Mangala Chapter Twelve: A Rival Arrives

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Author's Note

This story is intended to be both a partner to the novel ‘The Pilgrim Kamanita,’ written by Karl Gjellerup in 1906, and a tale that stands on its own. There is no need to have read the earlier book in order to make sense of this one, however, should you wish to go to the source from which many of the characters and scenes of this tale have sprung, an English version of it is to be found on this same web-site at www.abhayagiri.org/main/book/366/.

This book is being published here as a ‘serial novel,’ which is to say that it that it will appear one chapter at a time, on the first day of every month, over the next couple of years. The plan is that, after the entire twenty-six chapters of the story have been released, a pdf file of the complete book will be posted, and available for free download.

Finally, gentle reader, please note that the original author (Karl Gjellerup) switched freely between using Sanskrit (the language of the Northern Buddhist and Hindu scriptures) and Pali (the language of the Southern Buddhist scriptures) during the course of his tale. In our efforts to be true to his original style we have maintained this mixture of usage.

Amaro Bhikkhu
Abhayagiri Monastery
December 2008

* * * * * * * * * * * *

et again Samavati had to adjust herself to a new living situation but at least this time, she reflected, she didn’t have to change her name, although she did have to get used all the ‘Your Serene Highnesses’ and the pomp of life in the court.

* * *

The year before her marriage had been the sweetest and richest of times. She had gone to visit the Ghositarama several days each quarter of the moon and, from time to time, the other two monasteries. There had been a vast and delightful range of teachings that she had received Page 2 of 20

from the Buddha as well as from the great nuns and monks – wise and experienced guides such as Uppalavanna and Khema, leaders of the nuns’ community, as well as Sariputta and Maha-Moggallana, Revata and the kindly Ananda who were most eminent among the bhikkhus.

She had also spent many delightful hours with her elfin friends; they in turn had introduced her to other kinnaris – family of theirs – as well as many other sprites, pixies and rukkha-devas who lived in the monastery grounds and in the quiet recesses of the Ghosita mansion gardens.
Samavati had been in heaven – at least she felt she had found a heaven here on earth – but now this was all lost to her. When she had first been married to King Udena he had wanted to spend every waking hour in her company and to pass every night at her side. Now, a year later, his attention was somewhat divided – he seemed to have many other affairs to attend to and he often invited her to take her ease at night and rest by herself in the harem, rather than in the royal bedchamber.

His distraction by other matters and his passing of the night hours with other companions – junior consorts or concubines from the harem – did not, however translate into much more in the way of freedom for Samavati. At first she had taken to wandering the palace grounds at night, and was able to meet up with her kinnari companions once in a while. They even introduced her to a venerable naga couple who lived in the palace lotus pond – a large pool which also served as a reservoir for the royal household during the dry times of the year.

When the King had heard about her night-time jaunts, however, he had quickly put a stop to it, expressing concern for her safety to his Queen’s face but grumbling about the fickleness of women and telling stories of Queen Kinnara of Varanasi, wife of King Kandari, as well as Queen Kanha who Page 3 of 20

had five husbands but yet contrived to have an affair with a lame ne’er-do-well.

He also didn’t allow her to go out and about in the palace grounds during the day, as he didn’t want her to be drawing the attention of the many soldiers and courtiers who populated the palace. He wouldn’t even allow her to spend much time with her father at court, saying, “When an older man adopts a voluptuous teenager as his ‘daughter’ you can never be sure exactly what he has on his mind.” Samavati was faintly aghast at the suggestion of any improper motive on behalf of her beloved father, but she did not demur.

Her last resort had thus been to go out in the dews of dawn; to rise early, while all the world was still asleep, and to enjoy the silence of the garden, with its fresh scents and cooler air, and this was all her joy for the few weeks that it lasted.

