“This is all her doing!”

A sculptor stepped forward just then. He was a descendant of the fine artisans who had once worked in Maamallapuram (the ancient Pallava port city by the sea), turning it from a simple harbour into a fantasy world of indescribable sculptural beauty. He had fashioned a tiny, delicate model for the proposed stone reconstruction—the katrali (structures built entirely of interlocking stone, without mortar)—work to be done on the existing temples, and he had poured into it every ounce of his considerable imagination. This small marvel he now displayed to the queen. Periya Piratti gave it her fulsome, affectionate admiration, even going so far as to call the model to the attention of Azhwarkkadiyaan’s companion.

“Well, Battar? Do you not see how beautiful this structure is? Indeed, my heart yearns to shape all of Thamizhagam’s most significant Siva temples in this new, exquisitely lovely fashion.”

“Surely there can be no obstacle to carrying out any of your wishes, Thaaye?” concurred Eesana Siva Battar gently. “We could reconstruct the sthalams (sacred temple towns) that have had the honour of a Thevaram in this very manner. The moment people set eyes on such a stone marvel, they will know at once that it is a Paadal Petra Sthalam—a holy site revered in the verses of our great saints.”

“Indeed, yes!” the queen’s eyes shone. “We must make every effort to gather all the verses by Appar, Gnana Sambandar, and Sundaramurthy. Every temple purified by their presence, every aalayam (shrine) that has had the divine good fortune of having a hymn dedicated to it, must cleave the very sky with magnificent gopurams, rebuilt in enduring stone that will last for centuries. I have harboured these two quiet ambitions close to my heart for so very long now. But lately, I find myself plagued by doubts that they may never come to pass. Had my lord and master not journeyed to the west and ascended to the feet of God—had he lived just a little longer—all my gentle desires might have been fulfilled…”

“But nothing has occurred to suggest otherwise, has it, Thaaye?” asked the priest. “Has not the Chakravarthy issued an edict, after all, that every single one of your commands must be carried out in an instant? Both his sons have always made it clear that they will divine your heart’s deepest desires and accomplish them, whatever they might be, even before you have given expression to them. When such is the case—”

“Perhaps,” she sighed, “but my heart is simply not at peace these days. Strange things reach my ears. Apparently, some people are concerned that I am draining the royal treasuries with my penchant for stone renovations. Why does Siva Peruman need so many temples, they ask, or so I am told. It does not really worry me that strangers speak so; it is the way of the world. But to hear that Aditha Karikalar, the Prince in Kanchi, might harbour those same resentful sentiments…”

“Thaaye,” Azhwarkkadiyaan stepped forward, interrupting even as Sembiyan Madevi recounted her feelings. “This humble servant is one among that number, I must confess.”

The queen gazed at him with considerable surprise. The others simply stared, obviously startled and not a little perturbed at his sudden presumption.

“My soul burns, Amma!” continued Azhwarkkadiyaan, his tone fairly exploding with sudden sparks of fury. “How can anyone stomach this injustice? And how can you, held by all to be the very Goddess of Dharma, ever countenance such a grievous wrong?”

“Ignore my brother’s coarse words, Your Highness,” soothed Eesana Siva Battar, stepping closer to where Thirumalaiyappan (as Azhwarkkadiyaan was also known) stood. “He is often prone to such wild fits of fury, I am afraid. Please, forgive him his outburst.”

Religion, you see, was a vastly different affair in those olden days from what it is in the present. Shaivism and Vaishnavism had not yet undergone the rigid segregation we see today. Devout followers of Lord Vishnu lived happily alongside fierce Shaivites, often under the roof of the very same family. A single priest was quite likely to perform the daily worship and rituals at both a Shiva temple and at Thirumaal’s holy abode. Eesana Siva Battar was one such enlightened, broad-minded soul. Thirumalaiyappan happened to be his brother once removed; the two men cherished a deep, abiding affection for one another despite their theological differences—which naturally explained why the Battar was so quick to crave pardon for his brother’s transgression.

“Peace, Thirumalai, and speak calmly,” the Queen smiled, her voice like a cool breeze. “What is all this talk of injustice now?”

“Just this, Your Highness,” lamented Thirumalaiyappan. “Ah, just look at the sheer number of new temples, soaring gopurams, and magnificent complexes for a God who clothes himself like a phantom; a God who carries a skull and begs for alms! So many reconstructions, so many intricate model temples! And yet, there is barely a single one being raised for Vishnu Murthy, the great protector who guards all the worlds! Not even a modest stone reconstruction of an old, existing temple for Him?”

