19: Kepulangan Ozalan

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Ozalan mengamati dengan bersahaja wanita yang berjalan menyilang tidak begitu jauh di hadapannya. Wanita itu seperti pernah dilihatnya suatu masa dulu. Orangnya cantik dan anggun, fikir Ozalan, apabila wanita itu semakin hampir dengannya. Bertubuh tinggi besar bagi seorang wanita. Matanya berwarna perang madu. Bulu matanya panjang lentik. Bulu keningnya lebat. Berambut kundang kemerah-merahan yang kerinting berombak. Lebat dan panjang mengurai hingga ke pinggang. Kelibatnya agak hebat. Persis seorang serikandi, fikir Ozalan. Ohhh! Ibunya Kordelia rupanya.

“Ibuuu!!!” Ozalan berteriak memanggil ibunya sambil meluru ke arah wanita itu, lantas memeluknya erat-erat. Wanita itu tersentak sedikit.

“Ojaaa!!!” balas wanita itu, sejurus kemudian. Dia membelai-belai dan mengusap-ngusap muka serta rambut anak tunggal kesayangannya itu. “Kau ka? Kau dah besar rupanya, Sayang. Kacak dan tampan pula. Salin tak tumpah seperti arwah Ayahmu. Apa khabar kau, Oja? Sudah lama kita tidak bertemu.”

“Baik-baik aja, Bu. Ibu apa khabar?”

“Ibupun baik-baik aja.”

“Oja tinggal bersama Ziba Baji.”

“Isabelle? Ohhh. Di manakah itu?”

“Di rumah ... di mahligai … seorang pembesar dan saudagar … namanya ... Puteri Kembang Seri Wangi. Di sebuah negeri bernama … Amdan Negara. Puteranya … bernama Putera Shakranta. Dia juga ... seorang pahlawan hebat. Seperti Ayah. Mereka baik orangnya. Putera Shakranta telah ... berkahwin dengan Ziba Baji.”

“Ohhh. Baguslah kalau begitu, Oja. Jagailah dirimu baik-baik. Sampaikan salamku kepada Isabelle … Permaisuri Isabelle. Walau apa yang terjadi, jangan sekali-kali dibiarkan jatuh martabat keluarga kita. Kau seorang putera. Maka jiwailah kemuliaan hati dan kemurnian diri seorang putera sejati.”

“Apa??? Oja seorang putera???”

“Benar, Oja. Kerana Ayahmu, Panglima Uzulmez, dia adalah seorang Yabghu. Seorang putera Turkmen di kalangan beberapa gerombolan orang Turkmen puak Oghuz. Dia bersaudara rapat dengan Yabghu Arslan Israil, putera kepada Yabghu Sarjuq. Kalau kau berpeluang bertemu dengan kaum Turkmen kemudian hari ... kau carilah Arslan Israil serta kaum keluarganya. Dia kini seorang Kudarkin … iaitu Panglima Agung … sebagai pengganti ayahandanya … bagi gerombolan pahlawan perantau puak Turkmen Oghuz … dalam bala tentera kerajaan Khwarezm.”

“Tapi, Bu,” balas Ozalan dengan nada ragu. “Bagaimanakah Arslan akan mengenaliku? Dan mungkinkah dia akan menerimaku sebagai sanak saudara?”

“Ojaaa ... Arslan itu berkerabat rapat dengan Ayahmu. Dia pasti bahagia dapat bertemu denganmu. Tunjukkanlah pingat emas berantai berukirkan gambaran Helang Oghuz, iaitu cop mohor keluarga kita sekaligus juga puak Turkmen Oghuz, peninggalan Ayahmu itu kepadanya. Sebagai buktinya bahawa ... kau adalah putera kepada ... Yabghu Uzulmez. Selain itu ... bukti yang lebih kuat lagi adalah ... wajahmu sendiri. Kerana kau salin tak tumpah mirip Ayahmu. Hanya warna matamu ... dan kerinting rambutmu itu ... yang mirip Ibu.”

“Baiklah, Ibu. Oja akan mengusahakannya. Andainya Oja bertemu kesempatan itu. Oja pun ... pasti bahagia ... jika dapat bertemu sanak saudara.”

“Baiklah, Oja. Ibu harus pergi sekarang. Ingatlah pesanan Ibu. Pertahankanlah negerimu. Dan lindungilah sahabat-sahabatmu. Pupuklah sikap itu dalam dirimu, walau ke mana kau pergi, walau di mana kau berada. Berhubung maruah diri jangan sekali-kali bertolak ansur … kerana akhirnya itu akan merugikan diri sendiri. Banyakkan memberi daripada menerima … lebihkan menolong daripada ditolong. Nescaya hidupmu akan sentiasa sejahtera. Ibu pergi dulu, Sayang. Selamat tinggal, anakku.”

Wanita itu bergerak meninggalkannya … lalu beransur hilang daripada pandangan.

“Ibu!!! Jangan tinggalkan Oja! Tunggu! Ibuuuu!!!”

Ozalan bingkas bangun untuk mengejar wanita itu. Dia seterusnya tersedar daripada tidurnya. Dia menggosok-gosok matanya. Rupa-rupanya ... dia bermimpi.

Pingat emas berantai? Helang Oghuz? Peninggalan Ayahnya? Namun, seingat-ingatnya, dia tidak pernah melihat sebarang benda seperti itu sepanjang hayatnya. Mungkinkah Ziba Baji tahu menahu sesuatu tentangnya? Dalam mengelamun mengenang kembali kenangan zaman kecilnya di Balkan Bolgaria dan di Byzantium yang kini begitu samar ... dia beransur terlena kembali.

           

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Kepulangan Ozalan dari Byzantium disambut begitu gembira oleh keluarga Dharmakusuma. Chinta Kiranalah orang yang paling teruja setelah begitu lama merindui kehadiran Ozalan. Setelah empat tahun dalam penantian, berpisah dengan orang yang dikasihinya, membawanya ke usia tujuh belas tahun, dia kini semakin jauh menjangkau ke alam remaja.

Ozalan menghadiahkan Kembang Seri Wangi, Isabelle dan Chinta Kirana pelbagai jenis kain bafta Parsi dan Byzantium yang amat elok dan anggun mutunya serta penuh adiwarna. Membuat ketiga mereka begitu teruja. Tidak ketinggalan, Mak Utih, Mak Busu serta isteri Tuk Pinang dan isteri Tuk Nibung masing-masing juga menerima hadiah istimewa daripada Ozalan.

“Tuanku,” ujar Ozalan. “Hamba membawa dua berita dari Rantau Barat. Yang satu berita bahagia. Yang satu lagi berita pilu.”

“Berikan dulu berita yang buruk kepadaku.”

“Berita buruknya ... Maharaja Basileios II, Maharaja Byzantium, sahabat Tuanku ... Baginda jatuh gering. Namun baginda berkirim salam selamat sejahtera kepada Tuanku serta Puanku Isabelle.”

“Ohhh. Usianya pun sudah agak lanjut. Bersama-samalah kita doakan agar Baginda beransur baik semula. Dan berita baiknya?”

“Berita baiknya ... hamba bertemu Panglima Tegrud di Konya … dan juga Panglima Ashgar di Esfahan ... keduanya juga sahabat Tuanku. Panglima Tegrud kini berkhidmat sebagai pahlawan jurulatih dengan bala tentera Turkmen Oghuz.  Manakala Panglima Ashgar kini seorang saudagar seperti Tuanku. Dia banyak membantu hamba.”

“Teruskan,” ujar Shakranta.

“Panglima Tegrud mengajak hamba berkhidmat sebagai pahlawan perantau dengan bala tentera puak Turkmen Oghuz. Mereka kini sedang berkembang pesat pengaruh dan kekuasaannya. Ramai orang percaya bahawa mereka bakal mencabar keunggulan kerajaan Parsi serta Byzantium di Rantau Barat suatu hari nanti. Namun, anak saudara Panglima Tegrud, Yilmaz, sahabat hamba ini, lebih terpesona dengan kisah-kisah tentang Suvarna Bhumi dan Suvarna Dvipa, maka dia teruja untuk ikut bersama hamba ke bumi Langkasuka, untuk melihat dengan mata kepalanya sendiri.”

“Selamat datang ke Kelantan Amdan Negara, Yilmaz. Kita harap kamu akan gembira tinggal di sini bersama kami.”

“Panglima Ashgar pula menjemput hamba menginap di sebuah rumah tetamu miliknya semasa di Esfahan. Dan dia memperkenalkan hamba kepada adik bongsunya ... Saudagar Mehrdad. Maka ... daripada tujuh ratus ekor kuda yang Tuanku suruh hamba beli ... empat ratus daripadanya ... kuda Thessalia, kuda Arab, kuda Kambhoja dan kuda Turkestan ... semuanya jenis kuda pelari … mereka berdualah yang berusaha mendapatkannya untuk hamba. Hanya kuda Norman ... iaitu kuda penggempur … yang tiga ratus ekor itu ... yang hamba sendiri mencarikannya di Byzantium.”