She had promised not to venture forth unaccompanied but she had learned to leave Khujjuttara snoring gently in her usual place, on a mat by her mistress’s bedside, and would take Rani and Chandra along instead. It was not that Samavati would or could deliberately engage in subterfuge, but she had noticed how, on the first day she had taken these two of her ladies-in-waiting with her – once they had settled into a small gazebo at the end of the garden to watch the dawn and to listen to the chorus of songbirds – within moments the two, who perennially chatted long into the night, had fallen fast asleep and become utterly deaf to the world.

That morning she had had long discussions with Bee and Ant and had heard from them some snippets of the teachings that the Buddha had been giving since she had been away. It was wonderful to listen to their account – fragmented though it was and filled with each correcting the other along the way – but this had ended all too soon as well.

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“Who are you chatting with, Ma’am?” asked Rani – blinking thickly, trying to accommodate the bright light of morning.

“Oh…” mumbled Samavati, “…it doesn’t matter… You dropped off! And look at Chandra – what time were you two up ‘til last night, anyway?”

These pre-dawn walks had become a regular routine, but soon the gossip-mill had begun to turn and she realized that Rani and Chandra couldn’t have always been quite so oblivious after all. One morning, when she had returned a little earlier than usual to the main buildings of the harem, she overheard a couple of the maids as she walked by the lattice wall of a verandah.

“Has anyone seen Ma’am yet? I’m wondering if we should get breakfast going…”

“Off with the fairies, still, as far as I know. I think the ’Serene‘ bit of her title should be changed to ‘Seriously Spacey,’ if you ask me…”

Not wishing to cause further discomfiture, or to spawn more rumors around the court, she decided to abandon her efforts to meet with her old friends – it all seemed to cause such trouble and, she also considered, “I should learn to be more content with what blessings I have – I’m Queen of Vamsa at the age of seventeen and I’m healthy and well fed. If the chance to meet my companions or to hear the Buddha’s words appears, well, I shall be glad – and if it doesn’t happen then I have the after-taste of goodness from all my blessed memories. That should suffice.”

* * *

“Where have all the flowers come from, Khujj?”

Samavati was surprised at the effulgence of blossoms spilling out of her maid’s baskets. Thick garlands of marigold, intertwined torques of tuberose and frangipani, sprays of roses, lilies and delicate violets from the mountains – the fragrance was intoxicating, their colours flared against each other and the sheer abundance of them took her quite aback. “It looks like twice as many as usual. Has Sumana got a sale on today?”

Khujjuttara Page 5 of 20

had broad grin spread across her face but there was also a strange, unaccustomed softness to her expression.

“Not exactly, Miss, but it’s certainly been a special day,” she replied, lowering the over-loaded carriers carefully onto an inlaid table.

“Fact is Miss, on previous days, you always gave me eight masakas to go and buy flowers with. Well, every day I’d go to Mr. Sumana the gardener and buy four masakas-worth of his best, and then pocket the change for myself.”

Queen Samavati’s large eyes were now fixed closely on Khujjuttara, trying to read her expression but, even though there was some contrition there she could see that, for some reason the woman was, more than anything, excited and happy.

No feeling of anger or resentment rose in Samavati’s heart. She didn’t fly into a rage and yell at her, saying, “You wicked cheater! Give me back the money you’ve stolen!” Instead she looked her in the eyes and gently asked, “Why didn’t you take the money today?”

“Because today I met the Buddha. I heard his teachings. He answered all my questions; he took all the time in the world, Miss, just to answer me. Me, Miss, a hunch- backed slave and a thief. I get it now why you’ve been so taken with him all these years.”

Samavati’s wonderment at the change that she was seeing in her friend now melted into a warm and joyful happiness. She smiled, but saw that Khujjuttara was not in any need of consoling or forgiveness for her misdeeds – the servant knew the nature of her mistress and that she was incapable of bearing a grudge.

“So, what happened? Where did you meet the Master? On the street during his alms-round? At the monastery?”

“No Miss, it was at the house of Mr Sumana, the gardener. See, he supplies the Duke and Mr. Kukkuta and Mr. Pavariya with flowers – has done for years – and he said to the guv’nors, ‘You honorable gentlemen get to offer meals to the Buddha and the monks Page 6 of 20

and nuns on all sorts of different occasions. I’ve served you a long time so I’d like the honour of offering a meal to the Buddha one day myself. Please let me have the Master come to my house, just for one day.’

