‘Come back, you fools!’
The Vasudev elephant-riders though, were on a roll. Encouraged by the easy victory, they goaded their mahouts to keep the elephants moving forward.
‘Charge!’
The elephant-riders primed their main weapon, pulling the levers on the flame throwers. Long, spear-like flames burst forth from the howdahs. The riders positioned the weapon, aiming for maximum effect as they crashed into the next line of Meluhans.
The elephants continued dashing forward, seeing the ox-drawn carts farther ahead. And then the tide turned. The retreating Meluhan archers spun around with arrows that had been set on fire, aiming straight for their own carts. The dry and volatile dung cakes on the carts had been mixed with chilli, and caught fire immediately. The startled oxen, sensing the blaze somewhere behind them, ran forward in panic, towards the advancing elephants.
It was the mahouts who had the first inkling that something was wrong. Attuned deeply to the beasts, they could sense their innate distress. Goaded on by the fiery elephant-riders behind them though, they continued to press their elephants ahead. Soon the contents on the carts were completely aflame, letting out a thick, acrid smoke. But the elephant-riders were too committed to the charge. They rode straight into the blinding smoke.
As soon as the smoke hit them, the elephants shrieked desperately. The mahouts recognised the smell.
Chilli!
‘Retreat!’ screamed a mahout.
‘No!’ shouted back a belligerent elephant-rider. ‘We have them! Crush the oxen. Move forward!’
But the elephants were already in a state of frenzied panic. They turned from the source of their discomfort and ran. The hysterical oxen, with the fires burning hard on the carts, continued their frantic sprint forward as though to elude the blaze.
Sati could see the developing situation unfolding from the distance. Whatever the oxen were carrying was making the pachyderms hysterical. Within a matter of a few minutes the oxen would reach her remaining outer elephant line and spread the panic deep into her force. She saw a fire arrow being shot from the gates of Devagiri as they opened once again. The Meluhans could see their strategy was working and were committing themselves to a full attack. Her worst fears were confirmed as she saw the Meluhan cavalry thunder out of the Devagiri gates. The city was ten kilometres away, and she knew she had the luxury of some time before they reached her position. Her immediate concern was the oncoming oxen that could make all the Vasudev elephants charge madly back into her own force.
Turning back, she shouted out to her herald, ‘Tell the lines at the back to retreat to the boats. NOW!’
She ordered the remaining elephant line to disband and escape southwards immediately. If the ox-driven carts reached the line of the lumbering animals and managed to spread panic among the hundreds of elephants under her command, her army would get destroyed completely by her own pachyderms.
She then ordered her cavalry forward.
‘Charge at these beasts moving towards us! We have to deflect them on to a different path! We need time for our soldiers to retreat!’
Her cavalry drew their swords and roared: ‘Har Har Mahadev!’
‘Har Har Mahadev!’ bellowed Sati, as she drew her sword and charged forward.
Sati’s skilled cavalry kept up a steady volley of arrows as they drew near the elephants and oxen. While this did deflect many of the oxen away from Sati’s army, the elephants continued their headlong charge. Many of the elephant howdahs had transformed into hell-holes, emitting fire continuously. The shocked elephant-riders, sitting atop the berserk animals, had fallen on some of their flame-throwers, breaking the levers.
Moments later, Sati’s cavalry fearlessly charged headlong into her retreating elephants, riding expertly to avoid the wildly swinging trunks and metallic balls. They needed to bring their own elephants down. This required riding up close from behind and slashing the beasts’ hamstrings, thus making their rear legs collapse. But this was easier said than done, with the malfunctioning flame-throwers spewing a continuous stream of fire. Sati bravely led her section of the cavalry in pursuit of the task at hand. Since there were only twenty elephants, they were brought down quickly. But not before many of the cavalrymen had lost their lives, some crushed, many burnt by the flame-throwers. Sati herself had had her face scorched on one side.
In the meantime, the rest of Sati’s cavalry had managed to redirect all the charging oxen through the skilled use of spears and arrows. The bulls were still charging, panic-stricken with the burning carts tethered to them, but to the west and safely away from the rest of Sati’s elephant corps. Sati looked back to the east, where many of her foot soldiers were already sailing out to the safety of the ships. Her cautious planning had ensured that a large number of rowboats had been kept ready for just such an eventuality.
