The crimson rays of the rising sun struck Vandiyathevan’s face with a sharp sting and woke him from his slumber. Even after his sleep had cleared, he did not feel like getting up; he opened his eyes and looked around. At a short distance, two ascetics of fearsome appearance were approaching. From their matted hair twisted atop their heads, the trident in one hand, and the fire-pot in the other, Vandiyathevan realized that these two were Kalamuka Veera Saivars.

He thought to himself, “Alwarkadiyan is not here to engage in a debate with these fellows.” He decided that until these Kalamuka ascetics passed by, he would keep his eyes closed and pretend to be asleep.

When he sensed that they had come and were standing beside him, he did not open his eyes. Even when one of them came close and thundered, he did not look.

“Shivoham! The boy is a true Kumbhakarna,” said one.

“Shivoham! If only we had a youth like him, how useful it would be!” said the other ascetic.

“Shivoham! You say that, but look at his face—there is no radiance. He is of no use to us. Very soon, a great danger is going to befall him!” declared the first Veera Saivar.

Pretending to sleep further became a struggle for Vandiyathevan; he felt as if he could not even breathe. Yet, if he were to open his eyes now, his act would be exposed. Moreover, he would miss hearing anything else they might say. Perhaps they would even reveal what great danger was about to come upon him…

But his hope was not fulfilled.

“Shivoham! Each one’s fate is his own! Come, let us go,” said one Veera Saivar, and both of them moved away from there.

Giving them time to walk some distance, Vandiyathevan rose. The words, “Very soon, a great danger is going to befall him!” echoed in his ears. The Kalamukas were descended from the ancient Kapalikas. Unlike the Kapalikas, they did not perform human sacrifices. In all other respects, however, they followed the customs and practices of the Kapalikas. Many believed that by sitting in cremation grounds and performing terrifying austerities, they had acquired the power to foresee future events. The common people thought they possessed the ability to pronounce curses as well. Therefore, many were always ready to render the Kalamuka Saivites whatever services they desired, so as not to incur their wrath. Several minor chieftains had even endowed lands to provide regular offerings of food to the Kalamukas in the temples. Until then, only the kings of the Chola dynasty had refrained from showing any support to the Kalamukas.

Vandiyathevan, who was aware of all these details, consoled himself, “Let them rave as they please; what new danger could possibly befall me that has not already come my way?” Yet, the desire to know the future did not entirely leave his mind.

When Vandiyathevan stood up and looked around, he saw those Kalamukas walking towards an old mandapam a little distance away. Near the mandapam was an artificial hillock, in which there was a cave, its mouth gaping open in the likeness of a lion’s face. In ancient times, such caves had been constructed by the Digambara Jain monks, but now the Kalamukas had taken possession of them.

Vandiyathevan felt a strong urge to go and converse with them for a while. Leaving his horse where it was tied, he walked towards the artificial hill. As he neared the mandapam, he could faintly hear the Kalamukas speaking on the other side of the cave.

“That boy did not pretend to sleep. He must have truly been asleep,” said one.

“How can you be so sure?” asked another.

“In all my life, I have never seen a man who, after hearing the words ‘danger is approaching,’ did not wish to know more about it.”

“The boy seems to be a brave soul. It would be good to have him join us. What do you say?”

“What need have we for such youths? In a few days, the very one who is about to ascend the throne of the Chola country will join the Kalamukas himself…”

“Whom do you mean?”

“Who else do you mean? I am speaking of Madurantaka Devan! Do you not know even this?”

“How can that be? What about the other two?”

“One is said to have drowned and died in the sea. The other’s time is drawing to a close…”

Vandiyathevan had no desire to listen any further to the conversation of those Kalamukha ascetics. Nor did he wish to engage in any talk with them.

He longed to reach Pazhaiyarai swiftly, deliver his message to the princess, and then depart for Kanchipuram. Above all, was he not most indebted to Aditya Karikalan? It was true that countless dangers surrounded him. Even Parthibendran had fallen into the enchantment of the Pazhuvoor queen. Aditya Karikalan, who was ever quick to leap into action, could at any moment fall prey to some unforeseen peril. To go to him and stand guard by his side was Vandiyathevan’s foremost duty. To waste time along the way would be a grave crime. He must leave this very instant.

Without a sound, Vandiyathevan turned and mounted his horse. He spurred the animal forward at speed. As he passed by the cave of the Kalamukhas, he saw them staring at him intently. One face seemed strangely familiar, as though he had seen it before. But he had no desire to stop and look; he pressed on.

On the way, he passed through several villages crowded with people. It was clear that the news of the prince’s drowning in the sea had not yet spread there. The villagers were calmly absorbed in their daily tasks. That was well and good. He must reach Pazhaiyarai before the news of the prince did. He must reveal the truth to the young princess. If some other rumor reached Kundavai Devi’s ears, who could say what calamity might