Food of the gods here in your own market!
Minced lamb stuffed in brinjal!

Ekla’s face brightened immediately. Fairness and justice clearly came second to delectable food; this was something we both agreed on. Even before I heard the hawker, the aroma of salty meat had hit my senses. We walked over to the stall. Ekla seemed to know the vendor. He spoke to her in a rapid dialect, of which all I could make out was that he was asking for a portion. The woman replied in a more comprehensible dialect.

“Do you think I am running a charity, Ekla? You want me to give you both food for free because your friend will otherwise never taste the delicacies of Taxila? Do you have no shame? This is my livelihood! By rights, you shouldn’t even be showing your face here!”

“I am not asking it for free. You know that I am the best archer in the kingdom. I will join the army as soon as I am allowed to and I will pay you all the silver in the world. Just put it in on my long-term account.” This was interesting as just a short while ago, he’d told me he was going to be a trade runner.

“You idiot, the army will give you just enough to survive until they can get you killed. I have lost enough boys to the military and you will not become one of them, do you hear me?”

“I will become a trade runner then.”

“That’s worse. Listen to me boy, go help your father in his trade and stop this army and runner nonsense.”

“But my father is as good as a slave! Who wants to be a wheel maker? I want to shoot arrows from the chariot, not be a joiner of wheels.”

“If you join the army, aren’t you then the slave of the Emperor and his officers? You talk too much Ekla but you don’t think enough. If you ask me, it’s that high-born friend of yours who spoils you, putting all these ideas in your head. These ideas aren’t meant for people like us,” she said as she shook her head and turned to me. Despite all her protests, the prospect of making a foreigner try one of her concoctions, which she proudly claimed was equal to the Food of Gods, was not lost on the woman. She handed me a portion. “Here, eat this and tell me if you have tasted anything half as good as this in your land!”

I greedily took a bite and wasn’t disappointed. I decided instantly that I was going to befriend this woman, come what may. In fact, unlike Ekla, I’d do anything she asked me to do as long as she kept feeding me; that was more than a reasonable bargain.

I was about to inform her that I’d be happy to learn how to make wheels if she’d feed me when we were distracted by the sound of drums coming from the entrance to the square.

Two drummers walked purposefully towards the centre of the plaza, demanding everyone’s attention. People had stopped their work and stared attentively at the newcomers. Behind the drummers, two men holding identical scrolls came into view and finally, two horsemen sauntered into the square, their heads held high. They did not look down but gazed into the distance as high-born men are wont to do.

“The Governor’s guards and newsmen,” whispered Ekla. “This must be an important message as that one on the horse is his brother and the other is the brat, the Governor’s offspring. A good-for-nothing coward.”

As the group made their way to the centre of the square, arranging themselves in a circle around the horsemen, I took a step back. As I have written before, I was allergic to authority. From a distance, I scrutinised the two members of the Governor’s household. The Governor was the most important man in Taxila and if so, these two must be rather important people in this town.

The older of the two, the brother of this Governor, was fair, with a wide forehead and long lustrous hair that flowed down to his shoulders. His moustache was long and neatly trimmed, and he did not have a beard which was uncommon from what I had seen of Kushan men until then. He wore a long linen robe with a bright-red belt and an insignia sealed on the right chest. His boots, at my eye-level, were laced up to his ankles. He wore a helmet adorned with feathers. The boy, who couldn’t have been much older than me, looked like, well, any other boy of his social standing. He wore more finery than his uncle – amulets and necklaces galore – but otherwise, was dressed in a similar style. Unlike his uncle, he gazed down at us with scorn and disdain. First impressions were not always the best, I was told often by FaLi, but in this case, I knew that this one was right on target. The Governor’s son was a brat and it was in my best interests to stay clear of him.

The plaza had gone eerily quiet. People gathered around waiting to hear the Governor’s bulletin. Once he was assured of full attention, the Governor’s brother nodded at the men holding the scroll. One of them spoke up in the local Gandharan dialect.

“Hear ye, hear ye. The Governor sends his son and his brother to deliver an important message to the people of Sirkap. You will note that this missive was issued and signed by the Governor this very morning.”

He unrolled his scroll while a drummer provided the background beat.

‘It has come to the Governor’s attention that a valuable amulet has been stolen from his mansion this morning. The importance of this amulet cannot be emphasised enough. It is a much-treasured gift given to the Governor’s mother by the Great Emperor’s father and has been in the family for many decades.’

He stopped while the other reader started speaking in what, I gathered, was a different language. Greek, I guessed, which was still used officially, but not many in Sirkap spoke it. I could make out a few words as I had come across the language in one of the works I had helped scribe for Fa-Li.

The crowd shifted uneasily, probably unable to comprehend what was being said – this wasn’t their language. We waited for the second reader to finish so that the first reader could continue. As soon as his companion finished, he started speaking again.

“The Governor’s elite investigators are working on the case and it is only a matter of time before the thief is apprehended and appropriate punishment is meted out. Anyone with information regarding the amulet and the robbery is required to come to the Governor’s office in Sirsukh immediately and make themselves known to the officials. Withholding information is punishable by death.”

The second reader spoke again, presumably saying the same thing. No one spoke or moved during the announcement. Once he finished speaking, the entourage prepared to leave the square. The two horsemen turned their horses around to follow the drummers out of the square.

Excerpted with permission from The Thief Of Taxila: A Silk Road Mystery, Veena Muthuraman, Talking Cub.

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