But this would prove to be a minor victory, before absolute disaster. The Meluhan cavalry had been riding hard towards the battlefield, making good time. And, as the oxen stampeded away, the Meluhan riders charged into Sati’s cavalry.
Swords clashed.
Sati’s cavalry had numbered three thousand riders and was evenly matched with the Meluhans. But her riders had just emerged from a bruising encounter with the panic-stricken elephants and oxen. Their numbers had come down and their strength was already sapped. However, Sati knew that retreat was not an option. She had to battle on for a little longer so that all her foot soldiers could get away to the safety of the ships.
Then Sati heard the sounds of the elephants once again.
She killed the Meluhan in front of her and looked behind.
‘Lord Ram, be merciful!’
Some of the elephant corps that she had ordered south were now thundering back. The elephants were trumpeting desperately, with fire spewing in all directions. The mahouts had already fallen off, leaving the animals totally out of control. Behind the elephants, were charging oxen with burning carts tethered to them.
The Meluhans had, in a brilliant strategic move ordered by Parvateshwar, kept another corps of ox-driven carts, laden with chilli-laced dung cakes, to the south of Sati’s position. These carts had slipped out of Devagiri the previous evening, disguised as agricultural produce transport. Since Sati had not besieged the city, but only camped close to it, they only attacked armament transport and let non-lethal materials travel freely in and out of Devagiri. The reason was very obvious: a full siege would have committed too many soldiers and possibly even provoked a battle. Sati had wanted to avoid that. Little did Sati’s Chandravanshi scouts realise that even dung and agricultural produce could be lethal for them.
As the elephants had charged towards these carts, they had also been set on fire. And, as expected, these retreating elephants turned around in alarm and charged back into the battlefield.
Sati was in a bind. The Meluhan cavalry was in front and a huge horde of charging, panic-stricken elephants spewing fire was behind her.
‘Retreat!’ yelled Sati.
Her cavalry disengaged and galloped towards the river. Fortunately for them, the Meluhan cavalry did not give chase. Alarmed by the sight of the terrified elephants speeding towards them, they turned around and rode towards the safety of their walls.
Many among Sati’s horsemen were trampled or burned down by the rampaging elephants. Some of the riders managed to reach the river and rode into the waters without a second’s hesitation. The horses swam desperately towards the ships, carrying their riders with them to safety. Many though, sank into the Saraswati under the weight of their light armour. Sati, Veerbhadra and Nandi were among the lucky few who managed to reach the vessels.
While most of the foot soldiers had been saved, the elephant and cavalry corps had been decimated. Memories of the elephants’ killer blows in the battle of Mrittikavati were quickly forgotten as the magnitude of the disaster the animals had wreaked sank in.
Chenardhwaj, who was in charge of the ships, quickly ordered that they retreat, as soon as the last
of the surviving soldiers was onboard. Without the protection of the land army, their stationary navy was a sitting duck for further attacks.
Chapter 31
Stalemate
‘Absolute decimation,’ crowed Vidyunmali. ‘We should now chase those imbeciles and finish off what’s left of the fraud’s army. They should learn that nobody invades our fair motherland.’
Vidyunmali had joined Daksha, Bhrigu, Parvateshwar and Kanakhala in the Emperor’s private office. Though brigadiers did not normally participate in strategy meetings, Daksha had insisted that he be allowed to attend, keeping in mind his sterling role in providing the information about the elephants.
Parvateshwar raised his hand to silence Vidyunmali. ‘Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, Vidyunmali. Remember, Sati’s tactics under pressure were exceptional. She managed to save most of her army. So it’s not as if we’ll have a huge numerical advantage if we chase them.’
Vidyunmali fumed silently, keeping his eyes pinned on the floor. Praise for a rival general? What is wrong with Lord Parvateshwar? She may have been a Meluhan princess once, but now she’s a sworn enemy of our motherland.
