The Crow Chronicles, page 27
Pariah looked up, his face grave. In the light of these terrible events, it would perhaps be wise if His Royal Highness and the royal family left the palace temporarily until matters sorted themselves out, he suggested.
‘Leave Jumiz Bagh Palace to ten thousand bloodthirsty crows? Never!’
Much to his surprise, Maharaj Baadshah was beginning to discover that he actually had a temper. His golden hackles rose. ‘After they have humiliated and tortured the Kala Talwars! We will stay here and avenge that dastardly deed.’
Pariah paled. Though there were over one hundred raptors at the palace, all armed with powerful talons and hook-tipped beaks, none of them had any real fighting experience. And against ten thousand red-eyed crows, it didn’t really matter whether they could fight or not. Either way they’d be routed.
‘But, sir, think of the Maharani and Chote Baadshah! They can’t remain here! God knows what those savages would do to them!’
Pariah had a point and Baadshah conceded it.
‘Yes, you are right. Therefore I want you to escort them to the Royal Hunting Lodge in the Southern Thickets. Make sure no harm comes to them. Take a bodyguard of the ten best birds from the palace.
‘And please inform all the royal retainers that they are free to flee if they so wish. Those who will remain by my side, I welcome with open arms!’
Moments later the Maharani burst into the chamber.
‘What is this I hear from Pariah, Your Highness!’ she exclaimed accusingly. ‘You have ordered myself and Chote Baadshah to flee the palace while you remain here to be torn to pieces by crows! I will not have it! Either you come with us, or else I shall not stir from here. It is my duty to remain here, by the side of His Majesty!’
Maharaj Baadshah rose to his full height and realized that monarchy could be a melodramatic business.
‘I am proud of you, my dear!’ he exclaimed grandly, ‘and yes, it is Her Majesty’s duty to remain by my side. But more than that, it is her duty to raise and protect from harm, our son and heir, for he is the future of the Royal Avian House of Ghana.’
The Maharani lowered her magnificent eyes. Her Regent was right. She looked up, troubled.
‘Why doesn’t Your Highness come with us?’ she asked. ‘Let the crows have this place. We can be monarchs in exile. It’s been done before. And who knows, we may even return some day.’
Baadshah shook his big golden head slowly.
‘Give up the Royal Kikar Throne of the Ghana without a fight? Give up Jumiz Bagh Palace to those filthy black birds just like that? Never. We will fight.’
‘But His Majesty has never fought in all his life. And there are ten thousand of them. With all due respect, the palace forces won’t stand a chance!’
‘Then my first and last fight must be against ten thousand dastardly crows. So be it!’
‘There are not many retainers left in the palace—most have gone. And, as His Majesty knows, the Kala Talwars guarding the grasslands around the palace have already fled . . .’
An urgent knock interrupted them. Pariah entered, and addressed the Maharani deferentially.
‘Your Highness, it would be advisable if we left at once. The watchers in the sky inform us that the palace is being surrounded by crows.’
‘Go!’ commanded Baadshah. ‘Go now!’
So they awoke the strapping crown prince (who had been sleeping off the exertions of a hunt of the previous day) and fled into the night sky. As he watched them fade away over the horizon, Baadshah knew it was unlikely that he would ever see them again.
The pathetic truth was that the twenty-five loyal birds that had remained behind wouldn’t have stood a chance against even half a dozen of the crownies.
Blinking their fierce eyes nervously and rasping their talons to razor sharpness, they waited for an attack that refused to materialize.
The inactivity was puzzling. The watchers in the sky had confirmed that the palace had been completely surrounded. Yet the crows hadn’t stopped any of the birds from fleeing.
Shortly before dawn a hawk from the Communications Room flapped up to Baadshah, his face pale, his eyes bulging.
‘Sire, a formal intimation from Stinky Tops. Shri Kala Kaloota has taken over power. Shri Pinky Stink, Billa and Budhboo have been removed for involvement with the Pakshi Virudh Samiti.’
So it was true! It wouldn’t be long now before the crows launched their attack on the palace. Several anxious hours later, there was another message.
