The Plot that Failed

It was one of those usual hot, airless days, and the beautiful Princess Hansa and her cousin, Manjgiri, were sitting on a balcony in the royal palace idly chatting, when, in the distance, shouting and cheering could be heard.

“I wonder why the people are cheering?” said the Princess. “Let us send one of the servants to find out.”

Just then Ashok, the Princess’s handmaid, burst into the room. “There is wonderful news, Your Highness,” she shouted excitedly. “Prince Kamalakar has defeated the King of Anga in a great battle, and the Prince, with his victorious army, is coming here.”

The Princess was jubilant. Everyone knew of Prince Kamalakar, the valiant warrior, and many were the tales woven around his bravery on the field of battle. For years now, the tyrant King of Anga had invaded all the neighbouring kingdoms, pillaging and plundering in a welter of blood. And now Prince Kamalakar, heir to the Kingdom of Kosal, had brought peace to the land. No wonder the people were cheering.

There were also many rumours that the Princess’s father, the King of Vidisa, was anxious to arrange the betrothal of the Princess with Prince Kamalakar, which would unite the two kingdoms and ensure peace throughout northern India.

On the following day, the Prince and his army encamped outside the city walls. The King, with all his courtiers, rode out in state to welcome the Prince, and the same evening the King told his daughter that the Prince had graciously asked for her hand in marriage.

At first, the Princess was thrilled, then she began to wonder whether her future husband was as handsome and as good-natured as people said. Or perhaps he was just another ill-bred tyrant who reveled in the bloodshed of warfare.

The Princess naturally confided her misgivings to her cousin Manjgiri, who was inclined to laugh at such thoughts, but later, with the air of a conspirator, she exclaimed, “We can soon settle all these doubts. Tonight I will dress as a peasant and visit the Prince’s camp. Then it will be simple to find out what kind of man he is.”

The Princess thought this a marvelous idea, and later, Manjgiri, in the guise of a peasant woman, stole out of the city into the army camp. It was not difficult to find the Prince’s tent, bedecked with flags and banners. When Manjgiri peered through an opening and saw this Prince, she was amazed that any man could be so good-looking, and when he spoke to his commanders in the tent, his golden voice sent a tremor through her body.

Jealousy welled up inside Manjgiri. Why should her cousin marry the Prince? Why not herself? As she hurried back to the palace, she was determined that somehow she would marry the Prince.

When she reached the palace, she found the Princess awaiting her return. Feigning a look of horror and wringing her hands, she sobbed to the Princess: “The Prince is a vile beast. I saw him with my own eyes. He was besotted with drink and raving like a madman. When some poor servant accidentally spilled a few drops of wine on the Prince’s tunic, he jumped to his feet and, with a savage laugh, plunged a dagger into the hapless servant. You cannot marry such a fiend.”

The Princess was horrified at such a frightful story and begged her cousin to help her. “Tomorrow morning I have to ride with the Prince to Kosal to meet his father, the King. I cannot marry such a brutal drunkard. What shall I do?”

“Then there is not a moment to be lost,” announced Manjgiri. “Put on some old clothes and go and hide in the forest. Along the path, you will see an old dead tree with a hollow trunk. Hide in there and I will join you in the morning. You need not worry, because Ashok, your maid, can be relied upon to keep our secret.”

The Princess did as she was bid and, dressed as a servant girl, ran into the forest. When she came to the old dead tree, it looked so ghostlike and forbidding, she decided to hide in the lower branches of a banyan tree close by, where she would be sure to see Manjgiri coming along the path.

When morning came, the Princess, having spent an uncomfortable night, wondered what could be detaining Manjgiri. Then in the distance, she heard the sound of trumpets, and along the path came a resplendent cavalcade, led by nobles on their prancing chargers, followed by state elephants. But surely that was Manjgiri seated beside someone on the leading elephant. What did it all mean? Why had Manjgiri taken her place?

As the cavalcade approached the old dead tree, Manjgiri let out a shriek and clung to the Prince. “What is the matter?” asked the Prince in some alarm.

“That tree,” said Manjgiri, pointing to the dead tree. “I dreamt of it last night and inside it is a dreadful evil spirit. Please, I beg of you, burn it down.”

“You are imagining things,” replied the Prince with a smile. “But we will soon get rid of the tree.” Some of the soldiers soon had bundles of brushwood around the base of the tree, and in no time the tree was a vast flaming torch.

The Princess was astounded at the scene before her eyes, then it slowly dawned on her that she was the victim of a plot for Manjgiri to take her place and marry the Prince, who wasn’t some terrible person after all.

Manjgiri, seated alongside the Prince, heaved a sigh of relief as the tree went up in flames. Now her silly cousin would be burnt to a cinder, and she could marry the Prince.

When the cavalcade reached Kosal, and the reception given by the King was over, Ashok, the maid, confronted Manjgiri in her apartment and demanded to know what had happened to the Princess.

“You will keep your mouth shut,” retorted Manjgiri angrily. “Your precious Princess is dead, and now I will marry the Prince.”

Ashok backed away from Manjgiri. “You must be mad,” she cried. “I will go and tell the Prince the truth.”

Before she could reach the door, Manjgiri picked up a heavy ornament and crashed it on Ashok’s head. Grievously injured, Ashok managed to get to her feet, and, drawing a small dagger she always carried, plunged it into Manjgiri’s breast. Manjgiri screamed, which brought guards into the room. The Prince was sent for, but by the time he arrived, Manjgiri was dead.

Nothing could be done for Ashok, but before she died, she managed to tell the Prince of Manjgiri’s foul scheme and begged him to search for the Princess, who she was sure could not have perished in the flames of the tree.

The Prince wasted no time, and with some of his retinue, galloped back to the forest. For two whole days they searched, and then in a small clearing, the Prince came upon an old shepherd’s hut. Seated outside was a lovely girl, her head bowed as if in sorrow.

Dismounting from his horse, the Prince approached the girl and said, “Surely you must be Princess Hansa?”

When the girl bleakly nodded, the Prince knelt by her side and told her the whole dreadful story. When the Princess explained that she had hidden in the woods because she understood he was a vile beast, the Prince just laughed.

Later, the Prince took the Princess to Kosal, and with the ugly story forgotten, their betrothal was announced with great rejoicing.