Nusantara Throne - Senandung Kebangkitan
Satria
On the night after they returned from the cave of the old hermit, Satria awoke from her sleep. He imagined again the stories that flowed from the mouth of Purnapana carefully. The feeling was uncomfortable, imagined Punapana face so sad, as if his sadness dissolves with the story.
He had never heard anything about the tiger man, and wanted to assume the story was only a great fairy tale from a wandering grandfather, but the story felt so real.
How does my real love look? Is he the one who can set us free?
Satria could not answer that question. He became desperate and increasingly had trouble sleeping. The desire to meet Purnapana arises again, but he must be patient and wait for the next night. Indeed, if my love truly exists, I hope the gods send him to the South to tear the bellies of our cruel kings as he cast out demons and demons of the past.
The morning came with a bright beam of light, finches chirping on the tents of slaves. At least the sound is more melodious than the pounding of Garung. Someone woke Satria violently, he felt a jolt with a loud rhythm repeatedly hitting his back. His eyes were open with pain, he had only slept for about two hours.
“Slave fucker slacker!” said Garung kicking Satria's back.
He woke up cruelly, whimpering and trying to get up.
“Do I have to let you sleep in the middle of the forest so that hungry stray dogs wake up that deep slumber as their breakfast, damned slave!”
Garung's voice rang in Satria's ear, he wanted to get angry but his body was still limp and felt numb. Of all the warriors in Mayakarsa, I hope the tiger man will tear your mouth first, Satria muttered.
“Sorry Sir, I have trouble sleeping.”
“That's not my problem,” Garung then hit the kangungan twice in front of Satria. “You heard what that sound was? You understand?”
The voice was very disturbing Satria who was still standing down, “Hamba understood Mr.”
Without a second thought, the garung kicked Satria until he fell into the sandy soil. Garung then laughed, his fat stomach twitched like jelly, “If you understand then quickly wake up, deaf slave, you son of a bitch. Today clean the lightning, your body as fragrant as a carcass, touch it already makes me nauseous.”
Satria rose grimacing while holding her stomach, her kick was not powerful, but it was enough to make her stomach pulsate. The slaves served in turns in the temple area. At least the marriage area is the most anticipated place for slaves to work.
Satria rushed to follow dozens of accompaniment of slaves who walked towards the East direction of the temple. During the journey he saw the cruelty of the soldiers getting more and more crazy. One soldier kicked a fallen slave until they coughed up blood. Some of the soldiers even dragged the corpses to be dumped on the edge of the abyss.
The nearness of the harvest season does not make a day of joy for them. The work was increasingly absurd, one adult slave was obliged to carry hundreds of heavy andesite stones until the skins of his hands peeled off. Old slaves in caci maki, played like abandoned animals, even many of them spit for not being able to dig, until in the end they fell and died in their own mines.
The sight made Satria diligently pray every torment around her eyes. His prayer was fixed on the tiger man whom he regarded as a liberating god. Although his existence is still regarded by Satria as a fairy tale, he hopes that my love will be a gateway to freedom for the slaves of Mayakarsa.
He had been walking for twenty minutes, pertirtaan Condok was not far from the location of the main temple, about five hundred feet. Around the building overgrown with lush mahogany trees, the grass around thrives.
The Lightningaan building is square in shape with a close arrangement of bricks. At the end of the corner there is a schedule (shower/water channel). Metallic green water flows out of the mouths of the macara (an elephant-shaped animal half fish) sourced from the slopes of springs from the Andamar Mountains.
Satria remembered how the beauty was obtained through a long suffering. The slaves were forced to dig up a water source as far as hundreds of cubits until a water source was found. They were starving, not to mention scorching to burn their skin on the hot barren mines. Now that the building is almost finished, the slaves now have to rub the bricks connecting the building and carve carvings of Mayakarsa's triumph.
Satria climbed on the surface of the lightning, felt tough and cold. Clear water flooded Satria's feet to the calves. Cold, cool and calm flowed in his mind. After carving some horse carvings with stone chisels, Satria washed her face with thunderbolt water.
There was another stir in him. He wants to be free, he should be able to enjoy this coolness without having to be shackled by commands. The dozens of slaves around him had their faces getting gloomy, as if the coolness of the water was washed away in the void. Their hands moved, carving, rubbing, and transporting, but their faces were empty.
The slaves were not given breakfast, they were fed during the day, even after the soldiers had finished eating. As half a day passed, the soldiers ordered them to stop working. The day before noon, a blazing tinge of scorching through the cracks of the mahogany leaves, Satria's wet body quickly dried up. Satria and the slaves returned to the main temple courtyard.
In front of them stood dozens of rusty iron barrel as high as Satria's waist. The barrel contained the food scraps of the soldiers that were not exhausted. Most of them contain moist rice that is sassy and smells sour. There were also some pieces of chicken and pigeon bones mixed in, but not a single bit of meat was left. Satria is not uncommon to find stale boiled vegetables in a barrel, the smell is stinging and slimy.
