As if having painful dreams was a routine occurrence. He was also informed that it was typically worse when the moral reason behind the use of magic was not clear-cut. Her goddess appeared to be a hard taskmaster.
Veer had kept vigil outside her door that night, ignoring Girish’s protests about his own injuries, wincing every time he heard her stifled scream, guilt twisting his stomach into knots. If he thought she might welcome comfort from someone she considered an enemy, he would have given it, his personal feelings notwithstanding, but then he had grimaced, remembering how very limited his experience was in such matters.
The handful of physical relationships he had with women over the years were always consensual and always with the understanding that it was to be of short span. He didn’t form attachments. It was his own problem that he didn’t trust women after his own wife had tried to murder him.
A group of girls in colorful half sarees approached Veer and Billadev. The temple bell rang its single tone note. Billadev straightened, dusting his hands and adjusting his clothes. Veer was irked to see a cheerful, welcoming grin on his face.
Veer didn’t want to draw any sort of attention to themselves. But they stuck out in company, no matter how much they disguised themselves. There was no hiding their height or battle-hardened physiques. Added to that, their passable features made them more conspicuous. And that was saying something in a place that attracted all manner of devotees from different regions every year.
The bull tied to the front of the cart mooed suddenly and dropped a substantial pile of dung right on Billadev’s feet. Billadev cursed, hopping on one foot, falling against the bull. To add insult to injury, it had started to thwack him with its tail.
The girls stopped a few feet away and cringed at the mess. “Er…strangers, the temple bell has rung for the noon. There is a communal lunch being served. Please partake in it and get the blessings of the Lord.” Having delivered the message, they hastily went their way, glancing at them over their shoulders and whispering behind their hands.
Billadev watched them morosely until they disappeared round a bend. He turned to Veer in anger. “What did you do that for?”
Veer inspected his nails while patting the bull on its docile head. “Who, me? You don’t think the bull was annoyed by you?”
“Who else could make the timing of that exactly right? Not fair, Veer, you always do something like that to make me shut up.” Billadev shook his foot and, failing to dislodge the dung, rubbed at it with a swatch of dry straw.
Veer’s mouth tilted at one end, seeing his friend’s efforts. He didn’t admit to the accusation, but he passed him the bucket of water set on the plinth of a nearby well.
“Just because you have eyes only for your wife, doesn’t mean the rest of us can’t look,” grumbled Billadev as he cleaned his feet. “And a simple, harmless conversation is hardly going to be the end of the world.”
“I don’t have eyes for my wife,” denied Veer, as he, too, splashed himself with the water to cool himself from the stifling heat.
Billadev snorted in disagreement. “Please, you think I don’t know that you are having Vihari tail her? And the number of times your eyes turned yellow, I’d say you are keeping a pretty close eye on her.”
“It’s for her own protection,” said Veer.
“Uh-huh,” said Billadev, nodding and giving him a knowing smile. “A woman who could kill a bunch of monsters with a single arrow is certainly in need of protection.”
“There are all kinds of dangers,” said Veer, splashing water onto his face and rubbing rather vigorously to clean off the dirt. “And Chandra is a gullible person with an appalling tendency to take on the problems of others.”
Look how easily she had been coerced by Guruji to help in Amaravathi—a task that ought not to be given, ever, to one of royalty, let alone a woman. Veer wondered if either of her parents knew what their daughter was up to.
He had the highest respect for Guruji, that patriarch of political treatises, but for him, the throne came first; he was loyal to it above all. Anyone who cared about the princess’s reputation would have never suggested such a risky venture.
Whenever he thought about her situation, he found himself experiencing anger at the way her family had neglected her, forcing her to rely on others. It was one thing for him to leave her, but shouldn’t family always support?
“I’m keeping an eye on her because I can’t trust her not to mess up things,” he said, quelling a vaguely guilty feeling.
Billadev pursed his mouth, as if not convinced. “Maybe that’s what you want to tell yourself.” He gave an exaggerated sigh that was spoiled by his huge grin. “What a turn around. I don’t think you had to do the chasing for…well, ever, I’d say.”
“Are you itching for a fight, Billadev?” growled Veer.
Billadev held up his hands in surrender. They walked toward the communal halls where lunch was being served.
* * *
The Temple City of Brihadeeshwar was a small, peaceful but prosperous town. It had started out as a part of the Amaravathi kingdom, but as time passed by, the principality was granted independence. It was governed solely by a group of elected representatives. Although politically neutral, it remained under the aegis of surrounding kingdoms, but it was Amaravathi and to a lesser extent Thianvelli, who shouldered most of that burden.
The temple earned a modest income from the devotees who traveled from the length and breadth of the subcontinent to visit the annual procession of the idol of Lord Brihadeeshwar, a festival that was celebrated with great pomp and ceremony.
Income earned this way was ploughed back into the community. It was a good system and judging by the relative affluence the town enjoyed, it was well implemented.
Veer recognized the man walking ahead of them.
“Pardon, sire. But could you tell us where the communal halls are?” he asked, although he knew the way.
