In the vast assembly hall, the illustrious King of Kings, the Lord of Gauda, who brought glory to Nabadwip, was seated. Upon a high dais of white marble, on a throne adorned with gems and coral, beneath a canopy likewise studded with precious stones, the aged king sat in state. Upon his head shone a white parasol, encircled with golden bells and adorned with intricate designs.

On one side, upon separate seats, sat a circle of Brahmins, radiant from the recent fire-sacrifice, their forms resplendent, surrounding the presiding scholar. Upon the seat where, once, Halayudh had sat, there now sat a sycophant of little discernment. On the other side, led by the chief minister of religion, the principal courtiers were seated. The great feudatories, the chief ministers, the treasurers, the inspectors, the keepers of the slaves, the captains of the guards, the tax collectors, the commanders of the garrisons, the satraps, the frontier wardens, the keepers of the granaries, the chamberlains, and all those associated and appointed to office—all were present and seated.

The chief usher, armed, maintained the dignity and order of the assembly. The court poets stood in ranks on either side. Apart from all, upon a simple seat of kusa grass, the learned Madhavacharya sat alone.

When the regular business of the royal court was concluded, preparations for the dispersal of the assembly began. Then Madhavacharya addressed the king, saying, “Maharaj! Forgive the loquacity of a Brahmin. You are skilled in the science of kingship, and among all the rulers of the earth today, you are the most far-sighted, the true protector of your people, a king from birth. Nothing is unknown to you; you know well that the subjugation of enemies is the king’s foremost duty. What measures have you taken for the suppression of powerful enemies?” The king said, “What command do you give?” Not all the words of the aged king reached his ears.

Without waiting for the learned Acharya to repeat himself, the religious authority, Pashupati, spoke: “Maharajadhiraj! Madhavacharya has inquired before the royal presence as to what means have been devised for the subjugation of the king’s enemies. Which enemy of the Lord of Bengal remains yet unconquered, the Acharya has not yet specified. Let him speak in detail.”

Madhavacharya, with a slight smile, now spoke in a voice loud and clear, “Maharaj, the Turks have all but seized the whole of Aryavarta. At present, they have conquered Magadha and are preparing to attack the kingdom of Gauda.”

This time, the words reached the king’s ears. He said, “You speak of the Turks? Have the Turks come?”

Madhavacharya replied, “By God’s grace, they have not yet arrived here. But if they do come, how will you repel them?”

The king said, “What shall I do—what can I do? This body of mine is old, I am no longer able to prepare for war. Now, if only I could attain the Ganges. Let the Turks come, if they must.”

When the royal speech