All this while, Vanathi had remained inside the palanquin. Now, the bearers lowered it to the ground. Vanathi stepped out and stood, gazing at the approaching procession. The Kalamukhas too stood in silence, their eyes fixed in the same direction. Only the croaking of frogs in the waterlogged fields and the rustling of tree branches in the monsoon wind could be heard.

The thought of running away never even occurred to Vanathi. She knew well that such a thing was impossible. Perhaps, with some cleverness, she might escape these Kalamukhas, but to flee from Aniruddhar, the beloved minister, was a feat unthinkable even in dreams. His intelligence, his mastery of royal intrigue, his cunning—these were renowned throughout the land. Moreover, it was well known that he wielded great influence with the Emperor. In Pazhayarai, the palace women might gossip about other officials and minor kings of the Chola Empire, but never about Aniruddhar. Even if they spoke in the innermost chambers of the women’s quarters, they feared that their words would reach his ears. Everyone knew that, whatever else the Emperor might tolerate, he would never brook a word of slander against his chief minister, who was both his confidant and the guardian of his honor.

All this Vanathi knew well. She was also aware of the high regard Princess Kundavai held for him. Therefore, she expected that from him she would receive help and protection. But when the Kalamukhas spoke otherwise, her confidence was shaken. Why would he have ordered this orphaned girl to be seized? Perhaps these men were lying! Perhaps it was the Pazhuvettarayars who were coming. Or it might be Madurantakan and his retinue… Whoever it was, one thing was certain: she must not reveal to anyone the news she knew about the prince. Whatever befell her, so be it! Even if it cost her life, so be it!… This thought restored Vanathi’s shaken resolve. Let them come, whoever they may be. She would prove that she was born of the valiant lineage of the Kodumbalur Velirs. She would show that she was the intimate friend of Princess Kundavai.

From the procession, a single palanquin separated itself and came forward. The other elephants, horses, and attendants all remained a little behind. As the palanquin in front drew near Vanathi, it was set down upon the earth. From within it, the Prime Minister Aniruddha Brahmarayar stepped out and stood before her.

At his signal, the palanquin-bearers and the Kalamukha guards moved aside and withdrew. Aniruddha gazed intently at Vanathi from head to toe and exclaimed, “What marvel is this! Am I dreaming, or is this real? Is it not the Princess of Kodumbalur who stands before me? Are you not Vanathi, the beloved daughter of the valiant Parantakan’s younger Velar, who attained the warrior’s heaven in the war at Eezham?”

“Yes, sir! And am I not dreaming either? Is it not Aniruddha Brahmarayar, revered by all the people of the Chola Empire, who stands before me? Is it not the Prime Minister who enjoys the intimate confidence of the Emperor?” replied Vanathi.

“Child! I am glad that you know who I am. That will make my task easier, and you will not have to endure much trouble.”

“Ah! You need not worry about that. If I were to suffer at the hands of a minister of your stature, I would not mind it at all. I would not even consider it suffering.”

“Your words please me even more. I have no intention of causing you much distress. I wish only to ask you a few questions. If you answer them, that will suffice, and then…”

“Sir! Before you question me, I too have a few questions to ask you…”

“Ask, my child! Ask without hesitation. I am like a father to you. I consider you as my own daughter. Only a few days ago, I met your great father, the Commander-in-Chief Boothivikrama Kesari, at Mathottam. He asked me to care for you as if you were my own daughter. I promised him I would…”

“My respects, father! When I lost my father in childhood, the Emperor himself once promised to be a father to me; now, you too have appeared as a father. What more could I want?”

“Ask me what you wish to know, child, and quickly! The sky is darkening, and it looks as if rain is about to fall.”

“Father! Was it by your own orders that your men intercepted your dear daughter, who was traveling by palanquin along the road, and forcibly brought her here from those fearsome Kalamukhas? Was it you who commanded that this helpless maiden’s hand be held to the lamp’s flame and burned? These dreadful men laid such accusations upon you. I did not believe them…”

“My child! What they said is true. It was I who gave them those orders. If that is a crime, then I alone am responsible…”

“O First Minister of Chola Nadu, renowned throughout the three worlds! Your words astonish me. You said, ‘If it is a crime…’ You are learned in all the Dharma Shastras and the treatises of justice. You are the one entrusted with upholding the laws and regulations of the Chola Empire; even if the Emperor himself acts unjustly, you have the authority to censure him and ensure justice is done. If you do not know whether an act is a crime or not, who else would? Is it not a crime to forcibly waylay a defenseless woman traveling along the road and bring her to a secluded place? Is it not a crime to threaten her with torture? If you do not know whether these are crimes, to whom will you turn for an answer? I had heard that in the realm of Sundara Chola, travelers on the road need fear nothing. I had also heard that those who trouble women are punished most severely. Is it not astonishing that you should now doubt whether this is a crime