However swift-footed Poonguzhali might be, could she ever compete with a spear hurled from above? Before she could leap to her aunt Mandakini’s side, the spear had already plunged into her aunt’s shoulder. With a dreadful cry of “Veeel!” Mandakini fell to the ground. At that very moment, cries of anguish burst forth from every throat in the room.

Just like Poonguzhali, the others too rushed toward the queen who had collapsed on the floor. At that instant, a loud commotion was heard from the upper floor. Several earthen pots were hurled down in all directions.

One of those pots fell upon the lamp burning brightly near the Emperor, dousing its flame. Darkness immediately enveloped the room. For a while, confusion reigned in that royal chamber and in the long corridors surrounding it. The hurried, frantic footsteps of people running to and fro echoed everywhere.

“Light! Bring a light!” thundered the voice of Chinna Pazhuvettarayar.

“Ah! Alas!” came a woman’s anguished cry. It sounded like the voice of the Maharani, and at that, everyone’s heart skipped a beat and their bodies trembled. Amidst all this chaos, Poonguzhali ran, guided by memory, to the spot where her aunt Mandakini had fallen. She realized that someone had already lifted her aunt and placed her on their lap.

A heart-rending sob and the sound of weeping reached Poonguzhali’s ears.

Near the threshold, Chinna Pazhuvettarayar shouted, “Who is that? Don’t run! Stop!”

Poonguzhali guessed who the fleeing person might be. At that moment, two nursemaids entered the room carrying lamps.

The scene revealed in the lamplight was one no one could have ever anticipated. For three years, the Emperor—Sundara Chola, who had lost all strength in his legs and had not been able to stand—had gotten down from his bed and walked over to sit beside Mandakini. The prince was by his side. In Mandakini’s shoulder... Blood was dripping from the tip of the spear that had pierced through and emerged on the other side. Near the bed where the Emperor lay, the daughter of Malayaman, Vanamadevi, was found. Beside her, on the pillow where the Emperor had rested his head, a sharp dagger was embedded.

When the lamp was brought, the Maharani glanced at the bed in horror, and with eyes brimming with immeasurable astonishment, she saw the Emperor sitting on the floor. At that moment, Ponniyin Selvan gently lifted Mandakini’s head and placed it on the Emperor’s lap. Tears streamed in torrents from Prince Arulmozhi Varman’s eyes. The Emperor, too, was weeping uncontrollably, sobs racking his body.

Poonkuzhali took in all this with a single glance. In the very next moment, she pieced together and understood, by intuition, all that had transpired there. The one who had thrown the spear from above had noticed that the mute queen had intercepted it. Immediately, he had thrown down the plates and vessels from above, extinguished the lamp, and plunged the room into darkness.

In that sudden darkness, he had leapt down, thinking the Emperor was lying on the bed, stabbed with the dagger, and fled. Realizing the Emperor was in danger, the Maharani had rushed to the bed, only to be pushed aside by the assailant as he escaped. It was then that the Maharani had cried out, “Ayyo!” After that, the villain must have run towards the entrance, pushed aside the little Pazhuvettaraiyar who was just entering, and escaped. Poonkuzhali deduced all this in an instant.

A desire to chase and catch the perpetrator of this heinous act began to rise in one corner of her mind. Yet, the thought that her aunt’s end was near caused a great turmoil within her heart. Therefore, without minding that Mandakini was lying with her head on the Emperor’s lap, she went near, knelt down, and cried, “Aunt! Aunt!”

“Ayyo! What you said has come true! Wretched me, I left you alone and went away!” she wailed, sobbing. But Mandakini did not turn to look at her. Her eyes were fixed with longing upon the Emperor’s noble face.

Even the Prince, who held her hand and wept, could not draw her attention. How then could she notice Poonkuzhali?

As Poonkuzhali continued to lament, the Prince mastered his own grief and said, “Samudra Kumari! What is this? Have you forgotten yourself? Have you forgotten where you are?” As he spoke, he rose to his feet.

Poonguzhali, suppressing her sorrow and blushing slightly, rose to her feet.

“My King! In this world, I have no one but my aunt!” she sobbed.

The prince wiped away the tears welling in his eyes and said, “Poonguzhali! She is your aunt, yes; but to me, she is a mother ten times greater than the one who gave me birth! It was she who sent you to bring me here! Yet, she did not even look upon my face. Do you know the reason for this? After thirty years of separation, my father and mother have finally been reunited today. Who are we to stand as obstacles between them?”

Having spoken thus, the prince cast a keen glance at everyone present, including the Maharani.

Turning again to Poonguzhali, he continued, “Child! You have helped me on several occasions before. But none of those deeds were as significant as what you have done today. Today, you have granted me the fortune of witnessing the reunion of my father and mother! I shall never forget this! Daughter of the ocean! Think of the immense merit your aunt has earned today! She saved my father from the assassin’s spear. She took that blow upon herself! She gave her life to save the Emperor’s! Not once, but twice she protected him! When the spear struck your aunt, strength returned to my father’s legs, which had been powerless for three years. He rose from his bed. Thus, his life was saved once more. The traitor, thinking he had missed his mark, extinguished the lamp and leapt down, attempting again to commit his wicked deed. But since the