After closely observing Poonguzhali, the Emperor asked, “I have not seen this girl before, have I? Yet, her face seems somewhat familiar. Brahmarayar! Who is she?”

“She is the daughter of Thyaga Vidangar from Kodikkarai. Her name is Poonguzhali!”

“Ah! That explains it!” exclaimed the Emperor. Then, speaking softly to himself, he muttered, “She bears a slight resemblance to her aunt! But she is not quite like her; there is a great difference.”

These mutterings of the Emperor reached Poonguzhali’s ears faintly. Until that moment, Poonguzhali had never seen the Emperor. She had heard tales that he surpassed even Manmatha in beauty. She had always imagined that the father of the prince must indeed be such a man. But now, seeing the Emperor, whose form was worn by bodily ailments and tormented by mental anguish, she was struck with astonishment. She remembered how she had once thought to quarrel with the Emperor for abandoning her aunt, and now she felt ashamed of that thought. Fear, wonder, and shyness overwhelmed her so much that, upon beholding the Emperor, she even forgot to offer her salutations.

“Child! Is your father Thyaga Vidangar well?” the Emperor asked, turning to her.

Only then did Poonguzhali regain her senses. She realized she was standing in the presence of the Emperor, who ruled under one royal umbrella from Lanka to the Krishna River. At once, she fell to the ground in obeisance, then rose and stood with folded hands in respectful greeting.

Sundara Chozhar turned to Aniruddhar and asked, “This girl can speak, can’t she? Or is she, like her aunt, mute in one respect?”

At this, his face shrank with the pain of memory.

“Emperor! This girl can speak. She alone can speak as much as nine women put together! She must have been struck dumb with shock at beholding Your Majesty,” replied Aniruddhar.

“Yes, it seems that whenever anyone sees me, they fall silent. No one ever says a word to me!” said the Emperor. Once again, looking at Poonguzhali, Sundara Chozhar asked, “Girl! The Prime Minister says that you saved Prince Arulmozhi from the raging sea. Is that true?”

Poonguzhali hesitated, faltering, “Yes, my lord!… If that is a crime…”

The Emperor laughed; the sound of his laughter echoed with a terrible resonance.

“Brahmarayar! Listen to what this girl says! She asks, ‘If that is a crime.’ She says that saving the prince’s life is a crime. It seems as if I wished for my son to drown and die in the sea. Has someone told her that I am such a monster? Prime Minister, do all the people of the land think of me in this way?”

“Lord! She has spoken out of fear. Please do not take it to heart. Girl! For saving the prince, the entire Chozha kingdom owes you a debt of gratitude. The Emperor too has received boundless joy. For that, whatever reward you desire, you may ask and receive it. Now, narrate everything that happened in detail to the Emperor! Speak without fear!” said the Prime Minister.

“Let this girl first answer one thing. She claims to have saved the prince from the sea—how does she know that it was indeed the prince? Has she seen him before?” asked the Emperor.

“Yes, my lord! When the prince boarded the ship with his warriors to go to Eezha Nadu, I saw him several times. Once, the prince even called me ‘Samudra Kumari’—the Princess of the Sea!” replied Poonguzhali.

“Aha! Now this girl has found her tongue!” said the Chozha Emperor.

Afterwards, as the Prime Minister repeatedly prompted her with questions, Poonguzhali recounted everything from the time she took Vandiyathevan to Lanka, up to the point when she brought the prince to Nagapattinam. But, as Aniruddhar had cautioned her, she said nothing about Mandakini.

After hearing everything, the Emperor said, “Girl! You have rendered an incomparable service to the Chozha dynasty. There is nothing I can do to repay you. But I ask you one thing—tell me! After the prince reached the shore at Kodikkarai, why did you not bring him here? Why did you take him to Nagapattinam?”

“Swami! The prince had lost consciousness due to the cruel fever. We took him to the Buddhist vihara at Nagapattinam, having heard that good physicians reside there. We knew well that the bhikshus there hold deep devotion for the prince. In that condition, we could only transport him by boat; it would have been impossible to send him on horseback or by chariot…”

“At that time, the Pazhuvettaraiyar was at Kodikkarai. Why did you not inform him…?”

Poonkuzhali hesitated for a moment, then replied in a firm, resonant voice, “Emperor! The whole land knows that the Pazhuvettaraiyars are enemies of the prince. In such a situation, how could I bring myself to entrust the prince to the Pazhuvettaraiyar?”

“Yes, yes! Are the Pazhuvettaraiyars the only enemies of my sons? Even I am considered an enemy. That is how the world thinks. Let that be! Prime Minister, the storm that struck here yesterday must have been even fiercer at Nagapattinam, must it not? My heart trembles with fear that some new danger might befall the prince.”

“Lord, the Chola land is a land of fortune. Now, by the grace of fate, this land is blessed with great good fortune…”

“Yes, the Chola land is indeed blessed; but I have become unfortunate, Brahmarayar! Before I close my eyes forever, I wish to see my sons just once…”

“Sir! Do not speak so. Who is more fortunate than you, who has such sons and a daughter as well? I shall send men at once today. I will even send my disciple Thirumalai to ensure the prince is brought back safely!” said the Prime Minister.

Only then did the Emperor turn his gaze upon Azhwarkadiyan. “Aha! Has he been standing here all this while? Was it not about him that the younger Pazhuvettaraiyar spoke? Is he not the one who climbed and leapt over