“Don’t worry about demons; they are indestructible and beyond your reach to defeat them. Worry about men who have taken evil to heart. There will be no Golden Age until they are defeated,” said Canki. “You may find it impossible to believe that this all depends on you, but I am willing to risk that you can accept the truth.”
Siddhartha stood up, his demeanor more serious. Canki could see that his words had sunk in. He had dangled a mystery before the youth, and few can resist a mystery, particularly one that features themselves at the very center.
SUDDHODANA HAD SULKED in his room, at first furious with his son, then gradually sinking into moroseness. To face rebellion from the prince just at the moment of victory was too galling to endure. Then moroseness changed to grief. Suddhodana was certain that he had lost his son.
That night the king awoke with a start. A shadowy figure had entered his rooms. Suddhodana fumbled for the table by his bed, reaching for a bell to summon the guards.
“Don’t be afraid, father.” Siddhartha’s voice was soft in the darkness. “I will fight.”
CANKI SAT IN THE GRANDSTANDS with the dignitaries, fanned by slaves waving palm leaves over their heads and charmed by veiled girls passing sweetmeats. He assumed that his talk with Siddhartha had turned the tide. But still there was danger. The prince had come around, but for how long? He was erratic, unpredictable.
The Brahmin remembered the king’s threat from years ago: Just live long enough to see what I’ll do to you if this plan fails.
As a public show of force, the mock battles were a success. The sheer bulk of Suddhodana’s army, and the ferocity of his fighters, impressed the neighboring rulers and depressed their generals. There was a ripple of shock when one of the archers mounted on horseback was killed, but Canki had wandered away by then and witnessed nothing, not even the ladies-in-waiting who fainted and had to be carried from the scene.
By leaving early, Canki had missed the one part of the combats that in the end really mattered.
Siddhartha’s surrender to his father’s will was not a sham. He dressed himself early that morning in his armor, dismissing his father’s grooms because he was ashamed to be seen donning so much padding and protection; he was the one fighter who couldn’t risk being bloodied.
“Not that anyone is going to get near you, much less fight.”
Siddhartha wheeled around. Devadatta had come in, not bothering to knock. He smiled maliciously. “They’ve got you pretty packed in. Why bother? You could go out there buck naked and nobody would so much as scratch you. Unless they want to be dragged out of bed tomorrow morning to kiss the chopping block.”
Siddhartha clenched his jaw. “They have to fight me if I start it first. I’m not going out there just to watch.”
“Of course you’re not.” Recently Devadatta had become more brazen in his contempt. He bent over and occupied himself with the intricate thong laces of his leggings.
“You can challenge me if you want,” Siddhartha said quietly.
Devadatta burst out laughing. “You can’t be serious.”
“Why not?” Siddhartha stood up and faced his cousin squarely. The two were almost matched in height and strength by now despite the four years separating them. But Siddhartha knew he had one great advantage: Devadatta was so arrogant that he rarely practiced. He may have lost his fighting edge without knowing it or being able to admit it to himself.
“What weapon?” Devadatta looked intrigued now.
“Sword and dagger.” Finished with his equipage, Siddhartha rested his helmet in the crook of his arm. “They’re expecting me.”
“Naturally. The carnival goes on.”
The two cousins exchanged nods in mock courtesy, and Siddhartha left. When he got to the stables he found Channa holding the reins of his favorite white stallion. The horse had come to the king from the wilds, and at first nobody could tame him. But Siddhartha spotted the animal’s fear and used it. Every time he brought a stick of sugar cane for the stallion, he would sit and wait as long as it took for the horse to walk over to him. He never approached on his own, even if it took an hour for the animal to calm down.
When he was tempted enough, the horse wanted to snatch the treat and run off, but Siddhartha made sure that his hand always touched the horse before he released the food. Gradually the white stallion began to accept being touched as part of being rewarded, until the day came when Siddhartha approached him in public and put a bridle on him, a feat nobody else had accomplished. From that point on it was only a matter of time before word went about that the prince had tamed an untamable wild stallion. On the day when the horse allowed himself to be mounted, Siddhartha named him Kanthaka.
Channa looked restless and disgruntled. “I hope you’re not too bulky in all that gear. You need to ride properly, remember that,” he grumbled.
“Don’t worry.” Siddhartha knew that Channa’s resentment wasn’t personal. Despite Channa’s hours of military training beside Siddhartha, he was technically still a stable boy and not a fighter.
Channa said, “I assumed you wanted this one. The king isn’t risking his best horses, but he didn’t exactly say you couldn’t. He’ll carry you better than any of the others.” Channa fixed his expert eye on the stallion’s high shoulders and wide girth. Siddhartha nodded, stroking Kanthaka’s flanks. The animal wanted his touch, and although Kanthaka had quivered nervously at all the neighing and galloping going on around the stables that morning, he calmed down and waited.
Channa managed to crack a smile. “I also assume you know that someone’s staring at you. It’s a mistake, I’m sure. She thinks you’re me.”
A girl had escaped notice following Siddhartha to the stables. Channa didn’t know who she was, but as soon as he turned his head Siddhartha recognized Sujata. She stood shyly in the shadows of a large tree, but the moment their eyes met, she let the blue silk that half-covered her face drop. Siddhartha was at a loss. “What’s she doing here?” he mumbled.
“I don’t know. I guess she couldn’t help herself.” Channa laughed and gave Siddhartha a hit on the shoulder. “You’ve still got a little time. Go on.”
“It’s not what you think.”
“It doesn’t matter what I think. Go ahead.” Channa was smirking now, and as happens between two young males who talk about everything except that, his look said, You don’t know all about women yet? You’d better believe I do. They were both fairly sure that the other was still a virgin, but Siddhartha nursed a suspicion that Channa had more opportunities than he did belowstairs in the kitchen and scullery, while Channa suspected that Siddhartha had more chances than he did in the pleasure pavilion by the lotus pond. This unspoken doubt created a secret between them when there was no secret to begin with. Neither one dared to find out that the other knew almost nothing about women.
“Let her come to me if she wants to,” Siddhartha declared. He hoped he could save face and at the same time not risk approaching Sujata-not now, with someone watching. Luckily, he didn’t have to. She took a deep breath and came to him. Throwing aside the daintiness of court women who acted as if a stable was unholy ground, Sujata walked up to them with her eyes fixed on Siddhartha.
“I came to wish you well. Please be safe today,” she said, her words coming out a bit too fast and too loud, as words do when they are practiced in advance.
Siddhartha cursed himself inside, knowing that Channa could see him blush. All he needed to say was “Thank you,” but confusion made him stammer, “Why would you think I’m not safe?” His tone was brusque, and Sujata turned a deep scarlet. Humiliation took her breath away, and Siddhartha died inside that he was the cause. “I mean-” he said, and stopped. Nobody knew what he meant, least of all himself.