Now seated on a platform, the ‘holy man’ stealthily took out his dagger and when the disciple-king inclined his head to better hear, the rogue lurched forth and wrought the deed for which he had come. The stabbed saint feebly sighed. Dattan, hearing the commotion, broke in and raised his sword to cut down the villain but the bleeding king intervened, whispering loudly, “No Dattan! He is one of us. His holy disguise speaks of the Truth Supreme (meypporul). Let no harm come to him.”
The servant now supported his dying master and listened as the latter conveyed his final wish: “Just ensure that this devotee of our Lord returns home safely.” Dattan, ever faithful to his master’s word, escorted the villain along the highway, preventing the enraged citizens from attacking him. Delivering the murderer to the boundary of his own domain, the guard rushed back to the dying saint, who had kept alive by force of will just to hear news of the man. “Sire, I have left the falsely-garbed victor safe in his place.” The saint, with a benign countenance exclaimed, “Sir, who else but you could have done me this great service?”
The saint then had a vision of the Lord dancing in the golden hall of Thillai and, his earthly duties completed, attained the Lord’s Feet.