From the moment Aditya Karikalan arrived at the Kadambur palace, both the permanent residents and the guests who had come to stay found themselves as if standing on thorns, as if walking over fire. No one could predict at what moment, or in what form, a weapon might spring from the prince’s tongue. Thus, everyone was in a state of constant anxiety and distress.

Karikalan would often, with sly gestures and veiled words, allude to the conspiracy to place Madurantaka on the Chola throne, causing the others to tremble with unease. Pazhuvettaraiyar could not bear this. He pressed Sambhuvaraiyar, insisting that the views of the minor chieftains must be openly conveyed to Karikalan. But Sambhuvaraiyar would reply, “Have patience; after all, he is our guest, and a mere youth. What does it matter if his intentions come to naught? Let us wait for the right moment to speak,” and thus kept postponing the matter.

Before they could resolve the dilemma of how to broach the subject, Aditya Karikalan himself, one day when all were gathered together, boldly raised the issue.

“I have come here to seek the counsel of Pazhuvur Grandfather and Kadambur Uncle on a matter of great importance. I shall ask it now. Three years ago, my father publicly crowned me as the heir-apparent to the Chola kingdom. All of you gave your consent to this. Now it seems the Emperor has changed his mind. I hear he wishes to place Madurantaka on the throne and crown him king. For this reason, he has sent me summons upon summons, urging me to come to Thanjavur. I have been refusing and putting off the journey. Why should I go to Thanjavur? Why should I stand before my father and openly defy his word? Is it not better to stay away altogether? Pazhuvur Grandfather! Kadambur Uncle! You are elders, wise in all matters of justice. Tell me yourselves: is it right for my father, after all this time, to ask me to relinquish the kingdom to Madurantaka? Would it be a crime for me to refuse?”

When Aditya Karikalan asked this so directly, everyone was struck dumb with astonishment. Pazhuvetaraiyar cleared his throat, thinking to buy some time before answering, and said, “Prince! Surely you must have consulted your grandfather of Thirukovalur about this matter? What does Malayaman say?”

“Ah! Don’t you all know that old man’s nature by now? Would he ever agree to let his grandson’s throne pass to another? He would sooner cut down both me and my mother who bore me! Even now, Malayaman has begun gathering his forces—to secure his grandson’s claim to the throne! But I am not going to act solely on his words. I will do as all of you say!” Karikalan replied, with the innocence of a most dutiful son.

Pazhuvetaraiyar, deceived by this, said, “We are not the sort to incite a son to oppose his father, as Malayaman does. Whatever command the Emperor gives, we are all bound to obey. But we do have the right to speak of what is just. It cannot be said that there is no justice in what the Emperor says on this matter. Nor can it be said that Madurantaka Devar has no claim to the Chola kingdom. Prince! Since you ask, we speak our minds. The final decision rests with your will. Allowing this debate to grow will be most dangerous for the kingdom, in our view. Therefore, it is best to come to some compromise. The Chola realm is no longer hemmed in between two rivers as before. It now stretches from Cape Comorin to the banks of the Krishna. Even if divided, each part would be a great kingdom in itself. Thus, it would be just to grant the realm south of the Kollidam river to Madurantaka Devar, and the northern part to you. This is our considered opinion. If you agree, we can proceed further. I myself will take responsibility for persuading the Emperor to consent to this arrangement!” he said.

At that, Aditya Karikalan burst into laughter, which stoked the fire in Pazhuvetaraiyar’s belly. “Grandfather! Dividing the Chola kingdom so that the Pazhuvetaraiyars rule the southern realm and the Sambuvaraiyars the northern—what a fair partition that would be! It would be a fitting reward for the service your two families have rendered my grandfather’s house since my great-grandfather’s time. But I have no desire whatsoever to split the kingdom. To divide the realm handed down through generations is one thing; to divide a wedded wife is quite another! Perhaps you elders may approve of such a thing! But for me, it is utterly unacceptable!”

“No!” declared Karikalan, and sparks seemed to fly from the eyes of Periya Pazhuvetarayar. He rose to his feet in agitation, his hand moving, ready to draw his sword from its scabbard.

At that moment, Karikalan spoke: “Grandfather! What is this? Are you trying to leave already? Listen to my proposal in its entirety before you go. I do not consent to dividing the Chola kingdom. For five generations, my ancestors and yours, and countless warriors of valor, have toiled and sacrificed their lives to bring the Chola realm to its present glory. To split it into two and reduce it to petty provinces would be a grave sin. Our forebears—Rajaditya and the rest—who now dwell in the warrior’s heaven, would curse us for such an act. Therefore, abandon that idea. I am prepared to relinquish the entire Chola empire to Madurantakan; there is justice in that. Madurantakan is the son of my elder uncle, and by rights, he should have been crowned in my father’s stead. But due to the arrangements of Emperor Parantaka, my father ascended the throne. Let that error rest with him. Even though, by the law of succession, I have full claim to this kingdom as my father’s son, I am willing to give it up. But there is one condition.

“I require an army of three hundred thousand