“Bagus! Bagus! Panglima Ashgar seorang pahlawan dan penonggang kuda yang hebat. Dia pasti tahu jenis kuda bagaimana yang paling sesuai untuk keperluan bala tentera sesebuah negeri. Kau tidak menjemput mereka berdua datang ke Amdan Negara?”

“Hamba memang menjemput mereka. Tapi ... Panglima Ashgar terlalu sibuk dengan urusan perdagangan. Dia berterima kasih dan meminta maaf kerana belum dapat datang buat masa ini. Dia juga berkirim salam sejahtera kepada Tuanku serta Puanku Isabelle. Hanya Mehrdad yang dapat datang. Kebetulan dia perlu menguruskan hal perniagaan keluarganya di Benua Hindi dan di Rantau Tenggara. Maka ... hamba menyewa tiga buah bahtera mereka untuk ... membawa balik kuda-kuda Tuanku terlebih dahulu.”

“Mehrdad tidak berkesempatan berkunjung ke rumahku?”

“Mehrdad masih berada di pelabuhan Ruhuna ... di Singhala Nagara. Belum selesai menguruskan hal perniagaannya Dia memang ingin benar untuk bertemu dengan Tuanku. Itu pesanan bapanya. Jangkanya ... dia akan tiba di Amdan Negara ... dalam sebulan dua. Dia juga meminta ... kalau-kalau Tuanku ada barangan dari rantau ini yang sesuai diperdagangkannya di Rantau Barat ... dia ingin melihatnya.”

“Baiklah, kalau begitu. Nanti kau bantu Beta dan Permaisuri Isabelle untuk mengenal pasti dan mencarikan barang-barang itu. Ini boleh membuka peluang perdagangan yang hebat untuk kedua-dua belah pihak.”

“Baik, Tuanku. Hamba mulakan sekarang.”

“Begitu banyak jenis barangan yang sesuai, Kanda,” Isabelle yang baru keluar dari kamar menyampuk. Rupanya dia terdengar perbualan Shakranta dengan Ozalan. “Damar. kayu gaharu, sumbu badak, gading gajah, lada hitam, rempah ratus ... semuanya boleh kita bawa ke pasaran di Parsi, Mesir, Baghdad dan Byzantium. Bunga cengkih, buah pala, kapur barus. Dinda dengar, akhir-akhir ini hanya orang-orang Tamil Chola Mandalam yang melakukan itu. Mereka yang membolot perdagangannya kini di Rantau Barat. Namun itu semua pernah dibuat oleh para saudagar dari Langkasuka dan seluruh kepulauan Suvarna Dvipa dua abad yang lalu.”

Akal Shakranta segera berputar ligat. Rangkai hubung perdagangan sahabatnya Panglima Ashgar di Parsi dan kawasan sekitarnya berkemungkinan baik untuk membantu menjulang jumlah barangan yang boleh diperdagangkan olehnya di pasaran Rantau Barat.

“Oh! Dan jangan lupa, Oja. Hubungi dengan kadar segera sahabatku di Jambi ... Panglima Shankara ... dan dapatkan senarai barangan sesuai dari Pulau Sumatra dan Pulau Jawa yang boleh dia bekalkan kepada kita. Dapatkan jawapan daripadanya sebelum Saudagar Mehrdad tiba di sini. Sampaikan juga jemputan Beta kepada dia dan seisi keluarganya untuk datang berkunjung ke Amdan Negara.”

“Baik, Tuanku. Hamba usahakan semua itu dengan sebaiknya.”

“Ada barangan barangan baru yang lain yang menarik untuk kegunaan bala tentera kita?” Tanya Shakranta.

“Ada, Tuanku,” jawab Ozalan. “Ini … baju rantai … untuk melindungi daripada tusukan senjata … ia tidak lut oleh senjata … kecuali jika dihunjam atau dilibas dengan kekuatan luar biasa.”

“Ohhh … Beta pernah melihat baju perisai seperti itu di Byzantium dulu … tapi Beta tidak begitu berminat dengannya … ia terlalu berat dan panas untuk dipakai dengan selesa oleh pahlawan kita … maka akan mengurangkan kesesuaiannya sebagai pakaian pelindung.”

“Tapi yang hamba bawa balik ini reka cipta terbaru. Reka cipta Parsi, Tuanku. Ia jauh lebih ringan daripada reka cipta Byzantium yang lama … dan jauh lebih telus udara … maka jauh lebih selesa.”

“Wei lah!” Shakranta membelek-belek beberapa contoh baju rantai yang diunjukkan kepadanya oleh Ozalan, mengenakan satu daripadanya pada tubuhnya. “Benar seperti katamu. Dan lebih elok pula rupanya. Lalu berapa banyak yang kau bawa pulang?”

“Hamba beli sebanyak seribu pasang dulu untuk dicuba oleh bala tentera kita, Tuanku. Jika didapati sesuai dan berkesan … kita boleh buat pesanan untuk membeli tambah sebanyak mana lagi yang kita perlukan … melalui Mehrdad.”

“Bagus! Bagus!” Shakranta menepuk bahu Ozalan, tanda menghargai segala hasil usahanya. “Berikan beberapa pasang kepada Ketua Pengawal dan beberapa rakan pengawalmu yang lain yang terkanan untuk mencubanya di tubuh mereka terlebih dahulu. Biar mereka nilai kesesuaiannya sebelum Mehrdad tiba di sini.”

“Satu lagi cara, Tuanku. Kita di Amdan Negara ini juga boleh cuba menghasilkannya sendiri di sini … para pandai besi dan pandai senjata kitapun kini bukan calang-calang kemampuan mereka.” Ozalan mengajukan cadangannya.

“Kalau begitu, panggil beberapa orang yang termahir daripada kalangan mereka supaya datang menghadap Beta dalam sehari dua ini,” titah Shakranta.

“Baik, Tuanku.”

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Shakranta kembali bersandar di kerusi empuknya. Merenung perkembangan pesat yang bakal berlaku di negerinya di hari mendatang. Sang Rama Vijaya tidak lagi menjadi ancaman ketara kepada Amdan Negara, selepas bala tenteranya rebah tersungkur terkena penangan angkatan Rajendra Chola di Kedah Negara tujuh tahun yang lalu.

Maka Terengganu Primula Negara dan Pahang Indera Pura lantas merebut peluang keemasan yang terbit tatkala itu untuk mengisytihar merdeka daripada cengkaman Palembang Srivijaya. Keduanya segera berpakat dengan Amdan Negara, lalu menubuhkan sebuah bala tentera gabungan untuk perlindungan bersama. Bala tentera yang bergelar Angkatan Pantai Timur, dengan Shakranta sebagai Panglima Agung yang pertama.

Sang Rama Vijaya tiada pilihan selain balik ke negeri asalnya di Palembang dalam aib kalah perang. Sementara takhta Kedah Negara diberikan oleh Rajendra Chola untuk diduduki oleh Sri Deva, seorang saudara sebapa kepada Sang Rama Vijaya. Sri Deva sendiri bundanya daripada titisan zuriat raja Kedah Negara zaman silam, namun permaisuri pertamanya daripada kalangan kerabat Palembang. Sementara permaisuri keduanya, seperti bundanya juga, berketurunan raja Kedah Negara zaman silam.

Manakala Amdan Negara pula kini berdiri megah sebagai satu-satunya negeri di Rantau Tenggara yang telah terbukti mampu menangkis dan menewaskan serangan sebuah bala tentera Chola Mandalam. Berkat tentangan hebat dengan daya juang amat tinggi oleh Angkatan Pantai Timur, yang melihat Amdan Negara sebagai benteng hadapan terhadap ancaman bala tentera Chola Mandalam yang bergerak dari utara, dari Patani Seri Negara.

“Jika hendak dibuat sendiri baju rantai itu di negeri kita,” Isabelle keluar semula dari dapur, membawa air nira segar dalam sebuah cetong besar untuk suaminya. “akan memerlukan bijih besi yang banyak untuk menampung keperluan kita, Kanda. Mengambil kira besi yang juga diperlukan untuk membuat lain-lain senjata. Cukupkah bekalan yang boleh kita dapati?”

“Setahu Kanda … di Terengganu Primula Negara ada mendakan bijih besi yang banyak di sebuah kawasan bukit. Kita boleh membeli daripada mereka … dengan itu membantu mereka memperdiri kembali iktisad negeri yang roboh sekian lama.”

Itulah kelebihannya menjadi negeri merdeka, fikir Isabelle. Bebas bergerak dan bertindak mengikut selera dan kemahuan sendiri. Tanpa dipantau dan dikawal oleh kuasa asing.

“Dinda dengar … di Pulau Sulawesi juga … ada terdapat bijih besi yang banyak.”

“Oh! Baru Kanda teringat. Memang benar begitu, Dinda. Nama pulaunya pun asalnya membawa makna ‘lombong besi’.”

“Kalau begitu … kita boleh hantar seseorang ke sana … untuk menggerakkan usaha membeli bijih besi secara besar-besaran dari sana. Jika apa yang kita beli melebihi keperluan … kita boleh simpan dulu di Amdan Negara … dan kita jual balik kepada pembeli lain yang berminat.”

