It seemed to Vandiyathevan as if the horses were traveling endlessly along a never-ending path. Has this Vaishnavite truly deceived me? Is he about to hand me over to the enemy? On either side, the forests grew thick and impenetrable. Within their depths, a terrifying, impenetrable darkness reigned. Who could say what dangers lurked in that shadowy jungle, and in what forms? Leopards, bears, elephants, venomous creatures—along with them, perhaps enemies too might be lying in wait; who could know? They had said that Thambalai was the southernmost outpost still held by the Chola army. Where was this man taking him?

Fortunately, there was a little moonlight. The silvery rays of the moon played upon the tops of the towering trees, crawling and dancing there. The shifting light sometimes fell across the path as well. Ahead, three horses could be seen at times only as shadowy forms. But the steady clatter of hooves never ceased to reach his ears.

Suddenly, other sounds emerged—unexpected noises in the heart of the forest. The tumult of many human voices, the sounds of singing and dancing in merriment. Ah! There, between the trees, a light could be seen. Along with the glow of torches, the bright flames of great ovens like yawning mouths were visible. Aha! Who were these warriors making merry around campfires in the midst of this forest? Were they Chola soldiers? Or did they belong to the enemy camp?

Vandiyathevan had only a brief moment to ponder this. In that short span, he did not notice that the horses ahead had suddenly come to a halt, nor that one horse had wheeled around sharply. That horse now approached Vandiyathevan’s own. Its rider leaned swiftly toward him and struck a sudden blow. Stunned by the force of the attack, Vandiyathevan lost his balance. The man seized one of Vandiyathevan’s knees and, with a powerful heave, flung him to the ground. Vandiyathevan crashed heavily onto the earth, while his horse, startled, galloped a short distance ahead before coming to a stop.

Meanwhile, the warrior who had thrown him down leapt from his horse and came to stand by Vandiyathevan’s side. As Vandiyathevan, dazed and reeling, tried to rise, the man snatched the dagger from his waist and hurled it far away. At once, a new vigor surged within Vandiyathevan—along with a boiling fury. With a bound, he sprang to his feet, clenched both fists tightly, and, with a blow as hard as a thunderbolt, he... He thrust at the man before him. Would the one who received the blow remain silent? He too displayed his own skill. Between the two, a fierce, tumultuous duel broke out. It was as if Ghatotkacha and Idumban were locked in combat. They rolled upon the ground like the hunter-garbed Lord Shiva wrestling with Arjuna. Like two elephants of the quarters, shifting their ground and charging at each other, they clashed with tremendous force.

Azhwarkadiyan, who had come with Vandiyathevan, and the warriors who had arrived before them, stepped aside and watched in astonishment. In the moonlight, which was often disturbed by the swaying branches, they gazed unblinkingly at this wondrous fight. Soon, the sound of approaching footsteps was heard. Several soldiers, holding burning torches in their hands, parted the branches and arrived at the spot. Those who thus arrived also stood transfixed, watching the extraordinary duel. In a short while, a large crowd had gathered all around.

At last, Vandiyathevan was thrown down. The warrior who had felled him sat astride his chest and untied the cloth roll fastened at his waist. He seized the palm-leaf letter hidden within. Though Vandiyathevan tried with all his might to prevent it, his efforts were in vain.

As soon as the palm-leaf came into the warrior’s hands, he leapt up and ran towards the torchlight held by those standing around. At his signal, two more soldiers rushed forward and held Vandiyathevan down, preventing him from rising.

With unspeakable anger and frustration, Vandiyathevan cried out, “You wretched Vaishnavite! How could you betray a friend like this? Snatch that letter from him!”

“Ayyo! That is beyond my power now!” replied Azhwarkadiyan.

“Shame! I have never seen a coward like you! I trusted you as my companion and guide!” said Vandiyathevan.

Azhwarkadiyan carefully dismounted from his horse, came near Vandiyathevan, and whispered in his ear, “You fool! The letter has gone to the very person for whom you brought it! Why do you wail in vain?”

The other warriors, in the torchlight, had already seen the face of the man reading the palm-leaf letter. At once, a great cheer of joy and excitement arose among them.

“Long live the Son of Ponni! Long live!”

“Long live the destroyer of foreign kings!”

“Long live our young lord!”

“Long live the scion of the Chola clan!”

Such cries arose and echoed throughout that forested region. As if in response to their shouts, the birds that had been sleeping on the branches awoke, fluttered their wings with a rustling sound, and filled the air with their varied calls.

Apart from those who had arrived earlier, many more warriors came running, pushing aside trees, shrubs, and creepers, eager to know what the commotion was about. Seeing the crowd swell, the warrior turned and looked around once, then said, “All of you, return to the camp. Make preparations for the feast. I will come shortly.” At his command, they all hurried away from that place as if they were one man.

Vandiyathevan, who had received a sound beating, sat on the ground watching all this unfold. He was immersed in a wondrous sea of amazement, so much so that he forgot the pain of his injuries.

‘Aha! So this is Prince Arulmozhi! What strength in his hands! What speed! They say, “If you must be struck, let it be by a hand adorned with a ring.” If one must be beaten, let it be by his hand indeed! He has the beauty and majesty of Arjuna! The strength