KOSALA KINGDOM: 1400 BC
Kambhujiya vs Kuvala Shava
In the dark winter night, King Kambhujiya stood still and alone, well away from the main body of his army, trying to peer as far as he could downstream by the light of his flickering torch. He could hardly make out anything much further than a couple of armspans ahead, the cool grey mist floating up from the Ghaghara filling much of the air. In his mind, however, he could clearly see the palace of King Kuvala Shava in Ayodhya, which lay on the left bank of the river, half a yojana away downstream.
He had deliberately chosen this time of the year to strike. He knew the Kosalans did not like the cold so much, but to the Kambhoja the Kosalan winter was more like their autumn, which worked to their advantage. The howl of the northern winds had been growing more and more strident since midnight, portending a sudden sharp cooling of the local weather. If that was to indeed occur, it would suit Kambhujiya's strategy perfectly.
Many among Kambhujiya's forces started to feel drowsy, but by sheer will they forced themselves to stay awake. Some of them started jogging around to warm up, while others stretched their muscles and joints and did some callisthenics. Yet some others talked in whispered tones to their horses, gently stroking their faces and rubbing their necks, to soothe their nerves and calm them down. At dawn Kambhujiya's army moved.
A third of Kambhujiya's fighters, led by Kharvela, a senior commander, rode fast moving longboats, twenty five men to a boat, rowed by oarsmen of the River Tribe, a people with part-Kambhoja ancestry that had immigrated from the Tibetan plateau far upstream a century before. The remainder, led by Kambhujiya himself, went on horse.
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The river contingent had executed their task competently, their sharpshooting bowmen silently taking out the sleepy enemy sentries. Their skirmishers then followed up with spears and javelins. Finally their berserkers took on the outrushing Kosalan soldiers staggering out of their quarters in savage hand to hand combat. Complete chaos and disarray fell upon the Kosalan side.
The Kambhoja warriors were now on the rampage, swarming the grounds of Kosala's royal palace like a massive pack of hungry wolves. Their elite Ashvaka cavalry began pouncing on and cutting down the last remnants of King Kuvala Shava's imperial guards still left standing. Bodies lay sprawling on the earth, here, there and everywhere, like trees smashed down by a tempest. The smell of death, foul, pungent and nauseating, hung in the air.
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“Lies!!!” Kambhujiya roared back. “That’s all lies! What your people now call Daivi Khadga was the Sword of Chander Burman. It was first given, two hundred years ago, as a token of friendship by Tudhaliya, king of the Khetta people (the Hittites), the earliest masters of ironworking, to his friend and former overlord Sharma-Adad, king of Great Ashuria."
"Great Shiva, please," Kuvala Shava rolled his eyes in dismissive disdain. "Spare me this torment."
"Now ... if you would learn to pay some respect for the truth," Kambhujiya continued, brushing aside his quarry's cynicism. "Chander Burman, my ancestor, had led a select contingent of Himalayan guest warriors from the Kambhoja highlands to Great Ashuria to ..."
"That's at least two hundred yojana in distance!" Kuvala Shava glared. "Through mountains, thick jungle and barren desert. Was he mad? What on earth for? Pray tell me."
"To help Sharma-Adad counter the growing threat of the Madayu, a warlike, horse-riding nomadic people of the Zagros Mountains somewhat similar in lifestyle to the Kambhoja. Chander Burman's Kambhoja was a distant eastern tributary to Great Ashuria."
"Is that all?"
"Sharma-Adad and Chander Burman became good friends, and Chander Burman eventually married Princess Nin-Harrissi, one of Sharma-Adad's daughters. Daivi Khadga was then given by Sharma-Adad to his new son-in-law Chander Burman as a special wedding present."
“And then the couple lived happily ever after," Kuvala Shava scoffed. "Now it's just incredible. What a fantastic fairytale. You've made all that up.”
“What a big, pathetic, bloody load of crap!!” Kuvala Shava retorted. “If that shitty grandfather’s story of yours isn’t a fable, I don’t know what is."
“Big load of crap indeed, about a sword sent from the sky!!” Kambujiya riposted with a sneer."
