CHAPTER 17

FREEDOM, AT LAST!

Three pairs of eyes, brimming with anticipation and an almost breathless eagerness affixed themselves to a perspiring, slightly out of breath Sathrugnan, as the spy moved into their area of scrutiny.

“Sathrugna,” began the Queen almost at once, barely giving him time to compose himself. “What is the news you bring—and who is it for?”

Sathrugnan bowed respectfully to the illustrious members of his audience. “My Lady, I bear messages for all three of you,” replied the spy. Having discharged his first duty, he turned towards Bhuvana Mahadevi. “Your Highness, my first message from Emperor Mahendra Pallavar is to you. ‘Thus far, my Queen, you have been a courageous wife, befitting the position you hold as the consort of the Emperor of this country, and have proved to be worthy of it in every way possible—now, the time has arrived for you to assume the mantle of a courageous mother too.’ ” Sathrugnan paused. “Eight month ago, he says, you sent him to the battlefield with a heart full of love, joy and acceptance—with a complete belief in his talents and victory. He now requests that you bid farewell to your son in the same manner, and speed him on his way to the war-front.”

A wealth of emotions coursed their way through the Crown Prince’s heart—exhilaration, relief, and pride threaded a path through his veins, as his body seemed to tingle with an anticipation he could barely suppress. Unable to quell his excitement, he jumped to his feet, his shoulders already appearing infinitesimally straighter, his height seemingly increased, as he bent at the feet of his mother to receive her blessings.

“Mother dearest, you will agree to carry out the Emperor’s wishes, won’t you?” He looked into his mother’s face with melting eyes. “You will grant me the freedom the Emperor has been so gracious as to offer me, won’t you?”

“Patience, little one,” spoke the Queen. “Let’s hear the rest of what Sathrugnan has to say, shall we?”

Narasimhar turned towards the spy instantly. “Sathrugna, what’s the Emperor’s message to me?”

“Good news, my Lord—one that will warm your heart. The ingrate Dhurvineethan has forgotten his life-debt to the Pallavas, it appears, and has now joined forces with Pulikesi—the Ganga king is so eager to quash us that he journeys day and night to reach Kanchi before his more powerful ally. He has dared to indulge in this fantasy of destruction, despite all that the Pallava Kings have done for him, thereby throwing loyalty to the winds…and the Emperor bids you undertake the task of bringing Dhurvineethan to his senses, and teaching him a lesson he won’t forget any time soon. Mahendra Pallavar wishes you to journey to Kazhukundram at once, assume command of the legions stationed there, intercept Dhurvineethan before he reaches Kanchi, and make short work of him and his pitiful forces as soon as possible.”

Consumed with a joy that lit up his countenance, Narasimhar enfolded Sathrugnan in a brief, bone-crushing embrace. “Sathrugna…this is really happening, isn’t it? I’m…I’m not dreaming up all this, am I?” His voice was tinged with an almost painful eagerness. “The Emperor has asked me to assume charge of an army, and engage in battle with the Ganga hordes, hasn’t he?”

Sathrugnan allowed himself a brief smile. “Indeed he has, my Lord. All of this is true—certainly not an elaborate fantasy. I shall give you further proof—here’s the ‘Vidaivel Vidugu’, entrusted to my care by the Emperor himself,” he pulled out the olai from his waistband, and handed it over to Maamallar.

Narasimhar received the palm-leaf reverently, running his eyes down it’s surface with overwhelming joy, his glance taking in the Pallava emblems of a Rishaba, and a Spear, printed on the olai. The Prince read through the closely written lines with a slight smile on his lips. Towards the end, however, his brows knit in confusion, and he looked up at the spy. “Sathrugna, he mentions here that he’s charged you with a message for me, to be delivered in person…what is it?”

“There is a message that needs to be delivered orally, my Lord. The Emperor, among all his concerns about the war and Kanchi’s defenses, has not forgotten about the Pallava Country’s most precious treasures, or it’s safety. He asked me if Aayanar and his daughter had taken refuge in Kanchi against the siege that is bound to follow, and I replied in the negative. Upon receiving my answer, he charged me with this message: he asks you to visit Aayanar and his daughter in person, send them to Kanchi with suitable escort and see to their other needs, before you finally leave for the battlefield.”

Narasimhar’s happiness was now complete, in every sense of the word. All through the communiqué delivered by Sathrugnan, a part of his mind had dwelt on Sivakami, and whether he could snatch a few moments during which he could take his leave of her before he left finally, irrevocably, for battle. He had yearned for the permission to indulge in this whim, desperately…and his wish had been granted even before he had voiced it.

A smidgen of suspicion entered his mind at this point—had his father granted the permission he craved, well aware of what existed between himself and the sculptor’s daughter?