“Amma, it is entirely natural that temples nestled within massive complexes, magnificent arenas, wide ambalams, beautifully carved chambers, and golden roofs be built to house the great Peruman who performs a glorious cosmic dance to cherish and nurture numerous worlds,” countered the Battar. “As for Thirumaal, what does He do all day but sleep endlessly upon his serpent bed? Surely all He requires is a tiny, quiet room, preferably dark, without even the bother of a flickering lamp? Why build enormous temples, furbished with delicate alcoves and divine sculptures, for a slumbering God?”

“The One who sleeps endlessly, as you so fondly deride Him, Anna, is the very one who guards this world,” retorted Azhwarkkadiyaan, his face flushed. “He is the one who pressed the great king Mahabali down into the nether lands with a single thrust of His foot!”

“And yet, this same Perumal who measured the three worlds, as you so proudly exalt, is the one who went desperately digging through the earth to seek our Siva Peruman’s divine lotus-feet in a vain bid to find them,” quipped Eesana Siva Battar, a twinkle in his eye. “Which He could not manage, if you remember, try as He might, even descending into the murky depths of the Pathaala Logam (the subterranean netherworld)!”

“If He has a frame as unfathomably large as all that, why does your Sivan require a temple at all, I ask you?” barked Azhwarkkadiyaan, waving a hand in exasperation. “Surely the poor stone temple would collapse into total ruins should He ever attempt to squeeze inside it?”

“Cease your quarrelling, both of you,” laughed Sembiyan Madevi, the Mazhavarayar princess, shaking her head at their antics. “Thirumalai, what is all this gloomy talk about no temples for Thirumaal? Whoever said any such thing? Why could you not simply make a courteous request for the Vinnagaram (a temple dedicated to Lord Vishnu) that you wish to see rebuilt?”

“Ammani—recently, I had the quiet opportunity to visit the sacred Veera Narayanapuram Vinnagaram. It is named, as you well know, after your illustrious father-in-law, the noble Paranthaka Chakravarthy, who ruled the Three Worlds. It is there that Thirumaal stands guard over the massive Veera Narayana Lake—a body of water as vast as an ocean—watching without a moment’s respite during either day or night. It was there, much to my dismay, that I noticed the great Lord’s temple walls, built with old brick and crumbling mortar, beginning to give way. Such decay can only bode ill for the hundreds of simple residents in that region, gracious lady. For do we not all know that the mighty lake will breach and destroy everything in its path, should the temple walls ever fall? Pray, rebuild the Vinnagaram with strong stone, I beseech you!”

“Very well; so be it,” promised the gracious Chozha queen with a nod. “You shall tell me more about it—but for now, it is time for our visitors to leave.”

Eesana Siva Battar and the other courtiers duly took the polite hint and quietly dispersed into the warm afternoon air.

The very next instant, Sembiyan Madevi lowered her voice, the gentle smile fading from her face. “Thirumalai, your pilgrimage—what were the holy sites you visited? What were the things you heard out there in the world? Reveal all of it to me, please, in careful detail. I know you carry something of grave import; was that not the real reason why you interrupted me so abruptly just now?”

“News of enormous consequence, yes. I would gladly have awaited your pleasure before revealing it,” warned Thirumalaiyappan, glancing around. “But Your Highness began to speak openly of Aditha Karikalar, the Kanchi Prince, and I deemed it far more necessary to halt that thread of thought at once. Who amongst those gathered here were genuine devotees, and who were merely lingering spies? We know nothing of them, after all. Strange and unsettling events are afoot all over the country; the cold blade of betrayal might cleave us at any moment, swung by anyone. It behooves us to be extremely wary.”

“Indeed it does,” sighed Sembiyan Madevi. “And it is even worse that members of the same family, bound closely by flesh and blood, are now in the appalling position of suspecting one another. When I think of Aditha Karikalar himself… ah, how loyal he used to be! Why, as a boy, he cherished such love and respect for me, a hundred times more than what he felt for his own mother. But even he doubts my true intentions now. Ah, Thirumalai, how I wish I had simply left this dreadful world along with my lord! But he bid me stay. He would not let me leave his side, and he delivered a great many heavy responsibilities into my frail hands before he passed,” she mourned softly. “What an unfortunate creature I am!”

“Your noble husband, Amma, was a saint who clearly foresaw the past, the present, and the future. Was he not like the very incarnation of the illustrious King Janaka of old, ruling the Chozha Empire in this wretched Kali Yugam? These lands are deeply fortunate, gracious lady, that he bid you remain behind after his passing. For it is now your sacred responsibility to save the Chozha Empire from destroying itself through bloody civil unrest; to prevent a great lineage that spans a thousand years from butchering its own sons and brothers. And I truly believe that is a task only you can accomplish!”

