There is a tale of two kingdoms who were driven to battle on account of a single woman whose beauty matched no other, and whose infidelity triggered a war of epic proportions, leading Christopher Marlow to deem hers the ‘face that launched a thousand ships’. I refer, of course, to the tale of Helen of Troy, and the Trojan war.
In Greek mythology, Helen was the wife of Menelaus, King of Sparta. She ran away with Prince Paris, son of King Priam of Troy. Enraged, Menelaus launched a colossal attack on Troy to bring Helen back, and punish Paris for his unforgiveable transgression.
However, if one travels further back in time, legend has it that Paris was asked to judge a competition between the goddesses Hera, Athena and Aphrodite – a competition instigated by Eris, Goddess of strife and discord. Paris chose Aphrodite as the winner of the competition and in return, she granted him one wish. He wished that the most beautiful woman in the world would fall in love with him – and this woman was Queen Helen. So in reality, Helen was a victim of Aphrodite’s spell, which means her infidelity was not voluntary (changes the narrative entirely, doesn’t it?).
In any case, Helen’s story is one from the vast expanse of Greek mythology – but today’s tale is historical, and bears an interesting resemblance to the Greek legend, in that a single woman was responsible for bringing war upon two powerful kingdoms: the Licchavi Republic and the kingdom of Magadha.
The Licchavis and Magadhans had been locked in minor conflict for a while now, each attempting to overpower the other. The Licchavis, however, had an advantage, for theirs was a republic of several kings against Magadha’s sole ruler. But it was during the reign of the Magadha king Bimbisara that this conflict escalated to proportions that have been compared to the Mahabharata war – and it all began with a woman named Amrapali.
Amrapali, or Ambarapali as she is also called, was a courtesan “whose physical perfection and outstanding skills had secured her elevation to the status of a national asset” (John Keay, India, A History). Her exquisite company was exclusively reserved for the Licchavi Rajas, and Amrapali used her position to slowly, strategically gain political power to the point where she was eventually influencing highly important administrative decisions.
Amrapali was a jealously guarded treasure of the Licchavis – so when it was later discovered that King Bimbisara of Magadha had entered the Licchavi kingdom in disguise and had been enjoying Amrapali’s company for at least a week, the insult to Licchavi pride was unforgivable. Bimbisara would have to pay for this.
And so, the Licchavis focused all their efforts on defeating the Magadhans for good, multiplying their attacks on Bimbisara’s territory. There aren’t many sources that state what happened next, but according to Buddhist texts Bimbisara did indeed face the wrath of the Licchavis and “something really harmful and injurious” occurred, after which Bimbisara’s son Ajatashatru vowed to seek revenge.
Ajatashatru’s plans were somewhat encumbered initially by a struggle for succession which he was simultaneously trying to win against his brother. This brother had in his possession valuable regalia, which Ajatashatru needed to possess to secure his legitimacy to the throne. Accounts of what these regalia were differ greatly – some sources claim the prize in question was an island or port in the Ganga river which was of political importance, others say it was a mountain from which “oozed a highly prized, highly scented unguent”, and there are also accounts of these regalia consisting of two items, a prized necklace and an even more prized elephant who was trained to perform the duties of a shower head and spray the ladies of the Magadhan household with a glorious, perfumed spray whilst they were bathing.
Regardless of the nature of these regalia, Ajatashatru’s brother refused to relinquish them. And because he feared that Ajatashatru would subsequently launch an attack against him, he fled to Vaisali, the capital of Licchavi, and found refuge among Magadha’s greatest enemy.
No doubt these events hindered Ajatashatru’s success, for as the war against the Licchavis commenced, he fared rather terribly. However, he was able to gain some ground thanks to inventive machines: a catapult that could launch massive rocks, and a robot of sorts, with “club-wielding arms, powered by some invisible means of propulsion” – a machine which has been compared to the tanks used in the World Wars of contemporary history.
As impressive as his machines were, Ajatashatru still wasn’t able to break through the Licchavi fortifications. So he attempted to approach the problem from one last strategic angle: psychological warfare. The exact method he employed is unclear – he either used a Brahmin to infiltrate the Licchavi councils, or wreaked havoc by having a prostitute seduce Vaisali’s patron ascetic. Whichever method he used, Ajatashatru’s tactics proved fruitful, and victorious Magadhan forces were able to march into Licchavi territory.
The Licchavi republic lost most of its power, and its kings were scattered far and wide, with the catalyst at the start of this epic battle being a single woman named Amrapali, India’s face that launched a thousand ships.
Works Cited
Keay, John. India, A History: From The Earliest Civilisations To The Boom Of The Twenty-First Century. London: HarperCollins. 2010. Print.
Britannica, The Editors of Encyclopaedia. "Helen of Troy". Encyclopaedia Britannica, 8th May. 2020, < https://www.britannica.com/topic/Helen-of-Troy > Accessed 17th June 2022.