Chapter 241: Buddhism and Hinduism

By the banks of the Indus, the battle was already over. The forty-thousand-strong army of the Shahi dynasty had been reduced to ashes in little more than a single double-hour.

Close to two thousand were killed on the spot, nearly twenty thousand taken captive, and another ten thousand had scattered in every direction.

The body of the Shahi crown prince was carried to the riverbank. Several Brahmins who had come out from Udabhandapura were personally washing the corpse of the fallen crown prince, then dressing him in the most magnificent royal robes for encoffining.

The crown prince's body had taken on a ghastly greenish-white hue, a sign that his blood had drained away entirely. Several enormous wounds stood side by side across his chest — marks left by armor-piercing bolts from the divine-arm crossbows.

This pitiful crown prince, not yet of age, had been singled out, for the warriors of Hanshan Du all understood Great King Zhang's intent, and naturally would not spare him.

Even though the crown prince in his resplendent armor stood behind the ranks, he had received the focused attention of Hanshan Du's divine-arm crossbowmen. Most likely he had gone to meet Shiva without ever laying eyes on an enemy.

That said, although Zhang Zhao scorned these Shahi Kshatriya heavy cavalrymen and their so-called glorious death in battle, he still buried them according to the highest rites of the nobility.

To hold them in contempt in his heart was Zhang Zhao's personal preference, but as a king, he had to commend such conduct.

With Zhang Zhao's permission, the Brahmins of Udabhandapura and the monks of the Brahmanical temples all came out of the city to hold a grand funeral for the more than one hundred Shahi Kshatriyas who had fallen in battle.

As for the other four hundred-odd Kshatriya heavy cavalrymen who had not died, Zhang Zhao, following Kshatriya custom, pardoned them for the crime of resisting.

And he permitted them, after paying ransom and fines, not only to regain their freedom, but also to keep a portion of their family estates and their Kshatriya status.

This was the custom of India in this age: if they dared to launch a glorious battle, it meant they were warriors who set life and death aside, and such men could not be treated lightly or killed casually.

At the same time, Zhang Zhao had come to India to open trade routes and gain a little profit, not to overturn the old order and found a new dynasty.

So he very generously declared that he would abide by this rule. There was no need to set himself against everyone over such matters, and he could not possibly slaughter all the local nobles anyway.

However, at the time there had actually been more than a thousand Kshatriya heavy cavalrymen around the Shahi crown prince. Four hundred twenty of them, out of fear, had not joined the charge.

These men were not protected by the ancient custom, because they had not displayed the courage to face death unflinchingly.

Zhang Zhao beckoned to Bahmoh, who had been following close behind him the whole time. Bahmoh hurriedly nodded and bowed, scurrying over with the utmost fawning servility.

He now felt more and more that the position of king was beckoning to him.

"These people here — I have no need of them. But I need at least eight million rupees to reward my warriors. Can you produce that?"

Zhang Zhao spoke very bluntly. The so-called eight million rupees was not something Bahmoh was expected to produce himself — even if you killed him, he could not come up with that much. The point was to make these Kshatriyas pay it.

This was no small sum. To gather it in a short time would probably require methods such as torture and extortion.

Zhang Zhao was unwilling to let his warriors pick up such habits. Besides, they would not know the local situation as thoroughly as a native like Bahmoh, who could squeeze out the most profit.

"Great Khan, Your Majesty, these cowardly Kshatriyas are far richer than you imagine. Eight million rupees is letting them off too cheaply. Your loyal servant Bahmoh is willing to present you with ten million rupees."

Bahmoh blinked as he looked at Zhang Zhao, the longing in his heart practically written on his face.

Zhang Zhao considered for a moment. Indeed, he ought to give some reward — a running dog needs to be rewarded too, after all.

"Before that, bring our king here! As long as you serve sincerely, I will never treat you poorly!"

"I humbly obey the Great Khan's command. Bahmoh is forever your most loyal servant!"

Madanapala was not dead yet. Likewise, the more than one thousand Kshatriyas captured in the Khyber Pass had not been dealt with. Zhang Zhao was keeping them for a purpose — especially Madanapala, whose death absolutely had to be made to demonstrate its value.

"My son! My son! My son! You killed my son!"

Madanapala, just brought to the riverbank, immediately broke down. Before him, the Shahi crown prince's eyes had not even been closed.

"Mada! Do you know your crimes?" Zhang Zhao, radiating righteous indignation, strode up to Madanapala and bellowed at him.

By now Zhang Zhao had also figured out that the word "pala" was a mark of status, translatable as "protector." The "pala" in the Madanapala family and the "pala" in the Pala dynasty both carried this meaning. So by Indian custom, "Mada" was Madanapala's actual name.

"Do I know my crimes? You vile bandit — clearly you invaded my country and killed my son, and now you ask whether I know my crimes? What crime is there?"

The Shahi dynasty was finished, and his son was dead. Madanapala suddenly had nothing left to hold him back.

"So you, Mada, do know what invasion means, and you do grieve for your son's death.

Then what of the people of my Huwen City? In twenty years, you led armies to invade them several times. How many lost not only their sons, but their entire families? Their suffering is a hundred times yours!

Had it not been for your vainglorious ambition and your endless slaughter, the people of Huwen City would not have lost their families, and the Kshatriyas of the Shahi — even your own son — would not have lost their lives!

All of this is because of you. I have marched a great army here also because of you. I have come to utterly destroy you — to destroy the demon who has brought war and slaughter upon everyone."

What a fine display of righteous rhetoric. Great King Zhang smoothly reframed an invasion as resistance against intolerable aggression, speaking as though he had come to safeguard world peace.

