‘Prestha’s palace must have been surrounded by Shvetketu and his soldiers by this time.’ It was Balajit’s voice, tinged with anxiety. ‘They’ll give a blast on the trumpet when they set fire to the palace. And here you’ve allowed that son of a slave to escape! What could have made him suspicious?’

Prithusen’s body was covered with cold sweat. He did not think of Zola who lay huddled up on the stone slab beside him. He was all ears to every little sound. Even the throbbing of his heart pounded dreadfully in his ears. He trembled from head to foot.

‘If that son of a slave succeeds in getting away, he can prove dangerous,’ Balajit was saying. ‘It may be that he’s lying in some grove, sleeping it off after drinking heavily. Have armed soldiers been posted on the ramparts of the palace?’

‘Yes, Arya, two hundred trusted soldiers have already entered the palace compound through the rear gate. One hundred more are hiding in civilian clothes in the dark lanes outside the rear gate. Two hundred more are hiding near the main gate. They are only waiting for the signal of the trumpet call.’

Suddenly the silence of the night was broken by the sound of a trumpet from the northern part of the town. Indradeep shouted the order at the top of his voice: ‘Attention! Surround the assembly yard and proceed towards the main gate.’

Prithusen was familiar with the garden and the groves of Mallika’s palace. Leaving the unconscious Zola, he wrapped his uttariya loosely around his head and face, and taking long strides, ran towards the rampart. A few armed soldiers coming out from behind the trees were moving towards the assembly yard. For a moment, Prithusen froze; then, going over to them he ordered in the manner of an army commander, ‘Soldiers! Towards the main gate!’

As the soldiers turned obediently towards the main gate, Prithusen, with the help of a tree branch, climbed over the parapet wall and jumped down on to the road on the other side.

Unarmed and helpless, he stood on the road and thought for a moment, ‘Where shall I go? Should I go towards the main gate where my bodyguard and chariot are waiting? … Towards my father? The two hundred soldiers of the enemy must have finished him by now. Shall I go towards my palace? The palace must have been captured by the enemy and set on fire.’

The sound of horses’ hoofs, coming from the direction of the main gate, fell on his ears. He at once crept into a dark lane nearby. A band of riders appeared to be making a quick round of the palace. Prithusen went on walking further into the darkness of the lane. He took off his pearl necklaces and other precious ornaments, and one by one, threw them away. Covering his body and head with his uttariya, he tried to pass himself off as a commoner protecting himself from the weather.