“They told him that they’d be very happy for him to offer a meal and that it really wasn’t up to them in the least where the Buddha and his community received meal-offerings – it was up to the monastics to choose which invitations to accept or not. They also offered to help him out with anything that he might need for the big day.

“So I got to Mr. Sumana’s to pick up today’s flowers, and he says ’I’ve invited the Buddha to be my guest and I’d like to use all the flowers I have to honour the Master. If you just wait, you can join me in helping to offer a meal to the Buddha and the monks, listen to the teachings, and then, when it’s done, you can pick all the flowers you want out of what’s here.’ It turned out that that was just about eight masaka’s-worth, so that’s what I brought home.”

A quiet delight welled up in Samavati’s heart, to know that her longest-standing friend in the world now not only could appreciate the beauty of the spiritual teachings that she had enjoyed these last years but, more importantly, that Khujjuttara now understood the teachings for herself, and had therefore been benefitted by that same understanding.

“It was amazing, Miss. The Buddha’s a warrior-noble, one of the high ‘n’ mighty as ever was, but he talked to me just like he does when the Duchess or Lord Ghosaka asks him about their problems. And I had all kinds of questions for him too – once I got started – and you know how suspicious and hard to please I am! But he answered every one of them, or he got me to reshape the way I asked it, so as to get closer to the Page 7 of 20

truth. It was as if someone had set upright something that had been knocked down or had pointed out the way to someone who’d got lost, or like they had brought a bright lamp into a place that had been dark.

“I never saw anything like it, Miss; he’s the real thing. I had my suspicions that he was just like the other priest-types – but he isn’t. He doesn’t want anything from anyone – but if you’re interested to understand life better, he‘ll help out. Simple as that.”

“You too have now drunk of the Deathless, Khujjuttara” – Queen Samavati smiled broadly at her friend’s good fortune – “you and I are blessed indeed among those who walk this earth.”

* * *

When Samavati had pressed Khujjuttara for more details of what the Buddha had talked about, she had marveled at the degree of accuracy with which her friend recalled his words. They had started off with Samavati interrupting and asking questions and making comments. After a while, Khujjuttara had patiently said, “If you want to know exactly what he said, Miss, it went like this…”

She had then closed her eyes, settled herself on the cushions and started to recite. Soon Samavati was convinced it was almost as if the Buddha himself was speaking – Khujjuttara used his very expressions; the same pace and timbre was there in her voice as in the Buddha’s own. Even her friend’s rustic accent faded of its own accord and she spoke with the Master’s own Sakyan clarity. She did not, however, follow the Buddha’s usual style of long and intricate discourses – instead she retrieved single nuggets of his wisdom and presented them, one by one. When she began each new section of what she recalled, she intoned, “This was said by the Blessed One…” and when she concluded each brief teaching, she closed with, “…so I heard.”

When Khujjuttara finally paused, having reached the end of the things that the Buddha had said, she opened her eyes and looked at her mistress; Samavati Page 8 of 20

was glowing and she was also inspired with a highly novel idea.

“Have the maids prepare the reception hall and tell everyone that all the members of my household – all the women of this harem – are to gather there this evening.” She gave no other explanation.

When Khujjuttara returned, the two of them spent much of the rest of the day together and, when sundown came, it was Samavati that said to her servant, “Come now, Khujjuttara, it’s time for your bath.”

“Hang on a minute Miss, that’s what I usually say to you – what nonsense have you got in mind?” She was intrigued at what Samavati was up to but also guessed that she understood.

“I want you to pass on the wisdom that you recited to me earlier today, but to the whole group of us. So, for that, it’s only appropriate that we should serve you and honour you, as you’ll be fulfilling the role of being a mouthpiece of the Teachings.