“Suatu cadangan yang baik, Dinda. Orang-orang di sana juga amat pandai membuat kapal. Kapal-kapal pedewakan mereka tinggi dan besar agam seni binanya, dan indah nian reka ciptanya. Sesuai digunakan baik sebagai bahtera dagang … mahupun sebagai bahtera perang. Kalau begitu … kita hantar Dalim ke Sulawesi untuk melaksanakan suatu tugas baru … membeli bijih besi dan kapal pedewakan.”

“Itu memang kena sekali, Kanda … kerana dia pun berdarah Bugis di sebelah bapanya … dan masih ada ramai sanak saudara di sana. Dinda rasa … dia akan menerima tugasan ini dengan bahagia hati jika diberikan kepadanya.”

Sebagai sebuah pusat perdagangan hasil tani serta hasil alam, Amdan Negara kini telah bangkit kembali. Begitu juga sebagai sebuah pusat jual beli aneka barangan dagang dari negeri asing. Kalaulah perusahaan membuat baju rantai dan pelbagai senjata, perusahaan barangan besi yang lain serta perusahaan bina kapal juga dapat dimajukan dengan jayanya, semua itu akan mencipta tahap kemakmuran dan kesejahteraan yang tidak pernah terasa sebelum ini oleh Amdan Negara sebagai negeri berdagang.

Shakranta melayani lamunannya, sambil terus menghirup air niranya.

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Ozalan menonggang kuda jantan mudanya, Shahpur, pada rentak berjalan, kemudian menderap perlahan. Pada rentak sebegitu, kaki Shahpur bergerak dan menghentak bumi secara berasingan. Dengan itu memudahkan Ozalan memeriksa dengan lebih teliti dan memastikan kalau-kalau terdapat sebarang ketempangan ataupun ketegangan otot atau sendi pada kuda itu. Akibat ia jatuh tersungkur ketika latihan melompat halangan sehari sebelumnya.

Mujurnya, gaya pergerakan Shahpur yang lancar tanpa cacat menandakan tidak berlaku sebarang kecederaan kepadanya. Seterusnya dia memberhentikan pemeriksaannya dan mula melakukan kerja selanjutnya. Dari sudut matanya dia ternampak Chinta Kirana yang sedang menuju ke arahnya.

“Abang Oja,” Chinta Kirana menghampiri Ozalan yang kelihatan sedang berbuat sesuatu pada kaki kuda jantan mudanya, Shahpur. Manakala, Khanum, anak kuda betina kesayangan Chinta Kirana, meragut-ragut berhampiran.

“Ya, Chinta.”

“Abang Oja duk buat apa tu?”

“Abang duk pasang ladam pada kuku Shahpur. Untuk melindungi kukunya.”

Ozalan bermula dengan kaki hadapan Shahpur. Kaki kuda itu dikepitnya pada kelangkangnya.

“Ladam tu apa, Abang Oja?”

“Ladam tu, bagi kuda, macam kasutlah, untuk kita. Cuma, ia diperbuat daripada besi. Jadi, kalau dipakaikan kepada kaki kuda, membuat lebih selesa pergerakannya dan mencegah kecederaan kepada kuku dan telapak kakinya.”

“Ohhh. Bagus tu. Di manakah Abang Oja belajar cara-caranya?”

“Di Byzantium dan di Parsi … semasa Abang Oja merantau di sana.”

“Agak sukar kerjanya, Chinta tengok.”

“Tidaklah terlalu sukar … tapi tidak juga terlalu senang … cuma … ia kena dibuat dengan cermat … di samping memerlukan kekuatan dan kecergasan yang mencukupi. Kerana … jika kuda terasa terlalu nyilu atau sakit semasa kukunya diasah atau dipotong, ia mungkin menerajang, memijak atau menggigit.”

“Begitu sekali?”

“Ya. Maka, orang yang memasang ladam itu seharusnya fasih benar dengan kerenah kuda. Kalau kuda itu mendengus, misalnya, bermakna ia merasa tidak selesa kerana sesuatu.”

“Abang Oja nampaknya berpeluh sampai basah kuyup.”

“Ummm, ya lah. Kerjanya agak banyak menggunakan kekuatan. Kuku Shahpur ni, misalnya, kena dibersih dan diasah dulu. Tebal dan lebar telapak kakinya kena diukur, ladam yang padan dipilih, kemudian dipaku ke kukunya. Di samping membujuk Shahpur dan mengawalnya supaya dia sentiasa tenang dan tidak bergerak secara mendadak.”

Selesai kaki hadapan, kaki belakang Shahpur pula yang dikerjakan. Kaki itu dikepit oleh Ozalan pada lengannya.

“Mengapa … bila meladam kaki belakang … kakinya hanya dikepit di lengan? Bukankah lebih kuat jika dikepit di kelangkang … seperti tadi?” Chinta Kirana bertanya.

“Supaya Abang lebih mudah mengelak dan melepaskan diri kiranya Shahpur menendang atau memijak dengan kaki belakangnya kerana berang.”

“Mengapa kukunya perlu diladam? Sebelum ni … kuda-kuda Ayahanda dan Bunda tak pernah diladam pun, Chinta tengok.”

“Kerana … ladam yang elok, selesa dan padan … mencegah kuku kuda daripada retak ataupun pecah. Terutamanya bagi kuda perang. Ia juga mengelakkan luka atau cedera pada telapak kaki kuda itu. Tapi, sebelum ini, tiada orang yang tahu melakukannya di sini. Abang akan meladam Kshatriya dan Srikandhi dalam sehari dua. Hari ini Abang selesaikan dengan Shahpur dan Khanum dulu.”

“Abang sudah memberitahu Ayahanda dan Bunda tentangnya?”

“Sudah. Kedua mereka memang tahu tentang kelebihan memakaikan ladam pada kaki kuda. Tapi mereka mahu melihat hasil kerja Abang pada Shahpur dan Khanum terlebih dahulu.”

Chinta Kirana terdiam sejenak, sambil terus memerhatikan dengan asyiknya Ozalan melakukan kerjanya.

“Abang Oja,” Chinta bersuara semula.

“Ya, Chinta,” Ozalan duduk bersandar di batang pokok, berehat seketika selepas selesai meladamkan Shahpur.

“Selama Abang Oja di perantauan … mestilah sentiasa seronok … kan?”

“Ummm … ada masanya seronok … ada waktunya perit menghadapi rintangan dan halangan … ada ketika seperti terduduk dilanda kerinduan.”

“Kerinduan?”

“Ya … kerinduan syahdu … kepada tanah air dan kampung halaman … kepada sahabat dan teman.”

“Itu saja?”

“Juga seisi keluarga Mahligai Dharmakusuma … Mak Utih, Pak Utih, Mak Busu, Pak Busu, kawan-kawan pengawal, Tuk Masoud, Tuk Nibung, Tuk Pinang, Puanku Isabelle, Tuanku Shakranta, Puanku Kembang Seri Wangi …”

“Dan lagi?”

“Dan … sudah semestinya … Puteri Chinta Kirana.”

“Mengapa Chinta yang akhir sekali?”

“Kerana Chinta … yang paling istimewa.”

“Alah, Abang Oja ni. Dah pandai mengada pulak sekarang ni.”

“Ya lah, kan. Maklumlah … dah lama tak bertemu kan … teringin juga nak mengusik dan bergurau.”

“Abang Oja,” Chinta Kirana meneruskan.

“Ya, Chinta.”

“Chinta tengok … berbanding dengan sebelum Abang Oja pergi dulu … Abang Oja semakin sasa dan perkasa … dan … semakin hebat. Seperti seorang kesatria gayanya.”

“Eh eh … betul ka ni? Abang Oja sendiri tak perasan pulak.”

“Ya lah … sebab diri Abang Oja sendiri … tiap-tiap hari Abang Oja duk tengok … manalah nak perasan.”

“Yang Abang Oja perasan … Chinta tu. Hah … masa Abang Oja nak pergi dulu … masih macam kanak-kanak. Bila Abang Oja balik semula … dah jadi dara remaja … begitu ayu, jelita dan manis mempesona.”

“Abang Oja ni. Dah mula la tu …”

“Abang Oja berkata benda yang betul, Chinta.”

“Baiklah, Abang Oja. Chinta pergi dulu, ya. Chinta nak ke rumah Ayu Dewi. Dah lama kami tak berjumpa dan berceloteh berdua. Sambil-sambil tu, Chinta boleh tengok Mak Cik Delima Wati menganyam tikar mengkuang. Bolehlah belajar-belajar sikit dengan dia.”

“Baik, Chinta. Hati-hati dalam perjalanan. Chinta nak Abang Oja datang ambil Chinta ka nanti?”

“Boleh juga. Abang Oja bawakan Khanum bersama Abang. Nanti Chinta boleh balik menonggangnya bersama Abang.”

“Baiklah. Abang beransur bergerak ke sana selepas Abang selesai meladamkannya nanti.”

Chinta Kirana mengambil jalan ke rumah kawannya yang melalui kawasan sawah. Agar dapat melihat padi yang baru mula menguning. Sepanjang jalan dia bernyanyi-nyanyi lagu-lagu gembira kegemarannya.

