Shishupal felt like he was being forced underwater to drown. ‘Maybe I did. Who knows?’

‘I do,’ she said, a rare smile on her face. ‘In fact, I did you one better.’

‘How so?’

‘I waited an entire day for him,’ Rasha said. ‘In the rain, if that fetches me any custard points. Families, friends, priests, you name it, all came to drag me home, to tell me Krishna had left the village for good, that he had run away, that he had got cold feet… But I waited. We were, after all, the most famous lovebirds of my village. I waited till the family of the next couple who were to marry in the temple, took a stick to my head.’

Shishupal was at a loss how to respond. A variety of unappealing options presented themselves: holding her hand, looking away, foolishly delivering words of sympathy, cursing Krishna, cracking a joke. He said what his brother had said when he had come to comfort him: Find someone who is worse off than you. ‘I guess the Emperor bests both of us in that regard. Dead grandchildren win.’

Lady Rasha laughed. ‘Dark, but yes. That he does. So why do you think Rukmini left you for Krishna?’

Shishupal was not inclined to become an exchanger of confidences with Lady Rasha, but she was using that tone which made him obey. ‘I barely knew her. I suppose he was better at climbing through windows than I was. What about you?’

This time the green eye twinkled. Lady Rasha straightened herself. For a flickering moment, Shishupal saw sadness in her dual-coloured irises. ‘So, coming back to the question from which this conversation spiralled for the worse, why would a warrior leave the Imperial Army for a position with the Crimson Cloaks?’

Shishupal sighed. ‘The Yaksha.’

‘What of him?’

‘I don’t know who he is, My Lady, but the things that were done in Goverdhun, the babies…’ Shishupal shrank from the memory. ‘It wasn’t the best of times. And trust me, I‘ve been put in a cage with a skunk before.’ He smiled wearily. ‘I...the War had become something else, and I wanted no part in it. No hand in those…’ Shishupal stumbled into silence.

Lady Rasha nodded. ‘…those war crimes?’

‘Crimes only if Mathura wins. If Magadh wins, they become laurels.’

‘Hmm…’ Lady Rasha ruminated like a Namin scientist concluding an experiment. ‘Such an interesting man you’re turning out to be, Shishupal, wanting away from fame and glory. Yet you are going to the swayamvar to win the Panchalan Princess’ hand. A feat that will make you the envy of every Lord, Noble, Prince, King and Warlord.’

‘Trust me, Lady Rasha, it is not from choice. No matter how I try to run from trouble, it always seems to catch up with me. I must have lit candles to the wrong God. Unni Ehtral seems a popular option these days,’ he added dryly.