The city that today finds its place even in the English dictionaries as ‘Kumbakonam’ was, in the time of our story, known as Kudanthai, and was also called Kudamooku. Apart from its sanctity as a holy place, Kudanthai was famed for its astrologers. Not far from Kudanthai, to the southwest, stood the Chola’s interim capital, Pazhaiyarai, resplendent with palace towers that seemed to touch the sky and majestic temple gopurams.

The astrologer of Kudanthai had in his possession the horoscopes of all the royal family members residing in the palaces of Pazhaiyarai. It was while leafing through these collected horoscopes that he discovered the horoscope of the Kodumbalur princess, Vanathi. After gazing intently at the horoscope for a while, the astrologer lifted his eyes to study Vanathi’s face. Then he looked back at the horoscope. Thus he kept alternating his gaze between the horoscope and Vanathi, but did not seem to find a way to open his mouth and speak.

“Well, astrologer! Are you going to say something or not?” asked Princess Kundavai.

“My lady! What am I to say? How am I to say it? Once before, by chance, I happened to look at this horoscope. I could not believe it myself; I doubted whether such a thing could even be possible, and so I put it aside. Now, when I compare this young woman’s face with the horoscope, I am left astounded!”

“Be astounded! Be astounded as much as you wish, and then, when you are done, say something definite!” Kundavai said.

“This is a most fortunate horoscope, my lady! I assure you, you will not think otherwise. In fact, it is even a step above your own horoscope. I have never seen a horoscope as lucky as this!”

Kundavai smiled; Vanathi, blushing with embarrassment, said, “Akka! He calls this wretched girl the luckiest in the world! This is how he always is, with his words!”

“My child! What did you say? If what I say is false, I will give up my profession altogether,” declared the astrologer. “No, astrologer! Please, do not do such things. Say something pleasant for the sake of the people gathered here. But you are only speaking in generalities—nothing specific! That is why she is suspicious!”

“Do you want me to be specific? Very well, I shall speak! Four months ago, an incident occurred that seemed like a bad omen. Something fell by accident; but in truth, it was not a bad omen at all. From that moment onward, all manner of fortune is destined to come to this young lady!”

“Vanathi! What did I tell you? Did you hear that?” said Kundavai Devi.

“It seems you have already instructed him beforehand!” said Vanathi.

“Did you hear that, astrologer? Listen to this girl’s words!”

“Let her speak, my lady! Let her say whatever she wishes now! Tomorrow, when the king weds the king…”

“Say it like that. If you speak of marriage to young women, won’t they listen with delight?…”

“That is exactly what I meant to say, my lady! One should not suddenly bring up talk of marriage, should one? If I do, people will say, ‘This old man has lost his wits!’”

“Where will her husband come from? When will he come? What are his marks? Can you tell all this from her horoscope, astrologer?”

“Ah! Why not? I can tell it all very well!” said the astrologer, and once again examined the horoscope.

Whether he truly examined it or only pretended to, we cannot say.

Then, raising his head, he said, “Young lady! This princess’s husband need not come from afar. He is quite near; yet, that hero of heroes is not now in this land. He has crossed the seas and gone away!”

At these words, Kundavai looked at Vanathi.

The joy that surged within Vanathi could not be contained, though she tried; it showed plainly on her face.

“After that? Who is he? What is his lineage? Is there any mark by which we might identify him?”

“There is, indeed, Amma! In the sacred hands of the fortunate man who will wed this maiden, the lines of the conch and discus will be clearly visible!”

Once again, Kundavai turned to look at Vanathi. Vanathi’s face had fallen, and she gazed down at the earth.

“If that is so, will there not be some distinguishing lines on her hands as well?” asked Princess Kundavai.

“Mother! Have you ever seen the soles of her feet?” inquired the astrologer.

“Why, astrologer! What words are these? Are you asking me to hold her feet in my hands?”

“No, no; I did not mean that. But in times to come, thousands upon thousands of royal women—queens, princesses, empresses—will perform penance, yearning for the fortune of touching the feet of this princess, Amma!”

“Sister! This old man is making fun of me. Is this why you summoned me here? Come, let us go!” said Vanathi, her anger rising in earnest.

“Why do you get so flustered, girl? Let him say what he will…”

“I am not saying anything of my own; I only repeat what is written in this horoscope. Poets may sing of ‘lotus feet’ as a form of praise, but in this maiden’s soles, you will surely find the lines of the red lotus petals. Ask her to show the inside of her feet; the marks will certainly be there.”

“That’s enough, astrologer! If you say anything more about her, she will drag me away by the hand and leave at once. Tell us a little about the husband she is destined to marry…”

“Ah! I shall tell you! The fortunate hero who will take her hand will be a warrior among warriors! He will stand at the forefront of a hundred battlefields and be crowned with victory garlands. He will be a king among kings; for countless years, he will sit upon the imperial throne, revered by thousands of rulers.”

“I do not believe what you say—how could such things come