As the threat of enemies loomed, the people turned to the sacred drum, invoking its power with fervent prayers. They called upon the drum to cry out against their foes, to drive them away and confound their minds, just as wild animals scatter before a man in the forest. In their supplication, they likened their adversaries to sheep trembling before a wolf, beseeching the drum to make the enemies flee in terror. They recalled how birds scatter from a hawk or flee at the lion’s roar in the brightness of day, and so they urged the drum to send forth its voice, dispersing those who would do them harm. Not only the drum, but also the skin of the deer was invoked as a force to repel the enemies, so powerful that even the gods who stand on the battlefield’s edge would be struck with fear. They prayed that the very sounds of feet and shadows—those which delight mighty Indra—would terrify the hostile ranks approaching them. The twang of the bowstring and the reverberation of drums were to resound in all directions, shattering the formations and resolve of the enemy armies. They called upon the Sun to grant them clear sight, to send forth his rays in pursuit of their fleeing adversaries, scattering their companions when their strength faltered. With reverence, they invoked the fierce Maruts, children of Prisni, and Indra himself, to strike down the enemies. They remembered Soma the king, Varuna the king, Mahadeva, and Death—all aspects of Indra—praying for their combined might. The divine armies, banners of the Sun, conscious and aware, were called to conquer the foes. In this, they offered their homage: Svaha! Turning from the dangers of battle to the afflictions of the body, they prayed for relief from fever. They beseeched Agni to drive fever away, and invoked Soma, the sacred stone, and skillful Varuna; they called on the altar, the sacred grass, and the shining kindling to remove all hatred and sickness far from them. They described fever as a force that makes all things green, burning and consuming like Agni, and pleaded for it to become powerless, to subside, or to depart elsewhere. They spoke of fever’s harsh and destructive nature, likening it to a red and wild being, and sent it downward, with reverence, to the craftsman—asking that the fist of Śakambhara return to the great bulls. They acknowledged fever’s abodes among the Mūjavas and the great bulls, and as long as Takman, the fever, is born, so long may it dwell among the Balhikas, far from them. They invoked divine aid to drive away Takman, snake, poison, and lameness, beseeching these afflictions to seek out those already stricken and leave the supplicants in peace. They spoke to Takman, commanding it to go to the Mūjavas or beyond, to the Balhikas, to seek out the Śūdra woman who is swollen, and to depart from them. The kinship of the Mūjavas’ great bulls was acknowledged, and words were spoken to send Takman away, to other fields. They reminded Takman that it does not delight in other fields, that it should not show mercy to them, but depart to the Balhikas where it is desired. If cold, trembling, cough, and shivering came with Takman, they prayed that these terrors would surround them no more. They asked that none of these companions—fever, cough, agitation—be brought near again. They sent Takman away with its brother Fever, sister Cough, and evil cousin, to another mortal. They called for the destruction of every form of Takman: the third, the fourth, the persistent, the autumnal, the cold, the trembling, the summer, and the rainy. From the Gandharis, the Mūjavas, the Angas, and the Magadhas, as one would send a person to a storehouse, so they delivered Takman away. Next, they prayed for the support of Heaven and Earth, of the goddess Sarasvati, of Indra and Agni, to subdue the worms that cause harm. They called upon Indra, lord of wealth, to strike down the worms, declaring that all enemies are slain by the power of their sacred speech. They sought to subdue the worms that creep around the eyes and nose, and those that invade the body’s depths. They recognized the diversity of worms: some with the same form, some different; some black, some red; the tawny and tawny-eared, the vulture and the heron—each one was to be slain. The pale-bodied, the black, the pale-armed, and all worms of every form, they prayed to subdue. The Sun, ever-watchful, was invoked to go forth and destroy both the seen and unseen worms. They asked that all worms—white, rough, moving, sharp-toothed—be slain, both visible and hidden. The ram of the worms, the river-dweller, all were to be crushed as one grinds grain with a stone. Even the worm with three heads, three humps, speckled or white, they sought to tear apart, to cut off its head. They invoked the precedent of Kanva and Madagna, striking down worms with the power of Agastya’s prayer. The king and chief of the worms, their mother, brother, and sister—all were to be slain. Their dwellings and enclosures destroyed, even the smallest worms were not spared. For every kind of worm, they prayed to break its head with a stone and burn its mouth with fire. Finally, they sought the protection of the gods in all their sacred acts. They prayed to Savitar, lord of creations, to protect them in prayer, rite, priestly office, foundation, thought, intention, wish, and invocation to the gods—Svaha. They invoked Agni, lord of the forest trees, for the same protection; then Heaven and Earth, lords of givers; and Varuṇa, lord of the waters—each called upon to safeguard them in every aspect of their ritual and devotion. Thus, with deep reverence and unwavering faith, they entrusted themselves to the divine, seeking victory over enemies, freedom from afflictions, and the blessings of the gods in all their endeavors.