Arulmozhi Varman continued, turning to the poet, “Sir! I wish to ask you one more thing. From Emperor Sibi down to the sage-king Sivagnana Kandaraadithar, you have extolled the glory of the kings of our Chola lineage. If all that praise is fitting for one such as myself, born into this ancient clan by fortune, is it not equally fitting for my younger father and for Madurantaka Devar, the noble son of the great Kandaraaditha Chola?”

The poet nodded his head in assent. All eyes in the assembly now turned toward Madurantaka Devar, who sat with humility and restraint on the other side of Sundara Chola. Only now did many begin to observe Madurantaka closely, as if seeing him for the first time. Already seated with great shyness, Madurantaka now seemed even more withdrawn, gazing fixedly at the goddess of the earth, unable to lift his bowed head.

Meanwhile, Alwarkadiyan, disguised in another garb, approached a corner of the hall where he met with Chinna Pazhuvettarayar to relay a troubling piece of news. Among the crowd gathered for the coronation festivities, he had spotted Raakkammal, a woman from the Pandya country’s secret aid society and the wife of the boatman Murugaiyyan. Curious as to why she had come here, he followed her. Near Chinna Pazhuvettarayar’s palace, she disappeared into the throng. As Alwarkadiyan stood there scanning the crowd, she reappeared—this time accompanied by another woman carrying a child at her hip. The second woman resembled Chinna Pazhuvettarayar’s daughter, and for a moment, Alwarkadiyan was at a loss, uncertain what to do. He could not say for sure if it was indeed the chieftain’s daughter. He resolved to follow them a little further to confirm his suspicion.

But following them through the crowd was no easy task, and Raakkammal must have noticed that he was trailing them. Suddenly, in the midst of the gathering, she cried out, “Oh no! This man is harassing us! He’s following women and causing trouble!” Instantly, several people in the crowd surrounded Alwarkadiyan, ready to rebuke him. He protested to them that he had done no such thing, and swore that, like everyone else, he had only come to witness the coronation festivities. After pacifying the crowd that had gathered around him, he— Before he could step outside, Raakkammaal and another woman, who had a child at her hip, had already disappeared. Azhwarkkadiyan followed after them, searching all the way to the fortress gate. Not far from the gate, he saw the woman with the child climbing into a closed palanquin. Four horsemen stood around the palanquin. As soon as the woman entered, both the palanquin and the horses sped away. Before Azhwarkkadiyan could decide whether to follow them further, a large crowd, which had come to witness the coronation, swept him up and carried him far inside the fortress, jostling him along.

Deeming it important to immediately report this incident to the commander of the fort, Azhwarkkadiyan made his way to the coronation pavilion. He explained that it was at Arulmozhi Varman’s command that he had donned this disguise, and that Ponniyin Selvan had instructed him to mingle with the crowd, listen to what the people were saying, and report back. It was while carrying out this duty that he had witnessed the aforementioned incident.

After hearing this, Chinna Pazhuvettarayar placed complete trust in Azhwarkkadiyan’s words. He had already been anxious about his daughter, the wife of the elder Madurantakan. The news brought by Thirumalai startled him and filled his mind with confusion. He resolved to go to his palace at once to learn the truth. He instructed that, through the chief minister Aniruddhar, both Sundara Chozhar and Ponniyin Selvan should be informed of his urgent departure. With that, Chinna Pazhuvettarayar left the pavilion in great haste.

There was no longer any need for Azhwarkkadiyan to speak to Ponniyin Selvan. Even as the Tamil poet Nallan Saathanaar was conversing, the prince had been watching Chinna Pazhuvettarayar closely. As soon as the commander left the pavilion, the face of Ponniyin Selvan shone with a new radiance. Turning towards the emperor, he began to speak in a majestic voice:

“Father! Our fort commander, Chinna Pazhuvettarayar, is leaving on some urgent business. That need not delay this coronation ceremony. There are still many great men present in this assembly. Chiefs of valiant clans are here. Warriors who have wielded spear and sword and earned honorable scars in many battlefields are here. Any one of them, with their heroic hands, may lift and place upon me the jeweled crown of our ancient Chola dynasty. All these noble ones have already touched this golden crown, the royal sword, and the scepter with their own hands and blessed them.”

Therefore, if I were to take this jeweled crown with my own hand and place it upon my head, there would be no wrong in it. Yet, before I do so, Father! I wish to make a humble plea to you, to the esteemed elders gathered here, and to the scions of our warrior clan.

I am descended from the line of Emperor Sibi, who cut his own flesh to save the life of a dove. That is why, like all our clan, I bear the title ‘Sembiyan’. I am of the lineage of the Manu Needhi Cholan, who, to uphold justice for a cow that lost its calf, sentenced his own son to death. Our ancestors have been praised not only as warriors who never turned their backs on the battlefield, but also as paragons who never strayed even a hair’s breadth from the path of righteousness. As one who walks in their footsteps, can I ever act against justice? Can I seize what rightfully belongs to another, whether it be wealth or position?

When our court poet sang in beautiful verse of the glory of our forebears, they all appeared before my mind’s eye. Raja Kesaris and Parakesaris stood in line, presenting themselves to me. Nalankilli, Nedunkilli, Perunkilli, and Kochchenganan