“The Dharma is the most precious of jewels, the most holy of qualities, so it’s only fitting that it should be treated in the most respectful and reverential of ways.”

Thus it was that the queen became the servant, helping her dark-skinned slave to have her bath in perfumed water, and then with her own hands she dressed Khujjuttara in finest garments of pure white cloth; a beautiful, delicate sarong and an upper wrap that was thrown over the left shoulder so that she was modestly covered when she spoke the Dharma, for in those days it was often the custom for both women and men to wear the little or no clothing on the upper part of their bodies – unless it was cold and one needed to wrap up to stay warm. By way of adornment, the well-to-do often bedecked themselves with necklaces and armbands, long and heavy earrings and the like. But on this occasion, in deference to her role as a speaker of the Buddha’s teaching, Khujjuttara declined to put on even Page 9 of 20

the modest jewellery that she usually wore.

As evening fell, with all of Samavati’s servants scattered around the hall, a gasp of surprise rippled through the air as she walked in behind the white-clad Khujjuttara, who then ascended the raised seat that had been arranged as a throne for when the Queen was being formally attended there.

The horror felt amongst the assembly at this bizarre sight – the slave climbing on the throne with the Queen as her attendant – was then amplified by Samavati bowing to the ground three times, before Khujjuttara.

“Now we know she’s really cracked…”

“Err… Your Serene Highness, I don’t think it’s quite…” one of the junior concubines began, then petered out, not knowing what to suggest.

“What should we do!?” hissed Chandra agitatedly, to no one in particular.

“What we should do,” interjected Samavati, “is to pay attention while we listen to the Dharma.”

“Please, Khujjuttara, recite to us the words of the Teacher as you heard them earlier today.”

* * *

Up to this point quite a number, if not all of the women of Samavati’s retinue, had visited the Ghositarama at some time or another – mostly before they had come to the King’s palace when they had been with Samavati at the Minister’s mansion – and had heard the Buddha and the other monastics speak. Many had been very impressed and inspired but they had not been expecting this – to be listening to the words of the Master from the mouth of one of the lowliest slaves of the court. Nevertheless, something in the manner of the woman’s delivery – her astonishing composure and her serene expression, together with the stately diction now issuing from her mouth – soon caused a transformation of the energy in the hall.

Disquiet and caustic comments gave way to interest, then to wonderment. Soon every ear in that perfumed and flower-decked chamber was attending with an eager appetite.

“This was said by the Blessed One, said by the Arahant, so I Page 10 of 20

heard:

“‘Even though a bhikkhu might hold on to the hem of my robe and follow close behind me step by step, if he is covetous for desirable things, strongly passionate, malevolent, corrupt in thought, unmindful, uncomprehending, unconcentrated, of wandering mind and uncontrolled faculties, he is far from me and I from him. What is the reason? That bhikkhu does not see Dharma. Not seeing Dharma, he does not see me.

“‘Even though a bhikkhu might live a hundred leagues away, if he is not covetous for desirable things, not strongly passionate, not malevolent, uncorrupt in thought, with mindfulness established, clearly comprehending, concentrated, of unified mind and controlled faculties, he is close to me and I am close to him. What is the reason? That bhikkhu sees Dharma. Seeing Dharma, he sees me.’

“This is the meaning of what was said by the Master, so I heard.”

When Khujjuttara had finished speaking and had opened her eyes again, she saw the Queen below her, the circles of finely dressed ladies, and the dozens of maids and slaves of the royal court. All had brought their palms together and, with a single voice, intoned “Sadhu!” three times over.

Samavati did not need to look around her or to hint; she bowed to Khujjuttara three times and every other woman in the room bowed with her, and with sincerity; the air rang with a quickened luminosity. Some had fully grasped the import of many of the teachings they had just heard, others had been simply inspired by the ideas, but even those with the most meagre of understandings knew that they had just been part of a sacred moment – something truly holy had happened – and so each and every one saw both Khujjuttara and Queen Samavati in a new, radically transformed way.