"Lies! Nothing but lies!" Struck by Zhang Zhao's words from the moral high ground, Madanapala did not know how to refute them and could only repeat words like "lies."

But to the Brahmins and Kshatriyas of the Shahi dynasty gathered by the riverbank, this looked no different from being at a loss for words.

Because when they thought about it, it did make sense: had not the wars against Huwen City over these past decades been driven single-handedly by successive Shahi kings?

Having said all that needed to be said, Zhang Zhao nodded at Bahmoh. The latter understood at once, walked over, and kicked Madanapala in the back of the knee, while pressing down on his neck and forcing him to the ground.

Several of Bahmoh's associates also came forward. Together they bound Madanapala and dragged him toward a neatly stacked pile of firewood.

Madanapala stared at the firewood and suddenly began struggling frantically in terror. His mouth opened to howl, but Bahmoh roughly stuffed it full with a large wad of cloth.

Ending one's life amid roaring flames, thereby expressing one's repentance and apology to all, was also a method commonly used by nobles of this time.

Thirty years later in history, Madanapala's grandson Jayapala, after a humiliating defeat at the hands of the Turkic Ghaznavid dynasty, would choose this very method to give an accounting to all the kingdom's nobles, thereby preserving the tottering Shahi royal house.

Madanapala, screaming desperately, was bound like livestock onto the stacked firewood by several strong men.

To demonstrate his loyalty, Bahmoh personally took a short knife and stirred it around inside the king's mouth. Once the tongue was shredded, he stuffed the mouth shut, and the king could no longer curse.

The firewood had been doused with tung oil. Once lit, it could not be extinguished. All that could be heard were faint, muffled screams, and all that could be seen was a body writhing with all its strength atop the pyre.

After Madanapala had been executed according to the ancient laws of India, one hundred Kshatriyas of Shahi royal blood among the captives in the Khyber Pass were also singled out.

They were not qualified for the pyre. Instead, their necks were simply cut through with a single stroke.

Amid a chorus of weeping and pleas for mercy, Zhang Zhao walked to the pyre of the Shahi crown prince. The flame that would send a fallen king's soul ascending to heaven, to become an immortal spirit, was to be lit by a true king.

Zhang Zhao took the torch from a Brahmin high priest, pretended to pray for a moment, then lit the pyre.

The high priest bowed to Zhang Zhao. "I have heard that the Khagan, Your Majesty, is a follower of the Buddha?"

"That is correct!" Zhang Zhao nodded, his face betraying no emotion.

"What instruction does the high priest have for me?"

"Does the Khagan know that Shakyamuni Buddha is in truth the ninth avatar of Vishnu, and that the Vedas are in truth scriptures of our faith?"

The high priest spoke slowly, his gaze calm as he looked directly at Zhang Zhao, but in truth he was observing Zhang Zhao's expression, to see whether he would fly into a rage at the claim that Shakyamuni Buddha was the ninth avatar of Vishnu.

Vishnu, Brahma, and Shiva are together known as the three principal deities of Hinduism — and the name "Hinduism" is actually what outsiders call this religion. Its followers never call themselves Hindus; they simply exist in the manner of the Brahmanical tradition.

Unlike the impression most Chinese people have, Buddhism was never the main religion of the Indian subcontinent. For over a thousand years — and for more than a thousand years after that as well — throughout all of history, the Brahmanical religion has been India's foremost religion.

Buddhism was, in fact, a philosophical and religious reflection on the Brahmanical religion that arose on the Indian subcontinent during the Shramana movement.

Even during the reign of Ashoka, when Buddhism was at its most flourishing, Buddhists never exceeded twenty percent of India's population.

These two religions had an extremely close relationship of both struggle and cooperation. There were many Brahmin priests who converted and became eminent Buddhist monks, and many eminent Buddhist monks who returned to the Brahmanical religion.

In fact, historically, when Buddhism spread to China, the Brahmanical religion came along with it and also sought to propagate itself there.

In the Eastern Han "Biographies of Eminent Monks," at least five Brahmin missionaries are recorded with full names that can be verified.

In the "Treatise on Classics" of the Book of Sui, more than ten texts introducing the Brahmanical tradition are recorded, including "The Brahmin Sages' Various Medicinal Formulas."

The Tang poet Liu Yuxi's cataract was cured by a Brahmin missionary, for which he even wrote a poem in praise. Even the kingdom of Nanzhao once adhered to the Brahmanical religion.

Thinking of all this, Zhang Zhao made his decision. He had come to India to obtain the status of a Buddhist Dharma King and the right to interpret the Dharma in Hexi — not because he truly wanted to turn India into a Buddhist pure land on earth. If that were the goal, how could it possibly succeed without fighting for thirty or fifty years?

"Does the High Priest know what saying the kings who came from the Great Tang in the east loved to repeat most?"

"I would be honored to hear it!" A smile appeared on the High Priest's face. As long as the Khagan was not resistant to the topic of Shakyamuni Buddha being the ninth avatar of Vishnu, then things would be easy.

Because on this subcontinent of India, under the mature caste system, the Buddha could not compete with the Brahmins. Had the Pala dynasty not been so deeply bound to the monasteries, it too would have converted long ago.

"Those who submit to me shall prosper; those who oppose me shall perish! Does the High Priest understand?"

Zhang Zhao tried his best to make his meaning even clearer in the Uyghur tongue, because this High Priest could speak Uyghur.

"Truly words of gold and jade!" The High Priest's expression grew even more amiable, and he made a gesture of invitation with an outstretched hand.

"Please enter the city, Khagan!"

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