Time Stamp: Vikram Era: 17 Shraavana 1626 (26 July 1569), Pataliputra Palace
Prince Siddharth's birth ten days ago had left the castle resonating with the echo of old predictions and enigmatic signs. Siddharth appeared unaware of the intricate web of destiny all around him, his days occupied with the basic questions of childhood.
Among the highlights of Siddharth's grandparents' arrival in Patliputra had been their lavish greeting. The elderly emperors had raced to embrace their beloved daughter and their newborn grandchild as soon as the royal procession had arrived at the city gates.
No, Nayana! "You've returned to us safely," Deddadevi said, hugging her daughter and bursting into tears of pleasure. "And look at this priceless young one!"
Usually quiet, Dharmapal was giddy. "A good grip already," he said, grinning broadly as Siddharth's little hand seized his finger. "He will become a fine ruler in due course."
Holding the infant in turn was Deddadevi, her eyes sparkling with joyful tears. "Nayana, he is ideal. Perfectly nice. Amazingly brilliant eyes. I have a strong feeling he will be really unique.
Nayana grinned, her own eyes hazily glazed. He is, Mother. He is absolutely that."
Holding the young prince in turns and showering him with blessings and love, the grandparents adored him. Whispering, "May the gods always protect you, Siddharth," Dharmapal held his grandson close. "This kingdom will survive you."
Nayana met her advisers in a private hall. She asked, her voice royal and authoritative, "What news do you bring?"
The boss bent over at a great angle. We have intercepted messages indicating that the ambush was not an isolated incident, Your Majesty. Threats are still to come."
The look on Nayana hardened. "We have to strengthen our lines and find the conspirators. Dependent on it is my son's and the kingdom's protection."
Standing next her, Vardhaman gave a nod. "We will do all in our power to protect the prince, Your Majesty."
Siddharth rested in his cradle in the royal nursery, gazing out over the lavish surrounds. With his head of black curly hair and eyes that looked to have an unusual degree of awareness, the young prince was wonderfully healthy given his early delivery. His eyes lingered, as though he were attempting to interpret some secret meaning in their dance, in the swaying shadows created by the flickering torches on the walls.
Awe-filled in her voice, one of the royal maids said, "Look at him," to another. He seems to comprehend more than he ought to, in a way.
Her eyes wide, the other maid nodded. A newborn has never seemed so... conscious to me.
But Siddharth had an unmistakable childish innocence despite his early intensity. His piercing screams had filled the royal hallways the first night, until he was curled up against his mother's chest and silently fed before falling asleep. Those times served as a reminder to everyone that he was still a child, even with the serious future his birth might have predicted.
Playing with Siddharth the next morning, the queen Nayana was amazed at his awareness and the deft grasp of his little fingers. Heart pounding with love and a nagging sense of obligation that the recent events had reinforced, she held him close and whispered sweet nothings.
In a tender voice, she said, "My little prince." "You are going to have a fantastic destiny."
But as an attendant rushed into the room, this tranquil moment was cut short. Her voice a mixture of politeness and haste, she declared, "Your Majesty, the "Carts" have arrived."
Grinning, the queen carefully put Siddharth back in his crib. "I'll be there soon," I said. At odds with her responsibilities as a queen and a mother, her eyes lingered on her son.
How soon must you leave, Your Majesty? Concern in her eyes, Sonakshi asked.
Sad smile from Nayana. It's duty, Sonakshi. I shall come back soon, though."
Trusted handmaiden Sonakshi stayed behind when Nayana left the nursery. Watching the prince, she felt her heart melt as Siddharth reached out a fat hand from his cot and, with startling power, closed his fingers around hers. Abashed by his strength, she grinned and tentatively tested his small hand. Her voice full with surprise and joy, she said, "You're going to be strong, aren't you, little prince?"
You have no idea, laughed another maid. "He came dangerously close to pulling my finger off yesterday!"
Siddharth tracked the light and shadow flickers in his crib with subtle movements of his eyes. Though regressed to the level of a normal child, his intellect harbored latent abilities that were simmering beneath the surface but momentarily inactive. With every tender touch and consoling word from Sonakshi, his otherwise remarkable life became more ordinary.
Sonakshi urged, "You must rest now, little prince," rocking the cot gently. "The world will wait till you're ready."
While the queen attended to state business, including the enigmatic arrival of the Carts, which suggested new developments or maybe new dangers, Siddharth stayed in the nursery, encased in the naivete of a child but under the shadow of the predictions of upheaval and change.
As she watched over Siddharth, Sonakshi was thinking both astonishment and concern. Whispering to the sleeping prince, "You will grow up strong and wise," she said. And "we will be here to protect you every step of the way."
When Siddharth cooed softly, Sonakshi smiled. With a soft touch of his curly hair, she said, "Little prince, sleep well. You are only getting started on this trip."
All were unaware that after Siddharth's abrupt birth, his powerful system had been put on standby. It could only now make him feel people around him passively; he could not tell how far away or what their intents were. He was more vulnerable than anybody realized because of this primitive sense of danger detection.