Chapter 5: The General's Dream

PARSISTAN: 492 BC

General Marduniya (Mardonius) had just returned from the northern territories after accompanying King Daraya (Darius) on a campaign to crush a widespread rebellion on the farthest borders of Parsistan (Persia). Their expedition had taken them across the Bosphorus Straits and penetrated deep into Makheduniya (Macedonia) and Trakya (Thracia), the two northernmost vassal kingdoms of the sprawling Parsistani empire.

The Makheduniyans resubmitted to Parsistani overlordship after a brief struggle. Their young king Alejandros, Eskander to the Parsi, had mulled over the advice of his most trusted generals, then despatched a messenger to the oracle at Delphi for a second opinion. The temple's prophecy was relayed back to Alejandros via the senior priest at the local temple of Apollo, who immediately went to see him.

"Pardon me, Your Majesty," the old man pleaded. "I wish I could have given you prouder counsel than this, but do allow me to borrow from the great fount of eastern wisdom."

 

"By all means, Sophokles. Please do."

"The oak resists the gale and breaks. Whereas, the bamboo yields and lives another day."

"So?"

"Makheduniya is simply no match for Great Persia. Either we yield and survive, like the bamboo, or we resist, to be destroyed like the oak. We Makhedun must be patient. We must bide our time, Your Majesty. The gods have given their promise."

"And what might that promise be?" Alejandros enquired.

"It was only six decades ago that Khouroush led the Parsioi to vanquish the Madayu kingdom of his grandfather Hastayaga. And it was only fifteen decades before Hastayaga's fall that his ancestor Dahyu Ka first founded Madaya, the first united and properly organised realm of the Madayu people, before which time they only lived as scattered nomadic tribes in the Zagros Mountains, on the fringes of Great Ashuria."

"Your point?"

"One nation rises ... another falls. From mountain barbarians, the Madayu rose to challenge and eventually defeat Great Ashuria. In turn, from obscure vassal immigrant tribe, the Parsioi finally overcame and conquered the Madayu."

"Go on."

"One great day ... many, many decades from  this day ... a great king of the Makhedun ... a descendant of yours, of course ... will rise and unify all Hellas. He will lead all Greeks under Makhedun ... to defeat and conquer the Parsioi. His name will also be ... Alejandros .... and he will be ... king of Great Makheduniya and all Hellas ... plus many vassal kingdoms. He will be a greater king ... than Great Darius."

Alejandros accepted the oracle's counsel, which happened to be in accord with the opinion of his generals. To help bind together a new peace deal between Makheduniya and Parsistan, a sister of Alejandros was to be given away in marriage to the eldest son of King Daraya.

The Trakyans, however, put up a fierce fight. General Marduniya himself was severely injured during a night time ambush on his forces in Trakyan territory. Negotiating their way through treacherous waters around the tip of Akte Peninsula, on their way back to Parsistan, three hundred ships from Marduniya's fleet were destroyed and sunk in a seastorm that suddenly turned violent.

Now Marduniya spends most of his time idling away and lazing around in his mansion in Persepolis, the new royal city. Giving himself the opportunity to recuperate and recover from his extensive injuries. Spending as much time as possible with the family he had left for several months. Every few days he would be visited by two physicians who came to inspect and treat his injuries.

Other times he would be tending to his newly planted vegetable garden or visiting his orchard. Or chatting to his cousin wife, the beautiful Princess Artu Zaustri, daughter of King Daraya. Or playing with his two adorable kids. Irrepressible Artavand, his seven year old son, or his cute little daughter Hutausa, four years of age.

Sometimes he would start thinking about the unfortunate fate of Brndusha, the young Trakyan girl who had lost both her parents during the Trakyan uprising against Parsistan. The girl, along with hundreds of other captured Trakyans, had been brought back to Persepolis as slaves by the returning Parsistani forces.

As fate would have it, Artu Zaustri had later met and talked to a captive Brndusha at a slave market while doing her shopping rounds in the city’s main square. When she returned home, she felt so depressed. Eventually, on the request of a sympathetic and persistent Artu Zaustri, Marduniya agreed to take in Brndusha into their home as a maid to help Artu Zaustri with her daily domestic chores.

§

"Nata," Marduniya called out to his son.

“Yes, Father,” answered the boy.

“Go get a dozen ripe, juicy, bright red pomegranates from Brndusha. Put them in a basket and bring them back here with you. Some apples as well. Red coloured ones.”

"What might they be for, Father?" asked Artavand earnestly.

"To be presented to Rushtam," answered Marduniya. "As a special gift".

"Rushtam? Who might that be, Father?"