§        §        §

Cuaca kini panas membahang. Saban hari, sang suria memancar gemilang penuh kemegahan. Sinarnya menghangatkan biji-biji padi di tangkainya tanpa henti, dari pagi hingga ke senja, membuat biji-biji padi itu beransur semakin matang. Musim menuai hampir menjelang tiba.

Tangkai-tangkai padi di jajaran demi jajaran pokok padi menari-nari lemah gemalai dibelai angin lembut, bagaikan barisan ombak yang beralun tanpa henti hingga ke hujung sawah. Sekumpulan pesawah sedang duduk bersantai di sebuah dangau kecil beratap sagu. Mengisi masa mereka dengan berceloteh, menghisap rokok daun, mengunyah sirih pinang ataupun melakukan kerja ringan. Sekali-sekala salah seorang daripada mereka bangun menggerakkan tali kendali orang-orang untuk menghalau pelbagai burung yang datang ingin berkenduri jika tidak dihalang. Beberapa orang anak mereka mengambil peluang untuk menguji kehandalan mereka menggunakan pembidas.

Seorang wanita daripada kalangan kumpulan pesawah itu menjenguk ke luar melalui jendela ringkas berbingkai buluh, menyedut asap rokok daunnya dengan penuh nikmat, lalu menghembuskannya semula perlahan-lahan ke udara. Seorang gadis remaja kelihatan berjalan meniti batas, ke arah sisi dari dangau mereka. Melindungi kepalanya daripada panas terik dengan kain kelubung berwarna biru keunguan, coraknya berbunga-bunga. Gadis itu seperti pernah dilihatnya sebelum ini.

“Wei lah!” wanita tadi bersuara, nadanya seperti teruja. “Tu … tengok tu … Mak Nik … gadis itu … bukankah dia … Puteri Chinta Kirana kan neh tu?”

“Mak Ngah ni betul ka, atau kemamar agaknya,” rakannya bangun perlahan-lahan lalu ikut menjenguk. “Ya! … betullah … memang dia rupanya. Wei lah! … dah jauh lebih tinggi dan besar daripada dulu. Amboi amboiii, cantiknya dia la ni. Macam bidadari gayanya. Heiii … geramnya aku tengok.”

“Yang dema duk geram tu buat apa?” seorang lelaki di antara mereka, suami Mak Nik, menyampuk. “Dema tu jantan ka?”

Kawannya yang sekelamin lagi, Mak Wan dan Pak Wan, ketawa terbahak-bahak dengan lawak jenakanya.

“Tuan Puteri!” Mak Ngah menyapa gadis itu apabila dia semakin menghampiri dangau itu. “Apa khabar Tuan Puteri? Wei lah … lamanya sudah kami tidak bertemu dengan Tuan Puteri.”

“Khabar baik,” gadis itu membalas. “Dema semua apa khabar?”

“Khabar baik, Tuan Puteri,” kumpulan pesawah itu menjawab hampir serentak.

“Padi dema semua tahun ini macam mana? Menjadi ka? Kita tengok cantik dan subur rupanya.”

“Memang begitulah nampaknya, Tuan Puteri,” jawab Mak Nik. “Tengok gayanya, musim mengetam tahun ini bolehlah kita berpesta besar. Jemputlah singgah di dangau kami barang sedetik dua. Ada ubi kayu bakar, jering rebus dengan kopi pekat.”

“Tak apalah, Mak Cik. Terima kasih ajalah. Kita nak cepat ni.”

“Tuan Puteri menghala ke mana tu?” tanya Mak Ngah pula.

“Kita nak ke rumah Mak Cik Delima Wati. Sudah lama Kita tidak berkunjung ke sana.”

“Oh, rasanya, dia memang ada di rumah waktu ini,” balas Mak Ngah. “Bersama anak gadisnya, si Ayu. Baik-baik di perjalanan ya, Tuan Puteri.”

“Terima kasih,” gadis itu meneruskan perjalanannya.

“Semakin cantik puteri kita tu nampaknya, tidak kan neh?” ujar Mak Ngah kepada kawan-kawannya. “Ceria gembira pula kelihatan seri durjanya. Tidak lagi sentiasa bermuram durja seperti dulu.”

“Wei lah, dah tentulah, Mak Dia,” balas Pak Ngah, mengulas pemerhatian isterinya. “Orang baru bertemu semula dengan buah hati tersayang, katakan.”

“Pandai-pandai aja, Ayah Dia ni,” balas Mak Ngah. “Buah hati mana pulak tu?”

“Alah, takkanlah itupun Mak Dia tak tau. Si Oja tu lah. Kan dia baru balik dari perantauan?”

“Maksud Ayah Dia, Ozalan, pemuda Turkestan tu?”

“Ya lah, Oja yang mana lagi?”

“Tapi … Ozalan tu … bukankah bekas anak abdi, Ayah Dia?” Tanya Mak Ngah lagi. “Mungkinkah Raja Shakranta dan permaisurinya … boleh menerima Oja … pekerja suruhan mereka sendiri … sebagai menantu mereka?”

“Itu tak menjadi hal, hamba rasa, Mak Ngah,” suami Mak Nik pula memberi pendapatnya. “Kerana Raja Shakranta tu bukan raja sembarangan. Baginda raja pahlawan yang berpendirian hebat … tidak memilih darjat … tapi mementingkan perwatakan.”

“Alah, Che Dia pun,” isterinya mencelah. “Macamlah Che Dia tu pandai sangat.”

“Tu la, Mek Dia. Dema tu tahu apa?” Pak Nik membentak. “Pandai tanam padi dengan pelihara itik aja. Bukankah suatu waktu dulu Raja Shakranta pernah menolak bulat-bulat pinangan Maharaja Sang Rama Vijaya? Kerana cara maharaja itu menyampaikan hasratnya kurang beradab.”

“Itu lima tahun dulu, Che Dia,” balas Mak Nik. “Waktu tu, bukankah Puteri Chinta Kirana tu baru berumur dua belas tahun?”

“Betul juga kata Pak Nik tu, Mak Nik,” ujar Mak Wan. “Lagipun, masa Raja Shakranta menikah dengan Permaisuri Isabelle dulupun, yang baginda tahu cuma Isabelle tu bekas gadis abdi. Baginda sendiri yang menyelamatkan Isabelle semasa di Byzantium, kemudian membawanya balik ke Amdan Negara, ketika dia masih berumur dua belas tahun. Untuk menjaga dan mendidik anak-anak kuda baginda. Dah tujuh tahun kemudian, bila Chinta Kirana dah berumur setahun lebih, barulah Isabelle buat pengakuan bahawa dia asalnya seorang puteri.”

“Alah wei,” Pak Ngah menyambung semula. “Mak Dia, Mak Nik, Pak Nik, Mak Wan, Pak Wan. Dema semua tengoklah nanti, betul ka tidak jangka hamba. Puteri Chinta Kirana tu nanti, hamba kata, tak akan dapat ke tangan orang lain punya, selain daripada si Oja tu. Dulupun, Oja juga yang menyelamatkannya. Ketika dia nyaris diculik oleh si Gadang, Ketua Pengawal masa itu yang rupa-rupanya menjadi tali barut Maharaja Sang Rama Vijaya.”

§          §          §

Dua purnama berlalu. Saudagar Mehrdad tiba di Bukit Panau dari persinggahannya di Singhala Nagara. Dia membawa hadiah yang mahal-mahal untuk diberikan kepada keluarga Dharmakusuma.

“Dan ini, hadiah khas daripada Ayah hamba, Saudagar Ashgar, kepada Tuanku Shakranta. Pedang samsir Parsi ditempah khas dengan waja nirkarat … diperbuat daripada besi terbaik dari Hamadan.”

Seminggu selepas ketibaan Saudagar Mehrdad, Mahligai Dharmakusuma menerima kunjungan sahabat lama Shakranta dari Jambi. Sahabat akrab yang sama mengembara dan sama berperang dengannya di Lavo dan di Angkor Kemboja. Ketika mereka berdua berkhidmat sebagai pahlawan perantau dengan bala tentera Negara Seri Dharmaraja pimpinan Raja Sujita. Saudagar Shankara membawa bersamanya isteri dan anak gadisnya yang hampir sebaya usianya dengan Chinta Kirana.

§          §          §

990 Masihi, di Khazar, Khwarezm dan Parsi Abbassiyah (imbas balik).

Setelah beberapa lama, Putera Sarjuq menjadi mangsa sengketa perebutan kuasa di kalangan para pembesar kerajaan Khazar. Lalu dia lari membawa diri ke negeri Khwarezm. Sarjuq seterusnya bersengketa dengan seorang Yabghu di sana dan menewaskannya. Lalu dia dilantik menjadi Kudarkin, iaitu Panglima Agung puak Turkmen Oghuz. Seterusnya dia memeluk ajaran yang baru dianuti oleh jumlah pengikut yang semakin bertambah di kalangan puak Turkmen Oghuz. Ajaran yang bernama Islam ... bawaan seorang yang bernama Muhammad ... dari Semenanjung Hejaz di Tanah Arab.

