Vandiyathevan had spent all his life thus far in the arid lands north of the Palar river. He did not know how to swim in the river’s floodwaters. Once, when he was serving as a border guard on the northern bank of the Pennai, he descended into the river to bathe. He was caught in a great whirlpool. That treacherous, perilous vortex spun him round and round, tormenting him. At the same time, it pulled him downward. Soon, all of Vandiyathevan’s strength was drained by the swirling waters. “Now there is no escape; I must drown and die in this whirlpool!” he thought in despair. At that very moment, by some divine intervention, he was cast out of the river’s grasp. The floodwaters carried him to the shore and saved him!

That night, when Vandiyathevan lay down to sleep again, he felt the same sensation as when he had struggled in the river’s whirlpool. It seemed to him that he had fallen, against his will, into the swirling eddies of a great royal conspiracy. Would he be able to escape from this whirlpool of intrigue as he had from the river’s vortex? Would the gods save him once more?

The things he had learned that night from the midnight gathering in the Kadambur palace had left him utterly bewildered. Only a few years had passed since the external troubles that plagued the vast Chola Empire had been quelled. The young prince Aditya Karikalan was a mighty hero, an expert in the arts of war; in statecraft, a Chanakya. By using his intelligence and the full might of the Chola armies, he had utterly destroyed the power of the twin-kingdom Krishna ruler in the Thondai region. The external threat was, for the most part, eliminated. In this situation, internal strife and conspiracy had begun to rear their heads. What would be the outcome of this internal danger, more perilous than any external foe?

Were not the renowned warriors, ministers, leaders, and officers of the Chola land themselves involved in this dreadful undertaking? What kind of men were the Pazhuvettaraiyars and his brother? What was their power? Their influence? And the others who had gathered here today—how much fame, prestige, and valor did they possess? Was this the first such gathering? How many more times would the Pazhuvettaraiyar, carrying Madurantaka in a closed palanquin, orchestrate such schemes? Where could he have taken them? Ah! How advantageous it has been for him, in this treacherous endeavor, to have married a young woman in his old age!

Until now, Vandiyathevan had never harbored the slightest doubt in his mind that Prince Aditya Karikalan was the rightful heir to the Chola throne. Not even in his dreams had he imagined that a rival might arise. He had heard of Madurantakan, the son of Kandaradithar. He knew that, like his father, the son too was a wealthy devotee of Shiva. But he had never heard that Madurantakan had any claim to the kingdom, nor that he might compete for it. Such a thought had never occurred to him until now.

But what of justice and fairness? Who, in truth, is the rightful heir to the throne? Is it Aditya Karikalan? Or Madurantakan? The more he pondered, the more it seemed that there was justice on both sides. If a real contest were to arise, who among them would prevail? What would his own duty be? Ah! What castles in the air he had built in his mind since setting out from Kanchi on this journey! Had he not longed to act in a manner befitting the Crown Prince Aditya Karikalan and thereby attain great positions in the Chola Empire? Had he not even dreamed, in time, of regaining the ancient kingdom of his own Vanar clan? And now, the very staff he had grasped to achieve all this seemed as if it might snap in his hands…

With such thoughts swirling in his mind, Vandiyathevan, after lying down for the second time, tossed and turned for a long while, unable to sleep. At last, in the fourth watch of the night, as the east began to lighten, sleep finally claimed him.

Even when the sharp red rays of the rising sun fell upon him the next morning, Vandiyathevan had not yet awakened. Only when Kandhamaran came and shook him awake did he rouse himself, startled and disheveled.

“Did you sleep well last night?” Kandhamaran asked, in the manner of a host attending to his guest. Then, on his own, he added, “After all the other guests had gone to sleep, I came here and found you performing Kumbhakarna’s service most diligently!”

Suppressing the tumult of thoughts that surged within him, Vandiyathevan replied, “I remember lying down here after watching the Kuravai dance, and only now have I woken up. Ah! How late it has become! It seems the sun has been up for a whole watch already! I must leave at once. Kandhamara! Order your servants to ready my horse immediately!”

“It is beautiful! But are you already preparing to leave? What is the hurry? You must stay here at least ten days before you go,” said Kandhamaaran.

“No, my friend! In Thanjavur, my uncle is unwell. News has come that his survival itself is doubtful. Therefore, I must go and see him at once, I must leave immediately,” Vallavaraiyan replied in a single breath.

“If that is so, then at least on your return you must stay here for a few days without fail.”

“That can be decided then. For now, give me leave to depart!”

“Don’t be in such a rush! Have your morning meal and then set out. I will come with you up to the banks of the Kollidam river.”

“How can that be? So many important guests have come to your house—how can you leave them and—”

“There is no guest more important to me than you!” Kandhamaaran began, but then abruptly stopped himself. “The guests who have come are indeed