‘And we should not forget,’ said Kanakhala, ‘that the Neelkanth is sailing down from the north with a large army. The safest place for our army right now is within these fort walls.’
Neelkanth? fumed Vidyunmali silently, unwilling to argue openly with senior officers of the empire. He is not the Neelkanth. He is our enemy. And our army should be fighting, not keeping itself safe behind high walls!
‘Kanakhala is right,’ said Daksha. ‘We should keep our army here and attack that fraud Neelkanth the moment his ships dock. That coward left my daughter to fight alone while he went gallivanting up the Yamuna! He should pay for his cowardice!’
Vidyunmali couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Does anyone here put Meluha’s interests above all else?
‘Let’s worry about Meluha instead of Princess Sati and her husband’s duties towards her,’ said Bhrigu. ‘Lord Parvateshwar is right. We have won a great victory. But we should measure our next steps carefully. What do you suggest, General?’
‘My Lord, we have taken out their elephant corps and cavalry,’ said Parvateshwar. ‘Sati’s army is in retreat. Hence, I do not expect the Neelkanth to stop and attack us here.’
‘Of course he won’t,’ quipped Daksha. ‘He’s a coward.’
‘Your Highness,’ said Bhrigu, barely hiding his irritation. The maharishi turned to Parvateshwar. ‘Why won’t he stop here, General?’
‘My scouts have sent back confirmation of our earlier estimates of Ganesh’s army,’ said Parvateshwar. ‘They do have one hundred and fifty thousand soldiers. That is a big army, but it’s not enough to defeat our forces if we remain within our fort walls, given that Sati’s forces are no longer available to augment them. And from our defensive positions, we can slowly wear his army down. Therefore, the Neelkanth will not want to commit to a long siege here. He’ll gain nothing and will unnecessarily lose men.’
‘So what do you think he will do?’
‘He will sail past Devagiri and join with Sati’s army, perhaps in Mrittikavati or Lothal.’
‘Then we should attack their ships,’ interrupted Daksha.
‘That will be difficult, Your Highness,’ said Parvateshwar. ‘Their ships are sailing downriver. We’ll have to march on road since there are no warships on the Saraswati under our control. They will have the advantage of speed. We will not be able to catch up.’
‘So where should we attack them?’ asked Bhrigu.
‘If we have to attack them, I would prefer to do so at Mrittikavati.’
‘Why?’
‘Lothal is not a good idea. I have designed the defences of Lothal myself, and sacrificing false modesty, I will say that those defences are solid. We would need a ten to one advantage in soldiers to conquer Lothal. We don’t have that. We will be pitting eighty thousand of our men against more than two hundred thousand of the joint Sati-Ganesh army. Attacking Lothal will be a disaster for us; we will lose too many men. On the other hand, Mrittikavati’s defences do not require that kind of numerical advantage. Also, we have twenty thousand of our own soldiers within Mrittikavati. I agree they may be imprisoned, but if they find out that their brother Meluhan soldiers are besieging the city, they may create a lot of trouble for the Lord from within. Having said that, I would expect the Lord to retreat to Lothal and not Mrittikavati, for this very reason.’
Bhrigu had an inkling that Parvateshwar preferred an altogether different strategy. ‘I get the feeling that you would choose not to attack at all.’
‘Not attack at all?’ asked a surprised Daksha. ‘Why not? Our army has tasted victory. Parvateshwar, you should...’
‘Your Highness,’ interrupted Bhrigu. ‘Perhaps we should leave it to an expert like Lord Parvateshwar to suggest what we should do. Go on, General.’
‘The reason I suggest we avoid aggression right now is that the Lord Neelkanth would hope that we attack,’ said Parvateshwar. ‘One cannot attack a well-defended fort without the advantage of numbers. We don’t have that. So by attacking them, we’ll gain nothing and lose too many men. So I say that we stay within the safe walls of Devagiri. If we wait for six more months, Ayodhya’s army will get here. Combined with their three hundred thousand soldiers, we will have a huge numerical advantage over the Lord’s army.’
‘So are you suggesting that we just sit around like cowards?’ asked Daksha.