Kepimpinan Sarjuq seterusnya beralih kepada puteranya Arslan Israil ibnu Sarjuq. Akhirnya, seorang putera Arslan Israil bernama Toghril Beg memimpin sebuah bala tentera Turkmen Oghuz yang besar lalu menyerang dan menewaskan kerajaan Parsi Abbasiyah. Kerajaan yang sebelum itu ramai pahlawan Turkmen Oghuz berkhidmat dengannya sebagai tentera upahan. Dengan itu, puak Turkmen Oghuz pimpinan Toghril Beg menakluki seluruh wilayah negeri Parsi Abbasiyah serta jajahan takluknya. Demikianlah bangkitnya sebuah wangsa pemerintah yang baru di Rantau Barat. Wangsa yang diberi nama mengambil sempena datuk kepada Toghril Beg ... iaitu … Wangsa Sarjuq.

§          §          §

20: Membina Negeri Sejahtera

§        §        §

“Kanda Shakranta,” Permaisuri Isabelle bersuara.

“Ya, Dinda. Ada apa tu?” suaminya, Raja Shakranta, membalas.

“Bagaimana tentang pangkalan kedua dan ketiga yang sedang Kanda bina … semuanya berjalan lancar?”

“Kedua-duanya beres, Dinda. Tiada masalah besar … dan sedang maju mengikut perancangan. Mengapa Dinda bertanya?”

“Ohhh, tidak ada apa-apa, Kanda. Sekadar mengikuti perkembangan. Pangkalan ketiga itu letaknya di Pergunungan Lojing kan?”

“Ya, benar.”

“Dinda dengar tempat itu nyaman dan dingin cuacanya. Ingin benar rasanya Dinda untuk berkunjung ke sana.”

“Tepat sekali … kerana ia terletak di aras bumi yang amat tinggi. Cuacanya … kalau ketika malam hingga ke awal pagi … seakan-akan waktu musim bunga di Byzantium … setakat yang teringat oleh Kanda.”

“Ohhh! … alangkah seronoknya kalau kita dapat tinggal di sana sekali sekala.”

“Bersabarlah Dinda. Impian Dinda akan tertunai sedikit masa lagi. Andai tiada aral melintang … pangkalan kedua di Lembah Nenggiri Ulu akan siap untuk didiami dalam tempoh tiga purnama … dan pangkalan ketiga di Pergunungan Lojing … sekitar enam purnama lagi.”

“Kanda … mmm … bagaimana pula dengan kawasan di hilir?”

“Belum pula lagi Kanda terfikir ke arah itu. Dinda ada apa-apa cadangan?”

“Dinda sekadar terbayang sekali sekala … mungkin ada baiknya kalau dipertimbangkan usaha membina sejujukan pangkalan di arah hilir.”

“Teruskan, Dinda.”

“Satu pangkalan di kawasan muara sungai … mungkin di Tumpat atau Palekbang sebagai contohnya … yang harus kita perbesarkan lagi pelabuhannya yang sedia ada. Dan satu lagi di sekitar pertengahan laluan sungai … di antara Tumpat dan Tanah Merah ini. Di samping menjadi markas barisan hadapan pasukan pertahanan kita, kedua-duanya juga boleh hidup berdiri sebagai pusat perdagangan … yang terjamin dari segi keselamatannya. Ia akan membantu memesatkan lagi usaha memakmurkan negeri kita. Lagipun … andainya negeri kita diserang dari arah muara … pasukan pertahanan kita akan dapat digerakkan lebih awal … untuk menghadang kemaraan pihak musuh sebelum mereka sampai terlalu jauh ke hulu.”

“Hebat, Dinda. Teruskan lagi.”

“Maka itu mungkin boleh mengelakkan Kubu Dharmakusuma dan Mahligai Dharmakusuma yang diwarisi keluarga Dharmakusuma sejak zaman-berzaman di Bukit Panau ini daripada hancur musnah akibat serangan musuh. Seperti yang berlaku ke atas Keraton Watu Galuh di Kota Turiyyan … di negeri Medang Mataram ... malah Kandalah orangnya yang membantu Maharaja Mara Vijaya mengatur usaha menghancurkannya, kan? Maka para pedagang dan saudagar yang berkunjung … jika kita melayani mereka dengan baik dan adil … mereka akan menjadi  sahabat kita … dan secara tidak langsung boleh menjadi pengintip dan perisik tidak rasmi bagi pihak kita … berhubung sebarang niat serong daripada pihak luar.”

“Dan lagi, Dinda.”

“Maka dengan berkembangnya setiap pangkalan merangkap pusat perdagangan itu, akan meramaikan lagi jumlah penduduknya … dan daripada tempiasnya pula jumlah penduduk keseluruhan negeri … yang akan memungkinkan pembesaran angkatan tentera kita … lalu akan memperteguh lagi pertahanan negeri kita.”

“Dinda! Syabas! Akal Dinda menandingi akal seorang panglima. Mengapakah Dinda tidak mengusulkan semua ini kepada Kanda lebih awal lagi dari ini?”

“Mmmm … entahlah, Kanda. Dinda sekadar seorang permaisuri … Dinda tidak mahu mencampuri urusan kepanglimaan dan ketenteraan … dan … Dinda khuatir nanti dikata orang … mengada-ada pula.”

“Tidak, Dinda. Janganlah Dinda terlalu merendah diri. Dinda bukan permaisuri sembarangan. Dinda adalah Permaisuri negeri Langkasuka Kelantan Amdan Negara. Permaisuri pembawa seri kepada Mahligai Dharmakusuma. Mahligai yang bakal menghidupkan kembali warisan kerajaan Chi Tu zaman silam dengan sepenuh kegemilangannya suatu hari nanti. Tambah lagi, bukankah Dinda sendiri bernasab daripada Puteri Gerberga von Henneberg, ratu wilayah Swabia di negeri Germania … yang bersusur galur daripada Puteri Izdundad dan Bustenai ben Haninai? Puteri Izdundad pula ialah puteri kepada Yazdegerd Shah III raja Parsi dan permaisuri baginda Puteri Mayanahan dari kerabat diraja Byzantium. Dengan itu juga bererti bahawa Dinda … seperti juga Kanda … melalui Yazdegerd Shah III … membawa darah Khouroush Agung serta Panglima Kambujiya … di dalam tubuh Dinda. Manakala Bustenai ben Haninai itu pula adalah bersusur galur daripada Raja Daud. Maka tiada sebarang permaisuri di mana-mana negeri di Rantau Tenggara ini yang dapat menandingi kehebatan zuriat yang Dinda miliki.”

“Kanda seperti sudah menghafal susur galur Dinda,” Isabelle mencelah sambil tersenyum bahagia.

“Kerana ia juga akan menjadi susur galur puteri kita, Chinta Kirana, serta cucu cicitnya di hari muka.

“Shakranta dan Isabelle … perintis kerajaan Chi Tu II. Sebuah kisah amat hebat.” Isabelle berceloteh, separuh bergurau.

“Kira-kiranya, begitulah,” balas Shakranta. “Dan mulai hari ini, demi kesejahteraan negeri Langkasuka Kelantan Amdan Negara … malah seluruh Pakatan Pantai Timur … Dinda diangkat menjadi Penasihat Khas kepada Raja Shakranta, Pemerintah negeri Langkasuka Kelantan Amdan Negara dan Panglima Agung Angkatan Pantai Timur.”

“Ha! Dah mula la tu … semakin melarat pula merepeknya,” Isabelle mengherdik pura-pura sambil bangun meninggalkan kerusi empuknya, melintasi di hadapan suaminya dalam perjalanan menuju ke dapur.

“Mengapa pula tidak? Dinda memang punya bakat yang hebat. Biar kita berdua bersama-sama membuat perancangan. Demi kesejahteraan negeri Langkasuka Kelantan Amdan Negara … dan seluruh Pakatan Pantai Timur,” balas Shakranta sambil merangkul pinggang Isabelle dan menarik isterinya itu supaya duduk bertenggek di atas ribanya.

“Eh eh, Kanda ni. Nak bergurau pulak dia.” Isabelle cuba menepis tangan Shakranta dan meronta-ronta untuk melepaskan dirinya tetapi tidak berjaya. “Malu nanti kalau ditengok oleh Chinta Kirana.”

“Apa pulak yang nak dimalukan? Dia kan puteri kita. Biarlah dia tengok. Biar dia nampak betapa damainya hubungan di antara kedua orang tuanya.”

Kedua-duanya mengilai riang tanda bahagia dengan gurau senda di antara mereka. Shakranta lalu memeluk rapat permaisurinya itu dan menguncup-nguncup dahi, hidung, pipi dan bibirnya dengan penuh kemesraan. Demikianlah suasana kasih sayang pasangan diraja yang sentiasa hadir dalam hidup mereka berdua.

