‘I’m in trouble, aren’t I, Holasiyan?’

He cared too much for Meena to avoid her eyes. It was difficult for him to see her in distress. Being the king’s only child, she was unlikely to receive a severe dressing-down. Yet they both knew that the riot act would be read should her father discover her true whereabouts.

She looked to Holasiyan for support. His smile was unconvincing. She paced back and forth. They were still shielded by the trees, but her father would soon be upon them. It was an encounter neither was relishing. Holasiyan moved closer, taking Meena by her hand. He assured her that all would be well; they just had to think.

Just then, high above them in the sky, they heard the shrieks of a bird of prey soaring in all its magnificence, hovering on the thermal currents. Holasiyan pointed up and grinned from ear to ear.

‘What would I do without you, Holasiyan?’

‘Not much.’

She returned his self-congratulatory smile by throwing her arms around him and pecking his cheek. They formulated a response to her father together.

King Jeevan was well on his way towards the meadows when the princess appeared. She was running towards him, but her gaze was fixed upwards. In the sky above, the king spotted one of his prized falcons. He whistled.

The falcon tucked in its wings and swooped down towards him. He held up a hand. One of his guards produced a large glove and immediately gave it to the king. He put it on just in time, ready to receive the bird of prey. His attention firmly on the falcon, he completely failed to notice that the princess had made up considerable ground.

The magnificent creature came to a stop on his hand. The princess hurled herself towards her father, colliding with him in an almighty embrace. The falcon’s wings unfurled and it let out a shriek, and the king gave an enormous gasp coupled with laughter.

‘Well, well,’ said the king, recovering his breath.

She was almost a precise copy of her mother, looking just how the queen would have at that age. Her long silky dark hair flowed over her father’s arms as she looked up at him with deep dark-brown eyes.

‘Papa, isn’t he the most beautiful creature?’

‘Not as beautiful as my daughter.’

‘Holasiyan has been instructing me in falconry.’

The king’s grin eased as he saw the young soldier approach. He was becoming more a man with every passing day. With as confident a stride as he could manage in the circumstances, Holasiyan met the king and bowed. The king put a hand on his shoulder and bid him rise.

‘Oh Papa, I’ve had the most wonderful day. I held this most amazing animal in my hand, commanding him back and forth. It was exhilarating.’

Holasiyan smiled tentatively, head still slightly lowered, eyebrows a touch raised. Waiting for the king’s approval and secretly hoping that the princess would not over-egg the pudding. He had already sensed a feeling of unease within the king, perhaps even disappointment at seeing him. Being at a disadvantage when it came to communication, instinct was a faculty he had come to rely heavily upon. It had very rarely let him down.

The king stroked his daughter’s cheek, the other still buried in his chest. He glanced at the young soldier and nodded, implying that he could return to his duties. Holasiyan began the walk back to the barracks. As the king turned towards the palace, Meena saw Holasiyan glance back. She winked at him over her father’s arm as they moved away. Disaster had been averted. Their quick thinking had paid off. They made quite a pair.

‘See you later on,’ she mouthed.

‘So, my daughter will become an expert falconer very soon. Surely, however, Bahadur is the one whose tutelage you should be seeking.’

‘Oh Papa, Bahadur Singh is a true master, but—’

‘But what?’

‘I find myself unable to talk openly with him. He is rather old.’

‘So am I.’

‘Papa, you’re not that old. Besides, talking with Holasiyan is more fun.’

‘My dear, what on earth is there to discuss with a mute boy?’

‘Father!’ Stopping abruptly, Meena turned and looked askance at him, her eyes indignant.

‘What, my dear? I have been perfectly accurate. It is a fact that he cannot speak.’

The king spoke the truth. Holasiyan was incapable of verbal communication, a defect since birth. No one was entirely sure why, whether it was congenital or a result of a difficult labour; his mother had died in the process, having had only a fleeting opportunity to see her child.

‘Papa, did you talk to me any less when I was incapable of speech, when I was an infant?’

‘My love, that comparison is in no way relevant.’

She stomped her feet in frustration. ‘You haven’t answered my question. Did you or didn’t you? Iya says that you would spend hours with me on your knees, talking the afternoons away.’

‘Well, of course I did. You were my child and still are.’

‘Of course I am, but right now we are having a conversation. Then, I was incapable, correct?’

‘Correct.’

‘But did I respond? Were you able to discern my emotions by my reactions?’

He began to see her point.

‘We had a bond then beyond words, Papa. I think we still do.’

