It was bow versus trident. As they closed the distance, the petite knight atop a black horse, raised his bow and let fly a string of arrows at Dantavakra. Dressed in chain-mail, Dantavakra easily deflected the arrows with his shield. But the barrage of arrows was relentless. Quickly replacing his bow with a curved sword, his opponent struck away Dantavakra’s shield. The horses, the one white, the other black, circled each other like birds during mating season, the riders exchanging blows. Sword flashed and trident whirled. The trident slipped, barely jabbing the knight’s leg. The back of the sword slapped against Dantavakra’s head, sending him into what Shishupal hoped was a world of headache. Dantavakra kicked his horse away before the knight could finish him off.

Dantavakra ran his fingers through his silky hair and pulled it back, winking at the crowd. Women swooned, not realizing the fool was losing. He turned his horse in a tight circle and dashed at his foe. Then suddenly, he climbed onto his horse’s back and stood upright. Shishupal took a nervous step towards the railing. Imbecile! There is a real War to fight!

‘Your brother is nothing if not a theatre artiste, Shishupal,’ Prince Saham remarked with a grin.

‘Duel is after all a form of art, my Prince,’ Shishupal retorted.

‘We’ll see.’

Just then Dantavakra jumped from the saddle and speared his shoulders into his foe. The crowd erupted. They had got their money’s worth just to see Dantavakra perform that stunt. Though both combatants fell off their mounts, Shishupal saw how the small knight turned mid-fall, at precisely the right moment, to land on Dantavakra, who took the full impact of both men. The small knight was quick to rise. He swung around, sat on Dantavakra’s stomach and caught him in a vice-like grip between his thighs. The knight picked up Dantavakra’s fallen shield and aimed the sharp end towards his neck. Surrender, you fool! Dantavakra tapped the ground weakly, his palm flailing like a seal’s flipper. And that was the end of it.

There were no cheers, no shouts. Clearly, many had lost money. Dantavakra had always been the crowd favourite. I hope he has not fractured his hip!

When the small knight took off his helmet to reveal coarse black hair, Shishupal was startled to see how young he was. His cheeks and chin scarcely needed a razor. He wiped the back of his hand across his sweating forehead. Braids stained with grease hung down to his shoulders, knotted with bone and feather fetishes. He rose unsteadily to his feet and raised his shield in the direction of the royal enclosure – the salute of a champion to his Emperor.

Saham Dev rose, applauding heartily. ‘If a boy with nine fingers can vanquish your brother, I daresay it is time Dantavakra needs to start training with steel instead of wood.’