§        §        §

Lima tahun berlalu. Kelantan Amdan Negara kini maju sejahtera, makmur semakmur-makmurnya. Pelbagai jenis perahu dan kapal di bina oleh para pandai perahu serta pandai kapalnya. Perahu gubang bertiang satu yang boleh dibawa belayar merentas laut. Kapal pedewakan dan kapal pencalang reka cipta Bugis untuk golongan saudagar. Kapal payang Kelantan yang sesuai untuk nelayan mahupun saudagar. Perahu payar untuk kegunaan mengawal pantai, menentang lanun atau mengutip cukai di pelabuhan. Kapal penjajap yang kukuh teguh buatannya dicipta khusus untuk berperang.

Story Outline

The time was the 11th century. The place was the South East. The region which encompassed Suvarna Bhumi, the Golden Continent, and Suvarna Dvipa, the Golden Islands. An area riven by great turmoil, resulting from old tribal enmities mixed with new religious rivalries, contest for territory, prestige and power, and competition for influence and advantage amid increasingly lucrative land and sea trade routes. In this conflict torn region lay the land named Amdan Negara. One of several kingdoms of an ancient federation named Langkasuka Adhi Negara, sometimes also called Langkasuka Maha Mandala, that had collapsed, their once sovereign Raja now demoted to vassal Narapati, in the wake of the combined Srivijayan-Sailendran invasion and conquest of the northern parts of the Golden Peninsula, circa 775 AD.

In the midst of all this confusion, chaos and anarchy, three people between them will, somehow, end up partly shaping the destiny of the Langkasukan federation.

Shakranta, the last scion of the now near extinct Dharmakusuma Dynasty, fighting to regain his family’s lost throne and to restore a fallen kingdom.

Isabelle, a young Saxon girl from Enghel Land, a country at war in the Isles of Britannia, lost and stranded in a foreign land, struggling  for her very sanity and survival.

Ozalan, child of an Oghuz Turkmen mercenary and a Bolgar woman, orphaned at five years old, staring at the bleakest of futures ahead of him.

Their paths meet in the many splendoured city of Constantinople, in the glorious land of Byzantium. Together, the trio sail eastward to Shakranta’s homeland in the Golden Peninsula. Retracing the routes once travelled by Shakranta’s distant ancestors centuries earlier.

Shakranta’s grandfather, Adhi Vira, had lit the first flames of rebellion to overthrow a band of foreigners who had seized the governorship of Amdan Negara, their collapsed ancestral kingdom. While his mother, Kembang Seri Wangi, had ably continued the family heritage as the next Narapati. But their lost dynastic throne was still beyond their grasp, their kingdom still vassal to a powerful foreign empire. It is now left to Shakranta to help her fight for its complete restoration.

Is there hope for Shakranta, the Dharmakusuma Dynasty and the broken kingdom of Amdan Negara?

Prologue

Dharmakusuma: Defender of Langkasuka 1
REGION IN TURMOIL (Clash of Kingdoms)

Prologue

Before the pen was crafted;

Before the ink was formulated;

Before the stone tablet was inscribed;

Before the beginning started; and the ending finished;

Before the earth was laid; before the sky was curved;

In the darkness; amid the chaos;

Then was the before of the before.

§        §        §

960 AD, Gunung Sembatu (Stony Mountain), Upper Galas River Valley, in the land named Amdan Negara (Kingdom 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.

Adhi Vira gazed at the distant horizon, his face clouded with gloom. For three nights running, he had not got even a wink. Blade and battle never fazed the powerfully built warrior, but now the fight he had to fight simply 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 much 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 interrupted, making Adhi Vira turn around.

“Teratai Putih (White Lotus)!” Adhi Vira looked surprised. “It's been a long time."

"Greetings, Lord."

"Greetings to you, Teratai. We were talking about you just a while ago. You were prominent by your absence."

“Got held up on the way, Lord," the elderly seer continued. "With these old ankles and knees also slowing me down."

"Poor soul. Should have let me know beforehand. I would 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 Negeri Bumi Merah (Red Earth Land) … 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 tobacco, then lit it up. “Making me a trifle anxious.”

“I can only peer ahead according to 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.”

“She smells so pleasant,” Adhi Vira bowed low to inspect his three day old newborn daughter even more closely, his face brightening up a bit then, upon hearing Teratai’s soothing persuasion. 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, dear 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 pleasant 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.”

“Take care of … our daughter … to the best … of your ability. She will … give you … pride and happiness. She will be … a suitable heir … for the … Dharmakusuma Dynasty. Good … bye … my … love.”

Adhi Vira just sat there, stunned into total stillness and silence. Finally tears flowed, first slowly, then freely, down his burning cheeks. Tears of love of a fearless warrior. Tears that hadn’t flowed since he was a five year old child hankering for his mother's attention. The weather outside looked shining bright then. But Adhi Vira’s heart felt darker than the darkest night.

“Great Lord,” he sobbed, unabashedly. “Why do you do this to me? Why? Why? Why?”

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 is nursing her two month old child. She is strong and healthy. She can feed two babies with little difficulty. Princess Kembang Seri Wangi will never ever go hungry, Lord. I'll see to that myself."

"Thank you, Kejora. I don'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 ran 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 regularly managed to 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 community of Gunung Sembatu. 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.

He straightened Permata Sukma’s by then cold body on her mattress, 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, whom they had come to regard as 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, who had been forced to leave their ancestral lands, after their homes, farms, rice fields and other property 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.

§        §        §

960 AD, city of Rajbadi Danga, province of Karna Suvarna, in the land of Bhangala.

Prakasha received the various leftover foodstuff brought down by his wife from their kitchen. His youngest son ran excitedly after the ducklings following a surati mother duck, trying his utmost best to grab hold of one. The ducklings scampered away all around from the boy in fright. The mother duck’s feathers bristled in a show of hostile resentment.

“Bhava, why are you disturbing those poor ducklings?” Prakasha squeezed and mixed the old cooked rice, vegetables, meats and gravies with milked-out grated coconut and some freshly grated sago to make feed for his chickens, ducks and geese. “If their mother suddenly turns on you, then you’ll know her wrath.”

“I only want to hold them, Father. I only want to play with them.”

“If you want to hold them, then you have to approach them gently, Son. Feed them, coax them, gain their trust, like I do. If you just keep rushing them and scaring them, they’re always going to run away from you. Here, look. When I call out to them, they come tamely to me without any fear. Look now, they even poke their beaks into my hand to find food.”

“Why are those ducklings following a surati duck, Father? Why aren’t they following their own mother?”

“Because they think that she is their own mother. Because she was the one who brooded them until they hatched, then cared for them since they were small.”

“Why didn’t their own mother brood them herself, Father?”

“Because she died before they hatched. A hungry cobra tried to steal her brooding eggs one night. When she fought the snake, she got sprayed with venom before the snake slithered away. So I had to continue brooding the eggs using a surati mother duck, until they hatched."

"What? That's weird!"

"Heck, you know, my old friend Sarghuna even had a hen continue to brood his duck’s eggs when the duck died from an infection. So the ducklings that hatched later are now following the hen around like their mother.”

“Crikey! A hen mothering ducklings ... that’s even weirder!” Prabhava first shrieked in astonished disbelief. "Does she enjoy a good swim too?". Then he broke into a shrill laugh of kiddy mirth. "I want to see that! I have to! I must!" To his little mind, the world was regularly full of mystery and magic, making life constantly merry and wondrous.

"Well, it happens that I'm going to pay Sarghuna a visit tomorrow. I haven't seen him for some time. You can tag along with me then. If you promise me that you'll behave yourself."

"I promise, Father. I promise."

Having just passed seven years of age, Prabhava was always so ebullient and inquisitive. Seldom stationary for any prolonged period of time, he was a ball of energy in perpetual motion. Whether running around, playing, chattering away with someone, or pestering someone else to be told yet another tale, from morn till dusk.

§

The day was bright and sunny. A warm, gentle breeze blew from the coastal plains in the east. It had not rained for several days. The air felt dry.

The old man watered the beds of okra, long beans, tomatoes and brinjals with water which his sons had fetched from the well. The newly fruiting vegetables would be ready for harvesting in a couple of months or so.

He then looked to the other side. The rows of tapioca, sweet potato and sugar cane looked thick and luxuriant in their foliage. The tapioca and potato would give him plump succculent tubers. The sugar cane would carry plenty of sweet juice. A smile came over the man's wrinkled, weather beaten face. 

"Uncle Sarghuna!" a little boy's excited shout from the direction of the gate to Sarghuna's farmstead jolted the man from his ponderings.

Sarghuna turned around, looking pleasantly surprised by the unexpected appearance of his distinguished visitors, a tall smart looking man and his equally well dressed son.

"Hello, young man!" the man greeted the little boy gingerly. "Still looking hale and hearty as usual, aren't you?

"Where's the hen with the ducklings, Uncle? I want to see them!" the boy continued, brimming with eagerness.

"They're foraging around in the backyard of the house now, I think. Go have a look there, Son."

The boy scooted off at speed to find the object of his wonderment. 

"Your veggies are looking good, my friend," Prakasha surveyed the area. He was still sweating from the morning walk with his son from their home across the foothills. "Must be the soil around here."

“Yes, Lord Commander,” Sarghuna watched the ducks and geese picking out the snails, beetles, worms and borers on his plants. "They are, aren't they? You could be right. But I still sprinkle some manure on the beds, though."