He smiled fondly at his daughter, ‘Yes, without a doubt.’

‘Besides, you are well aware that Holasiyan is able to communicate in gestures. Many are quite rudimentary, yet some are far more intricate. The captain and most of the soldiers communicate so with him all the time, as does Iya. You would be surprised how much there is to discuss once you’ve mastered it.’

The king was left without much to say. Bows, salutes and nods represented the extent of his engagement with Holasiyan. He had never learnt to relate to him in that way. The time would come, however, when he would be left with little choice. The more he thought about it, the more he realised that everybody in the palace who had a close relationship with Holasiyan interacted with him in that manner. The king was on the periphery of that circle. Their association was a purely formal one, completely opposite to the situation between Holasiyan and his daughter. There was a bond between them, stronger than the king would like. He was lost for a few moments in thought.

Meena took his hands. ‘Papa?’ she said, nudging him out of his daze, then she kissed him goodbye and disappeared into the palace.

She had clearly inherited her mother’s mesmeric qualities; the king was left dumbstruck by her. She had argued her case with tenacity and then left just as soon as she was finished. He found himself alone outside the palace, with only his guards for company.

The day continued as gloriously as it had begun. The sun radiated its majesty over the pastures and meadows, making the streams glimmer. At least he had stretched his legs, the king thought. The horses were being groomed by the stable lads. The elephants were being bathed and the peacocks were calling out to one another, trying to find each other in the various levels of the palace grounds.

As he passed the parade grounds and exercise yards he stopped for a moment to take in the activity. Military exercises were taking place, and the soldiers were performing routine drills – wrestling bouts, controlled armed combat, and hand-to-hand, unarmed combat contests were also being fought. Victors twirled their moustaches before offering hands of friendships to their brothers in arms who had been bested, or hands up to those who had found themselves on their posteriors. The king walked over, and the soldiers immediately stood to attention. He approached the captain, who saluted without hesitation.

‘My lord.’

‘Stand at ease, Dilawar Khan. How are you, my friend?’

‘Very well, sir.’

The captain was a tall, muscular specimen of a man, as any king would expect of the leader of his warriors. He was battle-hardened, with more than his fair share of scars. Mementos of various campaigns, hard fought in the name of the kingdom. The most visible was on his face. It began just above the ridge of his right eyebrow and ended just below his cheekbone. The uppermost part was slightly concealed by his turban, which was sleek and not too substantial, but regal none the less.

The soldiers of the Royal Guard wore navy-blue turbans, matching the long navy-blue sashes that ran around their waists, criss-crossed their torsos and then ran over their shoulders. They wore flowing black pants tied around their calves, and thin-soled shoes, slightly pointed and turned up at the toe.

Dilawar Khan’s turban was dark crimson, as was his sash. They were the colours of the captain. His captain’s sash was wrapped behind him, hanging diagonally over his shoulder. He had the utmost regard and admiration of his soldiers. They served the king without question, but were first and foremost the captain’s men and as such were fiercely loyal to him. He wasn’t just a consummate officer and gentleman. He was an elder brother to those in the senior ranks and a father figure to the younger warriors. A paragon of valour, the captain was an exemplar to his subordinates and to the men of the kingdom.

‘How are you today, Your Majesty?’

‘Oh, today is much like any other, I suppose. Responsibilities to undertake, duties to perform, diplomacies to consider.’

Dilawar Khan nodded, his face a picture of pragmatism. He was a man of few words, especially in the presence of the king and his retinue. He preferred actions to sentiment.

‘A great responsibility indeed, my lord.’

Their conversation was always punctuated with small pockets of silence. The two men had very little in common; each occupied a position the other knew very little about, or so it seemed.

Dilawar Khan was a practical man as well as a soldier. There was nothing opaque about his duties and responsibilities. He undertook them with the utmost rectitude, never one to shy away from that which was necessary. Having been so long in the service of kings and queens had though exposed him to the bureaucracies of rule that tended often to obfuscate rather than illuminate. It was all above his willingness to fathom, and to his mind unnecessarily convoluted.

He preferred the logical outlook of a soldier, removing himself from the company of politicians and dignitaries as soon as was possible. There was very little ambiguity in his world. There was right and there was wrong, and questionable decisions made for the purposes of political gain or diplomatic posturing met with his disapproval.

‘The men seem to revel in their activities, wouldn’t you say, Captain?’

