News had spread throughout the land and cities that the coronation of Ponniyin Selvan was to take place very soon. The people, with a single-minded eagerness, looked forward to that grand event.

The untimely death of Aditya Karikalan, the self-sacrifice of Mandakini, and the fulfillment of Periya Pazhuvettarayar’s oath—these events had deeply grieved the heart of the Emperor. Yet, the disputes concerning the right to the throne had, in some measure, been resolved, and the fact that all the minor kings and the common people unanimously supported crowning Arulmozhi Varman brought some solace to his wounded heart.

As soon as the month of Thai began, the Emperor decided to choose an auspicious day, place the burden of the empire upon Ponniyin Selvan’s head, and then depart for Kanchipuram. There, he intended to spend the rest of his days in the golden palace built for him by his valiant son Karikalan. Is it any wonder that Sundara Chozhar wished to conduct the coronation without excessive pomp?

In this matter, Arulmozhi Varman too was determined to fulfill his father’s wishes to the letter. Therefore, he had resolved not to appear much among the public in the towns and cities until the coronation was over. If one were to travel directly from the ferry point on the Kollidam to Thanjavur, one would have to pass through the city of Thiruvaiyaru. If they entered that city, the people would surely gather around him in excitement. So, the two friends, avoiding that city, took a slightly western route and crossed the Kaveri river.

When they reached the Kudamurutti river, they walked along its banks toward the royal highway to Thanjavur.

In that wondrous region where five rivers flow one after another, the abundance of water and the richness of the land during the month of Margazhi presented a breathtaking sight. Compared to the season when the floods touch both banks, the scene now—with half the river a sweet stream and the other half a stretch of golden sand—was even more beautiful. On both sides of the river, coconut, areca, banana, and sugarcane flourished in abundance. In places where there were no groves, the well-irrigated fields gleamed with golden paddy, their red-tipped stalks... Their heads drooped, unable to look up. Here and there, in the ponds and streams, lotuses, kumudams, and red lilies rose above the water, presenting a scene as vivid as a painted tableau.

As Vandiyathevan gazed in wonder at all these sights, Ponniyin Selvan turned to him and said, “My friend! Is there anywhere else in this world a place endowed with such beauty and abundance? What a great fortune it is to be crowned the emperor of such a land! When I think that, until recently, I myself refused this fortune, I am amazed!”

“I see nothing surprising in that, sir! I have often heard elders speak of the fickle hearts of royal folk,” replied Vandiyathevan.

“You are a most incorrigible man. And ungrateful as well. You have yet to thank me for making you commander of the Lankan expeditionary force, and now you accuse me of having a wavering mind!”

“What is considered mockery among commoners might well be a cause for praise among royals, might it not? Today, you sentence a man to death. Tomorrow, you pardon him and make him a commander. Does not such fickleness only add to a king’s fame? ‘Ah! How compassionate is our king!’—is that not what the people will say?”

“Yes, yes! But if today I make someone a commander, and tomorrow I sentence him to death, what will the people say then?”

“They will say, ‘Here is a king who dispenses justice impartially, never swerving from righteousness; he is the very incarnation of Manu Neethi Cholan!’ and praise you all the more!”

Ponniyin Selvan laughed heartily and said, “If that is so, then if I take back from you the Vanagapadi fief and the command of the Lankan army, you will not find it at all surprising?”

“I will neither be surprised nor sorrowful. Even now, I am unsure whether you are sending me to Lanka to grant me a great command, or because you wish to exile me from this beautiful Chola land!”

“In truth, I would much prefer to have a man of such talent as you by my side as my chief minister. But I do not think Prime Minister Aniruddha will relinquish his post for your sake.”

“If that alone is the reason, I shall go and ask Prime Minister Aniruddhar myself,” said Vandiyathevan.

Ponniyin Selvan laughed and replied, “No; there is another reason as well!”

“I thought as much,” said Vandiyathevan.

“What did you think?”

“That these days, you keep one thing in your mind and speak another aloud.”

“Valaththarasar! Can you give an example to prove your accusation?”

“I certainly can. The date for your coronation ceremony has already been fixed for the beginning of the month of Thai. You know this. Yet, just a moment ago, to those who left us, you said, ‘My coronation cannot take place without you.’ What else am I to think of that?”

Ponniyin Selvan laughed again and said, “Yes, earlier I had the habit of speaking out whatever arose in my mind, just as it was. But after becoming friends with you, Vandiyathevan, I have been learning the arts of diplomacy and strategy!”

“You are praising me in vain. What strategy or secret is there in this world that you do not know? What can compare to the spell whispered into the elephant’s ear, or the trick of deceiving the world by donning the guise of a mahout?”

“Let it be so! You may learn the arts of strategy and diplomacy from me henceforth.”

“Perhaps that is why you are trying to send me off to Lanka—so that I do not learn too much from you?”

“My friend! Do you, perchance, have no desire to go to the land of Eelam?”

“Who told you so? Even if I am ordered