Sarghuna had known Prakasha from his days as a young recruit in the cavalry. Their friendship had endured since then, Prakasha often turning to the older man for advice.

"Let's go up to the house for a cup of tea and a proper chat, Lord. It gets too warm down here after some time."

"Thank you. I could use a drink."

"Amrita!" Sarghuna called out aloud to his wife. "Boil a kettle of of your best tea. We have important guests."

The two men talked about the latest developments, the weather, their own respective farms, the local politics, everything.

“So what does the future hold for this youngest son of mine then, Sarghuna?” Prakasha broached the subject of his son's future as he sipped the delicious fragrant tea, which came from the Assam highlands. “If I could have the benefit of your sage wisdom."

“Lord,” the old seer crushed small bits of betel nut in his dusty, worn out betel nut crusher with his wiry hand. “It pleases me greatly to hear a highly respected Ashvaka soldier seek my humble counsel. As befits his proud name, Prince Prabhava will grow up into a brave and strong warrior. However, he will be imbued with the restless spirit of an adventurer. Taking after his father, I would believe. His life, therefore, will be driven by his wanderlust. His many journeys abroad will end in a distant place, far, far away from here."

“And where would that place be, if I may know?”

“Yonder, across the Bay of Bhangala, roughly in the direction of the rising sun from Singhala Dvipa (Singhala Island). In a blessed land, on a peninsula that leads from Suvarna Bhumi, the Golden Continent, to Suvarna Dvipa, the Golden Islands. There would be where he will eventually find the ultimate happiness and peace that he craves."

"He also always gets so excited every time he hears about Daivi Khadga ... that legendary sword from the sky. He says that ... he wants to go and look for it ... when he grows up."

"Oh! Daivi Khadga? The Sword of Arjuna. Of course. It's every young warrior's dream."

"Sorry, Sarghuna. But to the Kambhoja people ... it will always be the Sword of Kambhujiya. After all ... King Kambhujiya ... won it fair and square in battle from King Kuvalashava of Kosala. But Arjuna ... descendant of Kuvalashava ... only obtained it after he had slain Prince Sudakh Shina ... descendant of Kambhujiya ... with his arrow in cold blood. After Sudakh Shina had truly and totally bested Arjuna in a face to face, man to man fight ... in the Battle of Kurukshetra. You know ... Sudakh Shina even badly wounded Sri Krishna."

"You sound so sure about that story, my friend."

"Oh yes. I am. I'm a Kambhoja. The blood of King Kambhujiya is in me."

Talk of the ancient Kambhoja never failed to fire Prakasha up with fierce pride. They had always been known throughout the Himalayas as a valiant, heroic people.

"Now we're arguing about some mythical sword of more than two thousand years ago," Sarghuna smiled.

"And we don't know if it even exists ... much less where it lies," Prakasha smiled back. "It's all ancient legend."

"Oh well. Let's just put it this way, Lord. If the quest for Daivi Khadga makes Prince Prabhava go out to the world ... drives his ambition ... and helps make a man out of him ... it can only be good for him. By that time ... whether Daivi Khadga really exists or not then ... would be beside the point."

“If that is his destiny, then so be it,” said Prakasha. “For it was also destiny that once brought me here all the way from Badakshan … my Kambhoja homeland in the Western Himalayas. That was how my life as a cavalryman in the Bhangala army began.”

"Do you still miss Badakshan, Lord?"

"I'll never cease to do, Sarghuna. Its magnificent scenery ... its urvara bhumi ... its elegant horses ... its sturdy ponies ... its divinely fragrant musk ... its beautiful precious and semi-precious stones. If only I could experience all those things again ... maybe some day ..."

The royal court of the ruling Pala Dynasty of Bhangala and its army, especially the cavalry, was dominated by men of aristocratic Ashvaka ancestry. The Ashvaka, their name meaning horseman in Sanskrit, was an elite Kambhoja tribe of accomplished riders who could shoot an arrow in any direction from the back of a horse in full gallop, who came from the west.

Prakasha could have exploited his lineage and the good connections that came with it to engineer a faster career advancement, but, like a good soldier, he had opted to work his way professionally up the ranks. In the end, he had still impressed his superiors enough to eventually rise to Maha Senapati (Chief Commander) of the Cavalry. It was a most coveted position, because the cavalry formed the cream of the Pala army.

§        §        §

Three years later ...

"Father," Prabhava spoke. "You promised me yesterday that you'd tell me some stories about the Kambhoja ... and the battles they fought in times of old."

"Go gather the firewood for your mother first, Bhava," his father answered. "You'll hear those tales in the afternoon."

The morning passed. It seemed to take rather long for Prabhava, but he bore with it patiently. After lunch, father and son sat together under the verdant shade of a mango tree whose fruits were just about to ripen.

"There was once this ancient Kambhoja warrioress," Prakasha began, "who had stood up with admirable courage against Alexander of Macedonia."

"Did she? Really?"

"Yes, she did. Her name was Krippya (Cleophis), of the Ashvaka tribe of Massaga. She was the Queen Dowager. Her land had been attacked by Alexander and his army, and her son the new king had fallen in battle."

"Poor woman. What happened next?"

"With classic Kambhoja bravery, she simply took over the role of supreme commander, then exhorted her Ashvaka forces to continue fighting tooth and nail against those of Alexander. The Macedonian king was even gravely wounded in the Battle of Massaga and only made a narrow escape. He had to hobble his way out with the greatest urgency."

"Great stuff, that. I knew she'd give him a good fight. She was an Ashvaka."

"Kripya's army, by then including many other women of the tribe who had also lost husbands or sons, was only defeated and overpowered by the Macedonians, not in a fair fight but through fraud, treachery and breach of treaty. An act for which even Alexander's own court historians, including Callisthenes of Olynthus, had severely castigated him."

"What poor excuse did Alexander give then?"

"Alexander claimed that he had no choice, for in order to snatch victory from the jaws of defeat against the fiercest fighters his men had ever faced, he had to break every sacred rule in the code of the true warrior."

"How disgusting. And then?"

By the same sly wile and guile, Alexander went on to win further battles against Ashvaka armies in Ora and Bazira, the remaining Ashvaka fighters then retreating to a high mountain fortress in Aornos. Eventually, however, Alexander met his match in cunning and trickery in the form of a young man by the name of Sashigupta, renegade son of a prince of the Nanda dynasty, rulers of the powerful kingdom of Magadha, by his Ashvaka concubine named Maurya.

On the run from his grandfather the king of Magadha after a perceived slight, Sashigupta found refuge in the willing embrace of Alexander's invading army. The youth managed to convince Alexander that he had the fighters who could help the Macedonian king win the Aornos fortress with minimum casualties. At the same time, Sashigupta told his Ashvaka kinsmen, quite correctly, that Aornos was a lost cause and persuaded them to abandon the fortress, after some token resistance to make things look real, to the Greek invaders.

Sashigupta's plan worked brilliantly, avoiding what would have been the sacrifice of many thousands of lives, both Greek and Kambhoja. Alexander made Sashigupta satrap of Aornos, and left it for him to rule on Alexander's behalf. Sashigupta would later lead a composite army of nomadic highlanders, with Kambhoja warriors forming its core, to vanquish the kingdom of his Nanda grandfather and found a new ruling dynasty of Magadha, named after his mother, the Maurya Dynasty.

Sashigupta himself ascended the throne as King Chandragupta Maurya. In later years, Chandragupta would wrest back the Kambhoja territories lost to Alexander from Seleucus, Alexander's successor in the Indus Valley region, and incorporate them into his Magadha kingdom.

"There was another famous Kambhoja queen, I think," Prabhava tried nudging his father toward one more story.

"Well, there was Timmeya (Tomyris), also of the Ashvaka tribe."

"Did she fight a conquering king too?", the son enquired, prompting the general to continue.

"Oh yes, she did. And she won."

"Tell me about the battle, Father."

Queen Timmeya had actually jumped into the fray to lead her forces to victory against Persian conqueror Khouroush-e-Bozorg (Cyrus the Great), in what would turn out to be his last battle. Khouroush had wanted to annex the mountainous lands of the Ashvaka tribes, including Massaga, to Achaemenid Persia, citing common ancient ancestry, a familiar tactic among conquering kings.

Khouroush could have been right about the ancestry claim, the name Kambhujiya of the Kambhoja's ancient founding ancestor having cropped up rather frequently among the Achaemenid royal household of Persia. But when Khouroush tried to force Queen Timmeya to marry him, after her husband and teenage son had been killed by Khouroush's forces in battle, he pushed his luck too far.

After her rampaging army finally routed Khouroush's invading forces, Timmeya chopped off Khouroush's head from his corpse, grabbed it by the hair, turned it upside down, and  screamed, "You were always thirsty for blood! Now you have the fill of your own!" She then went riding all around the battlefield, holding her trophy aloft for all her warriors to see and cheer.

