During these early days of his banishment Rama took great delight in exploring, with his beloved Sita, the beauties of Chitrakuta the peak bright with many colours. The woods abounded with flowers and fruit of every sort, and the beasts of the forest roamed free from all fierceness. Fair streams plashed down the mountain's sides, and birds made music everywhere. In the midst of these charms the hearts of Rama and his wife were consoled, and they ceased to pine for Ayodhya and royal estate.
On a day, however, when Rama led Sita by the goodly stream Mandakini, dotted with islets, frequented by ducks and cranes, with herds of deer drinking fearlessly at its margin, Bharat's host approached with much sound and dust, scaring the forest denizens far and wide. Spying from a tree, Lakshman made out the great company of men, horses, and elephants, and in the midst of all he discerned the cognisance of Bharat. Therewith came to him the thought that had at first assailed both Guha and the hermit, to wit, that Bharat had gathered this army to put out, once for all, his brother's claim to the throne; and bitter wrath flooded Lakshman's soul. Fiercely he cried that they should resist amain; that, if they thus stood, Bharat might well fall before their stroke, and Kaikeyi, the plotter of the mischief, perish also, while the slopes of Chitrakuta ran with the blood of sinners.
But Rama, ever wise as bold and righteous as brave, replied, "What should I gain, brother, when I have sworn to carry out this my father's command? Methinks, indeed, Bharat hath but come to visit us in friendship. He hath never
