The lovers of aditha karikalan
In which Manimegalai is more duty bound, Aditha calmer, and the lake rescue becomes a conversation about marriage.
Manimegalai’s crush is cruelly nipped at the bud.
Vanathi brought Manimegalai into Kundavai’s chambers. Megalai, dressed like a common traveller had clearly been crying, her face red and her eyes swollen, bowed in front of the princess.
“You are Sambhuvarayar’s daughter, are you not?” the princess asked.
“Yes, Ilavarasi. I am,” she hung her head, tears forming in her eyes again at the thought of her father and brother imprisoned in the dungeons.
Kundavai waited for her to speak.
“I am not here to ask for their release, Ilaya Piratti,” she reached into the folds of her saree, “I am here to deliver this olai to you.”
She handed it over to Kundavai, “Your brother, he gave it to me the day of his demise, told me to deliver it to you.”
Kundavai had finished reading the olai, handed it to Vanathi, “Do you know what the olai says, Manimegalai?”
“I can not read, your highness”, she said, “but I am aware that Vallavaraiyar has been imprisoned for a crime he did not commit.”
Kundavai looked at her, her piercing gaze making Megalai stand taller, throwing her shoulders back and looking into the eyes of the princess, “That armband, Kadambur Ilavarasi, where did you get that?”
Manimegalai looked down at the slightly out of shape armband with a snake head at the end, “Your brother…Karikalan, he gave it to me.”
She knew it was the crown prince who had rescued her from the lake. She had spent the last few days watching this man, observing his every move, every word that came out of his mouth. She had paid attention to what he ate, what he wore, how he changed his hair throughout the day (it was only in a full bun if he was completely relaxed, which seemed to be the rarest of rare occurrences). She knew that this was the man her parents wanted her to marry, even as her indecisive brother was still pushing for the other crown prince.
Feeling his eyes on her face, she slowly blinked hers open. He looked concerned, she smiled.
“Is this how life is with you?”
He placed her down on the grass, “What do you mean?”
She lay down, opening out the edges of her saree, spreading it over the grass to let the sun do his job, “You put me in danger, and then rescue me yourself?”
He laughed, his booming laugh which sounded pleasant in the open air. When he laughed in the meeting rooms, it was sarcastic, meant to taunt, to prick. But this laugh, it made her smile too.
“Kadambur Ilavarasi, why are you thinking of a life with me?”
“Because there have been talks of marrying me off to you.”
He hummed, sitting down next to her, leaning on his elbows, “There have been whispers, yes.”
She looked at him, he was watching Vandiyadevan and Nandini scramble onto shore.
“They will ask you soon,” she prodded.
She laughed, “Only your sister has the freedom to choose her husband, Ilavarase.”
He looked at her, eyes piercing, the warmth that was there a few minutes ago replaced by a calculating look, “What do you want me to say, when they ask?”
“Are you giving me the illusion of choice?”
“Like you said, only my sister has the freedom to choose.”
“We are at the brink of a civil war.”
He looked at her, surprised, “The Kadambur Ilavarasi keeps track of political intrigues?”
“It seems prudent, when they want to use me to quell the uprising.”
“We are on different sides of the same boat are we not, Ilavarasi?”
She nodded, “My father would be pleased, the future kings would be his grandchildren. He’d have the same position your grandfather holds now.”
“That will happen only if the other chieftains withdraw their support to the sly scheme of the Pazhuvettarayars.” He sounded tired, like the anger that he had been throwing at the chieftains had drained him.
Manimegalai sat up, “You might find yourself with a bouquet of wives.”
Karikalan flinched, “Have you thought about that too?”
“I have. But I think I’ll be able to manage if you promise to rescue me first when trouble inevitably arrives.”
Karikalan’s laugh was louder this time, “If that is your wish.”
She turned her face to look at him, noticing that the blue dye of her saree had run in the water, it had left its mark on his chest where he had held her. A dull blue spread across his scarred skin. She looked down, a sudden blush rushing to her face.
“I believe we’ve reached an agreement even before the official talks have begun, Ilavarasi. You will make a fine diplomat.”
The blush deepend, “A compliment, from the commander of the northern forces himself!”
