SHISHUPAL felt his skin tingle when the Greek war cries floated out over the bailey, echoing through the buildings like ghostly voices. He finally saw the boy who had betrayed the Emperor, who had decided to take on Mathura on his own. And who, rather than wait for his army to decimate the Mathurans, had entered the battlefield. Like every hero, he had quite a sense of theatre. Kalyavan does not lack guts, that’s for sure. Or skill apparently.

Within moments, he was in the midst of the Mathurans, his sword making blurred circles around him, scattering men as if they were nothing but clouds. Light reflected strangely on the gemmed crosspiece of his sword as he whirled it around in blinding arcs.

Eklavvya crouched beside Shishupal, enjoying the view of the battle that raged in the distance. They were safe in the house for now. Shishupal had considered following the Mathurans into the tunnel, but knew he would be trampled by the crowd or cut down by the guards. And once the Greeks won, the tunnel would become a graveyard. Or so he told himself. It probably had nothing to do with the fact that he had spied Lady Rukmini, the woman who had left him at the altar for Krishna, enter the tunnel. Most men would deny such a hard truth, but Shishupal knew two truths could peacefully coexist. But there was another problem. Eklavvya was growing jealous.

‘You know, if watching Kalyavan show off is so difficult for you to digest, you can leave from the tunnel.’

‘And leave poor Shishupal to the hounds of war? Eklavvya might be envious of that dolt showing off, but it is going to take a whole lot more than spite to suppress Eklavvya’s chivalry. Ah, I know that large man!’ he exclaimed, pointing towards the running figure of a giant. ‘He moves fast for a man with such large thighs!’

Kalyavan’s eyes burned bright as he saw Balram charge towards him, smashing Greeks left and right with his elephantine mace, leaving a trail of burst heads in his wake.

‘You had charming things to say at the parley, didn’t you?’ Kalyavan shouted to Balram over the furore around them. ‘Tell me, do giants die the same way as men?’ Balram lifted his bloodied mace onto his shoulder and stared in deadly defiance. ‘Silent type?’ Kalyavan grinned.

Shishupal could see Balram’s monstrous chest swell, and wondered what fighting the bastard would feel like. How in Xath’s name would you stop him once he started to move? It would be like trying to stop a chariot. The gargantuan mace notwithstanding, the sheer mass on the man’s body was enough for Shishupal to thank Xath it was Kalyavan, and not he, who faced Balram.

‘The man is mad to face Balram alone! The tougher his foe, the happier he seems to be!’ Shishupal whispered, staring at Kalyavan, smiling at Balram like a mother playing peekaboo with her toddler.