‘Indeed, Your Majesty. They are good, loyal, fighting men.’ Not terse, but neither did he over-elaborate. Despite his efforts to appear subservient, it took some effort on his part to exchange pleasantries with his king in particular. The conversation had become exceedingly polite.

‘No doubt much like their captain.’

‘You are most kind, my lord.’

‘Not at all, Captain. You fully deserve any and all praise that comes your way.’

Dilawar Khan bowed politely once again. ‘Was there anything you needed, sire?’

‘No, I just came down to spend a few moments with my daughter.’

‘I saw her running up to the palace just now.’

‘Yes, I had sought a few moments and was given precisely that,’ he grinned, attempting to engage in repartee.

The captain smiled politely and nodded in acknowledgement, then asked to be excused if there was nothing else.

‘Yes, of course, Captain. Please carry on.’

With that the king left.

He hadn’t just been underwhelmed by the briefest of encounters with his daughter, having intended to spend some time with her. Her haste to get back to the palace left him feeling short-changed, not to mention frustrated. His dissatisfaction continued to brew. Then he remembered that his wife was going to wait for him in the gardens. He stormed off once more to find her.

CHAPTER 3

Fingers & Sand

The queen had walked at a leisurely pace through the beautiful courtyards and arrived in the immaculately kept gardens. The flowers were in bloom, their redolence carrying far beyond the confines of their surroundings. The colours and fragrances aroused her senses. Their petals licked her fingertips as she brushed delicately past, enveloping her in a cloud of pleasure.

When the king found her, he wasted no time in repeating his earlier sentiments. His speech was rushed, born of irritation, as he flapped his arms around. With a sigh, Naina did her best to calm her husband, but he had worked himself into quite a state.

‘I found her, and we had the briefest conversation, the subject of which just happened to be him.’ The king rolled his eyes. ‘We had only just begun to talk when she disappeared.’

‘I’m sure you’re mistaken, my love.’

‘Mistaken? I was there. You can ask the guards if you like.’

‘I don’t think that will be necessary.’ She smiled.

‘You find this amusing?’

Like a child in the midst of a tantrum, he could not be reasoned with. Something stirred in the bushes. It rustled then came to rest. The king and queen fell silent, but they dismissed it as one of the numerous creatures that roamed freely through the palace grounds.

‘My dearest, I’m sure you’re letting your emotions get the better of you. I know how much she means to you.’

‘I hardly see her these days. She is my daughter.’

‘Well of course. But what she isn’t any longer is your baby Meena, that little bundle you would play with in your arms, rock to sleep and read bedtime stories to. She is seventeen years of age, is fast becoming a woman and has few friends. That is as a direct consequence of being our daughter.’

‘Naina.’ He waved his arms in no particular direction. ‘She has the girls of the palace to keep her company, along with the finest, purest, thoroughbred horses in all of Asia. She has peacocks, parakeets and elephants. She receives the finest education available. Masters of all disciplines and sciences are at her disposal, and this all despite the fact that she isn’t a prince, something which in itself would not have met with my father’s approval, much less that of any of our acquaintances, regal or otherwise.’

‘She is no longer satisfied with simply playing with pets, as wondrous and numerous as they are. Spending time with her ladies-in-waiting is equally unsatisfactory. They provide little emotional stimulation; they can’t remonstrate or even openly disagree with her, subservient as they naturally are. Yes, she has a handful of friends, and she divides her time between them as she chooses. He just happens to be one of them. And which adolescent looks forward to burying their head deep into books and scrolls all alone? Being taught by decrepit old men with long white beards and whiskers? She needs companionship, my love, and that of her own generation. She is resident here and so is he. There are but two years between them.’

‘What is it you are trying to tell me?’ He gesticulated as he paced back and forth. ‘I am not sure how appropriate this relationship is. She is the princess, for goodness’ sake, and he is a soldier.’

‘Yes, she most certainly is a princess, but you must realise that she is becoming weary of the confines of this palace.’ Naina pointed to the towering rampart wall. ‘She cannot leave it without the Royal Guard, and then for only minutes at a time. Where else would you have her go?’

‘She has you and me, my love. She has Iya. She can have anything she desires.’

‘But all that she desires right now is the company of someone to whom she can relate, and she has developed a strong bond with Holasiyan. He is a soldier now, but they have been friends their whole lives. They are both tied to you and this palace, this kingdom, and will be forever so.’

‘My concern grows by the day, my love. There is no future in what it seems you are alluding to. This cannot be.’ He looked around their tranquil surroundings that proffered no solace, unable to keep his gaze at any one point.

