3.12 Linus’s law

[Scene] Cāṇakya’s quarters, his back is faced towards the door while Candragupta sits apart from him.

“Professor,” he said, “While I have no lack of trust in your judgement, you yourself have often taught that it is often beneficial that at least a few people should be informed of and consulted with regards to important plans. The end result of your plot is eminently beautiful, but I must ask what the precise means were that allowed you to accomplish it.”

(“Even the most cunning plotter may neglect, out of wishful thinking and excitement over the sheer cleverness of his plot, the many ways in which his plan may go wrong, the many gaps left unanswered in its execution, the many ways that an enemy of equal intellect could sabotage it, and the many unintended and unforeseen consequences. Many of these risks disappear upon consultation with even one other person who was not part of the planning, better yet if that person knows to think like an economist, or if he knows to think like the enemy.”)

Cāṇakya raised an eyebrow slyly. “Usually, the details of a plan are only shared with those with agency to act on matters pertaining to it. Do you have such ambitions for yourself?”

Candragupta did not, this time, protest. He did not turn red at Cāṇakya’s suggestion. He did not feel an urge to indignantly defend, against such an accusation, his loyalty to Pabbata. He had never said it out loud, but in truth, ever since the little game that Pabbata had played to try and take Candragupta out of the picture … Candragupta’s bond to the Prince of Magadha had been permanently broken.

For the first time in his life, no longer constrained by the bonds of loyalty, Candragupta had felt … ambition. And what was most remarkable, he had observed, was that ambition creates ability – or at least discovers it: by virtue of being willing to do things, because he himself wanted them, he had discovered in himself the ability to do these things – because discovering such an ability is not something you could just be told to do.

It didn’t matter to him that this breaking of trust had precisely been Cāṇakya’s goal in setting up that game – he was simply better-off now than before, and was not going back. It didn’t matter to him that Cāṇakya was simply now his new master – Cāṇakya’s power was earned, he held it because he was best-equipped to wield it, not because he was born a prince.

So he simply smiled and said: “Well, apparently I already am the king of the Central Country, so it is not agency I lack.”

They exchanged a knowing glance.

“You worry that the Greeks will find out that you are not truly the true king of the Āryas,” Cāṇakya stated. “That the image we have painted – of two empires: the Easterners, i.e. Augraseniya’s Magadha, and the Gangetic empire, i.e. the Central Country, ruled by you – will be exposed as a fake, and they will learn that in fact, they as well as Magadha have fallen prey to a heist of unprecedented proportions.”

Candragupta nodded.

“What you need to understand, Candragupta, is that unlike in the physical sciences, where truth determines belief, in the science of government, belief determines truth. A government holds power only insofar as people believe it does – and when there is a lack of clarity in what is real, you can mould reality to your wishes.”

“Chaos favours the powerless,” Candragupta thought aloud.

“No. Chaos is not a favourable state for anyone in the long run, that is why we have governments. But chaos favours those who seek power. It is a strategy, not a virtue.”

“I see. So by assassinating Dhanānanda, no one can verify the authenticity of the message you forged in his name – so Magadha will not dispute the right of its vassals in the Central Country to send its armies to march against the Greeks. When these armies arrived in Punjab, you forged an alliance between them and my band of Bāhlīka mercenaries, so that when the commanders of the vassal armies were assassinated, I could play the natural hero to lead them into battle. But I still do not see how this stops the Greeks from seeing through our plan. Couldn’t they learn from literally anyone that the Central Country is ruled by Magadha, and that I am neither the king of Magadha, nor do I have any political power in the Central Country?”

“Think clearly, Candragupta, it is the same principle – and do note: it is not absurd for even a vassal to fashion himself as a king of power and importance.”

Candragupta thought for a while, then answered: “It doesn’t matter if the Greeks learn any of this. Because by their very acceptance of this treaty, they have given me some measure. Until this deal was formed, I had no reasonable claim to suzerainty over the Central Country– but now I do, and they have no reason to support any other claimants. They do not feel as though they’ve been tricked, as there is sufficient ambiguity on the matter of sovereignty – from their eyes, I simply appear to be an actor in the civilized world’s political theatre who used the conflict against them cement my power, and it would be foolish of them to make an enemy out of me, an ascendant power in the civilized world’s politics.”

“And because you have already decisively crushed them once in battle.”

“But Magadha is in for a nasty shock when they find out what we’ve done,” Candragupta said a little fearfully. “Surely they see our ambitions – and they will not stay quiet.”

Cāṇakya smiled. “So I have shown you an example of how to plot, Candragupta. The next plot will be left as an exercise to you: how can we dampen Magadha’s response? I already know the answer, but you must learn to start solve these problems yourself.”

The servant opened the door when prompted by Candragupta.

“Prime Minister Kautilya,” said a voice that Cāṇakya recognized as that of Megasthenes, the translator from the Greeks, “There is a rather special personal matter we would like to speak with you on.”

That reminded him. “Ah yes,” said Cāṇakya without looking back, “I was about to tell you myself. Pāṇini is a close friend of mine who is quite interested in the study of language, and he thought it would be beneficial to speak with a man familiar with the Greek language. I would like to invite you to live in Takṣaśilā as an ambassador of the Greeks to our country.”

“Pardon me?”

“You will be paid well, do not worry. and we will compensate your current employer too, as you will be representing them in our court.”