“Not quite, Thirumalai. My own son does not heed my words anymore; how may I ever expect anyone else to do so, then? But stay a moment. You mentioned something about spies, did you not? Who could possibly wish to spy on me—and why? Perhaps you suspect Aditha Karikalar of such dark deeds?” queried that pious lady, so wholly steeped in her quiet devotion to Siva Peruman. “Ah, does the boy truly distrust me so much?”

“I’m afraid I heard his words with my own two ears, Amma—else I would never have dared to believe that Prince Aditha Karikalar entertained even the slightest suspicion of you…”

“Did you? And what exactly was it that you heard, Thirumalai?”

“They were seated by one of Maamallapuram’s ancient stone temples in the fading light, and that was where I heard them speak—”

“Whom do you mean by ‘they’?”

“One was Prince Aditha Karikalar; Thirukkovilur Malayamaan was the second, and the third happened to be Parthibendran of the Pallavas. They were deep in hushed conversation. I managed to overhear them as I lay hidden in the shadows of a dark stone shrine nearby. Malayamaan and Parthibendran were utterly furious. They spoke in enraged tones of the Pazhuvettarayar brothers concocting a grand conspiracy with your son, Madhuranthakar, and effectively imprisoning the Emperor. Malayamaan declared quite bluntly that you must have been a part of such an evil plot; the others muttered their assent. Parthibendran then put forward a bold plan—that they must all march an army towards Thanjavur and free the Emperor by force. The others assented to this as well. But the Prince wished to make one last, desperate attempt to bring his father safely to Kanchi, without any recourse to bloodshed. That was when they decided unanimously on a course of action: they would send an olai to the Chakravarthy through a deeply trusted messenger. From what I could gather, this envoy was no ordinary man. He is a warrior of rare resourcefulness, great intelligence, and reckless courage; one who is entirely capable of both delivering secret messages and spying on the enemy. I actually tried to engage him in conversation once, and believe me when I say, Amma, that he slipped away from every one of my clever verbal traps like a wet eel in a muddy pond! Cunning as he was, he happily tried to wring information out of me, while giving absolutely nothing away in return. Even the sly Kudandhai astrologer tried his hand at extricating something from the boy, to no success whatsoever. I have since heard, through my most reliable sources, that he actually did manage to seek an audience with the Emperor in Thanjavur and deliver the olai…”

“And then? What was the Chakravarthy’s answer?”

“Apparently, a reply was promised for the very next day. But the Pazhuvettarayars seem to have grown extremely suspicious of this messenger. Somehow, by the grace of God or his own sharp wits, he managed to escape all their traps, slipped past their brawny soldiers, and fled the fortress city overnight!”

“In that case, he is an extremely resourceful young man, no doubt. And what about you? Once you left Kanchi—”

“My first intention was to travel straight here to you. I stopped at the Veera Narayanapuram Vinnagaram on the way, however, simply to worship at the feet of Thirumaal. It was there, entirely by the grace of the Lord, that I practically stumbled upon an immense secret…”

“Another one?” she asked, her eyes widening.

“Indeed, Thaaye. You see, the Sambuvaraiyars hosted a very grand, secretive banquet at the Kadambur palace that very night. And what was more, Periya Pazhuvettarayar himself was the guest of honour. Not to mention the rather interesting fact that the closed palanquin of Nandhini, the Ilaiya Rani, was a prominent part of his imposing retinue as well.”

“This is all her doing, Thirumalai,” the queen said, a tremor in her voice. “This terrible, looming calamity that now stares Chozha Nadu in the face… it is all the work of that beautiful, bitter young woman! Tell me, were you able to meet and speak with her at all?”

“That, Amma, is precisely what I could not manage to do. Ah, the long years I spent raising that vicious little snake as my own sister, acting faithfully upon your orders! The distant lands I wandered, gathering rare pasurams, bringing back beautiful verses that I taught her with such painstaking care! My soul fairly burns when I think of what she has become. She flatly refuses to even see me, now that she has elevated herself to become the elder Periya Pazhuvettarayar’s queen—”

“I am afraid your deep sorrow serves no purpose here, Thirumalai,” comforted Sembiyan Madevi softly. “For such is this world, and such are its people. We plan a great many fine things, but in the end… well, go on. What happened in Kadambur next?”

“I trudged all the way there, completely certain that it was Nandhini hidden inside the palanquin. I was revolving various ways and means by which I could either meet her face-to-face, or send an olai to warn her, at the very least. I braved the greatest peril as I scouted around those towering Kadambur fort walls in the dark, and eventually, I found a clever way to clamber over and drop down into the palace grounds. And that was when I stumbled upon a truly great mystery. A secret that turned my entire world upside down—”

“You, Thirumalai, are easily the most aggravating man I have ever had the misfortune to know,” she scolded mildly. “Always, always you begin your tales in this dramatic fashion, rousing us to a fever-pitch of curiosity, but never do you swiftly reveal a single useful detail! What was this precious mystery, pray tell?”

