The moment the nurse came running in with the news that the spy had been captured, bound, and was being brought through the streets, the hearts of all three present were seized with agitation. Kundavai’s heart fluttered the most.

“Devi! Shall we go and see what that mischievous spy looks like?” asked Nandini.

With hesitation, Kundavai replied, “What is it to us, about him?”

“In that case, very well!” Nandini said carelessly.

“I’ll go and take a look,” Kandanmaran said, stumbling as he tried to rise.

“No need; you can’t walk yet, you’ll fall!” Nandini said.

As if she had changed her mind, Kundavai said, “Since he is your dear friend, shouldn’t we too see what he looks like? Won’t we be able to see from the upper terrace of the palace?”

“We’ll see very well; come with me!” said Nandini, rising and walking ahead.

“Devi! If he is indeed my friend, I must speak to my uncle and arrange to meet him!” said Kandanmaran.

“How are we to know if he is truly your friend?” Nandini asked.

“In that case, I will come along too, no matter what!” Kandanmaran declared, stumbling after them.

The three of them went to the front façade of the palace’s upper terrace. At a short distance, seven or eight horses were approaching. On them rode warriors armed with spears. In their midst, a man walked, his hands tied behind his back with rope. The two ends of the rope were held by horsemen on either side. A little behind the soldiers, a crowd had gathered to watch the spectacle.

From the palace terrace, those watching could not at first see the face of the man walking between the horses.

Until the procession drew near, silence reigned on that upper terrace of the palace. Kundavai’s heart was a tumult of longing and anxiety, her tear-brimming eyes fixed upon the approaching procession.

Nandini, meanwhile, kept glancing down the street, then immediately turning to watch Kundavai’s face.

Kandanmaran broke the silence that had settled over them.

“No; that is not Vandiyathevan!” he declared.

Kundavai’s face blossomed with relief.

At that moment, the strange procession had reached the base of the palace balcony.

The man being led, bound with ropes and surrounded by horsemen, looked up in bewilderment. Kundavai recognized him as the physician’s son.

Suppressing her joy, Kundavai said, “What madness is this? Why are they dragging him here? Is he not the son of the Pazhaiyarai physician?”

The man who had looked up seemed about to speak, his mouth opening as if to say something. But before he could utter a word, the rope binding him was tugged forward, pulling him along.

“Oh! Is that so? My brother-in-law’s men are always like this. They let the real culprit go and bring in someone else to trouble us!” said Nandini.

Meanwhile, Kandanmaran said, “Would Vandiyathevan be caught so easily by these people? My friend is a great Indrajit! The man who fooled even me—would he fall into their hands?”

“Still you call him your friend!” Nandini remarked.

“He may have turned traitor, but my affection for him has not changed,” replied Kandanmaran.

“Perhaps these men have already killed your handsome friend. I heard that two spies were pursued by these soldiers all the way to Kodikkarai,” Nandini said, and then turned her gaze upon Kundavai’s face.

The word “might have killed” made Kundavai’s heart flutter, and Nandini noticed it. Ah, arrogant woman! Now I have found a fine weapon to take revenge on you! If I do not use it at the right moment, I am not the Young Queen of Pazhuvoor! Wait! Just wait!

Kundavai transformed her inner turmoil into anger and said, “Spies! Mere foolishness! As time passes, these old men seem to lose their wits! They suspect everyone they see! Was it not I who sent this physician’s son to Kodikkarai to fetch herbs? Why have they arrested him? I shall go at once and ask your husband myself!”

“Oh! So he is the one you sent? Devi, you spoke of suspicion—now I too have a doubt. Did you send him alone to fetch the herbs? Or did you send another along with him?” asked Nandini.

“I sent another with him. Of the two, I told one to go to the island of Lanka.”

“Aha! Now I understand everything! It has happened just as I suspected!”

“I understand nothing. What did you suspect? What has happened?”

“There is no more doubt now; it is certain, Devi! The man you sent with him—was he someone you already knew? Or a new person?”

Kundavai hesitated a little. “A new person? An old one? He was the one who brought a letter from Kanchipuram; he came from my brother.”

“That’s him! That’s the one!”

“Who is the one?”

“He is the spy! Here too, he claimed to have brought a letter from the Emperor…”

“For what reason did they suspect him to be a spy?”

“How would I know about that? That’s men’s business! But it seems that spy behaved suspiciously enough. Otherwise, why should he escape secretly in the middle of the night? Why should he stab this good man in the back before running away?”

“I do not believe that he was the one who stabbed this man in the back. If he had stabbed him, why would he have carried him back and left him at that mute woman’s house?”

“You speak as if you had witnessed it yourself, Devi! It seems you have a strange compassion for that spy. He must possess some magical power. Even he here still calls him his friend, does he not? But what does it matter? A lost life cannot be brought back. If these warriors had killed him…”

Sweat beaded on Kundavai’s brow. Her eyes reddened. Her throat tightened, and her heart pounded violently within her chest. “That could never have happened! It will never happen, not for a single day,” she told herself inwardly.

“If, as