“I have no employer!”

“Oh, you are a freelancer? Well I suppose we don’t have to compensate your current employer then.”

“You wish to employ the king of Persia to help your friend learn Greek?”

“Well he’s not really planning to learn Greek—wait, you’re the king of Persia? I thought that was the other guy.”

Candragupta was stifling laughs. Now Cāṇakya was just puzzled. (“What happened to you?”)

“What other guy?”

“The fat one?”

Now Candragupta just laughed out loud, and Cāṇakya had to turn back to learn what exactly he was missing out on—

Oh.

“I see,” he said, holding down a smile. “Forgive me. What do you want?”

Seleucus spoke flatly, and Megasthenes translated, himself looking rather embarrassed.

“The other guy wishes to invite you to his quarters. His fatness has a personal matter he would like to discuss with you.”

“It would have been quite embarrassing for you,” Cāṇakya commented, “If you were to come all the way here only to find that it was some other Brāhmaṇa with a scarred jaw.”

“After the troubles I took to come here,” said Thera, “I would have just married him anyway.”

Cāṇakya laughed a little.

“Do you know how risky it is to travel the Persian highway at this time?” Thera continued, her voice rising a little in mock anger. “Bandits, renegade soldiers, crazy Iranians who don’t understand they’ve lost – maybe even spies from our Greek rivals – Ptolemy is a good man, but a terribly cunning one, Oh WHO am I saying this to?—”

This time it was Cāṇakya who cut her off with the same gesture that she had used on him so many years back.

Thera was quiet for some time, suddenly very shy.

“Well,” she said at last, “I am glad that you and Seleucus came to make peace.”

She had been distraught when she had learned that Alexander was waging war in the very country that had given her education – and even more troubled when she had learned that her brother’s territory had been invaded by an army that she had already suspected to be led by Cāṇakya.

“I imagine there were people you know among the Greek casualties in these wars,” Cāṇakya stated. “Just as I knew many on the Ārya side.”

Thera nodded, recalling the leathery, wrinkled face of Speusippos. His family had never been high enough in status to socialize with the noble families of Macedon, despite his attempts to ingratiate himself with them, but the old man’s honesty had always impressed her.

“But you are a princess of noble blood,” he continued. “I hope that you means you understand what it means to let bygones be bygones.”

Thera stiffened her jaw, suppressing her emotions. “That we do not dwell, after peace is made, on the wounds of the past.”

Cāṇakya didn’t say anything to her for a while, only staring with an unreadable expression.

“And towards those who still dwell on those wounds,” he said finally, “We do our best to act kindly towards them.”

“Who … ?”

He took another long pause before replying, and when he finally did, it was heart-wrenching to hear.

“I have already one wife,” he said. “I married her on account of a political alliance – but nonetheless she is dear to me, and will not pick a principal wife and disrespect her thus.”

“ … ”

“ … ”

“Okay.”

“She is the daughter of King Puruśottama. I have not heard her thoughts on the matter exactly, but they are an emotional people, and as you know, her brother was killed by Seleucus himself in battle.”

Thera held her breath.

“It is just something you need to know. You will not be meeting her any time soon – or, for that matter, me. I am in the midst of several important wars right now. You can stay in Takṣaśilā, or here at Kapīśa if you so prefer … ”

Why, oh, why, Thera thought, did matters need to be so complicated? What was she even to say to a girl whose brother had died at the hands of her brother? “Sorry, my brother is evil, I agree”? “No, it was your brother who was evil, my brother was right to kill him”? What opinion was she have to on such a question? Was it precisely to avoid such questions that the ancients had invented notions like honour? So you could claim that both sides were simply performing their duties – and both ought to be honoured? But both could not be right – who was right – and how could you maintain such a pretense with someone who ought to be close to you? With Cāṇakya she was not afraid of approaching any subject, assuming he was still the man she knew, that had always been the nature of their relationship, and Cāṇakya could never feel offense from the sort of things that normal people felt offense at, he would never indignantly demand that she feel a certain way or respect a certain thing (unless that thing was the truth, or the goals of human pursuit) – and she would even get a satisfactory answer to her current angst, but would it be the sort of answer she could give to this girl she did not even know? Thera dreaded – and may the gods forgive her for having this thought – but she dreaded having to meet this woman …

Cāṇakya, meanwhile, held a measured expression.

He did not express elation at meeting Thera again, and indeed of making her his wife.

He did not express any petty qualms on the matters that occupied Thera’s thoughts.

He did not express any grief over having to manipulate yet another innocent woman, for his profit, into her certain doom.

“Why all the efforts to obtain the Greek troops?” Candragupta asked.

“You mean, why go to such lengths to manipulate Seleucus into proposing the idea of trading troops himself, rather than simply demand it from him?”

Candragupta nodded. “And more generally, why is it so important that we obtain Greek troops per se?”

“While we are able to raise a decent amount of wealth with the Seal of the Peacock,” Cāṇakya answered, “It does not nearly match the wealth of the treasury of Magadha. We will be sabotaging them in many ways, of course, but nonetheless, chaos favours us – and the more factions we can introduce into the scene, the more plots I can carry out.”

“ … what is your plot with the Greek troops, Professor?”

Cāṇakya stopped walking.

“I intend to stage a barbarian invasion of Āryāvarta,” he said. “And you will lead the defense against it.”