It was from Kaw, requesting an audience with His Majesty Baadshah, and suggesting that His Royal Highness make time available for a meeting in the next half-hour.
‘The hour of battle is at hand,’ declaimed Baadshah, at least a good part of his courage the result of his rather high consumption of royal wine during the last few hours. ‘At your positions! Action stations!’
A message was sent back to Stinky Tops, defiant and daring.
His Majesty graciously permitted Shri Kala Kaloota to meet with him at the palace at any time that morning.
And then at last, the cry rang out, electrifying the palace.
‘They are coming! They are coming!’
Maharaj Baadshah left the Throne Room and went up to the main turret where he had decided to make his last stand. He perched there, a tall, statuesque figure, the deep umber of his plumage shining silkily, a few gilded feathers from his neck being tugged this way and that by the breeze. His force of twenty-five gathered around him and prepared to die for their monarch.
Far away in the east, a small body of crows was spotted, approaching at high speed. A big white bird flew in their midst.
There were just ten birds in the group. There was no sign of the expected horde . . .
For their part, Kaw and Craven Raven were taking no chances either. The group circled the palace three times, carefully assessing the situation. Flying to the palace with only eight bodyguards had been a risky thing to do, but Kaw had felt (correctly) that taking a large force might provoke the palace guards into disastrous combat. As it was, the situation appeared tense.
But there was no going back now. Kaw was committed to his meeting with Baadshah.
He gave a signal, and one by one, the crownies alighted on the battlements of the turret, in the process encircling the Royal Raptors and their Regent. In a strategically disastrous (but melodramatic) move, Baadshah had positioned himself next to the flagpole that rose out of the dead centre of the turret, determined to die for his colours. His guards clustered around him, not even giving each other enough room to spread their wings. And now the crownies had not only surrounded the royal force, but were perched at a higher level, which gave them a psychological and combative advantage, even if it was extremely disrespectful.
There was absolute silence as the two groups contemplated each other. Kaw and Craven Raven steeled themselves for another battle, as seemed likely. But Baadshah was not a fighting bird and frittered away whatever advantage he may have held. Instead, he waited for the missing nine thousand nine hundred and ninety bloodthirsty birds to come swarming over the horizon.
Kaw stepped forwards and bowed slightly. The raptors bristled.
‘Good morning, Your Highness,’ he said formally. ‘I thank you for granting me an audience at such short notice, but I bring you grave tidings. It appears that your Prime Minister, Shri Pinky Stink, and Shri Billa and Shri Bundicoot are involved in the notorious Pakshi Virudh Samiti, whose avowed aim it is to destabilize the park, and whom we have sworn to bring to justice. Under the circumstances, and as head of the organization deputed to smash that terrorist outfit, I have had no choice but to take over the reins of the government myself, until such time as the matter can be thoroughly investigated. There is no telling how deep into the vitals of the park the Samiti has wormed its way. You might have heard that they made a determined bid on my life last night. I hope Your Highness approves of my action and that I can count on His Highness’s support and cooperation in the difficult days ahead!’
This convoluted delivery had naturally been prepared by Craven Raven. It took Baadshah completely by surprise, for he had expected Kaw to demand from him an unconditional surrender of the palace. Then, he managed to focus hazily on the last sentence and indignation, fuelled by wine, burst forth.
‘To . . . to cooperate with you, Shri Kaw?’ he spluttered incredulously. ‘While I have information that you have come here to sack the palace! Where is your army of ten thousand bloodthirsty ravens? The army that pillaged Stinky Tops last night and that tortured and humiliated the Kala Talwars? We are ready to meet them! And why have you come here with all this humble, humbug talk? Give them the signal to attack! We have never been more ready to die!’
And now it was Kaw and Craven Raven’s turn to be astonished. They exchanged glances, as yet unaware that the royal wine was beginning to prove its worth. Kaw cleared his throat.
