title: 2.3 Work experience[date:-332|magadha,x]
“One final thing, prince,” said Devajit, still bowed before Pabbata in salute, “Our spies have been on the lookout for Cāṇakya as you directed, and I believe there is cause for you to worry about his loyalty to you.”
“Do tell,” Pabbata replied neutrally.
“Cāṇakya seems to have disappeared – he is neither in Takṣaśilā, nor among the Ārjunāyanas. I thus surveyed all reports of unusual people and activities from our territorial border and asked around using his physical description, and learned of a young boy with a black horse and a concealed face who is scouring around the Śūrasena country postulating odd questions about the Order of Saṃkarṣaṇa and the _Seal of the Peacock.”
Pabbata inhaled sharply.
The Order of Saṃkarṣaṇa had been vanquished by Emperor Mahāpadma, its members executed and its forts reduced to flour – ending one hundred and fifty years of expensive war. The Seal of the Peacock had been their emblem, the banner of resistance against Magadhi imperialism. And despite the brutal manner in which Magadha had suppressed any potential future rebellions in Mathura, widespread rumour remained of an underground continued operation of the Order.
“This is his own emblem that he has shown to our disguised spies:—”
Devajit produced a clay tablet with an engraved sign on it – a +, with two arms on its top-left and one on its top-right.
“—do you recognize what this is, prince?”
Pabbata shook his head, although he recognized the Brahmi character.
The incredible thing, Pabbata realized, was that Cāṇakya would have a perfectly innocuous explanation for his antics – just as he had contacted the Ārjunāyanas to produce a conflict in Magadha, a wave that Pabbata could ride to power, this could also be his intention with courting the Order of Saṃkarṣaṇa. Of course, there were other factions within the Magadhi mainstream that he could take the support of instead, but Cāṇakya would probably argue that a larger number of players made it easier for an intelligent strategist to sow chaos, or that he had even greater goals for Pabbata than what could be achieved from within Magadha.
The problem was that depending on Cāṇakya in this way required a great deal of trust from Pabbata – as Cāṇakya had already confessed. Much easier to just impress his father by betraying Cāṇakya.
When, after having put down the enemy, and after having grown in power, a friend becomes unsubmissive, the conqueror should cause the friend to incur the displeasure of a neighbour and of the king who is next to the neighbour.
Or the conqueror may employ a scion of the friend's family or an imprisoned prince to seize his lands; or the conqueror may so act that his friend, desirous of further help, may continue to be obedient.
The conqueror should never help his friend when the latter is deteriorating worse and worse; a politician should so keep his friend that the latter neither deteriorates nor grows in power.
—Kautilya, in the Arthaśāstra, 7.18:32-24
Astrologers, sooth-sayers, horologists, story-tellers and sign-readers, together with spies and their disciples, inclusive of those who have witnessed the wonderful performances of the conqueror should give wide publicity to the power of the king to associate with gods throughout his territory. Likewise in foreign countries, they should spread the news of gods appearing before the conqueror and of his having received from heaven weapons and treasure. Those who are well versed in horary and astrology and the science of omens should proclaim abroad that the conqueror is a successful expert in explaining the indications of dreams and in understanding the language of beasts and birds. They should not only attribute the contrary to his enemy, but also show to the enemy's people the shower of firebrand with the noise of divine drums on the day of the birth-star of the enemy.
—Kautilya, in the Arthaśāstra, 13.1:7-10
The messenger rose from his prostrated state, keeping his posture formal.
“There are several pieces of grave news, O Great King of Kings,” said Haxamanish solemnly, his head bowed and his body trembling. He looked toward the courtiers helplessly, seeking their advice – the most aged of them, the Emperor’s most trusted advisor Ariyawratha, gave him a subtle encouraging nod, as if instructing him to proceed with the news without excessive formality.
“Firstly – our most prosperous province, Gandhāra, has been invaded by the Matsyaka Queen Kṛpā, who has secured the Western parts of the province. King Āmbhi remains is loyal to us, but his court is fragmented, with his own son joining the rebels, and he is forced to invest his resources against the advances of his Eastern rivals in Hind, who, as you are aware, had rebelled again from us several years prior, with the support of the Yaudheyas, depriving us of a third of our government revenues.
The court was silent – not because they were fearful, or because they had no questions to raise, but because they did not know what to feel, or what to think without explicit instruction from their God-king. But the God-king Darayavaush himself remained stoic, finding himself in a more complicated situation than he had ever known.
It was Ariyawratha who spoke.
“And how have they contracted the Yaudheyas, messenger? Surely they lack the funds to do so.”
Haxamanish was shivering.
“I believe … I believe, O Great King of Kings, and do forgive me for raising such an inauspicious possibility … I believe that security of the Imperial tax collection in Hind has been breached.”
Darayavaush slammed his fist down in rage.