‘I am not alluding to anything, my dear, nor am I looking to any sort of a future other than that which an accident of birth has determined for her. I certainly haven’t given any thought to what you seem to be suggesting. When have I ever spoken of it? All I want is for those I love to be happy, both you and her. You are the king. You rule over all you survey. You have me and I have you, and I have never been happier, both as your wife and as her mother. I realise also that one day a line of suitors will present themselves before her and she will be married. Then when we are gone, she will take her place as the queen of this kingdom. But right at this moment she is our daughter, and she is going through a difficult time in her adolescence. Let us not take away her friendship with him. It is amongst that which she cherishes the most.’

Jeevan’s frustration began to boil over. ‘How is it that you are so unaffected by this? Surely you know where this will end?’

‘My love, as I said to you, I haven’t even thought that far ahead. Besides, you more than any other are aware that I’ve never given too much credence to traditions and protocols. I just want her to be happy in the time she has left as just our daughter. Do not concern yourself with how things may appear to others, and trust that your one and only child is happy. After all, he isn’t just any boy. One day he will be the captain, the captain of your Royal Guard.’

She could tell her last sentence offered little in the way of comfort, so she came close to him, placed a hand on his face and caressed his cheek. She stepped up and kissed him on the other. He closed his eyes and drew her close to him.

‘Is there any doubt in your mind that she and I both love you dearly?’ whispered the queen in his ear, caressing it with her lips as she did.

‘I am extremely lucky to have the both of you,’ he replied, temporarily distracted from his ideals.

‘As are we to have you, my love.’

She kissed him and left him alone with his thoughts.

The king cupped his hands behind him and turned in quiet contemplation. The queen had done little to assuage his worries. He remained alone in the garden, walking back and forth, occasionally stopping to smell the flowers. Some of the pink and white roses appeared fewer in number than the rest. They were obviously more popular, especially with Meena. She’d often appear wearing one or the other, if not both together.

He thought of his daughter and how pivotal she was in his life. Naina and he had tried to conceive another child, in the hope of producing a male heir, but fate, it seemed, had ordained that he father only her. Unwilling to attempt to produce a son with another woman galvanised further his relationship with Naina. But it served only to irritate his father, who had never regarded Jeevan as particularly masculine in the first place. It led to a strenuous relationship during adulthood that followed a difficult adolescence for Jeevan.

His contemplation was broken by the apprehensive approach of Puneet Lal. He possessed a very keen sense, an unerring ability to fathom the prevalent atmosphere. It was no accident that he was the prime minister.

‘Your Majesty, forgive me. I happened to be walking by. I did not intend to bother you with these.’ He still held the same handful of scrolls.

The king stared down ambivalently. Puneet Lal was the king’s closest confidant. Jeevan had in fact come to depend on him. Something the prime minister knew all too well.

‘Why, Your Majesty, whatever is the matter?’

‘Matters of the heart, I fear.’

‘Matters of the heart? Really? May I ask whose?’

‘My daughter.’

‘The princess, ah.’ He folded his arms behind him. ‘Well, sire, this is, if I might say, to be expected. She is an adolescent, after all. It is the way of things, but nothing too serious I wager. Handled appropriately everything can be managed.’

‘I have tried, Puneet Lal. I’ve expended much energy. But despite my efforts she is completely preoccupied with young Holasiyan. In fact, I fear her preoccupation with him may soon morph into infatuation.’

‘Holasiyan, Zalim Singh’s boy?’

‘The same.’

‘Aha, yes, that is a problem.’ Puneet Lal stroked his chin whiskers.

‘I do not wish to see her upset, but she seems to spend all of her spare hours with him, and the longer it lasts, the more attached to him I fear she will become.’

‘I understand your concerns, Your Majesty. This could become an issue if not handled in the proper manner. He is only really a guardian.’

‘He is not just a guardian, Puneet Lal. They aren’t just guardians.’ He looked down and rubbed his brow. ‘His father certainly wasn’t.’

‘Forgive me, sire, you are quite right. Nevertheless, he will never be able to offer his hand to a princess, much less your daughter. It is unfortunate, but he must be made aware of his place. You are right to be concerned. I can imagine that this is quite a delicate matter for you.’

‘Thank you, Puneet Lal. It is no wonder that you have been amongst us for so long now. You served my father with distinction and have become indispensable. What would I do without you or your wise counsel?’

