After the empire’s fall, the Alliance of Sixteen Kingdoms — which now controlled Kanyakubja — issued a command: the eastern imperial army and the allied forces were to stand down from their standoff, and the Persians were to be expelled from the Punjab. Ever since King Dhruvasena had granted Taxila to the Persians, kingdoms such as Valabhi had been sleeping on a bed of thorns. Now, having taken over the military authority of the imperial army, they immediately launched an attack against the Persians.
King Yazdegerd III had recently been occupied with resettling the Persian refugees. Having secured a foothold in the Punjab, he was overjoyed — he had finally led the Persians to a homeland where they could settle and live. Recently, the imperial army had been engaged in battle with surrounding kingdoms, leaving no one to trouble him. Yazdegerd III traveled personally all over the area, building villages and settlements around Taxila to house his people. The Persians, now filled with hope, erupted with immense energy: in barely a month, more than ten villages had been built. After ten years of flight and exile, having finally recovered a peaceful homeland, the Persian people’s faces were radiant with happiness.
Yet the smiles had barely faded when calamity struck: word came that in the battle of Kanyakubja, King Dhruvasena had been defeated and captured. The imperial forces and the armies of the surrounding kingdoms ended their standoff, combined their strength, and attacked Taxila. The newly built villages were burned; countless cavalry swept through what had been their homeland in dreams, the settlements blazing, the people fleeing in all directions.
Yazdegerd III was enraged. He deployed his Immortal Legion and fought a series of battles against the Indian forces. Though Yazdegerd III won a few engagements by relying on the Immortal Legion’s elite quality, his forces were severely at a disadvantage in numbers. With the political backing he had once possessed now gone, Taxila was surrounded on all sides — and he had no choice but to retreat back to the western bank of the Indus.
Watching his people, who had crossed the river a mere month ago in such hope, now trudging back across with their families — homeless and wandering — Yazdegerd III wept aloud. He had schemed for ten years to secure the Punjab, sacrificed countless lives, and in the end it had come to nothing but a spring dream.
Damagaza stood beside him on the riverbank, watching the Persians crossing back, sighing deeply without end. “Your Majesty — some things are beyond any human power to reverse. Perhaps our scheming for the Punjab was wrong from the very beginning.”
“I am not reconciled to this!” Yazdegerd III murmured.
“The all-powerful god Ahura Mazda will show us a new direction,” Damagaza said.
“I am not reconciled!” Yazdegerd III repeated. “Even if I must leave — I will take with me a jar of Indian soil!”
Yazdegerd III had someone dig up a jar of soil to take on the ship. Even if he had to go, he would carry away the earth of India — this was his obsession.
When all the Persians had departed, Yazdegerd III was the last to board, crossing the river westward. Cradling the jar of soil, he stood at the prow, gazing at the Punjab growing ever more distant, knowing he would never set foot on that land again for the rest of his life.
The Indus had considerable waves and wind. The ship plowed through the breakers; when it reached the center of the river, the waves were enormous, the vessel pitching and rolling — and the mast snapped with a thunderous crack, making it impossible to keep the ship steady. Yazdegerd III lost his footing and toppled, and only by the desperate efforts of the attendants around him was he saved from falling into the river. But the ceramic jar slipped from his hands and shattered, spilling the soil across the deck. Then another great wave swept in, washing the deck clean. The soil he had brought dissolved into the river — not a single grain was left to him.
“There is a river god in the Indus — if anyone attempts to carry away its treasures, the river god will overturn their vessel and let those treasures sink into the depths.”
Yazdegerd III suddenly recalled the words Xuanzang had once spoken to him. He burst into wild, deranged laughter, and felt that he was nothing but a clown struggling against fate.