"Over my dead body, you nomadic thief. No way will I ever let you lay your dirty barbarian hand on Daivi Khadga for as long as I live!”
“You still don't get it, do you?” Kambhujiya countered unyieldingly. “My Kambhoja army has thoroughly and decisively vanquished your whole Kosala army in your Kosala territory. By all the rules of war and peace I have now earned the right to your entire kingdom, let alone Daivi Khadga. You don't own anything now. Not even your life. Do you understand?"
Kuvala Shava stared at his foe as he took in the cold reality.
"But I’m a sensible man." Kambhujiya continued. "Better a durable peace than a fragile conquest for me. I shall take Daivi Khadga, my Kambhoja army will leave Kosala after we've agreed terms, and we’ll just let bygones be bygones. For now.”
Such were the sparks of rage that flew between two proud powerful kings of the Himalayas, each of them hereditary sovereign of his own ancestral maha janapada. The rage that, however, yielded eventually to a final peace deal that gave closure to a violent war between the Aryan Kambhoja and the kingdom of Kosala, seat of power of the age old Ikshvaku Dynasty. While Daivi Khadga, that Divine Sword of ancient fame, then became ... the Sword of Kambhujiya.
On Kambhujiya's insistence, the entire River Tribe followed him as he returned to Kambhoja. It was just the right thing to do. They could not have remained where they were after this latest event. The Kosalans would have exacted severe retribution on them for the part played by some of their kinsmen during the Kambhoja invasion of Ayodhya.
Kambhujiya surveyed the scene playing out before him. He had expected a much tougher fight, and his army came well prepared. But the Kosalans seemed to have, in his eyes, crumbled and collapsed, eventually losing their legendary aura of invincible ferocity in battle in the face of a brutal relentless Kambhoja onslaught.
The river contingent had executed their task competently, their sharpshooting bowmen silently taking out the sleepy enemy sentries. Their skirmishers then followed up with spears and javelins. Finally their berserkers took on the outrushing Kosalan soldiers staggering out of their quarters in savage hand to hand combat. Complete chaos and disarray fell upon the Kosalan side.
The Kambhoja warriors were now on the rampage, swarming the grounds of Kosala's royal palace like a massive pack of hungry wolves. Their elite Ashvaka cavalry began pouncing on and cutting down the last remnants of King Kuvala Shava's imperial guards still left standing. Bodies lay sprawling on the earth, here, there and everywhere, like trees smashed down by a tempest. The smell of death, foul, pungent and nauseating, hung in the air.
Several Kambhoja footmen started scouring the area for loot, at the same time finishing off severely injured fighters from either side.
"Kill me," a man groaned. "Please."
Kumara, a Kambhoja captain, turned around in the direction of the voice. It looked like a badly wounded Kosalan. The Kambhoja fighter walked over to the man, his warrior instincts nonetheless keeping himself alert for any trickery.
The Kosalan lay curled up in a small pool of blood, his face a gory mash of drying crimson, his right leg almost severed at the thigh, both his arms shattered beyond hope. Kumara looked into the man's forlorn pain filled eyes, held his head and shoulder like a brother, and said a brief prayer. Then he drove his dagger hard and deep up the man's heart, ending his agony immediately.
"Kill me," a man groaned. "Please."
Kumara, a Kambhoja captain, turned around in the direction of the voice. It looked like a badly wounded Kosalan. The Kambhoja fighter walked over to the man, his warrior instincts nonetheless keeping himself alert for any trickery.
The Kosalan lay curled up in a small pool of blood, his face a gory mash of drying crimson, his right leg almost severed at the thigh, both his arms shattered beyond hope. Kumara looked into the man's forlorn pain filled eyes, held his head and shoulder like a brother, and said a brief prayer. Then he drove his dagger hard and deep up the man's heart, ending his agony immediately.
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"Now I'll have that sword, at last." King Kambhujiya strode powerfully into the vast throne room of his sworn enemy amid the strident blare of horn trumpets from his victorious soldiers, his eyes blazing, his leading generals following closely on his heels.
