Chapter 22-A prisoner in chains
“Get up bloody traitor”
The rudely prodding rod in the ribs, the loud gruff voice in the darkness, eyes still groggy from lack of sleep, as they slowly adjusted to the darkness around him, making out the dimly lit silhouettes of the two guards towering above him, his nostrils assaulted by the stench and dampness of the cell.
Pemmasani Ramalinga Nayaka, commander of the Vijayanagara Empire, who had struck terror in the hearts of the enemies on the battlefield, was now just another prisoner. The muscular frame that once strode proud on battlefields, was now a shrunken mass of flesh and bones. The eyes that would strike terror in the hearts of the enemy, with just one look, had sunken deep into the sockets. The handsome and radiant face, that was the desire of many a fair maiden, was now a mass of wrinkles and bruises, covered with a thick scraggly beard.
The days and months seem to have passed him by in the dank cell, lit only by a small window and a flickering torch. The man who once rested comfortably on soft quilts, guarded by attendants, was now sleeping on a rough coarse bed of straw, at times on the cold stony floor, with scorpions, snakes, bugs giving him company, as they slithered across.
The back was reddish from the welts of the whips, and the spiked clubs that tore into his flesh, the dark scars from the branding of the hot irons on his skin, that caused him to scream out in the dark recesses.
The fetters were bound around his feet, the handcuffs snapping around his wrists, as he was led out, along the dark corridors, the screams of the prisoners being tortured echoing in the chambers. There was the glorious Hampi, the city of riches, diamonds, palaces, and beneath were the chambers of hell, that only the unfortunate would ever visit.
Lesser men would have perished long ago, but this was a warrior, who had taken many a blow on the battlefields, pierced by arrows, cut by swords, blinded by the heat and dust of the cannonballs that landed near him. But above all there was a reason why he continued to bear the indignities thrust upon him.
The oath of Gandikota, by which it had sworn to be loyal to death to Vijayanagara, and never betray that trust.
More than him, that oath was in danger, if he had indeed confessed under duress, the retribution would be too frightening. Rayalavaaru detested disloyalty, and if he felt that Gandikota an ally he always trusted, had betrayed him, he would wreck such terrible destruction. Not a single stone would be left, nor a single person be alive.
He had lived for the honour of Gandikota, and he could not let that be stained, having fought many a battle in the past, he would have to fight another battle now. For the honour of Gandikota, for keeping the oath he had given to his father, he had to fight for the truth, at stake was not just Gandikota, but the future of Vijayanagara itself.