‘It would not be cowardly to refrain from attacking when the situation is not in our favour,’ said Bhrigu, before turning back to Parvateshwar. ‘Go on, General.’
‘Once Ayodhya’s troops come in, we should march to Karachapa,’ said Parvateshwar. ‘We still have control over the Indus command of our navy. Along with Ayodhya’s soldiers, we will have a four hundred thousand-strong army. Combine that with the vastly superior naval fleet that we have in the Indus, and we can mount a very solid attack on Lothal.’
‘What you are saying appears to make sense,’ said Bhrigu, before turning to Daksha. ‘I suggest that we follow Lord Parvateshwar’s strategy. Your Highness?’
Daksha immediately nodded his assent.
But Vidyunmali could guess that the Emperor’s heart was not in this decision. He wondered if there was an opportunity for him to convince the emperor of a more aggressive course of action.
The stunned army of Ganesh was transfixed by the devastation on the hilly battlefield south of Devagiri, as they sailed down the Saraswati. Bloated carcasses of elephants and horses littered the hill, flies buzzing around them. Crows and vultures fought viciously over the beasts’ entrails, even though there were enough corpses around for them all. The squawking and cawing of the feasting birds added pathos to the macabre scene.
Of particular interest to the soldiers though, was the fact that there were no human dead bodies on the battlefield. The Meluhans, true to their honourable traditions, had in all likelihood conducted funeral ceremonies for all their enemy warriors. Also, they noticed that there was no debris in the Saraswati. That meant Sati’s ships had escaped the devastation, hopefully with most of her army intact.
Shiva stood on the deck of the lead ship, surveying the battlefield along with his sons and sister-in-law. He knew that he couldn’t stop now and engage in a battle at Devagiri. He simply didn’t have the strength of numbers anymore. He had to retreat farther south and find what was left of Sati’s army. His scouts had already told him that the devastation looked worse than it actually must have been. Most of the infantrymen in Sati’s army had survived and her ships were sailing south to safety. Shiva knew that with much of Sati’s army intact, he still had a fighting chance in the war, but he would have to reformulate his strategy.
All that was for later, though. His mind was seized for the moment with one thought alone: was his Sati all right? Was she hurt? Was she alive?
‘Neelkanth,’ said Gopal, rushing up to Shiva. He had just received word from
a Vasudev pandit envoy, who was hiding on the eastern bank of the Saraswati, waiting for Shiva’s ships to arrive. ‘Lady Sati was still alive when she was pulled aboard one of the retreating ships.’
‘Still alive? What do you mean?’
‘She was badly injured, Shiva. She personally led the cavalry against the rampaging elephants and Meluha’s own horsemen. Nandi and Veerbhadra managed to pull her to safety. She was unconscious by the time she reached the ship. Unfortunately, the man I talked to didn’t have any further information.’
Shiva made his decision immediately. He knew that his naval formation would only be able to sail as quickly as the slowest ship. He couldn’t wait that long.
‘Ganesh, I’m taking the fastest ship and sailing down south. I have to find your mother’s ship. Kali, Kartik and you will remain with the fleet. Avoid all battles, sail as quickly as you can and meet me at Mrittikavati.’
Ganesh and Kartik stood mute, sick with worry about their mother.
‘She’s alive,’ said Shiva, holding his sons’ shoulders. ‘I know she’s alive. She cannot die without me.’
Shiva’s ship had raced down the Saraswati and caught up with Sati’s retreating fleet. He had clambered aboard his wife’s ship to discover that his Sati was out of danger now, but still bed-ridden. However, this relief was accompanied by some terrible news received from a Vasudev pandit. Reports of the devastation of Sati’s army in Devagiri had given the Meluhan prisoners of war in Mrittikavati the courage to challenge their citizen captors. They had broken out of their prison and taken control of the city. Three thousand citizens, loyal to the Neelkanth, had died in the process. Shiva had no choice but to avoid Mrittikavati for now, as it was no longer safe for his army. He decided to sail down another distributary of the Saraswati and then retreat to Lothal. Orders had been conveyed through a Vasudev pandit to Ganesh’s army as well.