‘Your Majesty, with all due respect, your source of information is completely incorrect. We do not have any concealed army of ten thousand bloodthirsty ravens, nor is it our intention to disturb a single twig of this magnificent palace. Indeed, it is our duty now to protect Your Highness from those whose interests are inimical to the well-being of the park and its inhabitants. You may have noticed that the palace has been surrounded by crows: they have been stationed there for your protection, Your Highness!’
The birds around Baadshah shuffled restively. This function of the crows had never occurred to them. But it seemed to be true, for the crows had not stopped any bird from leaving the palace during the last several hours.
But Maharaj Baadshah was still on a roll. He paced imperiously around his flagpole.
‘But the torture and humiliation of the Kala Talwars! Do you deny that as well, Shri Kaw? If so, why has every Kala Talwar in this palace fled in terror?’
It was Craven Raven who noticed the unnatural glitter in His Majesty’s eye, and the erratic gait.
‘I do believe the old boy is drunk,’ he whispered to Kaw, knowing he was likely to lose patience very shortly. ‘You’d better just keep humouring him till he falls asleep or something.’ Kaw was exasperated but he smiled nevertheless.
‘Your Highness, let me personally assure you there was no torture and no humiliation. Those members of the Kala Talwars who came to Python Point were bribed or coerced by Shri Chakumar Billa. You will agree that they had no business to be spending their off-duty hours fighting the private wars of a high-ranking member of the erstwhile government, who turns out to belong to the terrorist mafia aiming to destroy the park.’
But there was no stopping Baadshah. The royal wine had loosened his tongue as never before.
‘Even so, Shri Kaw, even so. You had no business, absolutely no business to order the Kala Talwars to be tied like chickens for the market. The shame of it! And that too after you had broken every bone in their bodies.’
‘Ah, Your Majesty, we only tied them up for their own good. So that they would not hurt themselves any more. As for breaking every bone in their bodies—that is nonsense. We merely rendered them immobile by snapping their legs. Clean breaks that will heal cleanly. As I said, it was for their own good. You see . . .’ Here Kaw paused significantly. ‘You see, those Kala Talwars were inadequately trained for combat. They were not short of courage, no. But they had no idea how to use that courage effectively. And they would have gone on to destroy themselves had we not stopped them. And, in my humble opinion, Your Highness, those poor Kala Talwars were deliberately mistrained.’
The words hit home. Baadshah and the Royal Raptors gazed at Kaw disbelievingly. Baadshah headed straight for the trap Kaw had just laid.
‘What do you mean, badly trained? And deliberately! That is nonsense, sir! The Kala Talwars were the best trained fighting force in the park. Their drill was immaculate and their flying and escorting skills were perfect.’
Kaw nodded indulgently. ‘Yes, Your Highness. But don’t you understand, that was all they were good for. Drill and presenting a guard of honour and flying in perfect formation. In an actual combat situation they were hopeless. They were not trained for combat at all!’
And suddenly Baadshah was weary of it all.
‘But why . . . why were they deliberately trained poorly? Or mistrained or whatever?’ The Sovereign looked puzzled. Then, at last, even through his alcoholic haze, he saw the light Kaw had wanted him to see.
‘Billa!’ he said slowly. ‘Billa was in charge of their training at the Ghonsla.’
Kaw closed his jaws gently over the monarch.
‘Exactly, Your Highness! And Billa had them hopelessly trained because he wanted the palace to remain vulnerable. So that in case of emergency, in case his cover was blown, he could easily take over the palace by force. And then he could dictate matters from here. It was his ace, his secret weapon!’
And yet again Craven Raven marvelled at the inventive cunning of his boss. Of course, the argument was nonsensical: if Billa had known that the Kala Talwars were useless in combat, he would not have arrayed them against the crownies in the first place. In fact, the Kala Talwars had fought very well.
‘I see,’ said Baadshah slowly. ‘Is there any danger that he might try to enter the palace even now?’
Kaw let the self-planted seed of doubt take root.
‘Well, he is at large . . . that much we have to accept. And he is dangerous, very dangerous indeed. Doubly so because in all probability, he has Budhboo with him to do all the thinking. It would be wise if you remained at the palace for the next few days and cancelled any outdoor appointments.’