Impossible, was his first impulse. But how could he have known…? Ah. The answer to the riddle was standing next to him, sharing in his joy at being sent to the war-front—who else but Commander Paranjyothi, who knew, more than anyone else in the Empire, what he felt for Sivakami, could have sent a message to the Emperor, asking for such permission on behalf of the Crown Prince?

The moment this thought presented itself to him, Narasimhar’s affection for the Commander rose a few notches. Moving slightly so that he stood in close proximity to his friend, the Crown Prince gripped Paranjyothi’s slender wrist in his own and squeezed it gently, letting his sentiments be known to that young man.

The noble Commander, on the other hand, seemed to be in the grip of some confusion, himself, as he focused his attention on Sathrugnan. “I believe you said that the Emperor had sent a message to me too—what is it, may I ask?”

“He asks you, Commander, to follow the Crown Prince into battle, as the loyal Lakshmana did his brother Rama. He’s also promised to arrive at Kanchi soon, to take charge of the city’s defenses himself, in your absence.”

“Ah…! So my friend accompanies me into battle, does he?” Narasimhar engulfed Paranjyothi in a brief embrace of joy, at this. “My cup of happiness is over flowing, indeed,” he smiled.

A moment of silence fell after this, with Sathrugnan choosing to blend into the background. Maamallar approached his mother, and knelt at her feet.

“Amma…” His eyes, when he looked up at her, were filled with endless joy, satisfaction, and love. “Bid me farewell.”

The eyes of the Pallava Empire’s Queen glistened with bright, unshed tears, and her voice was filled with affection as she blessed him. “Go, then, my dearest child…may you destroy your enemies, and return to Kanchi in all the glory of a magnificent victory!”

Narasimhar rose slowly. For a moment he appeared to be hesitating, as though battling with indecision. The Empress, ever vigilant, was quick to notice his expression.

“Little one…is there anything else you wish to say?” She asked.

“Yes, mother. You…you heard the Emperor’s message regarding Aayanar and Sivakami, didn’t you?”

“Yes, Narasimha, I did.”

“I shall leave for battle after I’ve escorted them to Kanchi, shall I?”

“By all means, do so, my child.”

“I’d like you to care for her as though she’s your daughter-in-law, when…well, as long as Sivakami resides here.”

“My daughter-in-law?! Impossible. I shall care for that poor, motherless girl as though she were my own daughter, Narasimha.”

Narasimhar blushed at this—and a small smile appeared on his face. “No, my dear mother. You may care for Sivakami as though she were your daughter-in-law—that will suffice.”

Bhuvana Mahadevi’s brows knit in puzzlement, at this statement. “But why? Why would you not wish me to care for Sivakami as though she were my own daughter? Perhaps she…” She turned towards Paranjyothi, and her countenance cleared at once, as though by magic. “Oh…! I understand, now,” she spoke, a beatific smile on her face. “Our Paranjyothi visited Aayanar with the intention of learning the fine art of sculpting—now he wishes to claim Aayanar’s best and most cherished art form for himself, does he?”

She could not understand the intense pain and misery that clouded the faces of both Narasimhar and Paranjyothi, following this statement.

“Never mind, mother,” spoke Narasimhar, finally, in a voice that appeared to be strangely strained. “Time is of the essence, and we have none to waste. Give me leave, please.”

******************

Within two naazhigais of Sathrugnan’s entry into Kanchi, Kumara Chakravarthy and his trusted commander Paranjyothi left the confines of the capital city, through the northern gates. Reaching Thirukazhukundram, they oversaw the legions stationed there, gave orders for the forces to keep themselves in readiness for the march the next day—and planned to leave for Aayanar’s residence the day after, preparatory to escort them to Kanchi. This would then leave them with enough time to rejoin the forces at Kazhukundram, after which they would leave on the journey to intercept Dhurvineethan and his hordes.

Accordingly, Narasimhar and Paranjyothi arranged for a small contingent of cavalry to accompany them, and made their way towards the sculptor’s home. As far as Narasimhar was concerned, his journey towards his beloved had been spent in a most profitable manner—he had squandered away the minutes, lost in pleasurable fantasies about the joy he would find in Sivakami’s eyes, the numerous ways in which he would express his love for her, and other such imaginary castles in the air.

Aayanar’s residence, however, precluded all possibilities of such a glorious reunion. The front door into the venerable sculptor’s home was locked by means of a trusty lock, and the entire house, together with the forest that surrounded it, was shrouded in a silence that was as heavy as it was impenetrable.

Narasimhar was barely aware of the reaction of the men around him, as his hopes, fantasies—nay, his very world, came crashing around his ears.