"Oh! He will be your new friend, Vand. He loves pomegranates. Especially the really ripe ones of the bright red coloured variety."

"All right then, Father."

That afternoon, Marduniya brought Artavand to his stable. The boy was still too scared of his father's big war horses. But he was the son of a general, therefore himself destined to be a warrior some day. He has to be taught to overcome his fears, the earlier the better.

Marduniya snapped his middle finger. "Rushtam", he called out to the golden hued young stallion with a white spot on his face and chest. The animal's ears immediately stood up, his face turning to Marduniya as soon as he heard his name called, while his tail danced in excitement as he saw his master. The colt ambled toward Marduniya.

Rushtam was of fine pedigree and well mannered. He was of mixed Medean-Thessalian ancestry. Thessalia was a province in northern Greece. The Medean breed came from the Zagros Mountains, home of the Medes.  It was famed for its speed and agility. While the Thessalian was possessed of impressive size and powerful muscular build. It was Marduniya's hope that Rushtam would one day brim with all those qualities.

"Vand," Marduniya held his son by the shoulder. "Here, this is your new friend, Rushtam." The colt beheld the boy for some moments, his eyes blinking gently. He seemed comfortable with Artavand.

"Rushtam, this is Artavand, my son," the general spoke to Rushtam as if the animal understood every word he said.

"Try stroking his face, head and neck. See if he likes it." Marduniya coaxed his son.

Artavand held out his hand towards Rushtam and did as his father taught him. The colt's breathing became a purr.

"Now give him those pomegranates you've brought," Marduniya continued.

Artavand took out a fully ripe pomegranate from the basket he was carrying and held it out to Rushtam. The colt opened his mouth wide to accept the fruit, then munched it happily, licking the boy's hand as he finished the fruit off in a heartbeat. The boy withdrew his hand immediately, worried by Rushtam's big mouth and teeth.

The colt neighed gently, as if unhappy with the boy's distrust of him. Artavand gave him another pomegranate. Then another. And another.

Rushtam seemed to take to Artavand rather easily. Perhaps he could sense that the boy was his master's kin.

"But remember, Vand,”"Marduniya reminded his son. "Don't you ever go under his neck or his chin so that he can't see you easily, or hide behind his arse. He doesn't like that. It makes him nervous. You might end up getting a big kick from him."

The three strolled across the grazing grounds and fruit groves belonging to Marduniya, his son picking up some of the freshly fallen fruits and offering it to Rushtam as they went along. Only when twilight approached did father and son start walking  home, after Marduniya had brought Rushtam back to the stable.

§

Marduniya's parents were due to visit his home that evening. Artu Zaustri had sent Brndusha to invite Lord Gaubaru and his wife, Princess Raduš Dukda (Arduš Namuya), sister of King Daraya, to dinner. Artu Zaustri, with Brndusha's help, had spent a good part of the afternoon preparing  the favourite dishes of their guests.

Having not met one another for quite some time, they chatted among themselves endlessly. All kinds of topics cropped up, some mundane, others significant, interspersed with a joke and a laugh every now and again. After they had each had their fill, they shifted from the dining area and gathered again in the guest lounge.

As always, Artavand and Hutausa were very excited to have their grandfather visit them because the old man was always game for some storytelling. That evening they could not wait to hear the latest tales from Gaubaru. As soon as dinner was over they both rushed over to his side, holding tight to his hands and clothing.

Gaubaru came from a distinguished family of Medean aristocracy who had originally hailed from Rasht, a city on the Caspian coast, in the province of Gilan, in the satrapy of Padishkhwargar. He had the brown hair and brown eyes of many people from that region. His grandfather, also named Gaubaru, had commanded the Persian army of Cyrus the Great which conquered Babylon. That feat had earned the elder Gaubaru the governorship of Gutium, which became a hereditary position for his family.

The moment Gaubaru sat himself on the floor, cross legged, little Hutausa clambered into his lap. While her brother lay casually on the floor, his head resting on Gaubaru's thigh.

"A fairy tale, Grandfather," pleaded Hutausa."

"I want a tale of battle," demanded Artavand. "A fantastic story of warriors and heroes."

Marduniya himself lay down close by his wife, not far from their children. She sat knitting a decorative table cloth from Chinese silk, watching her children's antics while also listening to the tales spinned by her father in law. Every once in a while she would laugh or giggle at some funny story part told by the former general, now the current kshatrapa of Gutium.