Lady Chandra then spoke up on behalf of all of them, “Friend, from this day on we would like to rely on you as our mother and our teacher” – this even though Chandra had been one of the haughtiest of the young Page 11 of 20

kshatriyan ladies in the court. “Please go to the Buddha whenever you can and listen to his discourses, then come back and pass them on, explain them to all of us.”

She then realized that perhaps she should have checked with Her Serene Highness before making this bold request but, seeing Samavati’s face beaming at this idea, she put herself at ease once again.

* * *

Whenever the Buddha was resident in Kosambi – staying at one of the three monasteries – Khujjuttara would be dispatched to listen to the teachings and to bring them home to be shared with Queen Samavati and others of her harem.

Samavati had tried to get the King to be more interested, often using their increasingly rare moments alone together to raise the subject of letting her visit the Buddha or to have him come to the palace, but Udena would have none of it. All mention of ‘the Sakyan monk’ was treated with short shrift.

When Samavati voiced to Khujjuttara her sense of bewilderment about his attitude, she responded with, “But, surely you heard about that, Miss.”

“Heard about what? I’m rarely in the market for gossip Khujj – I never get to hear about anything much at all.” She chuckled ruefully. They both knew this to be true as the Queen never passed on any juicy tidbits about anyone else and, when someone tried to get her excited about some prime misdeed or scandal, she always smiled benignly and remained silent, so the ripe morsel regularly seemed to go quite stale, right there.

“You remember the story way back – about Angulimala giving up his life as a bandit and then becoming a monk?”

“Of course, he has been one of the great bhikkhus in Jeta’s Grove, near Savatthi, for years now – he is an arahant and of great distinction – I’ve heard all about him.”

“Well, Miss, it seems that some years ago our Chief Minister – Satagira – was caught out by His Majesty when he’d pretended to Page 12 of 20

have Angulimala killed. Well, when the bandit appeared as a monk and the Buddha vouched for his being on the strait and narrow, well, that seemed to settle it for everyone.

“But it didn’t for Satagira, ’cos he looked doubly an idiot now, didn’t he? What’s more his wife, the Lady Vasitthi, admitted to plotting with Angulimala to kill him. So there’s Satagira; he’s lied to the King, been hoodwinked by his wife, she becomes a nun and then Angulimala gets off scot free into the bargain. Well, Lord Satagira, he’s really bent out of shape by all this, isn’t he? Especially when His Majesty then ups and rewards the Buddha for taming the bandit by donating the old Krishna temple and that forest out beyond the eastern walls of the city.”

“The Simsapa wood?”

“Yes, that’s the one. Well, at first a whole group of monks and nuns were settled out there but then His Lordship – Satagira that is – gets His Majesty’s ear, with a bit of help of the court priest Maha-Baka and his cronies. They put it about that Angulimala was still a robber, but that he operated out of Kosala these days; that the Buddha had pulled the wool over the King’s eyes by vouching for the bandit so that then Angulimala, in return, would keep the monasteries well-supplied with ‘offerings’ from his stock-in-trade – you know, robbing people and killing them.

“Of course there isn’t any hard evidence – how could there be? – just rumours, but because Angulimala lives up in Kosala most of the time now at the Jetavana, outside of Savatthi, he’s well out of the way and can’t speak for hisself. So anyway, once Satagira got this bug in the King’s ear by starting the rumours, His Majesty’s been less than eager to have anything to do with the Buddha.

“That’s why the Simsapa forest used to be where the Buddha would stay when he was near Kosambi but the King then made some excuses and gave the old Krishna temple back to the Page 13 of 20

brahmins. They had been burrowing into his other ear about their ‘hancient and divine rights’ to the old temple, and they weren’t happy with all the Buddhist nuns and monks being around ‘their’ shrine, so all of the Buddha’s disciples that had been living there scattered again until Master Ghosaka met up with the Buddha in Savatthi. Then he and his friends built these new monasteries for them here.

