haven’t lost your wit, Kausalya,’ he said, walking towards her. ‘Nor your sense of dharma.’ The second comment was directed at the pooja thali in her hands.
She raised her eyebrows, feigning surprise. ‘Dharma, my lord? A big word to use for a small act of daily habit. Surely all your queens begin their day by offering a few basic prayers to the ancestors, the gods, and to their lord and master? No decent married woman in Kosala would do any less.’
He shifted his gaze, pretending to examine the view through a latticed window. The dawn was just breaking and he could glimpse the neatly arrayed rows of flowers and smell the strong, arousing odour of jasmine, always her favourite. He knew her comment was directed at the fact that his second queen, Kaikeyi, was more likely to be sleeping at this hour than performing the ritual dawn prayer. He resisted the provocation in the comment with a small effort. It had been a long time since anyone had dared to rebuke or taunt him.
‘Kausalya,’ he tried again, ‘how have you been, my queen? I trust all is well with you? You do not want for anything?’ He tried to put as much sincerity as possible into his voice, to sound suitably regal and king-like to deflect any further arrows of sarcasm.
But she was not done yet. Barely begun. Her still lovely face twisted slightly in a small moue of mock surprise. ‘Me, great naresh?’ she said, using the Sanskrit word for lord this time— anything but his first name, he noted. ‘What is there about me that could possibly interest you any longer?’
He smiled with an effort. ‘Come, come now. You know that you are my first queen, my first bride.’ He gestured at the large empty bed that dominated the chamber. ‘We have shared so many happy nights here on this playground of pleasure.’
‘And we do so no more.’ The rebuke was as sharp and brief as a whip-crack.
His smile faded. ‘Let me come to the point. I came here this morning because—’
She shook her head. ‘Not yet, my king. Not all your wives may be as diligent in their duties, but I was brought up better than that. There are traditions to be followed.’
Before he could protest, she clapped her hands. A serving girl, perhaps the same one he had passed in the hallway outside, appeared instantly, bowing low enough to almost strike her forehead on the floor. She had clothes on now, but he didn’t notice.
‘Arghya,’ Kausalya said, and the girl scuttled away, returning at once with a large metal bowl and jug of water.
He sighed as he took the seat Kausalya indicated. ‘My queen, this is ridiculous. Arghya is done to greet a guest honouring your house with a rare visit. Not your own husband!’
She looked up from her crouched posture as she washed his feet. ‘I could name guests who have visited our house more often, raje.’
That one cut deep. He reached down and grasped her arms, stopping her in the act of wiping his feet dry with the end of her own sari pallo. ‘I have to speak to you on a matter of great importance. Dispense with these foolish games.’
She looked down at her hands. At his large hairy fists gripping her wrists, pressing her gold bracelets into her slender forearms. ‘You are truly a great king, Ayodhya-naresh. You visit your first wife’s chambers after such a long absence, and this is how you show your affection towards her.’
He released her wrists at once, stung with shame. Even if she had goaded him, it was his own guilt that had provoked his temper. He turned away, unable to look her in the eyes for a moment. He had been away from her for too long; had forgotten that she was not Kaikeyi. And now, in re-entering her little circle of power, he had granted her the opportunity to taunt him, rebuke him, make him feel as guilty as a young bridegroom stealing a kiss from his sister-in-law.
He willed himself to stay calm. After all, he
She raised her eyebrows, feigning surprise. ‘Dharma, my lord? A big word to use for a small act of daily habit. Surely all your queens begin their day by offering a few basic prayers to the ancestors, the gods, and to their lord and master? No decent married woman in Kosala would do any less.’
He shifted his gaze, pretending to examine the view through a latticed window. The dawn was just breaking and he could glimpse the neatly arrayed rows of flowers and smell the strong, arousing odour of jasmine, always her favourite. He knew her comment was directed at the fact that his second queen, Kaikeyi, was more likely to be sleeping at this hour than performing the ritual dawn prayer. He resisted the provocation in the comment with a small effort. It had been a long time since anyone had dared to rebuke or taunt him.
‘Kausalya,’ he tried again, ‘how have you been, my queen? I trust all is well with you? You do not want for anything?’ He tried to put as much sincerity as possible into his voice, to sound suitably regal and king-like to deflect any further arrows of sarcasm.
But she was not done yet. Barely begun. Her still lovely face twisted slightly in a small moue of mock surprise. ‘Me, great naresh?’ she said, using the Sanskrit word for lord this time— anything but his first name, he noted. ‘What is there about me that could possibly interest you any longer?’
He smiled with an effort. ‘Come, come now. You know that you are my first queen, my first bride.’ He gestured at the large empty bed that dominated the chamber. ‘We have shared so many happy nights here on this playground of pleasure.’
‘And we do so no more.’ The rebuke was as sharp and brief as a whip-crack.
His smile faded. ‘Let me come to the point. I came here this morning because—’
She shook her head. ‘Not yet, my king. Not all your wives may be as diligent in their duties, but I was brought up better than that. There are traditions to be followed.’
Before he could protest, she clapped her hands. A serving girl, perhaps the same one he had passed in the hallway outside, appeared instantly, bowing low enough to almost strike her forehead on the floor. She had clothes on now, but he didn’t notice.
‘Arghya,’ Kausalya said, and the girl scuttled away, returning at once with a large metal bowl and jug of water.
He sighed as he took the seat Kausalya indicated. ‘My queen, this is ridiculous. Arghya is done to greet a guest honouring your house with a rare visit. Not your own husband!’
She looked up from her crouched posture as she washed his feet. ‘I could name guests who have visited our house more often, raje.’
That one cut deep. He reached down and grasped her arms, stopping her in the act of wiping his feet dry with the end of her own sari pallo. ‘I have to speak to you on a matter of great importance. Dispense with these foolish games.’
She looked down at her hands. At his large hairy fists gripping her wrists, pressing her gold bracelets into her slender forearms. ‘You are truly a great king, Ayodhya-naresh. You visit your first wife’s chambers after such a long absence, and this is how you show your affection towards her.’
He released her wrists at once, stung with shame. Even if she had goaded him, it was his own guilt that had provoked his temper. He turned away, unable to look her in the eyes for a moment. He had been away from her for too long; had forgotten that she was not Kaikeyi. And now, in re-entering her little circle of power, he had granted her the opportunity to taunt him, rebuke him, make him feel as guilty as a young bridegroom stealing a kiss from his sister-in-law.
He willed himself to stay calm. After all, he
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