The next morning, before the sun had risen, Arulmozhi Varman, Azhwarkkadiyan, and Vandiyathevan—all three—set out for Anuradhapura. After traveling a short distance along a forest path, they reached the royal highway. Vandiyathevan was surprised that the prince had not brought any other warriors as bodyguards with him. Yet, never before had he felt such enthusiasm as he did on that day’s journey. Traveling that royal road, flanked on both sides by dense trees in the early morning, was a blissful experience. A sense of pride welled up within him at having completed the task entrusted to him by the princess of Pazhayarai. Was that all? No—an even deeper desire, which had been simmering in his heart for many years, had now been fulfilled. He had seen the cherished son of the Chola land. The very prince whose valor and virtues were sung and praised by people throughout the towns and villages—he had met that royal scion. And what a wondrous meeting that had been! It was true, as he had heard, that Arulmozhi Varman was a remarkable man! Had he not, all of a sudden, turned his horse and charged at him, throwing him into utter confusion? Perhaps this was the secret behind his unbroken string of victories wherever he led the army! Was his method of warfare to strike the enemy at unexpected times and in unexpected places?

But was this the only secret to his constant success? How graciously he mingled with the soldiers! How he had won their hearts with his affection! Was it only the warriors? Even the people of the conquered lands—how had he captivated them? Could one say that this was a land where a great war had recently raged? The people walked the roads in such happiness! In the villages on either side, how fearlessly and carefreely the people went about their business! There was not the slightest sign of fear or sorrow on their faces. The sound of women and children laughing and chattering merrily often reached his ears! What a marvel this was! What a wondrous man he was!

The prince’s insistence that the army should not seize food supplies from the conquered people, but that provisions must be brought from Chola land, and the anger this caused among the Pazhuvettaraiyars, and their subsequent complaints to Sundara Cholar—all these matters came to Vandiyathevan’s mind. Memories came flooding back. He compared, within his own mind, the ruthless methods of warfare employed by Aditya Karikalan and the righteous, compassionate ways of Arulmozhi Varman. Until a few days ago, Vandiyathevan could not bear to think of his former master, Aditya Karikalan, in any lesser light. Yet, whenever he saw the beaming faces of the villagers living on both sides of the royal road of Anuradhapura, he could not help but make such comparisons. Alas! In the lands where Aditya Karikalan had waged war and returned, could such scenes ever be witnessed? Was it not only the wails of sorrow that echoed everywhere in those regions?

Vandiyathevan’s heart throbbed with eagerness to converse with this prince of such rare and noble qualities, to ask him about countless matters and discuss so many things. But where was the opportunity to speak, as they rode swiftly on horseback? Yes, there had been only one chance to speak.

As they drew near to Anuradhapura, Vandiyathevan noticed a large statue of Lord Buddha standing by the roadside. Since such statues were found in many places throughout Lanka, Vandiyathevan did not pay it much attention. But when Ponniyin Selvan suddenly reined in his horse sharply and stopped near the statue, Vandiyathevan too was compelled to halt. The Azhwarkadiyan, who had been riding ahead, also stopped his horse and turned toward them. Ponniyin Selvan gazed intently for a while at the majestic statue of Lord Buddha.

“What a marvel of art!” he exclaimed.

“I see nothing wondrous in it. Wherever you look in this land, they have placed such grand statues of Buddha. I do not know for what purpose,” said Vandiyathevan.

The prince smiled at Vandiyathevan. “You speak your mind; that pleases me,” he said.

“Prince! Only today has the Vallavaraiyar adopted the practice of speaking the truth!” said Thirumalai.

“Vaishnavite! It is all the fault of bad company. Ever since I saw you at Veeranarayana Puram, my tongue has been dancing with imagination. But since meeting the prince, I have acquired the habit of speaking the truth!” said Vandiyathevan.

The prince paid no heed to their conversation. He was lost in contemplation of the statue.

“There are only two forms in which the marvels of sculpture are fully manifest in this world. One is Nataraja; the other is Buddha,” he said.

“But in our land, we do not create Nataraja idols in such grand, colossal forms, do we?”

“In ancient times, some of the kings of Lanka were truly great souls. The kingdoms they ruled were small, but their hearts were vast; their devotion immense. They expressed their devotion to Lord Buddha by creating such magnificent images. During the age of Buddhism, their faith was displayed through the construction of immense stupas. When I see the Buddha statues, viharas, and stupas in this land, and then think of the small, humble Shiva temples in our Chola country, I feel ashamed!” said Ponniyin Selvan.

Having spoken thus, the prince dismounted from his horse and approached the statue of Buddha. He gazed intently for a while at the lotus feet of the statue, and at the lotus buds that adorned those feet. Then, touching the feet of the Buddha, he bowed in reverence, and returned to mount his horse as before.

The horses proceeded at a slower pace. Vandiyathevan’s words to Thirumalai—“What’s this? It seems the prince is about to convert to Buddhism!”—reached the prince’s ears.

Ponniyin Selvan turned to both of them and said, “My devotion to Lord Buddha is purposeful. The lotus feet of that Buddha statue have conveyed to me an important message!”

“Ah! But nothing has reached