He sat up, his voice teasing, “There will be more to come, I am sure.”
“So not just a warrior then, as much a flirt as your friend Vandiyadevan!”
“Who do you think taught him all his tricks?”
“Where did you practise all your charms, Ilavarase? On the unsuspecting Rashtrakuta soldiers?”
A faint blush spread from his cheeks to his neck and before he could answer, Vallavaraiyar came hurtling towards them.
The next morning found Megalai collecting flowers in the small garden adjoining the lake, the previous day’s events had been playing on her mind.
She had always imagined falling in love with a kind, loving man. Someone who would shower her with flowers, write poems for her, take her on journeys to far away lands where they could both be in awe of whatever they saw, ate, heard.
Since her brother had gone to war, she had been forced to grow up along with him. The sudden interest her father and brother had taken in the workings of the royal family had thrown her into the proverbial fire, because they had wanted to get her married off Madhuranthakan, a man who travelled in a woman’s palanquin*, trying to gain support for his claim to the crown. It had disgusted her, and she had expressed the same, only to be shot down with lectures on duty and power.
She had hoped the return of Kandamaran’s friend, Vallavaraiyar would remind them of how much they had hoped for a union there, but it was to no avail. Not that she knew if Vallavaraiyar would make a better husband than Madhuranthakan.
Eventually, they had landed on the audacious scheme of giving her in marriage to the crown prince of the Chola empire, the Kopparakesari Aditha Karikalan. She had laughed, why would he marry her?
She had watched the way he had entered the fort. Proud. Fearless. Going up to the balcony to address the crowds, waving at them.
She had watched, as his fury burst from his mouth in cutting sarcasm.
She watched, as he laughed with Vallavaraiyan, suddenly a young prince who found joy in hunting rather than the heir to the throne dealing with a deadly conspiracy.
She had watched how he had interacted with Nandini, who had fast become her confidant. It was curious, they seemed like old friends, but rarely ever expressed any words that indicated so.
She had watched, looking for signs that would let her make an argument for why he would make a terrible husband, or worse, a terrible king. She had found none.
He was impulsive, angry and utterly disrespectful to everyone who stood in his way.
He was kind and patient with the people who came to him with various problems.
He was boisterous, loud and happy with his friends.
He always had a solution, even though it was sometimes a bit too rash.
Yesterday, when he had pulled her out of the water, she had felt his strength, the sheer power of this famed Chola lion.
She had broached the idea of their marriage, there would not be another time to do so she had thought. Best to get it out of the way, to be prepared for whatever answer he had to give before she reconciled herself to her duty.
“Kadambur Ilavarasi, may I have a moment of your time please?” his voice spoke, from behind her. She jumped, a hundred years to this man.
“Ilavarase, I did not hear you,” she muttered.
“You seemed lost in thought…” he trailed off, plucking a flower that had been too high for her and dropping it into her basket, “but I had to speak to you about something important.”
He dropped an olai into her flower basket, “Would you keep this safe, and deliver it to my sister Kundavai, in case anything happens to me?”
She was startled, “Why would anything happen to you?”
“The chieftains are all gathering here today are they not?” he smirked.
“So why would anything happen to you?” she pushed.
“It is best to be prepared, for any situation. People have killed for the crown before, have they not? I am unaware of how far Madhuranthakan’s ambitions have corrupted him.”
She nodded, suddenly afraid, “I will do as you ask,” her voice shook.
He took her hand in his, warmth suddenly spread through her, he was sliding his armband up her arm, “You’ll make a great queen one day, Manimegalai,” he said, as he had walked away from her and into the discussions.
The next time she saw him was when she had run out of Nandini’s room. It had not been the chieftains who were a danger to him, it was Nandini.
She had cried endlessly. For her father. Her brother. For Nandini’s lost friendship. For Vallavaraiyan’s incarceration. For the emperor, who had looked broken at his son’s pyre. For his two siblings, his friends, his soldiers, his people. She had cried, for the few moments she had spent with a man, taken too soon from this world. She had cried, for herself.
*It was an ingenious scheme, but guessing it emasculated him in the 10th century.
This is not great, but I had to get this out of the way before it took over my brain. Might edit later.
