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 thus ended, all present in the assembly fell silent. Only the sword at the great Samanta’s side gave a faint, unprovoked clang.

On the faces of most of the listeners, no emotion was expressed. From Madhavacharya’s eyes, a single tear fell.

The chief scholar, Damodar, was the first to speak: “Acharya, are you angered? The royal command is as it should be, according to scripture. The words of the sages are recorded in the sacred texts, that the Turks will conquer this land. The scriptures declare it must be so—who has the power to prevent it? Then what need is there for preparations of war?”

Madhavacharya said, “Well, learned president, let me say one thing—” Let me ask you, in which scripture have you seen such a statement?”

Damodar replied, “It is in the Vishnu Purana, as follows—”

Madhava interrupted, “Let that be—please permit me to fetch the Vishnu Purana; show me where such a statement exists.”

Damodar said, “Am I so mistaken? Very well, try to recall if this is not found in Manu.”

Madhava retorted, “Is the chief scholar of Gaud also not well-versed in the Manusmriti?”

Damodar exclaimed, “What torment! You have bewildered me. Even Saraswati herself becomes mute before you, so what hope is there for me? Before you, I cannot recall the names of texts; but listen to this verse.”

Madhava said, “It is not at all impossible that the chief scholar of Gaud has composed a verse in the Anushtubh meter. But I declare openly—nowhere in any scripture is there mention of the conquest of Gaud by the Turks.”

Pashupati said, “Are you omniscient in all the scriptures?”

Madhavacharya replied, “If you can, then prove me ignorant of the scriptures.”

One of the chief scholar’s attendants said, “I shall do so. Self-praise is forbidden in the scriptures. If one who is given to self-praise is a scholar, then who is a fool?”

Madhavacharya replied, “There are three kinds of fools: he who is careless in self-preservation, he who encourages such carelessness, and he who wastes words on matters beyond his understanding—these are the fools. You are a fool in all three ways.”

The chief scholar’s attendant sat down with his head bowed.

Pashupati said, “When the Yavanas come, we shall fight.”

Madhavacharya replied, “Well said! Well said! As is your fame, so is your proposal. May Jagadishwara grant you skill! My—” The only question that remains is this: if war is indeed the intention, then has any preparation been made for it?”

Pashupati replied, “Such counsel is to be kept secret. It is not to be revealed in this assembly. However, the horses, infantry, and naval forces that are being gathered—you will come to know of them if you spend some days wandering about this city.”

Ma: I have already learned some of it.

P: Then why do you raise this proposal?

Ma: The significance of my proposal is this: at this very moment, a valiant man has arrived here. You must have heard