How wonderful it would be if we could bring this story to a close with the events narrated in the previous chapter! Perhaps some among our readers might even hope for such an ending. But that is not possible. At almost the very same hour, on that very same day, a dreadful incident was unfolding in the palace of Kadambur Sambuvaraiyar, and it is our duty now to recount it.

Nandini was pacing restlessly, alone, within her private chamber. The agitation that had seized her heart was clearly reflected in her countenance. A strange, rare gleam flashed in her eyes and vanished. She kept glancing often at the many entrances to her room, as if expecting someone. Her ears were sharply attuned, listening for the faintest sound of approaching footsteps from any of those directions. “The time is drawing near!” her lips kept murmuring again and again. At times, those murmuring lips would tremble. At other moments, her eyelids and brows would quiver. Each time, her entire body would shudder as if seized by the feverish excitement of a fanatic.

The bed prepared for Nandini’s rest was draped on all four sides with hanging curtains, concealing it entirely down to the floor. Nandini gently lifted one side of the curtain. She gazed at the murderous sword laid out lengthwise upon the bed. Like a blade forged in the fiery furnace of a blacksmith, it gleamed with a menacing light. It was a wonder that the fire had not consumed the bed, the frame, or the curtains—such was the sword’s brilliance. Only by pondering this could one realize that it was not a sword made of living flame, but of cold iron.

Nandini took the sword in her hand. She lifted it, gripped it tightly, and admired how it shone even more brightly in the lamplight. Then, she pressed it to her bosom, held it close to her cheek, and kissed it. She even spoke to the sword: “Divine blade! The time for you to fulfill your duty has come near! You will not abandon me, will you? No, you will not forsake me! Only my own hands might fail me—never you!” she whispered.

Then, looking at her own hands, she said, “O hands! Will you remain steady? Tch, tch! You are trembling already? What will you do when the moment arrives? Yes, yes! There is no use trusting you. Today, I must acquire two other hands!”

Suddenly, a shiver ran through Nandini’s entire body. With eyes blazing with a feverish fire, she looked upward. “Aha! Have you come? Come! Come! You have arrived at the perfect time! My beloved! My king! Come, O head of Veera Pandiyan! Why do you linger at the edge of the roof? Come down! There is no one here! No one but your servant! Why do you stare so intently? Open your mouth and speak a word! Did you not promise, ‘If I escape alive from this land, I will seat you upon the Pandiyan throne’? I have not forgotten it. Nor have I forgotten the vow I gave you. The time to fulfill it has come near. How long I have waited patiently for this moment! How many disguises I have worn? – You watched it all! Even now, watch! Watch without blinking. You are not one to blink, are you! You have made it so that I too cannot close my eyes and sleep! If tonight I have taken your revenge, will you at least let me sleep afterward?… No? Only after you see me ascend and sit upon the Pandiyan throne will you leave? If I fulfill my promise, will you fulfill yours?… No, no! I do not want the throne, nor the jeweled crown. They brought some boy, claiming him to be your son. They have already seated him on the throne and crowned him. If I have avenged your death, will that satisfy you? Will you then leave me? All those who died in battle—whichever heroic heaven they have gone to, may you too go there! There, there must be countless women like me! Among them, one… What? You say you will not?… Fine, fine! We shall speak of that later! My love! It seems someone is coming. Hide yourself!… I too will hide this avenging sword…”

At that moment, footsteps truly sounded near the doorway. As Nandini was placing the sword upon the bed, Manimekalai entered.

The Nandini who had been raving in a frenzy just moments before transformed entirely in an instant. “Is it you, Manimekalai? Come!” she said, her voice calm and composed.

“Akka! What is this? Why are you always with a sword in your hand?” Manimekalai asked.

“Then, what is to be done? If men are such cunning creatures, must we not take up the sword for our own defense?”

“Devi! Am I not here as your companion? Do you not have faith in me?”

“Would I have confided all my secrets to you, Manimekalai, if I did not trust you? In this world, you are the only one in whom I have placed my trust. Yet, against your own brother, what can you do?”

“Akka! I have decided that I have no brother born with me…”

“Why do you speak so? However it may be, he is your brother…”

“Brother or sister—what are such ties? I have come to see that all those relationships are mere illusions. Kandhamaaran, for his own convenience, is trying to force me—against my own wishes—into marriage! If he truly had a brother’s affection, would he act thus?”

“Sister! Perhaps he wishes to marry you to the prince only for your own good?”

“Yes, indeed! He must have seen what is good and bad for me! In truth, he has never considered my welfare, Akka!”

“From Eezham in the south to the northern frontiers, your brother wishes to see you enthroned as the chief queen of the vast Chozha kingdom. Is that not for your own good?”

“Not at all!