Occasionally Marduniya would recall the tale of Daivi Khadga, the divine sword, which he had heard several times before. The mystical blade which was said to have been wrested from Kuvala Shava, king of Kosala kingdom somewhere in northern Hindustan, by Kambhujiya, a king and warrior of the ancient Kambhoja.

That sword had been part of the spoils of war after Kambhujiya had led his Kambhoja army to victory in an invasion of Ayodhya, the capital city and seat of power of Kosala kingdom.

According to Hindi legend, the sword had later been carried for some time by Arjuna, among the archheroes of the Hindi of Ikshvaku Dynasty, in the legendary Battle of Kuru Kshetra mentioned in the Mahabhrata. In that conflict between two related but rival tribes, the Pandava and the Kaurava, the Kambhoja had at first stayed impartial. But the Kaurava somehow eventually managed to persuade the Kambhoja, a warrior tribe of great renown, to join the fight on their side.

Thus was how the Kambhoja, weighed down by the pressing duty to help a friend in need, became involved in a battle not of their own making. A descendant of Kambhujiya by the name of Sudakh Shina, leading a battalion of guest warriors fighting on the Kaurava side, was said to have given Arjuna a stiff fight, to the point of making Arjuna swoon at one moment in their duel. However, Arjuna, who was said to have obtained respite by the divine intervention of Lord Krishna, finally defeated Sudakh Shina and wrested back Daivi Khadga from him.

By that same legend also, the sword was said to have originally come to earth from the sky with a thunderbolt  that drove it hilt first into the ground on top of a mountain, its blade pointing straight up toward the heavens. Thus whoever had the great fortune to own it would have had to plant it likewise on some mountain top every now and again, in order that its mystical properties might be revitalised by contact with a thunderbolt. 

It was said too, that only a supreme warrior would have the privilege of finding and owning Daivi Khadga. Incidentally as well, the princes and kings of the Hakhamanesh Dynasty, the ruling royal house of Parsistan, considered themselves as the progeny of King Kambhujiya.

How grand that tale was, Marduniya pondered. Would that sword still exist? Where would it be? He imagined himself finding it and owning it. Would that be even possible?

His thoughts now blending with the gradually quieting laughs and chatter of his children, Marduniya felt himself getting drowsier and drowsier, irresistibly drifting toward the land of dreams.

§

"O Marduniya, my son," a deep manly voice called out.

“Who're you?” Marduniya started, jolted from his ponderings. It was a big tall man, powerfully built, striking and distinguished looking.

“I am Kambhujiya, king and commander of the ancient Kambhoja. Your mother, Ardu Snamuya, and your wife, Artu Zaustri, are both sprung from my seed. So also are the entire Hakhamanesh clan, Khouroush, Daraya, Khshayar Shah and all.”

"Kambhujiya son of Khouroush? The Kambhujiya who conquered Egypt?" in his bleary eyed confusion, Marduniya was now garbling up information.

"Nay. Of course not. Not him. I already said that Khouroush was one of my offspring. I'm the first, original Kambhujiya. My time was a long, very long time before Khouroush. Before the Kambhoja even immigrated into Parsistan ... from Pamir and Badakshan ... in the western Himalayas."

"Then ... umm ... you're the Kambhujiya ... King Kambhujiya of Kambhoja?" Marduniya followed up. "First owner of the Sword of Kambhujiya?"

"Truth be told, that sword's journey has been a long and winding one. Its very first owner was Sharma-Adad, a king of Great Ashuria, who first received it as a specially crafted token of alliance and friendship from Tudhaliya, a king of Hattusa, the birthplace of steel weaponry. Sharma-Adad then gifted it to Prince Chander Burman, his new son-in-law and an ancestor of mine, as a wedding gift. It was taken from Chander Burman by foreign invaders and remained in the lands of northern Hindustan for a long, very long time. Until finally I won it back from Kuvala Shava, king of Kosala."

"Which means that you also carry the blood of ancient Ashurian royalty in you," Marduniya commented, "That's if you were borne of the line of that daughter of Sharma-Adad".

"As a matter of fact, I was," Kambhujiya confirmed. "Her name was Nin-Harissi. As for that sword, the Kambhoja people still call it the Sword of Kambhujiya, in tribute to my name. Although the people of Hindustan prefer to call it Daivi Khadga, meaning Divine Sword in their tongue, or otherwise the Sword of Arjuna. It is now standing on top of a mountain, from which flows a river, which passes by a palace. The palace of a brave powerful king whose kingdom spreads so far and so wide."

"Might it be ... the palace of ... King Daraya?"

