Once again, Vanathi slipped into unconsciousness. Her eyes closed. Little by little, her awareness began to return. She realized that her marriage to the prince, in the realm of the Nagas or the Devas, had been nothing but a dream. She recalled the sorrowful news she had heard about the prince, how she had run to the riverbank in her grief, how her head had spun and she had fallen into the water. These memories brought her immeasurable disappointment; a sharp pain stabbed her heart like a spear. She tried to open her eyes, but could not.

Who could have lifted her from the water and brought her to the shore? It must have been the young princess. The woman approaching in the boat a short distance away must be Kundavai Devi. Why should she have saved her? Would it not have been better to let her drown and disappear forever? As soon as she could open her eyes and speak, she must quarrel with the young princess: “Why did you save me?” Was this all the affection she had for her beloved younger brother?

There—the young princess is speaking. What is she saying? To whom is she speaking? Let her listen.

“She is raving in her delirium! It is a great thing that she survived at all! What if our boat had been a little farther away? What if we had not seen her fall into the stream? Just the thought of it makes my heart tremble!”

“If we had not seen her, in one way it would have been for the best. The princess of Kodumbalur, whose life you have saved, would have been spared much sorrow in her life…”

‘Ah! Who is this speaking with such compassion for me? Yes, it is that young man—the brave youth I saw at the Kudanthai astrologer’s house and at the royal ferry! He must have brought the news of the prince’s drowning in the sea. What else are they going to talk about? Even if I cannot open my eyes, I can still hear well enough!’

“How can you speak so heartlessly? Are the hearts of men always made of stone?” said the young princess’s voice.

“What did I say now that makes you judge me as stone-hearted?” “If only this girl had died, you said—that wasn’t enough for you? Do you know how much hardship I have endured to raise her?”

“Did you hear the words she was raving?”

“What fell upon your ears?”

“Something about marrying the prince, I thought I heard…”

“Yes, even in her delirium, her lips kept murmuring so. Her desire for the prince has taken deep root in her heart.”

“That desire is not good for this girl! Only suffering and disappointment will come of it.”

“Why do you say that? Who else is more suited to the prince than this girl? Are you not aware of the ancient, valiant lineage of Kodumbalur from which she descends?”

“I know it well. But what I think is one thing; what you say is another. What does it matter how noble her birth is? The longing in her heart will never be fulfilled…”

“It will certainly be fulfilled. That longing is not hers alone—it is my heart’s desire; it is the decision I have made.”

“Even if it is your decision, it will not come to pass in this matter.”

“Why do you say that again? Did you not just say that the prince is safe at the Chudamani Vihara in Nagapattinam?”

‘Ah! What joyous news is this? The prince is safe? He is at the Chudamani Vihara in Nagapattinam? Were these ears given to me just to hear this news? How fortunate it is that I did not drown myself in the stream and die! I already owed the young princess a debt of gratitude in so many ways—now, this too is added.’

‘But alas! What is this news she now speaks? It is like pouring hot oil into my ears!’

“Lady! It is true that the prince is safe. But what certainty is there that this girl’s desire will be fulfilled because of it? I do not believe the prince will marry this girl…”

“You may think whatever you wish. In this world, is there a man who can cross the fortress I have built, or go against my word and still succeed? That man is my brother, Arulmozhi Varman!”

“Princess! I too am one such man…”

“Then what is lacking for me? What obstacle stands in the way of my wish being fulfilled? Will even the Pazhuvettarayar nobles dare to interfere in this matter?”

“I do not know that. But I know that you have boundless affection for the prince. In all other matters, he will heed your words. He has no desire whatsoever to rule the kingdom. Before my very eyes, he refused the crown of Lanka. Yet, if you were to insist, he would even consent to rule the realm. But to marry this maiden…”

“Are you saying he would not consent? What fault has he found in my dear friend that he would reject her? What fault do you see in her?”

“Lady! I see no fault in this maiden; even if I did, I would not believe it. Of all the maids who serve the younger princess in the palace, even the humblest servant girl seems to me a divine maiden. The baby monkey that lives in the princess’s garden appears to my eyes more splendid than Indra’s own Airavata. The prince too has found no fault in this maiden. But perhaps his heart has turned toward another woman…”

‘Alas! What cruel words! Why does this youth thus drive a blade into my wounded heart?’

“Brave warrior of the Vanar clan! I do not understand what you are saying. Why do you cast such slander upon my brother?”

“It is no slander, Lady! I speak only the truth—what I have seen with my own eyes and heard with my