Divya felt bitter at heart. What preparation had she ever had for all this? Such was the will of fate.

The elderly man returned, followed by the young woman. ‘It will be uncomfortable here, daughter, it is so cold,’ he said, addressing Divya, and putting out his hand, added, ‘Here, hand over these ornaments of yours. I shall put them away in a safe place.’

Divya lifted her eyes to look at him. Dhata looked up too. Without uttering a word, Divya took the pearl necklaces from around her neck and handed them over.

The young woman standing by could not restrain her curiosity. She snatched the necklaces out of his hands and took them over to the lamp where she began to examine them with admiring eyes. Paying little attention to her, the elderly man said to Divya, ‘And that armlet too, daughter.’

Divya put out her arm towards Dhata. With trembling fingers, Dhata untied the jewel-studded ornament from Divya’s arm and put it into the man’s outstretched palm. The young woman snatched the armlet away too. The elderly man again said, ‘It’s too open and cold here, daughter. You won’t be able to sleep on the floor. Come and make yourself comfortable in the room.’

Silently both Divya and Dhata rose and followed him. They passed into a bigger courtyard, which had rooms on all sides, the doors of which were also shut. Only one room in the southern corner had a light shining from its open door. The elderly man moved towards it. Outside the room stood a man, wearing the shabby uniform of a guard, with a sword hanging from his waistband and a whip in his hand. Three men emerged from the room. In their ragged and grimy clothes, they shivered from the cold. They looked like slaves. The guard led them off in another direction.

The dumb boy, carrying a mat under his arm and holding a lamp in one hand trailed behind the elderly man. At a sign from him, the boy put down the lamp in one corner of the room and spread the mat on the floor. ‘Daughter,’ said the man to Divya, guiding her by placing his hand on her back, ‘it won’t be cold in there. You can go in.’

Dhata too was about to step into the room when the elderly man blocked her way with his arm and said, ‘For you there is a separate room.’

‘Let Amma come in here,’ said Divya, sobbing loudly. But the door of the room had been closed. Divya heard the bolt slide home.

A muffled cry rose from Divya’s throat, and Dhata too cried out. Realizing the futility of their situation, both shed tears of helplessness and despair.

Grandsire Chief Justice

LATE THAT NIGHT, THE ASSEMBLY IN VASUMITRA’S CONCERT HALL dispersed. The guests got into their chariots and palanquins or mounted their horses and headed home. Seeing the guests depart, Divya’s palanquin-bearers also shook off their sleepiness and stood up, waiting for their mistress to appear. But of Divya and her attendant, Dhata, there was no sign. The night watchmen of the palace shut the main gate and put out the lights.