“Forgive me, Thaaye,” he ducked his head, looking a little abashed. “My natural hesitation in even speaking aloud of such dangerous things made me overly reticent. You see, we have all supposed, thus far, that the old Periya Pazhuvettarayar jealously squires his beautiful young queen around wherever he goes. But that’s not true at all. For it is not the Ilaiya Rani who travels hidden in that closed, curtained palanquin—”

“No? If it isn’t the Ilaiya Rani, who else could it possibly be? Another woman? Heavens, is there no end to that old man’s foolish lust?”

“It—it wasn’t a woman at all, Thaaye.”

“Not a woman? But what sort of man cowers and travels in a closed woman’s palanquin?”

“Forgive me, Amma—but it was none other than your beloved son, Madhuranthakar.”

Sembiyan Madevi sat utterly still for a few long moments, startled and shocked beyond all measure. The colour drained from her gentle face.

“Dear God,” she murmured softly to herself, finally breaking the heavy silence. “Do I truly deserve such a cruel, unnatural punishment for my crime?”

A little later, Azhwarkkadiyaan quietly recounted all the details of the secret midnight meeting that had taken place in the Sambuvaraiyar’s palace that night: the treasonous speeches made in the flickering torchlight, and the dark conspiracy hatched by the assembled chieftains. It is quite impossible to describe Periya Piratti’s utter desolation and misery as the grim narrative progressed.

“Ayyo, was it for this terrible end that I raised my boy to be a pious man, devoted to Siva Peruman? Must this be my final reward?” she lamented, pressing a hand to her brow. “Oh, Madhuranthakar! Must you be the reason this magnificent Chozha Empire falls to rack and ruin? Must you be the sad cause of such lasting infamy, the reason this ancient, proud dynasty reaps such bitter misfortune?”

When she finally spoke again, some moments later, she had managed to compose her trembling features. “Visit me once more before you leave Pazhaiyarai, Thirumalai. I must take some time to think things through clearly. And I must consult with the Princess Kundhavai as well, to see about preventing this looming disaster, somehow.”

“Far be it from me to suggest this to you, Amma,” Thirumalaiyappan said cautiously, “but you would do very well to preserve your own quiet counsel regarding these delicate matters.”

“Surely you do not suspect even Kundhavai’s motives?” the queen asked, her brow furrowing.

“It is only natural to do so in these treacherous times. Is she not, after all, Prince Aditha Karikalar’s most beloved sister?”

“And what of it? If you were to tell me right now, Thirumalai, that the sun had suddenly risen in the west and set in the east, I might perhaps believe you. My tired mind might even be swayed by your forceful, endless arguments that Thirumaal is the greater God and Siva Peruman is naught. But I will not believe a single word against Kundhavai. The palace midwife placed her in my arms the very instant she was born into this world. I have raised her ever since, with the greatest, deepest care and affection—even more, perhaps, than I would have shown my own daughter, had I been blessed to bear one. She, for her part, returns my love with all of her young, generous heart. The dear girl considers me her parent, and her sweet respect for me simply cannot be denied—”

“Permit me to ask you a small question, Amma,” interrupted Azhwarkkadiyaan. “Did Princess Kundhavai ever happen to mention to you the curious fact that she recently visited the astrologer of Kudandhai?”

“No, she did not. What of it?”

“And she did not recount to you, then, of a certain young man she met there, of Vaanar descent? Nor that she happened to run into him once more, down on the muddy banks of the Arisilaaru river?”

“She did not. But Thirumalai—these probing questions seem entirely irrelevant. What is their real purpose?”

“Only to show that the princess harbours a secret not known even to you, Amma. That young man, the brave Vaanar warrior she met, happens to be Aditha Karikalar’s trusted messenger—the very one I warned you about. In fact, it wouldn’t be at all amiss to call the boy a spy.”

“It matters not in the least, Thirumalai. Even if, as you say, Kundhavai has her little secrets and does not yet trust me with them, I have no doubt whatsoever that she has her own good reasons. I may as well give up my life right now, rather than begin to doubt that sweet girl!” announced the illustrious Kandaradhithar’s royal consort, her voice ringing with firm conviction.

“Ayyayo! Pray do not even conceive of such a dreadful idea, Amma,” remonstrated Azhwarkkadiyaan quickly, a little alarmed. “It may very well be that your deep trust isn’t misplaced—indeed, for all our sakes, I truly hope it is so. But be that as it may, the Princess has expressed a sudden desire to meet me. When I see her, I shall inform her that you wish to speak with her as well.”