“When the Simsapa wood and the old Krishna temple was first given to the Buddha, Master Ghosaka was up ambassadoring in Uttarakuru for a few years; that was when I was quite young. By the time the family got back from the north the Buddha had apparently got wind of the King’s reneging on the gift, so he just stayed away. Until Lord Ghosaka invited him back again, of course.

“It’s a bit of a sore point, you know, between the King and the Duke, but seeing how he’s a financial whizz and the King needs him to take care of the books, His Majesty cuts him a lot of slack. But he won’t have anything to do with the Buddha, not on his own accord.

“The King’s a proud man, Miss, and jealous.”

“Don’t I know it,” Samavati smiled gently.

“But he’s sharp as a tack too – no mistake – and practical. If he’s given good reason to respect the Buddha, or if he finds out that Satagira’s duped him again, he might well tilt the other way.”

“Let us hope so,” Samavati agreed.

* * *

It was the full moon day that marked the end of the Rains and the beginning of the Cold Season. King Udena sat in his throne room, sharing a drink with his Chief Minister Satagira and waiting for the tax-paying ceremonies to begin – it was one of the most tedious events on the calendar.

“I fully appreciate that she’s a perfect model of virtue, honesty and beauty – she’s a veritable Sita, if not even more pious than the wife Page 14 of 20

of Lord Rama of legend – and, yes, those are wonderful qualities in a queen and as an example to the court and the people… but, that’s not always what a man wants in a wife.” He took another hearty swallow of liquor from his goblet.

“Don’t I know it, Sire? My own first wife – you remember, the one who took off and became a nun – she was just the same; beautiful, dutiful, virtuous…”

“ ‘Til she plotted to kill you, eh!? Ha!” King Udena was playful in his cups and gave Satagira a thump on his shoulder.

“…Er yes, well, what I mean is she was lovely and perfect in most ways and I adored her but… it all went cold after a while. She plainly could not return my affection so then her beauty began to pale and to leave me frozen too. Damn shame…” He too gulped another deep draught, with a doleful sigh for a chaser.

“The Queen doesn’t dislike me at all, or so she says… it’s just… Oh, here she comes.” Samavati and her attendants appeared beneath the archway that formed the grand entrance to the audience chamber.

She was conducted up to the throne beside King Udena and she smiled at him with her usual genuine and innocent gentility.

They greeted each other formally and she settled, cross legged, beside him. This was the third year she had participated in this ceremony with him and so was well-used to the form by now.

The heads of all the towns and villages from around the kingdom of Vamsa had spent the previous few weeks gathering the taxes for the year. They would all come on this one day, dressed in their best and bearing, along with the cash that was due, a quantity of the new rice crop for the royal granaries as well as some precious artifact that had been made by their local craftspeople. Often weeks or months of work would go into this latter aspect of the offering for it was well-known that, Page 15 of 20

if some device or decoration, or some inspirational shrine-object tickled the Royal Fancy, there could be favours bestowed on the village in question that would benefit all for the rest of the year, perhaps longer.

* * *

It had turned into a very long afternoon – the King was bored witless and was, at this moment, inordinately glad once more that the Queen was patient and kindly, and interested in each member of the endless procession of 158 different boroughs and village districts that came to pay their dues and offer their handicrafts. The end of the line was now in sight so King Udena felt his spirits begin to lift; he also felt he could really use another drink but the protocol of the event required that he abstain until the final offerings had been made.

Up to this moment each of the submissions had been brought forward by the village or town headman – so it had largely been a string of pot-bellied, dhoti-wearing gaffers that the royal couple had received during this day. It took him a moment to register what was happening but, rather than yet another paunchy and bag-eyed yeoman bearing some ‘enchanting’ basketwork, here instead was a young village wench, a slender, black-eyed beauty. She was crowned by a thick coil of glossy ink-dark hair decked with delicate jeweled traceries. Her ears and hands, her neck and arms, her waist, were all hung with the same finely-wrought filigrees of gold and silver. She approached the thrones and, before she bowed, she – almost accidentally – caught the King’s eye with the briefest of coquettish glances. She was dazzling.