“That would be up to you to find out. Go search for it and take it. Use it to defend Parsistan. I know that your father is of Madayu blood. But your mother is a Parsi princess, sister of Daraya, of the clan of Hakhamanesh. You are therefore my progeny too. Anyway, Madayu and Parsi are now but one tribe. You have been a brave and loyal warrior for Parsistan, as your father had been in his time. You deserve the Sword of Kambhujiya. I know that you have long dreamed of it."

"But I have never seen it. I would not want to be duped by an ordinary sword planted on top of a mountain by some crazy prankster. How would I recognise it if I see it?"

“The ancient Kambhoja was a noble warrior tribe, extremely proud of their ancestry. As their king and leader, it would not have been befitting for me to carry a common sword. You will know it when you see it. The grandeur of its construction and the beauty of its artistry will simply astound you." 

“Is that all?”

“The length of its blade exceeds the height of a tall man. It was made from the best iron one can find, smelted from star rock, and forged by the best sword smith of the time from Hattusa. Sculpted with various stunning imagery, inlaid with opal, sapphire, ruby and glittering blue hued diamond by its hilt. The hilt was made from cast metal, engraved with elegant pictures from the ancient world."

"Umm, but, isn't King Daraya more deserving of the Sword of Kambhujiya than I? For he is the high king of Persia and all its vassal kingdoms."

"I don't think Daraya will be that keen for it. He's never the type who believes in mystery and magic. He isn't like you. His mind has always been tightly bound to the real world alone."

“But, that sword is now many centuries old, at least ten centuries by my estimation. Shouldn't it already have rusted into oblivion, scattered and buried in the sands of time?"

“Isn't it a mystical sword? That is why it has to be planted on top of a mountain by its hilt, with its blade pointing up toward the sky, every now and again. So that its magical powers would be constantly revitalised. And you, my son, you ask too many questions. Go get that sword fast, before someone else does. Goodbye, my son."

The strange man gradually dissappeared from Marduniya's sight.

"Wait,” Marduniya urged. “Wait just a while. Kambhujiya! Kambhujiya!!!”

Thus Marduniya awoke from his slumber. It had all been a dream. He looked all around him. His wife, his son, his daughter, his father and his mother all lay fast asleep all over the floor.

“By the grace of Ahura Mazda!” Marduniya muttered under his breath. “Was that dream really telling me the truth? Was he really King Kambhujiya? How good would it be ... if the Sword of Kambhujiya truly becomes mine."

The gentle morning wind of Persepolis began to feel increasingly cool. Marduniya gathered several blankets and spread one over each of his sleeping kin.

Thirteen years passed ...
Marduniya eventually married his Trakyan maid Brndusha, who became his second wife. The marriage only proceeded with the full blessing of Artu Zaustri, who had been falling ill rather frequently. While both Marduniya's children, even as they grew up, remained close to the Trakyan woman they had come to consider as an elder sister of sorts.

It turned out that Brndusha was no commoner. Only after Marduniya had married her that she revealed that she was a princess closely related to the Trakyan royalty, even though her entire family had lived all along in the Trakyan countryside.

Three months after his wedding to Brndusha, Marduniya received orders from Khshayar Shah (Xerxes), his brother in law and the new high king of Persia, to lead a large Persian expedition to Greece.

At Plataea, where the Persian army was squaring off with the Greek army, a Spartan force retreated under sustained Persian assault. A Persian squadron led by Marduniya himself gave chase. Marduniya, heady with the smell of victory, left his fighters far behind in his excited pursuit of his Greek enemies. 

Unbeknownst to Marduniya it was a trap, set up by the Spartans to ambush the Persians. The retreat had been a feint. In his brimming desire to seal a swift victory, Marduniya had forgotten that most cardinal rule of battle: never pursue a fleeing enemy without sufficient cover.

As soon as the fleeing Spartans were certain that Marduniya was well separated from the other Persian soldiers of his group, they wheeled around, rode back toward him and encircled him. There were easily twenty of them, all armed to the teeth. Fighting to the very end, Marduniya cut and slashed a few of them down, but they were just too many for him, and they eventually overwhelmed him.

Thus fell in Plataea a magnificent Parsi warrior, great in valour and of the most illustrious Madayu-Parsi lineage, his name later only remaining the stuff of people's memories. News of his death reached Parsistan quickly, and he was greatly grieved by his family and friends in all Persepolis.

Seven months later, Brndusha gave birth to a daughter, whom she named Mardunisa in remembrance of the baby's late father.

§

To cut a long story short, Mardunisa grew up into a beautiful young woman adored by many princes and young noblemen of Parsistan. Eventually, she married one of the sons of Khashayar Shah from his second queen, a princess of Macedonia, sister of King Alejandros.