Shandeya pulled away his shirt from the hands of the old woman and sitting down beside the old man began to console him. ‘No use crying, Uncle. Fate is all-powerful. It is fate that saves, and it is fate that kills. Man’s actions are of no consequence. Have no worry. Uncle, I am myself a mercenary soldier of a feudatory chief. I’ll look after your son. Do you know wherein lies the heroism of a mercenary soldier? He’s the last among those who fight and the first among those who run.’

‘Will some Arya pay for a bowl of wine?’ shouted another drunkard, paying little attention to what Shandeya was saying. ‘My grandfather used to make swords for King Paurav; my father made swords for the Greek king Milinda. I make swords for the two hundred rulers of Madra. With the swords that I make, empires are won. With the swords I make, countries are ruled, while I don’t have enough to buy myself a bowl of wine. Will some kind friend stand me a bowl of wine?’

Many of them went on shouting, without listening to the others. Prithusen could hear only those who spoke louder than the rest. A middle-aged man raised his bowl above his head and said, ‘Yesterday, all my three horses were taken away by the officers of the government. Prestha, the king of horse dealers, gets five gold pieces for every horse from the treasury, but for my three horses they paid me four gold pieces. My horses are needed for war. Sarvarth, the feudatory chief, rides in a chariot driven by four horses, blocking the whole road. The state needs my horses but not the horses of the feudatory chief. Ha, ha!’ He burst out laughing.

The swordsmith who had been begging for a bowl of wine went over to him and putting his mouth close to his ear, said in a very loud voice, ‘Friend, spend the four gold pieces on wine. Stand drinks for your friends. Sleep with Aloma, the pretty strumpet, and then put on the yellow robes of a monk, take the begging bowl in hand, give blessings and receive a bellyful of food in return. The world is nothing but maya. Desires lead you nowhere. Come, friend, let’s drink!’

A young man was trying to console the disconsolate old woman who had not received payment for her drinks. ‘Don’t deny drinks to the good citizens, Grandma. Once the demons of Kendras are here, they will not only drink up your wine, but every second day they’ll break your pitchers and also torture you.’

‘Hey, you’re only a greenhorn. What do you know?’ another said, interrupting the young man. ‘Why be afraid of Kendras? The rule of one king is better in every way than that of the hundred kinglings of a republic. We shall have peace in Sagal of the kind there was before, in the time of the righteous King Milinda.’

A youth sprawling on the road exclaimed in a louder voice, ‘Stand me a drink, friends! This is the last day of my free life. The officers of the nobles came to draft me into the army today. My wife is clever. She said to them, “He’s gone to the weavers’ shop on an errand. Come tomorrow.” They will grab me tomorrow. This is the last day of my life. Friends, buy me a drink!’