§        §        §

970 AD, Bukit Panau (Spotted Hill), in the land named Amdan Negara (Kingdom of the Valiant).

Biduk Bota (Ogre’s Ship) surveyed the area around Mahligai Gemilang Sakti (Palace of Sacred Glory). The palace previously named Mahligai Dharmakusuma (Dharmakusuma Palace). For two centuries it had been occupied, in turn, by various self-appointed narapati (provincial chiefs) hailing from Palembang who claimed to be, whether truthfully or otherwise, related to the royal house of Palembang Srivijaya, the latest among whom being Biduk Bota himself.

The people’s uprising along the entire Kelantan River Valley around Bukit Panau had been crushed, swiftly and brutally. Several rebel leaders had been captured, bound and thrown into prison. There they languished in fear, awating their final punishment. Their homes had been burnt down to ashes, their property seized. A few more of them were still on the run, now hunted like wild animals by Biduk Bota’s henchmen.

In an isolated settlement, a couple of prasanga distance from Mahligai Gemilang Sakti, Biduk Bota’s men, armed to the teeth, barged into two houses located nearby each other. They came out again dragging a man and a woman from each house.

“Father!” a small boy, about five years of age, cried on the serambi of his house. “Mother! Wait! Don’t leave me!”

“Bastards!” another child, about the same age as him, from the other house, screamed angrily. “Don’t take my mother away! Mother! Where’re they taking you to? Father!”

The two men and their wives were bound in sturdy rope and brought to Mahligai Gemilang Sakti to receive their punishment. The women were roughed up, then abused by Biduk Bota himself, in front of their husbands. The men were then beaten up and tortured to within an inch of their lives, then dragged and hurled into a killer crocodile’s cage amid screams of terror, to be savaged then feasted upon by Jaka Pelara, Biduk Bota’s voracious reptilian executioner. In short order, their wives were executed by keris in public. The ghastly punishments were necessary, Biduk Bota insisted, to serve as deterrence against future rebellions.

One of the men somehow managed to whisper a weak request to two relatives, moments before he was dragged and thrown into the crocodile’s cage. “Utih, Uda. Save our sons … Pinang and Nibung. Take them away … to Gunung Sembatu … leave them with our good friend … the Lord of the Mountain.”

The two youngsters slipped away immediately. They rushed back to their village, sought and found their two small kindred, then quickly smuggled them out, taking them through isolated jungle routes, toward the mountains far upstream. They avoided going anywhere near the Kelantan River for fear of encountering Biduk Bota's men.

Only when they reached Krai, near the place where the Galas River met the Lebir River, did they dare to consider and take up a friendly looking villager's offer of a ride on his fast dugout longboat up the Galas River to Jelawang. Even then, Utih and Uda never took their eyes off the boatman for long, always keeping a sharp watch in case the man was a spy or a traitor who might turn them in, while at the same time helping to row the boat. Then they walked again through thick jungle, from Jelawang town in the direction of Gunung Sembatu, until they reached their final destination, the abode of the Lord of the Mountain.

Thus the two children, Nibung and Pinang, were eventually taken in by the Lord of the Mountain into his home, and raised by him as his own, with all the love a father could ever give, even though he himself had lost his beloved wife ten years earlier.

§        §        §

970 AD, Gunung Sembatu (Stony Mountain), Upper Galas River Valley, in the land named Amdan Negara (Kingdom of the Valiant).

For Kembang Seri Wangi, the unexpected appearance of Pinang and Nibung in Gunung Sembatu (Stony Mountain) was like a fortuitous blessing, even if it had occurred in the most painful of circumstances. In a single day she had gained two little brothers, thereby adding much needed life and cheer into her home. While awating a room of their own to be built for them, the two young boys slept together with her in her room. Every night she would keep them company until they both fell asleep. Only then would she herself retire. While her father mostly preferred to sleep outside, in the guest lounge, rather than his own bedroom.

During the day, Nibung and Pinang would run around and play normally like the other kids in the neighbourhood. At first they were shy and reserved, preferring to keep to themselves. Eventually, however, their new friends won them over with their warm good-natured friendliness, making the two children forget momentarily the recent dark events in their life.

At night, however, when sleep came, all the terrible memories would come back to haunt them in their wild nightmares.

“Mother! Father!,” Nibung sobbed aloud in his dream, waking up Kembang Seri Wangi who had just dozed off. “Don’t leave me!”

Kembang Seri Wangi wiped Nibung’s face, wet with sweat, with a piece of moist rag. The child woke up briefly from his sleep, shifted his position a few times, and soon fell asleep again.

“Don’t take my mother away!” moments afterward, Pinang screamed. “Bastards! I’ll kill you all one day!”

Kembang Seri Wangi did the same with Pinang as she had done with Nibung.

“Wangi,” moments later Nibung had woken up again.

“Nibung,” Kembang Seri Wangi turned back to Nibung, readjusting her new brother’s blanket, which had by then shifted all over the place. “You’re tired. Go back to sleep, dear brother. Tomorrow you’d want to go play with your new friends again.”

“My mother and my father … when are they going to come and pick me up? It's been a long time since Uncle Utih and Uncle Uda brought me here. My old friends back home … and my relatives … I miss them all so much.”

The child’s innocent lament hit Kembang Seri Wangi hard and deep in her young soul. But she made a big effort to keep her poise. She had to be strong for him.

“Nibung, my brother” she spoke softly, in a soothing tone. “Your mother and your father … they have gone to a place far, far away from here … so that they shall not be disturbed by those bad people again. Be patient. One day … when they’re ready … they shall come for you.”

Thus young Kembang Seri Wangi tirelessly looked after and cared for the little boys, calming them every time she sensed turmoil rising in their small hearts. Day by day, night by night, she learned to fulfil her newfound duties and responsibilities as an elder sister.

As Nibung drifted into slumber again, Kembang Seri Wangi got up and opened her windows a little. She looked up at the night sky, watching the half-moon appear, disappear behind the clouds, then appear again.

“O Purnama, Lord of the Moon,” she pleaded. “Why are those evil conquerors of our land still lording it so cruelly over our people … still terrorising and mistreating them? Beating them up and torturing them … hurting their women, plundering and pillaging their land and property … wreaking carnage and destruction everywhere.  What are the sins of these two little brothers of mine … what are the wrongs of their mothers and fathers … that they have all been abused so wantonly and violently?”

Without her realising it, tears welled up in her eyes and fell down her warm cheeks.

“Wangi,” Adhi Vira stretched himself, sat up slowly, rubbed his eyes and peered toward his daughter’s bedroom.

“Father!” Kembang Seri Wangi turned around, jolted out of her thoughts. “You startled me.”

“I’m sorry, Daughter. You haven’t gone to sleep yet?”

“I had, Father. But I was woken up again by the cries and screams of Nibung and Pinang in their sleep.”

“So was I.”

“They both seemed disturbed by some bad dream of theirs.”

“Don’t you worry about them too much, Dear. They’ll both gradually recover from their painful experiences. Time will heal their wounds. What’s most important is that we both take good care of them … always … and to the best of our ability.”

“I hope so too, Father. They are unfortunate children. Still … I can feel … like they shall bring good fortune to our family. Even now … their mere presence … seems to have cured the loneliness … which I’ve often felt … in our home all this time.”

Such was the character of Kembang Seri Wangi. She was barely ten years old, but her words often sounded better thought out than those of many other children much older than her. Perhaps, having long had to cope by herself in every awkward situation where another little girl would have gone running to her mother had somehow made Kembang Seri Wangi grow up that bit quicker than the rest.

“I’d be most happy if things turn out that way, Wangi,” said her father. “Anyway … like someone said … behind every cloud there’s always a silver lining.”

"You think so, Father? But what good can there be ... in the abuse and killings ... of the innocent people of Bukit Panau then?"

"I don't know the right answer to that, Daughter. What I can tell you is that ... we can't ... and we won't ... let them go unpunished. There will be payback some time. That much I can promise."

"My mother came to see me in my dream," Nibung sprang to the door, startling Kembang Seri Wangi. "Teach me how to fight, Sir. I want to face those murderers one day. I want to make them pay for their deeds."

"Me too, Sir," Pinang then appeared alongside his cousin. "Those animals destroyed my family and my life. I want to kill them all."

"Teach me also, Father," Kembang Seri Wangi joined in with her two new brothers, her voice now sounding surprisingly steely with determination. "I want to fight with Nibung and Pinang. I want to liberate our land from those evil conquerors. I want to restore the pride and honour of our people."

"Bravo! Bravo!" replied Adhi Vira. "I'm happy and proud to have brave children like you all under my wings. When you're all ready, children ... when you're old enough to learn the art of the warrior ... I shall teach you everything."

"In the meantime," the prince continued after a pause, "you shall each live your life like children ... and enjoy it like all children should do. When the time comes ... when you're all big enough and strong enough ... I shall be glad to have you join me and my friends ... in our fight for independence ... against our enemies."

The children went quiet. Like a calm suddenly came over them and enveloped them in its embrace. After a while, Kembang Seri Wangi led the boys back to their pillows again.

The early morning wind began whispering from the seven mountains nearby their highlands home. Kembang Seri Wangi closed her bedroom window. She readjusted, yet again, the blankets covering her new little brothers, Nibung and Pinang, so that their small bodies would be protected against the now increasingly cool mountain air.