“Now,” pondered the King, “this one’s got some fire in her…”

He cleared his throat, “Are you the headman? Must be an unusual village!” He flashed a look around the hall and just the right number of courtly voices chuckled at the Royal Jest.

“No, Your Majesty, begging your pardon. It is I who am the headman,” said a man in his late middle-age, who appeared from just Page 16 of 20

behind the girl, a hopeful but quaveringly anxious look flitting across his face, “… of the brahmin village of Harittananda; this is my daughter, Magandiya.

“Since it is the custom to offer Your Majesty a small, special and unique specimen of local craft as a token of esteem – along with the submittal of rice and the gold coin that is our obligation – we of Harittananda felt that since our beloved daughter is the most unique and precious product of our humble hamlet, we took the liberty of presenting the, albeit temporary, magnificence of her ethereal beauty in lieu of some other more coarse, material gift. We trust that Your Majesty will not be displeased by our breach of protocol, or will consider us stingy or lazy on this account.”

The brahmin had been rehearsing this speech for weeks and now breathed a half- sigh of relief that it had all come out as planned. The other half would come when he found out how the King would respond.

Silence hovered.

“No, no displeasure at all…” the King could not take his eyes off the girl and she, in turn, risked darting another glance at his face. “But we do think that you are being stingy… why should her presence in the Royal Sight be only temporary? Eh? Hum…?”

“Errm…no reason, Your Majesty.”

“Exactly, so, in the spirit of invention that you have so, er… creatively employed here, we will keep the girl and you can keep the coin.”

“Why, Your Majesty, you are too kind; this is too great an honour.”

“Is it? Would you like us to reconsider? Hmm?”

At this, all powers of restraint were unable to halt a sharp flaring of the eyes and an intake of breath in Magandiya, even though the modest smile that was the image of meek daughterhood remained unwavering on her visage.

“No, No! Your Majesty – it would be the greatest honour for our dear daughter to enter your household.”

“Yet you look concerned.”

“To be truthful, Page 17 of 20

Your Majesty, I feel a dowry worthy of your Royal Status would bankrupt not only me and my family but also my whole village as well…”

“You have a short memory, headman.”

“How so, Your Majesty?”

“We just awarded you several bags of gold and silver coin – if we are prepared to give you that for her, what does that say about any other expectations we might have had of you?”

“Your Majesty is too generous.”

“Apparently – but if you are wise you will not try to dissuade us of the habit at this moment.”

“Quite so…” mumbled the ecstatic headman as he withdrew backwards on his knees. The plan had gone completely as he and his wife had hoped. Magandiya looked up, gazing fully into King Udena’s face for the first time, and drank in the wolfishly besotted look she found there.

In her flush of relishing this she also seized the moment to glimpse how the young Queen Samavati had taken the exchange. In the fleeting instant that their eyes met, Magandiya was surprised to see only a benign and open friendliness; she’d been armouring herself against a blast of jealousy, and expected to see at least some anxiety. She was amused that all that seemed to be there was a dumb, doe-eyed docility.

The realization, “This is going to be easier than I thought,” washed swiftly through her mind, leaving behind it a delectable aftertaste.

For her own part Samavati was more surprised than hurt, or threatened, when she saw in the elegant woman’s eyes an unbridled hate, an ill-will of vitriolic strength.

“Now, girl” – Udena reached forward to take the young brahmini’s hand, “come here, then we can get the rest of this splendid ceremony over and done with.”

One of his attendants had rushed a plump cushion to the side of the double throne next to the King. Magandiya arranged herself in a posture of becoming humility blended with an alluring charm. She gently leaned herself so that her Page 18 of 20

silver-laced shoulder rested against the King’s thigh and his hand could caress her midnight-black and thickly coiled coif.

“How would you like to be a Senior Consort?” he asked. He knew there would be no need for a reply.

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Notes and References:

Chapter 12

1. Page 148 — Queen Kinnara of Varanasi… She is mentioned in Jat. §536. She is described as sneaking out at night for assignations with ‘a loathsome misshapen cripple’ under a rose-apple tree; (see ‘The Jātaka’ Vol V pp. 234-5).

