Bhagirath immediately came out of his stupor and began to whistle. The Suryavanshis started releasing the rope at a steady pace and the wooden cage descended softly to the ground. The Brahmins caged within stepped out quickly in an orderly fashion.

As the two teams began pulling the empty cage back up, the whistling was no longer required. In the upward movement, what was necessary was speed, and not steadiness.

‘Prince Bhagirath, please pay attention. The lives of many people are at stake.’

Kartik was aware of the reason behind Bhagirath’s distress. Parvateshwar had refused to leave Devagiri. The Meluhan general had decided he would perish along with his beloved city. And to Bhagirath’s utter dismay, Anandmayi had decided to stay with her husband.

Bhagirath had fought passionately with her over her decision. He had pleaded with her, had begged her to reconsider. ‘Do you think Parvateshwar wants you to die? And what about me? Why are you trying to hurt me? Do you hate me so much? I am your brother. What have I done to deserve this?’

Anandmayi had only smiled, her eyes glistening with love and tears. ‘Bhagirath, you love me and want me to live, with every fibre of your soul. So let me live. Let me live every last second of my life, in the way that I believe life should be lived. Let me go.’

Bhagirath shook his head as if to clear his mind. ‘My apologies, Kartik.’

Kartik stepped forward and held Bhagirath’s arm. ‘Prince, your sister was right about you. You will make a far better king than your father.’

Bhagirath snorted. He already knew the Chandravanshi army that had been ordered to march to Devagiri under the command of the Meluhan brigadier Vraka had rebelled against his father, Emperor Dilipa. The soldiers believed that the Ayodhyan emperor had led them into an ill-conceived battle where they were fighting on the side of their former enemies, the Meluhans, against their Neelkanth. Bhagirath knew that a section of the troops had already set out for Devagiri to convince him to ascend the throne. But he didn’t care. He was tormented by the impending loss of his beloved sister.

‘But do you know what the mark of a great king is?’ asked Kartik.

Bhagirath looked at Kartik.

‘It’s the ability to remain focused, regardless of personal tragedy. You will have time to mourn your sister and brother-in-law, Prince Bhagirath. But not now. You are the only one here who can whistle like a night bird and make it sound natural. You cannot fail.’

‘Yes, Lord Kartik,’ said Bhagirath, addressing the young man as his Lord for the first time.

Kartik turned around. ‘Come here.’

A Branga soldier marched up.

‘Prince Bhagirath,’ said Kartik, ‘this man will remain here to support you in your task.’

Bhagirath didn’t object. Kartik quickly walked back to Gopal.

Seeing the pensive look of the Vasudev chief, Kartik asked, ‘What happened, Panditji?’