As soon as she parted from Vanathi, the young princess made her way straight to the Pazhayarai prison. She left her guards outside and went alone to the place where Vandiyathevan was confined. He was locked in a solitary cell. Staring up at the ceiling of his prison, he was singing a themmaangu folk tune with great enthusiasm.

“The stars in the sky Saw you, my dear, My body shivers with delight – I stand entranced, lost in wonder!”

Only after Kundavai came near and cleared her throat did he turn to look at her. At once, he stood up and said, “Welcome! Welcome, Princess! Please, be seated upon the throne!”

“Upon which throne shall I sit?” asked the princess.

“This is your palace. Here, your rule and your command prevail. The throne here—whichever you wish—please, sit as you desire,” said Vallavaraiyan.

“Sir! When your ancestors ruled the three worlds by their decree, perhaps the Vallam palace looked just like this! In our city, this place is called a prison,” said the princess.

“Lady! In our land, there is now neither palace nor prison. Kings from many countries joined together and razed both palace and prison to the ground, a hundred years ago…”

“Why? Why? What angered them so much against the Vallam palace and its prison?”

“All because of a poet’s mischief!”

“Oh! How so?”

“In the days when my ancestors ruled as emperors of the southern lands, from time to time, officials would capture kings who failed to pay tribute and bring them here. On either side of the palace courtyard, they would imprison those kings…” There were prisons. The petty kings, hoping that the Emperor would one day take pity on them and summon them, would wait patiently, thinking they could beg forgiveness and return to their lands. The chance to see the Emperor was not easily granted to them. While they watched and waited, poets and bards would proceed to the Emperor’s royal hall. In the presence of the Emperor, they would recite their verses, receive gifts, and depart. At such times, the petty kings waiting in prison would exclaim in wonder, “Ah! Look at the fortune of these poets! See the gifts they carry away!”

“One king would say, ‘Alas! Is not that poet taking away my white parasol of victory?’ Another would lament, ‘Oh dear! That bard is leaving seated in my palanquin!’ Yet another would cry, ‘Oh no! He is taking away my royal elephant!’ Still another petty king would say with a smile, ‘That is my horse! One day, surely, my horse will throw down this poet!’

After all the poets had come and gone, yet another poet arrived. He overheard the conversation of the petty kings in prison. Listening to them, he went before the Emperor and sang this song:

‘My poem is my palanquin, My shield, my banner, My elephant, my steed— So say they! Let the kings behold The bard who, by the grace Of the great king Vaanan, Wins the prize in order!’

Thus, the song sung by that poet spread far and wide throughout the land of Tamil. The people rejoiced, singing and listening to it often. Because of this, danger befell our kingdom. All the kings joined forces, marched upon our city, and destroyed our palace, our fortress, our prisons—everything…”

“But even if they destroyed everything, they could not erase the poet’s song, could they? Yours is a clan that has earned such fortune! Its fame shall endure forever!”

“I am the one who has now arisen to destroy the heroic fame of the Vanar clan…”

“Ah! You yourself admit that truth, do you not?”

“What else can I do but agree? Among all forms of servitude, the bondage of a woman is the most cruel. Because I heeded a woman’s word, I brought disgrace upon the honor of my ancestors. I was forced to flee, to hide, to wander in secrecy for the sake of my life. I thought I could quench all my anger by killing that physician’s son. But even that was thwarted by an unexpected obstacle…”

“Sir! Why do you harbor such anger against the physician’s son, Pinagapani?”

“There is reason enough for my wrath. You entrusted a good man to me and sent him along to Kodikkarai. That fellow nearly ruined my entire mission. And if that were not enough, just now in the streets of this town, he tried to have me seized by the Pazhuvettaraiyars, accusing me of being a spy for their enemies. When I escaped from there, he charged me in front of thousands in the palace courtyard, declaring me ‘the spy of the Lady of Pazhuvur’…”

“Prince of Vallam! But is that not the truth?”

“What is not the truth?”

“I mean, is it not true what Pinagapani accused you of—that you are the spy of Lady Nandini Devi of Pazhuvur? Will you tell me the truth?”

“I have taken a vow, Devi, never to speak the truth!”

“Ah! What vow is this? Did you make such a vow after meeting the Lady of Pazhuvur on the banks of the Arichandra River?”

“No, no! I made that decision even before that. As long as I kept speaking falsehoods, everyone believed me. But at one point, I slipped and said, ‘The Prince is safe in Nagapattinam.’ No one believed it; everyone who heard it laughed…”

“What a grave mistake you made! It is fortunate that they did not believe your words! Imagine the disaster if they had!”

“Such mistakes will never happen again…”

“Thank you greatly for your promise!”

“What promise did I make?”

“That from now on, you will carry out my commands without any further mistakes…”

“Oh God! I never promised any such thing. Enough! Release me from this prison! I will go my own way…”

“In that case, you shall not be released! You must remain here in this prison,” she said.

Vandiyathevan laughed aloud, a bright, ringing sound.

“Why do you laugh? Do