Baadshah paled suddenly and swayed, holding on to the flagpole for support.
‘Er . . . the Maharani and Crown Prince! I . . . er sent them off for a holiday to the Southern Thickets. Do you think they might be in any danger? They have a bodyguard of ten birds with them.’
‘Ah, then I should imagine they’ll be safe. But I will order a squadron of crownies to the thickets to provide more security and to escort them back.’ Kaw smiled winningly and went on.
‘And now, Your Majesty, I have a few more matters to discuss. One, I have devised, with the assistance of my deputy, Shri Craven Raven, a comprehensive training programme for the Kala Talwars at my Crownie Commando Training Centre. Secondly, I would like your views on the granting of unconditional hunting rights within the Keoladeo National Park to all members of the royal family. And thirdly, I would be honoured by your presence, as chief guest, at a rally that I will be addressing at the Mansarovar this afternoon.’
And suddenly the world was once again the happy carefree place Baadshah had always known it to be. He smiled and extended an expansive wing.
‘Come on inside, Shri Kaw. We shall be much more comfortable in the Throne Room . . .’
Placed in charge of the most fearsome address in the park, Kala Jadoo, the big black crow who had led the assault on Doodhraj, was rapidly becoming intoxicated with the power that went with the job.
A few hours after the ‘liberation’ of the prison by Kaw and the crownies, the Ghonsla began receiving a new set of inmates: a stream of eminent, vociferous, frightened and sleepy birds whose interests clashed with those of the new regime’s.
Kala Jadoo settled himself comfortably in Billa’s erstwhile office and awaited his pleasure. And in that darkest hour just before the dawn, they brought before him none other than the deposed Prime Minister and his wife.
Pinky Stink, never one of the brightest lights, was still grappling dazedly with the events of the past few hours. For some time he had been under the impression that there had been a bomb scare at Stinky Tops and that the crownies had arrived to evacuate the place and defuse the bomb. Soon, however, he realized that they were not exactly treating him with the deference due to a Prime Minister—they barked terse orders at him and hustled him about none too respectfully.
‘I want to see Billa and Budhboo immediately,’ he repeated time and again, to no avail.
‘Billa and Budhboo are unable to meet you,’ he was told shortly. He had been held incommunicado for several hours in his private chambers, guarded by six silent but none-too-friendly crows. And then, escorted by a tightly bunched squadron, he and his wife and staff were made to fly towards the prison.
‘Name?’ barked Kala Jadoo.
‘Na . . . name? My name?’ stuttered Pinky Stink, bewildered. At last indignation took over. ‘You ask me my name? Don’t you know who I am? What is the meaning of this . . . this tamasha! I demand an explanation. Fetch Billa and Budhboo to me at once.’
‘Shut up, Your Excellency, and just answer the question.’ And, as the ex-Prime Minister staggered back, he went on:
‘I’ll tell you the meaning of this, sir! You and your vilely corrupt government have been overthrown—are out of power. You and your precious Billa and Budhboo will be charged with belonging to the outlawed Pakshi Virudh Samiti, conspiring to destabilize the Keoladeo National Park and bring about the downfall of its justly elected government.’ (Kala Jadoo never made it clear exactly how Pinky Stink had plotted the downfall of himself, but it didn’t matter one way or the other.) ‘Or in one word—treason! Treason against the state of Keoladeo. Now keep silent because everything you say will be used against you at your trial. If you are lucky enough to be granted one.’
Pinky Stink, weak and wavering as Prime Minister, was nevertheless blessed with a stout heart. True, he paled and staggered a bit, his huge bill clattering uncontrollably. But he did not collapse in a heap as might have been expected.
It was his wife, however, who found her voice and her wings. She unfurled them violently, knocking back the two crownies standing beside her, and advanced menacingly on Kala Jadoo, her huge swordbill clattering like castanets.
‘Do you know who you are addressing, you . . . you garbage heap ruffian? The Prime Minister of the Keoladeo. And you dare, you dare accuse him of treason? I demand to see your superior! I will have your neck wrung if it is the last thing I do!’