‘Your Majesty is too kind. I am your humble servant. If there is anything I can do to assist in the matter, you have but to command me.’

He left the king in no doubt of what was necessary. The princess was coming of age, and any distractions would not be welcome. This gave the king much solace. Finally, someone else had been able to appreciate his concerns.

‘Rest assured, I shall take your counsel as soon as I am ready. I have a quick errand to run, Puneet Lal, and shall see you in the bureau very soon.’

‘I shall await you, Your Majesty.’

The queen made her way through most of the palace, past guards and pillars. She walked through an arcade which was open at either side, revealing intricately decorated courtyards. She stepped into one and paused by a fountain to gather her thoughts. Lost in the splendour, she had to force herself away and back into the halls. She made her way down to see Iya, the most senior lady-in-waiting.

Arriving at Iya’s door, she knocked and heard the sound of feet running towards the door. She greeted the woman who had done more than any other to raise her daughter.

‘My lady.’

Before she could bow, the queen held her by each shoulder, pulled her close and hugged her. They embraced like long-lost friends.

‘How are you, Iya?’

‘I am well, my lady. To what do I owe this privilege? All is well, I hope?’

‘All is well indeed, Iya.’

‘Are you sure? It’s been quite a while.’ There was a touch more mischief in her enquiry the second time around.

‘Of course. I’m only here for some friendly advice.’

Iya looked at the queen inquisitively. She had a good idea about the reason for the visit but would never act presumptuously. She waited as Naina made her way around the room, waving her hands through the curtains, stopping occasionally to smell even more flowers. She reached the bed, on which lay some unsewn fabric. Iya continued to study her with a loving stare.

‘Oh, isn’t this beautiful? Chiffon?’

‘Oh yes, my lady, I found it in the market in the city just this morning.’

‘I would very much like some. Will you come with me one day? You can show me where you got it.’

‘I would be delighted, my lady. We could ask Meena to come too.’

The queen turned and smiled. ‘You know exactly why I’m here, don’t you?’

Iya was wise beyond her relatively youthful years. She had looked after both Meena and the queen after Meena’s birth, and had helped raise the princess. Iya would care for her whenever the king and queen were busy in their royal duties. Meena spent more time sleeping in Iya’s room as she grew up than she did with her parents. The princess loved Iya deeply and Iya loved her.

Naina walked outside to the small terrace and sat down on the ledge, looking out over the meadows. ‘She seems unoccupied with thoughts of just clothes these days, Iya. She is …’

‘A young woman,’ said Iya.

‘Jeevan and I have just had a long talk about her. He’s concerned about the amount of time she spends with Holasiyan.’

‘His Majesty is right to be so.’

‘Is he, Iya, really?’

‘He is concerned, no doubt, over how inappropriate it may start to appear.’

Naina stood bolt upright. ‘What is inappropriate about their friendship, Iya? She hasn’t had many opportunities to actually make her own friends in this place. I know she has the girls, but they are the daughters of those who work in and around the palace. So they too are handpicked, in a manner of speaking. He is the only person with whom she has developed a relationship entirely on her own. What is so wrong with having a friend like him?’

‘But there are no friends like him. There will never be, my lady. The sole reason for his presence here – and, as many with more superstitious tendencies believe, his birth – is to grow up to be the captain of the king’s Royal Guard, his ultimate protector. He is the successor to Zalim Singh, and he is very much his father’s son. Their family history is legendary, not only in this kingdom but beyond. Dilawar only ever speaks of Holasiyan in the most glowing terms, and he is entirely worthy of his praise. Already a phenomenal warrior, he is strong, fast, and has a keen eye. He has everything his father had and more. He is revered amongst the men in the ranks and in the palace, especially the younger soldiers.’

The queen stood in silence, listening attentively.

‘Not only that, he has inherited Zalim Singh’s devastatingly handsome features, his manner and composure, his valour and chivalry. He is equally humble and just as friendly as his father was. Most of the women in the palace swoon at the very mention of his name; a phalanx of them stand to attention whenever he comes to see Meena. His Majesty is rightfully concerned.’

A look of dejection came over the queen. She stared out over the kingdom. Iya rushed over. ‘My lady, have hope. Meena has pedigree in her as much as Holasiyan does. She is your daughter, after all. We will talk to her and explain the way of things. She will understand.’

‘I’m not sure if it is quite as straightforward as that, Iya. It is complicated.’

‘Your Majesty, you forget that I raised Holasiyan the same way I helped raise our dear Meena. I know him well. He is a good young man, mature beyond his years. Whatever it is that has you so concerned, we will face it together – this is my promise to you.’