2. Page 148 — Queen Kanha… She is also found in Jat. §536, (ibid. Vol V, p. 225). This royal lady seems to be directly comparable to Queen Draupadi of the Mahābharata; even though she’s married to Princes Ajjuna, Nakula, Bhimasena, Yudhitthila and Sahadeva, in this story from the Pali scriptures, Queen Kanhā has her affections set on ‘a headless crippled dwarf.’

3. Page 150 — Where have all the flowers come from, Kujj?… This dialogue comes from The Story Cycle of King Udena, in the Dhammapada Commentary to verses 21-3; see ‘Buddhist Legends, Vol I,’ pp. 281-2.

4. Page 150 — No feeling of anger or resentment rose in Samavati’s heart… Now that Sāmāvatī is on the path to the second level of enlightenment, a Once-Returner, such afflictive emotions have very little strength.

5. Page 150 — Me, Miss, a hunch backed slave and a thief… In a similar vein the Buddha made a special point of teaching for the sake of Suppabuddha the leper, at Ud. 5.3.
Similar instances are recounted at S 11.14, and also in the Dhammapada Commentary to verse 203 (see ‘Buddhist Legends, Vol III’ pp. 74-6), where there is a story of the Buddha keeping a large assembly waiting so that a poor farmer could arrive and get fed before he gave the teaching.

6. Page 151 — or he got me to reshape the way I asked it… The Buddha said there are four appropriate ways to deal with questions: 1) a straight answer, 2) Page 19 of 20

a counter question, 3) to rephrase the question and, 4) to lay the question aside. This teaching is found at A 4.43.

7. Page 151 — as if someone had set upright something that had been knocked down… This is a stock description of the arising of faith in the Buddha’s teachings. It can be found in numerous places in the scriptures, for example at D 3.2.22.

8. Page 152 — This was said by the Blessed One… As above, Ch. 6, note §1

9. Page 153 — little or no clothing on the upper part of their bodies… This style of dress from that period can be seen in hundreds of reliefs carved into the stupas built by King Asoka and others of the early Buddhist era.

10. Page 154 — Even though a bhikkhu might hold on to the hem of my robe… This teaching is found at Iti. 92.

11. Page 155 — brought their palms together and, intoned “Sadhu!” Three times… As is still done today, to express gratitude and approval for a teaching.

12. Page 156 — Angulimala giving up his life as a bandit and then becoming a monk… As is described at M 86, The Discourse on Angulimāla, and in The Pilgrim Kamanita, Chs. 33 & 34. According to the timeline of the present story, these events had occurred approximately 15 years before.

13. Page 157 — Angulimala lives up in Kosala … at the Jetavana… The Jetavana was the Buddha’s main monastery in Kosala. The foundations of Angulimāla’s kutī and a stūpa for his relics are still to be found there.

14. Page 157 — He’s a proud man, Miss… In Jat. §497 Udena, in a previous life, is the proud and angry son of the Bodhisattva.

15. Page 158 — the full moon day that marked the end of the Rains… This is the full moon of November, in the Western calendar.

16. Page 158 — she’s a veritable Sita… Sītā was the perfectly virtuous and beautiful wife of Lord Rāma Page 20 of 20

in the Rāmayana, the ancient Indian epic.

17. Page 160 — the brahmin village of Harittananda; this is my daughter, Magandiya… Harittānanda is an invented name, meaning ‘The joy of gold.’ In The Story Cycle of King Udena, Māgandiyā is simply said to have come from ‘the Kuru country,’ north of Vamsa, and from ‘a certain market town’ – see ‘Buddhist Legends, Vol I,’ pp. 274-5.

18. Page 161 — an ill-will of vitriolic strength… It is a curious fact that the word ‘fascination’ is closely related to this same kind of action; its etymology can be traced to ‘phæsi kaino’ in Greek, meaning ‘to kill with the eyes.’