The dark lane ended. On the main road, the moon shone as brightly as the sun and thus it was risky to go on to the main road. He shrank from going further and remained in the lane. Not far from where he stood were the palaces of the President of the Republic and of Okris, the noble. Prithusen thought to cross the road and proceed in that direction, for there alone he could perhaps find shelter.

Suddenly, the clatter of horses’ hoofs was heard from that direction too. Prithusen stood in the darkness and watched. A group of horsemen, led by two Brahmin nobles, Agnikesh and Sakrid, with their swords drawn, swept by. Prithusen realized that the palaces of the President and of Okris had been surrounded by the enemy. It was no longer possible to seek shelter with friends.

He stood hidden in the darkness of the lane, breathing heavily. Every muscle in his body twitched, and he was bathed in sweat down to his heels. Like an animal surrounded by hunters in a forest, shivering and shrinking within himself, hiding wherever he could, he made his way towards the outskirts of the town. Every time he came onto the main road flooded with moonlight, he trembled from head to foot. Each voice he heard seemed to call his name, and his blood froze within him. Unarmed and hopeless, he was mindless with fear.

For a long time Prithusen lurked in the lanes. He despaired at the thought that after daybreak it would become impossible for him to save himself. At the same time, he did not understand why he should wander aimlessly from place to place, trying to save his life by hiding. With his armed soldiers behind him, he would certainly have overcome the insurgents. Had he been armed, even though alone, he would have fought to the bitter end and died honourably. Now there was no way out for him. He could either be killed like an animal or like a mouse save himself by scurrying from one hole to another. The effects of the wine had worn off, and he was feeling weak and exhausted in every limb. With an effort of will, he fought off the blankness that was clouding his mind.

The full moon dropped till it touched the horizon. The houses on the west of the road cast long shadows, enveloping the opposite side of the street in darkness. Without any clear sense of direction, Prithusen stepped into the nearest lane.

On the other side of the road he saw a man coming towards him intoning the words of a mantra. As the person drew near, Prithusen recognized him at once. It was the monk Cheebuk, the reputed physician. The monk’s eyes fell on him. Prithusen had been a patient under his personal attention for well over two months. It was not difficult for the monk to recognize him, even without the rich garments he wore habitually.

‘Where are you going, Arya?’ he addressed Prithusen without hesitation. ‘That way isn’t safe. The riders looking for you have gone in that very direction.’