Victory City(66)

Finally, when her work was complete, she allowed her grandmother to see what she had made. Pampa Kampana began to weep because the maps were so beautiful, and she praised the work for a long time. But eventually, in a low, loving voice, she felt obliged to say, “My beloved child, these are, are they not, places to travel to in dreams, not places that one can visit in one’s waking hours.”

“On the contrary,” Zerelda Li replied. “Every map that I have made is a portrait of where we are standing right now. They are all maps of Bisnaga.”

The Map Room was thrown open. The king was the first visitor and he, too, was moved to tears by the beauty of Zerelda Li’s cartography. After him, the senior courtiers visited, and it was necessary for them to cry as well, to prove they were not less moved than the king, and after that everyone who visited that room was obliged to shed quantities of real or imaginary tears, so that people began to call it—though not within the king’s earshot—“the Room of Compulsory Crying.”

The recently renamed Krishnadevaraya summoned the court to the Lion Throne Room—the courtiers filed in, wiping their red-rimmed eyes—and publicly declared his love for the mapmaker Zerelda Li. He told her that he proposed to rename her, too, as “Radha-Rani,” Queen Radha, after the beloved of the god, and asked her to choose her own closest companions, “one of whom, I assume,” he told her, “will be your fellow apsara, your sister or whatever you say she is.” Then three things happened in quick succession:

First, that Zerelda Li declared that she would humbly accept the gift of his love;

…and second, that Pampa Kampana, somewhat red-faced and intemperate, stated that she had no wish to be either of the closest companions, neither a pseudonymous “Lalita” nor a counterfeit “Visakha.” “If you permit it,” she told the king, “I will remain plain Pampa Kampana as long as I live.”

“I’m confused,” Krishnadevaraya replied. “As you are obviously not the real, legendary Pampa Kampana of long ago, but have merely adopted that name as a flag of convenience, why is it a problem to adopt another new name instead, a name that would lend you great prestige and renown?”

“The time may come, Your Majesty,” Pampa Kampana said, “when I can explain to you who and what I am. For now, I beg to be excused.” And with that she left the throne room;

…and third, that Mahamantri Timmarasu, positioned beside the Lion Throne at the king’s right hand, bent down and murmured, “I ask with great urgency for a private word in Your Majesty’s immaculate ear.”

Krishna, who had already learned that when his chief minister spoke in that particular tone of voice it was a good idea to pay attention, descended from the throne and went into his private quarters. Only Timmarasu was allowed to accompany him. When they were alone, the minister shook his head sadly.

“You should have discussed this with me,” he said. “The choice of a number-one wife is a matter that cannot be decided by mere physical attraction.”

“I love her,” said Krishnadevaraya. “And that must be enough, and decisive.”

“Nonsense,” Timmarasu said firmly. “If you’ll pardon the expression.”

“Then what factors are enough, and decisive?” Krishnadevaraya demanded.

“Reasons of state,” Timmarasu said. “In such a matter, nothing else is relevant.”

“And to what reasons of state might you be referring?” asked the king.

“The southern border,” Timmarasu said. “It’s time for an alliance. After the victory at Diwani, things to the north are stabilized, at least for the moment. But in the south we need some help. We need, in short, King Veerappodeya of Srirangapatna, an able ruler and a feared military commander, to conquer and then administer a number of southern regions for us, notably the city and principality of Mysore.”

“But what does that have to do with my love for the apsara Zerelda Li?” demanded the king, petulantly, his face coloring as his anger mounted.

(He was known to have a short fuse, and Timmarasu would eventually discover the consequences of the king’s rage. But it was also true that when Krishnadevaraya’s temper subsided he felt remorseful and went to great lengths to compensate the victims of his anger for their suffering. As we shall see. That is not a matter for now.)

“The only way to secure King Veera’s affection and support,” Timmarasu told the king, “is for you to marry his daughter Tirumala.”

“What, that Tirumala?” Krishnadevaraya roared, and his voice echoed through every corner of the palace, reaching the ears of Zerelda Li, Pampa Kampana, and the entire court as well. “The notorious Telugu princess of whom people say, she’s a monstrous bully, tyrannical in her habits and unloving in the extreme?”

“You know how it is,” Timmarasu said soothingly. “A strong man is admired as a leader, but a strong woman is reviled as a shrew. By this union you will show all the women of the empire that a time has returned in which female strength will be treated with respect.”

“So it will make me the beloved benefactor of every woman in Bisnaga,” said the king.

“It will,” said Timmarasu.

“And I’ll have my gopis anyway, so I won’t have to spend very much time with this lady,” the king mused.