There are only two substantial points of difference between this story and the traditional Hindu account given by Nuniz. One of these concerns the reason for the Sultan's attack. According to the Hindus it was a war undertaken from pure greed of conquest; according to Muhammadan story it was a campaign against a rebel. The second is that while the Hindus declare that none of the blood royal escaped, Batuta distinctly mentions the survival of eleven sons, and proves his point incontestably. But this does not vitiate the general resemblance of the two accounts, while the synchronism of the dates renders it impossible to believe that they can refer to two separate events. We may suppose that since the eleven sons became followers of Islam they were for ever blotted out of account to the orthodox Hindu.

After the capture of the fortress the Sultan, according to Ibn Batuta, pursued Baha-ud-din southwards and arrived near the city of the prince with whom he had taken refuge. The chief abandoned his guest to the tender mercies of the tyrant, by whom he was condemned to a death of fiendish barbarity.

"The Sultan ordered the prisoner to be taken to the women his relations, and these insulted him and spat upon him. Then he ordered him to be skinned alive, and as his skin was torn off his flesh was cooked with rice. Some was sent to his children and his wife, and the remainder was put into a great dish and given to the elephants to eat, but they would not touch it. The Sultan ordered his skin to be stuffed with straw, to be placed along with the remains of Bahadur Bura,[26] and to be exhibited through the country."

To continue briefly the story given by Nuniz. After the capture of Anegundi in 1334 the Sultan left Malik Naib (whom Nuniz calls "Enybiquymelly" in his second chapter, and "Mileque neby," "Meliquy niby," and "Melinebiquy" in the third) as his local governor, and retired northwards. The country rose against the usurpers, and after a time the Sultan restored the principality to the Hindus, but made a new departure by raising to be Raya the former chief minister Deva Raya, called "Deorao" or "Dehorao" by Nuniz. He reigned seven years. During his reign this chief was one day hunting amongst the mountains south of the river when a hare, instead of fleeing from his dogs, flew at them and bit them.[27] The king, astonished at this marvel, was returning homewards lost in meditation, when he met on the river-bank the sage Madhavacharya, surnamed VIDYARANYA or "Forest of Learning," -- for so we learn from other sources to name the anchorite alluded to -- who advised the chief to found a city on the spot. "And so the king did, and on that very day began work on his houses, and he enclosed the city round about; and that done, he left Nagumdym, and soon filled the new city with people. And he gave it the name VYDIAJUNA, for so the hermit called himself who had bidden him construct it."[28]

Thus, in or about the year A.D. 1336, sprung into existence the great city which afterwards became so magnificent and of such wide-spread fame.

The chronicle continues by saying that the king constructed in the city of Vijayanagar a magnificent temple in honour of the sage. This temple I take to be the great temple near the river, still in use and known as the temple of Hampi or Hampe, having a small village clustering about it. On the rocks above it, close to a group of more modern Jain temples, is to be seen a small shrine built entirely, roof as well as walls, of stone. Everything about this little relic proves it to be of greater antiquity than any other structure in the whole circuit of the hills, but its exact age is doubtful. It looks like a building of the seventh century A.D. Mr. Rea, superintendent of the Madras Archaeological Survey, in an article published in the MADRAS CHRISTIAN COLLEGE MAGAZINE for December 1886, points out that the fact of mortar having been used in its construction throws a doubt upon its being as old as its type of architecture would otherwise make it appear. It is quite possible, however, that the shrine may have been used by a succession of recluses, the last of whom was the great teacher Madhava. If we stand on that rock and imagine all the great ruins of the city visible from thence, the palaces and temples, the statues and towers and walls, to be swept out of existence, we have around us nothing but Nature in one of her wildest moods -- lofty hills near and far, formed almost entirely of huge tumbled boulders of granite, but with trees and grass on all the low ground. It was a lonely spot, separated by the river from the mere inhabited country on the farther side, where dwelt the chiefs of Anegundi, and was just such as would have been chosen for their abode by the ascetics of former days, who loved to dwell in solitude and isolation amid scenes of grandeur and beauty.

We shall, however, in all probability never know whether this hermit, whose actual existence at the time is attested by every tradition regarding the origin of Vijayanagar, was really the great Madhava or another less celebrated sage, on whom by a confusion of ideas his name has been foisted. Some say that Madhavacharya lived entirely at Sringeri.

There are a number of other traditions relating to the birth of the city and empire of Vijayanagar.