In the light of the lamp held in the Bikshu’s hand, he looked all around. It seemed he had noticed the prince and his companions standing there. In the next moment, the glow of the lamp faded away. After a short while, the Bikshu was seen walking along the steps of the pond, approaching them. He came to where the prince stood and, in the moonlight, gazed intently at his face.

“Devapriya! Welcome! Welcome! The Vaidulya Bikshu Sangha awaits you. The Maha Thero Guru has also arrived. My heart is filled with joy and gratitude that you have come at the appointed hour, without fail!” he said.

“Swami! I know well that many faults reside in this humble youth. Yet, I have always adhered to a noble vow: never to break my word. I have never failed in that vow!” replied Ponniyin Selvan.

“When I learned that you had not arrived by sunset today, I was a little anxious,” said the Bikshu.

“Had I come earlier, perhaps I might not have been able to fulfill my promise. That is why I have arrived at the right moment,” said the prince.

“Yes, yes! Many clouds gather around to hide the radiant sun that shines like a jewel in the sky; we too are aware of this. But all those clouds will be scattered and driven away by the great wind of the Buddha’s compassion. Let it be! Now, who are these standing here? Are they well known to you? Are they worthy of your complete trust? Are they ones who will never fail to keep a promise?” asked the Bikshu.

“Swami! I trust these friends just as I trust both my hands. However, if you wish otherwise, I am ready to leave them here and come with you alone,” said the prince.

“No, no! I am not willing to take on such a great responsibility. The place to which I am taking you is very secure. Still, the journey is long. Who can say what danger may lurk behind any pillar along the way? These two must certainly come with us!” said the Bikshu. Hearing all this, Vandiyathevan’s heart was in turmoil. He felt a surge of pride at the thought that the prince, who barely knew him, had shown such complete trust and brought him along for such an intimate, secret matter. The thought, “Tonight, something important is about to happen—what could it be?” filled him with a thrilling excitement.

The Bikshu went ahead to lead the way, and the others followed behind. They descended the steps of the tank and entered a chamber carved into the stone wall at the rear. In the darkness, the Bikshu did something at one side of the room. Immediately, a passage opened up. Light could be seen within. The Bikshu took a lamp that was kept there and held it in his hand. Once the other three had entered, the passage closed behind them. From outside, the sound of the waterfall pouring from the lion’s mouth into the tank could be heard, but only faintly. Otherwise, it would have been hard to believe that just a moment ago they had been standing by the edge of the tank.

They proceeded along a narrow, subterranean passage. The path twisted and turned, seeming to go on endlessly. The sound of their footsteps and its echo created a sense of dread. At times, Vandiyathevan was seized by the suspicion that the prince had been deceived and trapped in some conspiracy.

The passage gradually widened, and finally, a mandapam appeared. What sort of mandapam was this? In the dim light of the lamp held by the Bikshu, only a small part of it was visible. Yet it was clear that the pillars were made of crystal stone. All around, statues of the Buddha could be seen. Standing Buddhas, reclining Buddhas, Buddhas seated in meditation, Buddhas bestowing blessings, Buddhas in prayer—many such images appeared before them.

They passed beyond the crystal-pillared hall. Again, a narrow passage, then another mandapam—this one with pillars sheathed in copper plates, gleaming with a blood-red radiance. The roof too was covered with copper plates, adorned with intricate engravings. Statues of the Buddha of various kinds stood all around.

In the same way, they crossed a mandapam with rare yellow wooden pillars, and another with pillars fashioned from elephant tusks. Even as they walked swiftly, Vandiyathevan could not resist touching the pillars here and there as he passed. The prince, however, strode forward with an unwavering gaze, paying no heed to these wonders, which filled Vandiyathevan with boundless amazement.

Passing through all the ornate halls, at last they reached a simple mandapam of black stone. Yet, within that vast hall, an extraordinary sight awaited them. In the previous mandapams, apart from the statues of Lord Buddha, not a single human soul had been present. But in this black-stone mandapam, many Buddhist bhikshus had gathered. Their faces radiated with a divine brilliance. At the center of them all, the Maha Thero Guru sat enthroned upon a dais, the very image of dignity.

Opposite him stood a golden throne, crafted with nine precious gems, gleaming magnificently. Beside it, upon another pedestal, rested a jeweled crown, a broken sword, and a royal scepter. Lamps burned all around the hall, and in their flickering light, the golden throne, the crown, and the sword shone resplendently.

As the prince and his companions entered the hall, all the bhikshus rose to their feet and cried out, “Long live the Buddha! Long live Dharma! Long live the Sangha!” The prince approached the Maha Thero Guru and bowed before him in reverence.

The chief among the bhikshus pointed to a simple seat near the throne and requested the prince to be seated there.

“Maha Guru! You, who are elders to me both in age and in dharma, must be seated before this humble youth,” the prince replied respectfully.

Once the venerable Maha Guru had taken his seat upon the dais, the prince