“Do they believe that the Empire has no funds of its own beyond an annual collection from Hind? That we are entirely reliant on a mere two provinces for our entire administration, that we will allow such a prosperous country to secede from the empire without consequence?”
But his words were vacuous – for all in the court knew that Hind alone contributed a third of Imperial revenue, and the treasury had not saved as much from previous years as it ought to responsibly have. If Hind rebelled, and Gandhāra’s position was seen as weak by the other Indian states, it was almost certain that the remaining states of the Punjab would pledge their support to Hind – or make a show of surrender to them.
“What is the cause of these events?” asked Ariyawratha “What is that factor that has undergone such change in the East, that it appears the Empire is left with no allies in the region?”
“Ally or no ally,” the Emperor growled, “We shall crush these rebellions and punish the traitors and all those who supported them, even if it bankrupts the treasury. I shall not be known as the Emperor who lost India.”
“It appears—,” started Haxamanish, “There are rumours— there are reliable reports, that the Eastern Empire … ” he controlled his stammering, “The Eastern Empire is expanding its boundaries once again. It appears that they are preparing for a Westward expedition soon – and is likely that they are sowing dissension in our Eastern provinces either with intent to conquer them, or to secure their independence from the Empire so they can be used as buffer states against us.”
Darayavaush let out a low growl. “So these rebels believe that the Easterners will come to their assistance?”
The messenger nodded. “The Easterners have set their sights on the city of Indraprastha – a site that is sacred to all Indians. If they conquer Indraprastha, they will truly be unstoppable, or so it is believed. But that is not all.”
“What could be worse than all that we have just heard?” Ariyawratha muttered dejectedly, but no one heard him. Even as he had only seen in all his life a Persia undefeated in battle, he was still possessed of sufficient age and sense to see the signs.
“The third piece of news,” Haxamanish stammered – his voice had become barely intelligible at this point, “O Great King of Kings … The rebellion is not only in the East – if rumour is correct … the king of the Greeks, Alexander, is planning an invasion of Persia. I fear to say this, Emperor – but such are the words used by your enemies in this very court: they say that the end times are near!— that the Frashokereti approaches!”
The messenger’s bloodied head rolled down the carpet.
He may enjoy in an equal degree the three pursuits of life: virtue, wealth, and desire, which are inter-dependent upon each other. Any one of these three, when enjoyed to an excess, hurts not only the other two, but also itself.
—Kautilya, in the Arthaśāstra, 1.7:4-5
“Speak!” ordered the turban-clad man, his eyes bloodshot and filled with suspicion.
The boy had surrendered himself before him, but he still suspected a plot and had sent men to scout the camp’s surroundings to look for an ambush. The camp, located several journeys away from the capital city of Mathura in a well-disguised forested spot at the intersection of two streams, was by no means easy to find, nor was it a location that one might too often reach by chance.
Shockingly, the captive’s voice was steady, unaffected apparently by the sword that had been placed at his throat and the archers that had been readied on him.
“What do you wish to know first? And keep in mind that as I came to you voluntarily, anything you wish to know is also something I wish to be known by you.”
Achyuta took a moment to consider this.
“How did you learn of our location?” he asked finally.
The boy did not make any attempt to loosen the scarf that he had wrapped around his face. His eyes were all that were visible, and they darted upwards to meet Achyuta’s gaze.
“That’s a good start,” he said. “I thought quite hard about how I could find, in reasonable time, a people who did not wish to be found – at first, I thought of monitoring food shipments and such—”
Achyuta snorted.
“—but obviously, if you were smart, you would simply grow your own food, irrigating your fields through groundwater, or hunt for it. So I thought next: what would you most certainly have the necessity to import, that you cannot produce yourself? I realized that a camp like yours would likely be planted with traps and such devices, and I started asking around for families where an engineer had gone missing recently.”
“And what did you find?”
“I found many such families, but of course none of them knew where they had gone. Your people are very confidential in your affairs, clearly.”
“Indeed.”
“So instead I looked at matters from the following perspective: if Magadha hasn’t found your hideout yet, that must mean a limitation in their maps. So I scoured over government maps of the Śūrasena country, and identified regions where the tracts labelled appeared to be incomplete, or where there seemed to be rough transitions in the landscape that indicated a region missing from the maps.”
“There must have been many such omittances. Did you check them all?”
“Then I compared these places to the sites of disappearances of Magadhi soldiers, tax collectors and other agents. Thus, I identified five possible locations for the site of your camp – this is the fourth of the sites that I checked.”
“Very clever,” Achyuta admitted grumpily. “I do not know to whom this is a greater embarrassment: to us, whose hideout was so easily exposed by a mere child, or to Magadha, who could not accomplish in so many years with their enormous number of military experts what a child did in a matter of fortnights. Who are you, boy?”
The boy slowly unwrapped his scarf to reveal his smiling lips: “You may call me Kautilya. And what I want from you is to coronate me as the Heir of Saṃkarṣaṇa – I desire, from you, the Seal of the Peacock.”