Part Three – The Sword of Slaughter

The night before the new moon, darkness had fully descended. Black clouds, rising from the northern horizon, had now spread across the entire sky, veiling it completely. Not a single star twinkled in the heavens. Only the fireflies flitting over trees and bushes lent a faint glimmer. By their feeble light, Vandiyathevan guided his horse onward. Where was he going, for what purpose, and would any good come of it? None of these questions had clear answers. Danger had befallen the beloved companion of Princess Kundavai. It was his duty to try and save her. Beyond that, there was God!

Even after riding for a full naazhigai, he could not find the palanquin. A doubt crept into Vandiyathevan’s mind—had he embarked on a madman’s errand? He reined in his horse. At that moment, a sound reached him from a little distance away. He listened intently. It was the sound of hoofbeats. Yes, a horse! Was it only one horse, or several? Perhaps these were the horsemen escorting the palanquin. He would have to proceed with caution—he must not be caught in the midst of a large group. That would be of no help to Vanathi Devi; his own mission would also be ruined…

Slowly, pausing often, he dismounted and led his horse on foot. Soon, he was able to ascertain that only a single horse was ahead. After a short while, the horse ahead seemed to be climbing a sloping embankment. Vandiyathevan wished to remain hidden, so as not to be discovered following. He looked around carefully. Nearby stood a ruined mandapam, its walls collapsed in places. He led his horse close and stopped behind a crumbling wall. Fixing his gaze on the embankment, he strained his eyes in the darkness to watch the horse ahead.

“Who is there?” A voice startled Vandiyathevan.

It sounded like the voice of someone he knew well.

“Maharaja! It is I, your humble servant!” came another voice in reply.

Within a minute, a lamp flickered to life at the spot where the voices had been heard. From behind a tree, a man emerged holding a lamp in his hand. In its glow, the horse became visible. Someone was seated upon it. It was now certain that the rider was none other than Madurantaka.

As the man standing on the ground seized the torch, the horse upon which the prince was mounted grew terrified. Rearing up on its forelegs, it spun around once. Then, with a sudden leap, it sprang forward and began to gallop away.

The spot where the horse had been standing was the bank of a wide canal. From that raised embankment, the horse leapt straight into the floodwaters of the canal. The man who had grabbed the torch shouted, "Maharaja! Maharaja!" as he plunged into the canal after the horse. But as he jumped, he slipped and fell. The torch was swallowed by the swirling waters.

In the next instant, a darkness far deeper