‘Oh Iya, you know you’re like the sister that I never had, one that I could now never do without.’

‘I am just glad to be of service, my lady.’

CHAPTER 4

Guru

Holasiyan made his way across the exercise square to Dilawar Khan. Dilawar spotted him approaching from the corner of his eye. He turned to face his young friend. Although they were far closer than just that. They were more like brothers; the captain was Holasiyan’s mentor, and Holasiyan was his humble student.

Holasiyan’s troubled look changed to a joyful expression at seeing the captain, who had been away for a few days. When he got close he bowed and tried to touch Dilawar’s feet in reverence. Dilawar immediately took Holasiyan by the shoulders and stood him upright. He wanted to discourage such acts of veneration, especially by him. To Dilawar’s mind Holasiyan was going to be amongst the most capable warriors the world had ever seen.

Holasiyan wagged his finger in disapproval. He explained to Dilawar that the younger should be allowed to show respect to the elder, especially as this particular elder was the captain. He also didn’t want the other soldiers to look upon that as favouritism, which would suit neither. As long as the captain was willing to accept that, an agreeable accord would be the natural outcome.

‘Yes, indeed it would be, my friend. Wise as well as brave,’ responded Dilawar. They shook each other’s forearms and embraced.

They stood together for a moment, and Dilawar Khan experienced the slightest wrench of sorrow. He kept his feelings well disguised but could not just wave them away. As Dilawar was the senior in this relationship, Holasiyan’s father had been the senior in theirs, when he, Zalim Singh, was the captain of the Royal Guard and the king’s ultimate protector.

The difference in age between them had been similar to that between Holasiyan and himself, approximately sixteen years. Dilawar had had the privilege of being tutored by Zalim Singh, which was no doubt why he was one of the most accomplished warriors alive.

Every time Dilawar looked at Holasiyan he was reminded of the boy’s father, his old mentor and companion. The resemblance was striking. It was as if his old friend had taken the elixir of youth and aged in reverse. Dilawar had absolutely worshipped Zalim Singh. He was his pupil, his disciple and his trusted subordinate.

Zalim Singh was his teacher, his guide and his idol. His absence was a cause of much regret for Dilawar Khan. It was precisely for that reason that the joy whenever he met Holasiyan was always bittersweet, permeated as it was with an amount of sadness. Because Dilawar Khan had been present that dark, doomed night on which Zalim Singh had lost his life carrying out his duty: protecting the king.

Holasiyan pulled back an inch and looked towards Dilawar Khan, his grin unable to mask the idea that perhaps this embrace had lasted a little longer than usual.

Dilawar smiled apologetically. ‘I’m sorry, little brother. It’s always good seeing you, you know that. Is everything well? Your face was rather long a moment ago.’

Holasiyan insisted it was nothing, but Dilawar knew him very well. He pointed to the flowers Holasiyan was hiding behind him.

‘What’s wrong? Come on, out with it.’

Holasiyan sighed. ‘I don’t think the king likes me very much.’

‘Really? What makes you say that?’

‘A feeling I get sometimes. The way he looks at me, especially earlier today, when I went to find Meena. I think he feels I’m monopolising her time. I heard him talking to the queen about me when I was picking these. I got out of there quickly. And earlier today I’d only gone to fetch her.’ He thought a moment before continuing. ‘The king was eager to see her, so I found her. Judging by his expression, he thought she’d been with me. Again.’

‘I wouldn’t worry about it so much. That said, if I were her father, I’d be a bit envious that my daughter was spending more time with a charming young soldier than with me.’

Holasiyan blushed and smiled. ‘It’s good to see you, captain.’

‘It was good to see you too, my friend. May we continue to do so for many years to come. It is, after all, a privilege.’

‘The privilege is all mine.’

They locked arms once again, and Holasiyan expressed his wish to take his leave.

The captain bade him farewell and watched him walk over to where the other soldiers were busy training. Dilawar became pensive once again, consumed with the memories of that fateful occasion as they came flooding back. Vivid and tangible, they would often encapsulate him with an almost supernatural impulse. Something that Dilawar could not suppress regardless of how hard he tried. He found himself once more in the company of his old captain, Zalim Singh.

It was already late in the afternoon on another similarly wonderful day, eighteen years previously. Zalim Singh had been instructing Dilawar Khan in a particularly difficult self-defence technique. Dilawar had reached a level that now