Even as the sound of Sundara Chozhar’s laughter still echoed, the women entered the chamber. Foremost among them was the Maharani; behind her, with Kundavai on one side and Vanathi on the other, Mandakini was gently led forward, and following them, like a procession, came Poonguzhali and an elderly nurse.

The king’s laughter had brought a spark of cheer to the women as well. Mandakini would, for a moment, lift her gaze to look at him, and the next moment, lower her eyes to the ground. Her adornment was now complete. In those days, Princess Kundavai was renowned throughout the land for her unparalleled mastery in the art of ornamentation. For this very reason, it was customary for minor kings to send their daughters to Pazhayarai to become companions to the young princess.

Kundavai had employed all her skill in adorning the mute queen. Some inexplicable emotion that had arisen deep within her heart had led her to arrange Mandakini’s hair in the same style as Nandini’s, with a regal knot. Once the adornment was finished, it became clear to all the women that Mandakini now resembled Nandini in every aspect. The twenty-five years of age that separated the two women was hardly noticeable, for Mandakini, having wandered the forests, possessed a robust health and youthful radiance. The other women brought Mandakini Devi forward with a sense of pride. Each of them had their own reason for feeling proud.

In those days when this history took place, it was common for the great emperors and minor kings of Tamilagam to marry several wives. Wars raged without end, and the royal princes were always at the forefront of battle. To ensure the survival of the royal lineage, it was customary for kings to marry many women. It was considered a noble virtue for the chief queen to embrace and support the other consorts without jealousy. In this manner, the daughter of Malayaman was filled with enthusiasm. Kundavai took pride in having displayed her skill in adornment so perfectly. Had she not transformed a woman who had appeared as a mad beggar into one of incomparable beauty and youth? As for Poonguzhali, she was delighted to see her aunt receiving such royal honors in the palace. Were not the palace women here behaving quite differently from what she had expected?

Thus, the Emperor watched the procession of women entering the chamber, their pride overflowing. In that very instant, his smile faded. Mandakini’s new appearance filled him with boundless astonishment. He blinked, half-closing his eyes with his hand and then opening them again, as if doubting whether what he saw before him was truly real. The details the Prime Minister had just been recounting were firmly imprinted in his mind. He clearly perceived the resemblance between the womanly form that had appeared before him at midnight and tormented him for some time, and the figure of Mandakini now standing before him. At the same time, he noticed certain differences as well. A desire to unravel this mystery completely and discover the truth began to dawn within him. The aversion he had first felt towards Mandakini remained unchanged. Yet, he resolved not to reveal it outwardly.

Turning to Aniruddha, he said in a gentle voice, “Prime Minister! Just now I called you mad. Now it seems that all the delusion and madness are mine. Henceforth, it will not suffice for the physician to visit me daily; I must also have a magician sent to me. Even if you catch the sorcerer who comes to see the younger queen of Pazhuvoor and send him to me, it would be no sin!”

A slight tremor stirred within Aniruddha. In his heart, he prayed, “Let none of those sorcerers come near the Emperor.” Then he said aloud, “Your Majesty! Why a magician? What need for any other spell? There is no mantra more powerful than the holy name of Sri Narayana!”

Kundavai Piratti spoke: “Father! Did you not send for me? Did you not say we must go to Pazhaiyarai? May we all go together?”

Sundara Chozhar did not reply to her, but turned to the Prime Minister and said, “Aniruddha! I have changed my mind. For some reason, these women are all in high spirits, as if a new daughter-in-law has come to the house. I do not wish to separate them at this moment. As you suggested, let them all remain here for a few days. Sembiyan Maadevi has great trust and respect for you. Therefore, you go yourself and bring her here. Send your disciple to Nagapattinam. I will instruct Chinna Pazhuvettaraiyar myself to arrange for Periya Pazhuvettaraiyar and his younger queen to be brought here at once!”

“So be it, Emperor! But it may take a few days for everyone to gather. Because of the storm and rain yesterday, all the rivers are in full flood,” said the Prime Minister.

“There is no harm in that; having waited so long, there is nothing to lose by waiting a few days more. If arrangements are made to bring Karikalan here, we can settle all matters at once. If he still refuses to come, then I myself must set out to fetch him. We can discuss that later. Tomorrow itself, you must go and somehow bring the Periya Piratti here in person! As you go, pay heed also to the people who have suffered hardship due to the storm. We have become so absorbed in our family affairs that we have quite forgotten that important duty,” said the Emperor.

“No, my lord! I have not forgotten it. All matters will proceed as they should; you may rest easy,” replied the Prime Minister, taking his leave.

That night, Sundara Chozhar truly experienced a peace he had not known in many years. The news that Mandakini of the Karaiyar clan had not died had lifted a great burden that had long weighed upon his heart. The tidings that Arulmozhi Varman was safe in Nagapattinam brought him comfort