960 AD, Gunung Sembatu (Stony Mountain), Upper Galas River Valley, in the land named Amdan Negara (City of the Valiant).
The sun peeked from over the treetops in the east, beaming out the first rays of brilliant golden orange to light up the morning world. In the west, the rolling curves of mountains, riding high over the clouds, alternately rising and falling, looked like the silhouette of a giant serpent peacefully meditating on the earth’s breast.
Prince Adhi Vira gazed at the distant horizon, his face clouded with gloom. For seven nights running, he had not slept a single wink. Blade and battle no more fazed the powerfully built warrior, but now the fight he had to fight ground and grated deep into his soul. Watching his beloved wife grow weaker moment by moment, struggling with constantly diminishing strength against the unrelenting pain wrought by the Lord of Death, until she had little energy left for even more struggle. While he himself had no means whatsoever within his power to help her.
“What fate awaits my lady, Kejora?” Adhi Vira watched his wife, lines of extreme worry etched deep in his face. As she lay on the mattress of kekabu jungle fruit cotton, her disturbed look, even as she slept, suggested that she had not had much peace. “I see, from her face, that she is in great suffering.”
“I am sorry, Lord Prince,” the middle aged midwife cum healer handed him a mug of water. “Lady Permata Sukma (Gem of the Soul) had lost way too much blood. Her body is extremely weak now. I have tried my utmost best to stop her bleeding. But her fever has still not yet subsided.”
“What about my daughter?”
“The young princess will be fine,” another female voice interjected, making Adhi Vira turn around.
“Teratai Putih (White Lotus)!” Adhi Vira looked surprised. “It's been a long time."
"Greetings, my Lord."
"Greetings to you, Teratai. We were talking about you just a while ago. You were prominent by your absence."
“I was held up on the way, Lord," the elderly seer continued, "what with these old ankles and knees also slowing me down."
"Poor soul. You should have let me know beforehand. I’d have sent a pedati to fetch you."
"Oh no, Lord. I can't. My legs and feet need the exercise. Or they'll just go to rust even faster. Anyway, I am come to pay my respects, and to see the baby."
"Thank you, Teratai. We really appreciate that. It’s good to see you again.”
“And you too, Lord. Your daughter’s crying voice, it's so loud and strong. She sounds like one boisterous bundle of energy. My instinct tells me that she will be blessed with good health and peace all her life. It’s like, I can almost feel, that she carries the fortune of the Dharmakusuma Dynasty in her.”
“And what else do you feel, Teratai?”
“She will one day be queen of Tanah Serendah Sekebun Bunga (Valley of Flower Gardens).”
“You mean, Kelantan Amdan Negara?”
“Oh well, Lord. Whether Kelantan Amdan Negara, or Tanah Serendah Sekebun Bunga, or Sambhu Gita or Imbang Jaya, or Sri Saujana Vijaya Mala, for me they all mean the same one kingdom, heir of Raktam Rttika or Chi Tu, the Red Earth Kingdom, our kingdom and that of our ancestors since the ancient past. Your daughter, according to my intuition, will be the first sovereign ruler of this land, since such a long, long time, from the Dharmakusuma Dynasty.”
“Only you sound a bit too certain, Teratai,” Adhi Vira rolled a small piece of dried nipah (swamp palm) leaf around some shredded tembakau (tobacco), then lit it up, “making me a trifle anxious.”
“I can only peer ahead by the ways that I have been taught, Lord,” said Teratai, “insofar as the ability that I possess. Still, I have made more than a few predictions, and a fair number of them have come to pass. The throne of Amdan Negara will return to its rightful owners, the progeny of Nayaka, Bhaga Datta, Buddha Gupta, Rama Unibha and Wan Sri Mara.”
Adhi Vira's face brightened up a bit upon hearing Teratai’s soothing conviction, her reverent recital of the names of his family's ancient ancestors bringing a warm glow to his heart.
“She smells so pleasant,” Adhi Vira bowed low to inspect his three day old newborn daughter even more closely. The child's eyes were still tightly shut, its tiny hands bunched tightly as Adhi Vira held one of them gently in his own.
“Yes, Husband,” Permata Sukma had to struggle hard to muster the strength she needed just to get up from her lying position. “She does, doesn’t she? As fragrant as glorious musk, she is. Allow me my last pleasure, the sweet privilege, of giving our daughter her name.”
“Of course, my love. Anything you wish is yours.”
“I name her … Kembang Seri Wangi (Blossom of Fragrant Grace).”
“A splendid name for a princess,” her husband laid his palm lovingly on her cheek. It felt like it was fast losing its warmth.
“Husband,” Permata Sukma had to make a massive effort as she tried to eke out a few more words.
