CHAPTER 4 The Palace of Kadambur
Hаving rested, Vandiyathevan’s horse regained its vigour and in a short while, it reached the gates of the Kadambur palace. Sengannar Sambuvaraiyar was one of the leading chieftains of the Chozha hierarchy at this time. The palace gates were like the gates of a fort in a big city and the walls on either side of them encircled the palace completely.
The entrance buzzed with joyful activity, with elephants and horses and those who watered and fed them; with torch bearers who held their torches high to light the way; with men who attended to the lamps, topping up the oil in them and adjusting their wicks.
Vandiyathevan hesitated.
Some important event is going to take place here. “Have I arrived at the wrong moment?” he wondered. Still, he was eager to know what was happening. The gates of the palace were still
open, but fierce-looking soldiers wielding spears were standing guard.
Aware that if he hesitated, they might stop and question him, the brave warrior decided to ride past the gates. How disappointing! As soon as he came up to the gates, two soldiers stopped him, crossing their spears before him to block his way. Another four grabbed his horse’s reins. One of them looked intently at Vandiyathevan. Another held his torch higher to look at his face.
Furious, Vandiyathevan shouted, “Is this the practice in your town, to stop your guests at the gate?”
“Who are you, thambi, to talk so impudently, and where do you come from?” asked the gatekeeper.
“You want to know? I am from Thiruvallam in Vanagapadi. At one time your ancestors used to tattoo my ancestors’ names on their chests and indeed felt proud to do so. My name is Vallavarayan Vandiyathevan. Understand?”
“Why didn't you bring someone to herald your arrival?” joked one.
The others laughed.
“Whoever you are, you can’t come in. All those who were invited have arrived. Our orders are not to admit anyone else,” said the head gatekeeper.
Some soldiers heard this argument and came up to them.
One of them exclaimed, “Hey, this looks like the horse we drove off during the festival.”
The other said, “Don’t say horse. Say ass.”
“Look how stiffly he's seated, the man on the ass,” said another.
A doubt assailed Vandiyathevan. Why get into trouble? Should he just go back quietly? Or show them the seal with Aditha Karikalar’s insignia on it, and go in? Who could stop him, once they saw the sign of the commander of the northern armies? While he debated with himself thus he heard the Pazhuvettarayar’s man's mocking tone.
“Let go of the horse. I am going back,” he said.
The soldiers released the horse’s reins.
Vandiyathevan pressed the horse's flanks hard with his heels.
At the same time, he drew his sword, brilliant as lightning, and swirled it around rapidly, like Thirumal's disc. The horse galloped into the fort, flattening the soldiers in its path. Their
spears clattered to the ground as the horse sprang at Pazhuvettarayar's men.
The swift, unexpected attack scattered the soldiers in all four directions.
By this time, a number of things happened. The gates of the fort shut with a bang.
Cries of “Catch him! Catch him!” rose in the air. Swords flashed and clanged, and the sentinel began
to beat the alarm signal on the drum.
Vandiyathevan's horse was surrounded by more than twenty, thirty, fifty soldiers. He leapt down, drew his sword and shouted, “Kandamara, Kandamara, your men are killing me!”
Astonished, the soldiers drew back. A voice thundered from the upper storey of the palace, “What is this commotion? Stop it!” Some seven or eight people looked down at them to see what was happening.
One of the soldiers said, “Ayya (Sir), someone evaded the guards and came in, shouting the young master’s name.”
“Kandamara! Go and see what the racket is about,” ordered the same stentorian voice.
Vandiyathevan knew it had to be Sambuvaraiyar”s.
He stood still for a while, so did the soldiers.
A youthful voice asked, “What is this row about?”
Everyone gave way. The youngster walked rapidly towards them and saw Vandiyathevan, who, standing with his sword drawn, looked like the Lord] Subramanya about to annihilate
Suran.
Overcome by emotion, the youth shouted, “Vandiyathevan Is it really you?” rushed towards Vandiyathevan and embraced him.
“Kandamara, you asked me over and Over again, to visit you so here I am. I’ve been received like a warrior!”
He pointed to the circle of soldiers around him. Kandan Maran looked at the soldiers and said, “Chi! Get out, you idiots. How clever you’ve been!”.
Kandan Maran clasped Vandiyathevan’s hands and tugged him along, his feet hardly touching the ground. His heart leapt and his pulse raced. What could be more exhilarating than the
renewal of a friendship forged in youth? With someone with whom one had shared everything?
Romantic love has its own joy and pleasure, but also a greater share of sorrow and pain. But not even the shadow of sorrow clouds the friendship between young men. It is perfect happiness.
As they walked along, Vandiyathevan asked, “Kandamara, what is happening today? Why all this security?”
“I’ll tell you later why it’s a special day. Remember, when we stood watch on the banks of the Pennar, how we used to say, ‘I want to see Pazhuvettarayar, Mazhavarayar, this person
and that...?’ You can see all of them here,” said Kandan Maran.
Then he took Vandiyathevan to the first floor of the palace, where all the guests were seated. He took him first to his father, Sambuvaraiyar, and said, “Appa! (Father) I have often spoken to you about my friend Vandiyathevan, of the Vanar clan. This is him.” Vandiyathevan paid obeisance to the elder.
But Sambuvaraiyar did not seem to be particularly pleased.
“Is he the one who caused all the commotion downstairs?” he asked.
“No, it's not he who caused it. The idiots we’ve appointed as gatekeepers are responsible.”
“But today, of all days! And, that too, after dark. He needn’t have created such an uproar when he arrived,” remarked Sambuvaraiyar.
Kandan Maran’s face fell. He did not want to discuss the matter further with his father. He drew Vandiyathevan away and took him to meet Pazhuvettarayar who was seated on a raised chair in the midst of the other guests.
He said, “Mama (uncle), this is my good friend, Vandiyathevan. He belongs to the Vanar dynasty. When we were guarding the northern frontier together, he used to often tell me how he longed to meet Pazhuvettarayar, the warrior among warriors.
He used to wonder whether it was true that Pazhuvettarayar had sixty-four battle scars and I would say, ‘One of these days you can count them for yourself.”
“Is that so, thambi? You won’t believe the story unless you count them yourself? Are you so sceptical then? Do you think that, barring the Vanar clan, there can be no other, as valorous?” asked Pazhuvettarayar, frowning.
Both friends were startled by this remark. They had not thought that a well-meaning statement could be so misinterpreted and turned into an insult.
Vandiyathevan was irritated. Concealing his agitation, he said respectfully, “Ayya, the fame of the Pazhuvettarayar valour has spread from the Himalaya to Kanyakumari. Who am I to doubt it?”
“Good reply. Smart boy!” said Pazhuvettarayar.
Relieved, the youngsters left. Sambuvaraiyar called his son aside and whispered, “Let your friend eat quickly and go to sleep somewhere by himself. He must be tired after the long journey.”
Kandan Maran shook his head angrily and took Vandiyathevan to the anthappuram where there were many women.
Vandiyathevan paid his respects to Kandan Maran's mother and guessed that the shy girl standing behind her was his sister. Having built up an imaginary picture of her, based on Kandan Maran's descriptions, he was disappointed at not having seen her more clearly.
His eyes searched the gathering for the woman who had been in the palanquin with Pazhuvettarayar.
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