1.1_catapult

[date:-492|flashback,x]

“ … the next suitor for the hand in marriage of the unblemished princess Vapuṣmatī, whose radiant beauty knows no equal in history or in fiction, who was seized from the city of Champa upon the vanquishment of its rulers by the Great King Bimbisāra, the mightiest of the Magadhas, and indeed of all Kṣatriyas – is the fourth prince of Great King Bimbisāra, born of his queen Vajirakumari Chellana: Prince Ajātaśatru!”

Light ceremonial applause filled the arena, sounds of some vague positive chants – and Ajātaśatru strode in followed by what looked like a wheeled palanquin, pulled by two muscled attendants, and a cart containing several large rocks, pulled by four more attendants.

“I object to your faint appraisal of me,” said the prince, his eyes most serious and considering, “But it is no matter of importance. You have viewed some impressive feats of strength from my brothers and cousins – Kṣatravṛddha, who sliced through a Fir trunk in one blow as if its wood were softer than butter. Remarkable!”

He sent a flying kiss in the direction of his eldest brother, as if to clarify that all his words of praise were ironic. The crowd and courtiers shuffled uncomfortably, and Ajātaśatru’s own parents looked merely annoyed with his antics.

“But,” he continued, “I will show you something of far greater splendor, far greater beauty, far greater significance than any of the feats demonstrated by my brothers.”

Ajātaśatru’s attendant unveiled the most unusual device, that to the inquisitive faces in the audience appeared to be nothing more than a large spoon attached to some odd box-shaped contraption.

“Behold!” cried the prince, “The device of my own invention, the ejector of large stones, the Catapult!

“Kṣemravṛddhi says he can shatter a large boulder into fragments with four swings of his mace. How impressive! My device can turn an entire city wall to flour in the matter of minutes – wood and stone alike are defenceless against the might of my mind that I have materialized in this magnificent device.”

As a demonstration, his attendants slowly turned the catapult to its side to face an empty segment of the otherwise packed arena (for grand presentations of might always seemed to receive a large attendance in Magadha), loaded a stone from the cart into its magazine – and very ceremoniously, Ajātaśatru struck the device somewhere with a rod.

The steps of the arena chipped, and large cracks formed at the site of impact, and the women in the audience instinctively pressed their hands to their ears at the horrid crash that echoed through the bounds of the arena – Ajātaśatru fired again, and a large chunk broke off – and again, before King Bimbisāra finally beseeched him to end the demonstration, for the sake of the finances of rebuilding the arena if nothing else.

Ajātaśatru bowed to his father in thick irony. “I believe that should suffice as a demonstration of my might as well as of my many other qualities – that it should suffice to make your decision not only as to the groom for the maiden you would have taken for yourself if not for the jealousy of my mother and stepmothers—”

The king was furious, as were his queens and other princes.

“—but also as to your future heir, the future Lord of Magadha, who will bring this kingdom to heights not previously—”

“That is sufficient, son,” King Bimbisāra interrupted curtly. “This is a contest to find the man worthy of the war spoils that I have decided to donate out of the generosity of my heart, not of the throne of Magadha. But that is irrelevant: for you will be receiving neither.”