Victory City(40)
“Meaning,” the head crow, whose name, approximately, was Ka-ah-eh-va, clarified, “that he, Vidyasagar, would be the real boss, and the young king would do what he was told.”
“The three brothers of Hukka and Bukka the Firsts left Bisnaga City without argument,” the head parrot reported. “People say that they were relieved not to have to kill anyone or be killed, not to have to murder their wives or be slain by them, and that they could live out their days in comfort in their distant fortresses, with their formidable women. So, this was a happy ending for them.”
“Weaklings,” said the head crow. “They never had the guts or will or strength to gain the crown, and everybody knew it. We don’t need to concern ourselves with them anymore. They always were bit-part players, and they don’t have any more lines.”
“What about my sons,” Pampa Kampana asked. “What of Erapalli, Bhagwat, and Gundappa, whom I disowned, but who, it seems, have now triumphed over me?”
“Interestingly,” said To-oh-ah-ta, “Vidyasagar has anointed the middle son, Bhagwat.”
“Meaning,” commented Ka-ah-eh-va, “that Bisnaga will now be ruled by a religious fanatic, who will be advised by another extremist.”
“I must also report,” the parrot said, “that, in the first place, Erapalli and Gundappa Sangama have acquiesced in Vidyasagar’s decision, so there will be no bloodshed, not for the moment, at least.”
“But neither of them is happy,” the crow added. “So look out for blood down the line.”
“And in the second place,” continued the parrot, ruffling its feathers in irritation at the crow’s interruption, “Bhagwat Sangama has chosen, as his regnal name, the name of his uncle, a decision which has been widely interpreted as a slap in the face of the dead father who rejected him. So he will be Hukka Raya the Second. Hukka Raya Eradu. People are already calling him ‘Eradu’ for short. Or, in the rougher parts of town, less politely, ‘Number Two.’?”
“Does he say anything about me?” Pampa Kampana asked.
“I don’t think he misses his mother,” said the crow, a little cruelly. “We heard his coronation speech.”
“From now on,” the parrot parroted, “Bisnaga will be ruled by faith, not magic. Magic has been queen here for too long. This city was not grown from magic seeds! You are not plants, to come from such vegetal origins! You all have memories, you know your life stories and the stories of those who came before you, your ancestors, who built the city before you were born. Those memories are genuine and were not implanted in your brain by any whispering sorceress. This is a place with a history. It is not the invention of a witch. We will rewrite the history of Bisnaga to write the witch out of it, and her witch-daughters too. This is a city like any other, only more glorious, the most glorious in all the land. It isn’t a conjuring trick. Today we declare Bisnaga to be free of witchcraft, and decree further that witchcraft will be punishable by death. Henceforth our narrative, and our narrative only, will prevail, for it is the only true narrative. All false narratives will be suppressed. The narrative of Pampa Kampana is such a narrative, and it is full of wrong-headed ideas. It will be allowed no place in the history of the empire. Let us be clear. A woman’s place is not on the throne. It is, and will henceforth be, in the home.”
“You see,” said the crow.
“Yes,” said Pampa Kampana. “I see very clearly. That backstreet name, ‘Number Two,’ suits him very well.”
* * *
—
For the first time in a very long time, Pampa Kampana was thinking about defeat. It was not possible even to think of a return to Bisnaga. Worse than that, it seemed as though Number Two’s polemic had widespread support among the people—or at least among a substantial group of them. This was her failure. The ideas she had implanted had not taken root, or, if they had, then the roots were not deep, and were easily uprooted. Bisnaga was becoming alien to the world she had created when she whispered it into life. And she was in the jungle, which was not a prison, but which would begin to feel like one soon enough.
“I must start planning for the long term,” she thought. “Who knows how long it will be before the wind changes. My daughters will grow old. What I need is granddaughters.”
Two very different lines of descent had emanated from Pampa Kampana. Her sons with Bukka Raya I were men who exuded a harsh perfume of embitterment that was her fault, because of her rejection of them; and one of them was now king. King “Number Two.” He was Vidyasagar’s creature, and so his reign would be a puritanical, oppressive time, and the free-spirited women of Bisnaga would suffer greatly. She closed her eyes and looked into the future and saw that after Number Two things would get even worse. The dynasty would descend into squabbling, growing religious intolerance, and even fanaticism. Such was the line of her sons. Pampa Kampana’s daughters, however, had grown up to be forward-thinking, brilliant, scholars and warriors too; the most original children a mother could wish for. They had also inherited most of her magical abilities, whereas in the lowbrow literalism of the male Sangamas no trace of the wonderful could be found. Even their religious belief was ploddingly simple-minded and banal. The higher mysticisms eluded them entirely and religion became, for them, no more than a tool for the maintenance of social control.