Vandiyathevan strode swiftly toward the spot where the prince and ‘Nandini’ stood.

But before he could reach them, a doubt crept into his mind. Is this truly Nandini? She wears none of the garments or ornaments befitting the Lady of Pazhuvoor! She is clad in the simplest attire, almost like a mendicant woman. The face resembles Nandini’s, yet there is some difference. What is it?

As Vandiyathevan approached the place where they had stood, the woman moved away and vanished into the shadows cast by the houses along the street. In a flurry, Vandiyathevan tried to follow her, but the prince caught his hand and stopped him.

“Sir! Who is that lady? She seemed familiar!” he exclaimed.

At that moment, Azhwarkadiyan arrived and said, “That lady must be the guardian goddess of the Chola land. Look there! Had we not moved from that spot in time, we would now be at the feet of Lord Buddha himself!”

They looked where Thirumalai pointed. The upper part of a building had collapsed, forming a mound like a small hill. Even a young elephant would have been crushed and unable to escape from beneath that heap. What chance would three mere men have had?

“It was at the right moment that our clan’s goddess appeared and beckoned us away,” said Ponniyin Selvan.

“Prince! Who was that lady?” Vandiyathevan asked in astonishment.

“Who did you think she was? Why did you try so hard to follow her?” the prince asked in return.

“This Vaishnavite said she was the guardian goddess of the Cholas; but to me, she seemed like the goddess who has brought ruin upon the Chola clan.”

“If that is so… whom do you think she is?”

“Perhaps it is only my delusion, but I thought she was Nandini Devi, the young wife of Pazhuvettaraiyar. Did she not seem so to either of you?” asked Vandiyathevan. “I did not see clearly. Still, it must have been a trick of your imagination. How could the Lady of Pazhuvoor have come here?” said Azhwarkadiyan.

“What he says is not entirely a figment of imagination. There is some illusion of the eyes mixed in as well. Even I have, at times, felt there was an astonishing resemblance in that face… Come! Let us walk and talk!” said the prince.

Instead of walking in the shadows cast by the houses along the street, the three of them now began to walk in the middle of the road, bathed in moonlight.

After a short distance, Azhwarkadiyan asked, “Prince! What did that lady say when she beckoned you with her hand?”

“She said that two enemies have come searching for me. She warned that they are waiting for the right moment to kill me.”

“Alas! Could it be that she was speaking about us?” Vandiyathevan asked, startled.

Ponniyin Selvan laughed and replied, “No, she did not specifically say it was you. Even if it were, there is no need to worry. That goddess has declared my life to be a charmed one! Many times before, she has saved me!”

“Sir! I know who those two enemies are. They are the ones who came searching for you along with Parthibendra Pallavan. I saw two figures in the ruined palace. It must be them!” said Thirumalai.

“Sir! Vaishnavite! Why did you not say this earlier? You go on ahead. I will go and investigate that ruined house and return!” said Vandiyathevan, turning to leave.

The prince caught his hand and stopped him again. “There is no need to hurry. It would not be possible to find them in that deserted house. We can look into it later. Until I give further orders, you must stay with me, do you understand? Who knows what dangers may be lurking in the corners and shadows of this ruined city? O brave lion among warriors! Was it not because I trust you that I have not called anyone else for my protection? If you leave me alone in the middle of the street like this, what am I to do?” he said.

Those words intoxicated Vandiyathevan. His voice quivered as he said, “Sir! From this moment, I shall not leave your side, not even for a single instant!”

Azhwarkkadiyan replied, “Nor shall I leave you. You are the shield for the prince; I am the shield for you.”

After a short while, the three of them reached the inner quarters of the ruined palace of Mahasen Chakravarthi. In a spacious chamber, beds had been spread out for all three on ancient cots from days gone by. They lay down to rest. Through the slatted windows in one wall, the moonlight crept in, peering curiously into the room.

“Many hundreds of years ago, in this very palace, in this very spot, the emperors and princes of Lanka, along with their royal consorts, must have lain down to sleep. Even then, the rays of the moon would have reached in through these same slats, peeking inside. Now, these moonbeams must feel disappointed to find only ordinary men like us lying here, mustn’t they, Vandiyathevan?” said Arulmozhi Varman.

“Sir! Say whatever you wish about yourself and this Vaishnavite here. But please, do not call me an ordinary man!” protested Vallavaraiyan.

“Ah, I forgot; forgive me. Are you not a young prince born of the ancient line of the Vallathar rulers?”

“Yes, sir, yes! If you heard a poem composed about one of my ancestors, this valiant Vaishnavite would die writhing in envy!”

“Let him die, then! Thirumalai is a true lover of Tamil. Like Nandivarman of the Pallava clan, he would not hesitate to give his life for the sake of Tamil poetry. So, recite the poem; let us hear it.”

With some hesitation, Vallavaraiyan recited the following verse:

“My helmet is my palanquin

“My armor, my banner, My elephant, my horse— They are mine, they are mine, They cry—O poet! O king of kings, O Vaanan, Who bestows gifts in order, You have given the poets