Sometimes, great events arise from the smallest of incidents. Such a minor occurrence now befell Vandiyathevan. Was he not standing by the roadside, watching the retinue of the Periya Pazhuvettarayar pass by? His horse stood tethered a short distance from where he waited.

The eyes of a few men at the tail end of Pazhuvettarayar’s entourage fell upon that horse.

“Hey! Look at this mule!” exclaimed one of them.

“Don’t call it a mule, man! It’s a horse, I say!” retorted another.

“Let your scholarly debate continue; first, find out whether it’s a mule or a donkey!” quipped a third, a lover of jest.

“We can check that too!” said another, and with those words, one among them approached the horse. He tried to leap onto its back. But the clever beast instantly sensed that this was not its master. It stubbornly refused to allow this stranger to mount!

“This is a wicked horse, I tell you! It won’t let me get on its back! Only a true scion of royal blood may ride it, it seems. In that case, only the Mutharaiyar of Thanjavur, if he were to return, could mount it!” he said, his words laced with sarcasm, drawing laughter from the other soldiers.

For it had been a hundred years since the Mutharaiyar clan of Thanjavur was destroyed. Now, the tiger flag of the Cholas fluttered over Thanjavur.

“The horse may have its own opinions. But if you ask me, I’d say the living Tandavarayan is better than the long-dead Mutharaiyar of Thanjavur!” said another soldier.

“Tandavaraya! See if the horse refuses you as well! For all we know, it might be one of those false-legged horses brought for the Lord Perumal’s festival!” joked another, ever fond of mockery. “I’ll test that out as well,” said Thandavarayan, and as he prepared to mount his horse, he twisted its tail. The already irate horse immediately lashed out with its hind legs four times, then bolted away at a gallop.

“The horse is running! It’s a real horse, indeed!” shouted the warriors, raising a cheer of “Uy! Uy!” as they spurred the fleeing horse on even faster.

The horse plunged into the midst of the festival crowd. The people, in a flurry, scattered this way and that to avoid being trampled under its hooves. Even so, a few were struck and knocked down. The horse, losing its way, ran on in a frenzy.

All this happened before Vandiyathevan’s eyes in the blink of an eye. From the look on his face, Alwarkadiyan realized that it was Vandiyathevan’s horse.

“Did you see that, brother? The handiwork of those Paluvur henchmen! You came to show your valor to me, but it’s them you should have shown it to!” he said, pointing accusingly.

A surge of anger welled up in Vandiyathevan. Nevertheless, he clenched his teeth and maintained his composure. The Paluvur warriors were gathered in great numbers. There was no point in fighting so many at once. Nor were they waiting to pick a fight with him. Laughing at the horse’s wild run, they hurried on their way. Vandiyathevan set off in the direction the horse had gone. He knew it would run some distance and then stop on its own. So he was not worried about it.

But the thought that those arrogant followers of Pazhuvettaraiyar needed to be taught a lesson was firmly imprinted in his mind.

Beyond the tamarind grove, in a place where there was no crowd, the horse stood still, the very picture of dejection. As Vandiyathevan approached, the horse neighed plaintively, as if to say, “Why did you leave me and put me through this ordeal?” Its weariness was evident in its tone. Vandiyathevan patted its back to soothe it, then turned it around and led it back toward the road.

Many from the festival crowd, seeing him, called out, “Why did you bring this wild horse into the crowd, brother? Do you know how many people it kicked and knocked down?”

“What can this boy do? It’s the horse’s doing. Wasn’t it those rough Paluvettaraiyar men who caused all this?” a few others said in consolation.

Azhwarkkadiyan was still standing by the roadside, waiting. “What a nuisance this fellow is! It seems he won’t let me go!” thought Vandiyathevan, his face twisting in irritation.

“Brother! Which way are you headed?” asked Azhwarkkadiyan.

“Me? I’ll go a little west, then turn south, curve a bit east, and after that, head southwest!” replied Vandiyathevan.

“I didn’t ask all that. I asked where you’ll be staying tonight.”

“Why do you want to know that?”

“In case you’re staying at Kadambur Sambuvarayar’s palace, I have some business there…”

“Do you know magic or sorcery? How did you find out that I’m going to Kadambur palace?”

“What’s so miraculous about that? Today, guests are arriving there from many towns. The Pazhuvettarayar and his entourage are also going there.”

“Truly?” Vandiyathevan exclaimed in surprise.

“Truly! Don’t you know? The elephant, the horses, the palanquin, the parasol—all belong to Kadambur palace. They are going to escort Pazhuvettarayar. Wherever Pazhuvettarayar goes, all these honors must follow him.”

Vandiyathevan sank into silent thought. The chance to stay where Pazhuvettarayar was staying was not easily come by. Perhaps he might even get an opportunity to become acquainted with that great warrior. But the memory of his recent encounter with the rude retainers of Pazhuvettarayar still rankled within him.

“Brother! Will you do me a favor?” asked Azhwarkkadiyan in a pleading voice.

“What help could I possibly give you? I’m a stranger to this region.”

“I’ll only ask what you are able to do. Tonight, take me with you to Kadambur palace!”

“For what reason? Is some valiant Saivite coming there? Are you going to debate whether Shiva is the greater god or Vishnu, and settle the matter?”

“No, no, don’t think that picking quarrels is my only business. Tonight, a grand feast is to be held at Kadambur Palace. After the feast, there will