“No you won't!!!” screamed King Kuvala Shava. His army had been bested in its own territory by Kambhujiya's after three days of bloody fighting. “Daivi Khadga has always been a family heirloom of the Ikshvaku dynasty. The royal dynasty of my ancestors which has ruled Kosala for centuries.”
The king of Kosala sat stiffly on his throne. The giant fearsome sword hung proudly on the wall behind him. No man of ordinary strength would be able to wield that enormous blade with much deftness, Kambhujiya thought. He wondered if Kuvala Shava ever did.
Six burly Kosalan imperial guards stood three on each side of their king, looking fiercely protective. But they were now hopelessly outmanned and outarmed, their comrades either fled with the piercing Himalayan winds, lying down wailing and groaning in their last death throes, or perished altogether.
“No you won't!!!” screamed King Kuvala Shava. His army had been bested in its own territory by Kambhujiya's after three days of bloody fighting. “Daivi Khadga has always been a family heirloom of the Ikshvaku dynasty. The royal dynasty of my ancestors which has ruled Kosala for centuries.”
The king of Kosala sat stiffly on his throne. The giant fearsome sword hung proudly on the wall behind him. No man of ordinary strength would be able to wield that enormous blade with much deftness, Kambhujiya thought. He wondered if Kuvala Shava ever did.
Six burly Kosalan imperial guards stood three on each side of their king, looking fiercely protective. But they were now hopelessly outmanned and outarmed, their comrades either fled with the piercing Himalayan winds, lying down wailing and groaning in their last death throes, or perished altogether.
"Great Shiva, please," Kuvala Shava rolled his eyes in dismissive disdain. "Spare me this torment."
"That's at least two hundred yojana in distance!" Kuvala Shava glared. "Through mountains, thick jungle and barren desert. Was he mad? What on earth for? Pray tell me."
"To help Sharma-Adad counter the growing threat of the Madayu, a warlike, horse-riding nomadic people of the Zagros Mountains somewhat similar in lifestyle to the Kambhoja. Chander Burman's Kambhoja was a distant eastern tributary to Great Ashuria."
"Is that all?"
“No, I have not. Chander Burman took the sword and his Ashurian bride back to his Kambhoja homeland. Your ancestors invaded Chander Burman’s kingdom during his old age, killed him and his entire family, except his infant grandson whom a loyal maidservant risked her own life to smuggle out to safety, and took the gift sword."
"This is getting audacious now," Kuvala Shava hissed. "Simply amazing. And then what?"
"Some dreamy, opium smoking court purohita of Kosala later made up a tall tale about a flaming sword that came hurtling down to earth from the sky. The story gained pull, with the backing of the king, and became folk legend. But now it’s time for me, Kambhujiya, descendant of Chander Burman and Nin-Harrissi, to have the Sword of Chander Burman back.”
"This is getting audacious now," Kuvala Shava hissed. "Simply amazing. And then what?"
"Some dreamy, opium smoking court purohita of Kosala later made up a tall tale about a flaming sword that came hurtling down to earth from the sky. The story gained pull, with the backing of the king, and became folk legend. But now it’s time for me, Kambhujiya, descendant of Chander Burman and Nin-Harrissi, to have the Sword of Chander Burman back.”
“Big load of crap indeed, about a sword sent from the sky!!” Kambujiya riposted with a sneer."
"Over my dead body, you nomadic thief. No way will I ever let you lay your dirty barbarian hand on Daivi Khadga for as long as I live!”
“In the name of Great Diti, glorious Goddess of the Moon, your stupidity is as astounding as your bravery. But if you still insist on staking your life, besides your entire Kosala kingdom and the whole future of your Ikshvaku dynasty for a sword that rightly belongs to another kingdom, well, that’s fine with me!”
“With me too!” Kuvala Shava fired back.
Kuvala Shava stared at his foe as he took in the cold reality.
"But I’m a sensible man." Kambhujiya continued. "Better a durable peace than a fragile conquest for me. I shall take Daivi Khadga, my Kambhoja army will leave Kosala after we've agreed terms, and we’ll just let bygones be bygones. For now.”
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