“My beloved, please don’t exert yourself too hard,” Adhi Vira pleaded with his wife. “You must save your energy for your recovery. You’re too weak now. You need to rest.”
Adhi Vira just sat there, his tongue paralysed, his body frozen. His eyes were wide open, but they were not seeing. Then he buried his face in his hands. The weather outside looked shining bright. But Adhi Vira’s heart felt bleaker than the bleakest night.
“Great Lord,” he spoke at last. “Why do you do this to me? Why? Why?? Why???” His scream reverberated through the countryside.
Moments passed, which felt like ages to Adhi Vira, while deathly quiet reigned in the room. Then he felt a gentle hand on his shoulder.
“I shall come and see the baby every day, my Lord, if my services are required,” Kejora offered. “My house is only a short distance from here. My daughters shall help me if necessary.”
“And so shall I, Lord,” Teratai added. “Your daughter will be my godchild.”
"But then, what am I going to do, when my daughter cries for her milk again?" Adhi Vira wondered aloud, his voice sounding hoarse.
"Not to worry, Lord," Kejora comforted him. "My third daughter, Chempaka Murni, is nursing her two month old child Kenanga Sari, my youngest granddaughter. She is strong and healthy. She can feed two babies without difficulty. Princess Kembang Seri Wangi will never ever go hungry, Lord. I'll see to that myself."
"Thank you, Kejora. I wouldn't know what I would do without you."
Adhi Vira lifted himself up slowly, aided by Kejora and Teratai. His body felt heavy as lead, his muscles sore, his bones fatigued. A familiar pain coursed up his left thigh, the lingering effects of a months old spear injury, courtesy of a skirmish with the marauding Palembangian forces of Biduk Bota (Ogre's Ship).
Adhi Vira's fighters had begun to regularly inflict heavy losses on the Sumatrans every time they came on one of their random raids up the mountainous interior. Ambushing them on the march, striking at them when and where they least expected it, destroying them with all kinds of booby traps. But Biduk Bota's supply of men and arms seemed inexhaustible, and he kept those raids coming.
Adhi Vira's fighters had begun to regularly inflict heavy losses on the Sumatrans every time they came on one of their random raids up the mountainous interior. Ambushing them on the march, striking at them when and where they least expected it, destroying them with all kinds of booby traps. But Biduk Bota's supply of men and arms seemed inexhaustible, and he kept those raids coming.
"I'll alert the neighbours, Lord," Kejora put up her shawl over her head, getting ready to leave.
"I'll go with you, Kejora," Teratai added. "We're going to need as many hands as we can gather to organise a proper funeral for the Lady. You take your time, Lord. Keep the child company. Get yourself together. The people must not see you in this state."
Teratai was right, Adhi Vira reflected. He felt like he was in a thousand little pieces then. But he could not dissappoint the people of Gunung Sembatu (Stony Mountain). To them, come what may, he must always remain their invincible, indomitable, indestructible Lord of the Mountain. A scion of the Dharmakusuma Dynasty could not be anything less. Even if it had been a dynasty in exile for two centuries.
“Thank you, Teratai,” Adhi Vira sighed. “Your wisdom is priceless to me.”
”And, Lord,” Teratai continued. “Do accept Lady Permata Sukma’s departure. Though she suffered much, at the moment she left us all her heart was at peace. Consider it a sacrifice, one of profound greatness, in order to bring Princess Kembang Seri Wangi safely into this world.”
”We’ll be back soon, Lord,” Kejora added before the two women walked down the wooden steps.
Adhi Vira straightened Permata Sukma’s now cold body on her mattress. Memories of their times together came flooding back, besieging him. Now in death, she looked serene and beautiful again. Like she always did. Perhaps it was because she had been completely freed from her pain. He held her face in his hands, and kissed her for the longest time. Then he draped a long piece of clean white cotton cloth over her.
The love of his life was gone now. Gone forever. But he has to soldier on. The family quest will continue.
§
Thus was how, in the same one week, his daughter’s birth brought a glorious ray of pleasure into Adhi Vira’s life, while his wife’s passing tore his heart apart. Now, the happiness of gaining a child was so cruelly mixed with the pain of losing the woman he loved. The feeling of good cheer brought about by the arrival of Kembang Seri Wangi was shared by neighbours, relatives, friends and followers of Adhi Vira. Likewise, the departure of Permata Sukma, who had become a shining light in their reclusive mountain stronghold, equally grieved them all.
Quite a number of them comprised migrants from the area around Bukit Panau, a morning’s boat ride downriver from Gunung Sembatu, who had been forced to leave their ancestral lands, after their homes, farms, rice fields and livestock were seized by Biduk Bota and his henchmen. Supposedly as punishment after a large scale rebellion by the villagers protesting a sudden hefty raise in taxes on farm produce and on travel and transport of goods by both land and river.
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