Lazily Satria moved to display his wooden tray. He is not at all lustful. He only took one mouthful of the food with a spoon made of coconut shells. Satria had tasted the delicious food before from the foodstuff stolen from the warehouse, why did she have to think of the pile of garbage in the barrel.
He could steal that food every night. Who cares about Tarmigi, the stupid, lazy barn keeper? Enjoying grilled meat and fresh fruit with his friend in the cave where Purnapana pertapa made him unable to eat this food anymore.
“I understand your feelings little sister.”
Harsya suddenly appeared and sat down next to Satria. Harsya understood Satria's feelings, her face unable to put aside the nauseous feeling.
“Later our night..”
“Don't be hard,” whispered Harsya commemorating, his thick eyebrows as if twitching.
Satria almost forgot that the soldiers were still around to watch the slaves who refused to eat. Often the lash floated hard for the slaves who spewed out food.
“Later tonight we steal again.”
“Sure little sister, I still remember the taste of that beef! I haven't even had time to spend other fruits, Syam is too greedy.”
Satria laughed at the joke.
“Tonight we have to bring a lot of fruit. I want Banana, and papaya,” Satria said as she chewed the leftover rice that tasted a little sour. “Where is Sham?”
“He got a brick burning part today, I can't imagine, this afternoon it feels hot and it's always hot lately. I hate that place, it doesn't fit in a drought.”
Satria nodded sadly. “I want to be free.”
“We all want to free little sister,” replied Harsya, trying to smile. “You forgot how Sham misses the beach so much, like I miss the lake in my village. We all don't deserve to be in this hell, but what can we do?”
Satria shook her head, her face was silent, but her eyes were like a small fire. “Do you believe the story that Mr. Purnapana told you, about the tiger man?”
“Small sister, this continent is vast, my father is very close to the witches. There are still many wonders hidden behind the fog, the alleys of hills, forests, and deep oceans. You see for yourself, Mr. Purnapana told me as if the river was flowing so quietly, and then it became swift, his sadness proof that he was an honest man. I believed him, but also feared for his story,” Harsya explained as he tried to swallow the slimy mushy rice.
“What one day will my love help us?” Satria bowed lethargicly, while trying to finish the last of her last meal.
“Should have been, but I doubt it. Who will care about us, we are just workers and losers.”
“Do not do so..”
The sound of claps rang out again, making the attention on the slave diverted. But the ringing of the call was different, it sounded irregular as if a fool was playing with the clanging.
“Tabib! Where's healer!” garung shouted with a stupid face, going around banging the bamboo kentung.
“What else is this?” ask Satria.
Two soldiers were holding a slave who was brought from a brick kiln. The arrival of the soldier drew attention to the other slaves. At first Satria did not recognize him, but as the crowd of slaves split, the face became clearer, he was Sham. His back suffered a terrible tear. The incisions were clearly emblazoned as if his skin was open in pink showing soft Sham meat. Blood flooded his cotton pants.
Asih emerged from the South gate. His steps panicked, he approached Sham who looked pale and limp.
“What's the matter Sir, what's with this young slave?”
“He got a trial, we caught him falling while carrying those hot bricks,” said a soldier holding back a laugh. “We have already calculated it, twenty bricks broken!”
Garung laughed, followed by the sound of the laughter of the surrounding soldiers.
“Bags you! You're here to atone for your sins, not destroy the remission of sins, are you insulting the mercy of the gods?” said the Garung, now his laughter was more wild, his hands did not stop beating the claps. “You whipped him how many times?”
“Twenty,” said the soldier while groaning.
“Less!”
“Master don't, I beg you,” The terror attack struck Asih's chest, he then kowtowed, his voice trembling. “She is young, forgive her mistakes, I beg you.”
Arrogant mangangguk warung, “Tabib is right, Asih... Asih...you are indeed good at words, unfortunately you are very valuable here, otherwise the whip has sliced your back now.”
Garung's speech made the roar of laughter of soldiers echo more and more. “Bring him to camp, the more dead the longer the temple is finished. I'm looking to relax, don't want to make Mr. Dhanu hear this stupid news.”
The two soldiers then carried Sham towards the wounded slave camp. They put it as if Sham was a carcass and left it moaning. Sham looked at Asih with a grim look, his breathing was short. “Nothing, not how.”
“Do not talk again.”
Tears Asih dripped again, she muttered, “god forgive me servant, forgive those dark-hearted humans.”
In the groove of betel porridge that had been chewed Asih as long as he cried over the wounds of the young man. Syam again crept. His back muscles stiffened, the wound was burning.
“Mother! how Sham,” said Satria managed to sneak between the gaps of the camp.
“You have always been like that little sister, lower your voice,” said Harsya who followed behind her.
Asih shook his head sadly, “The wound is deep enough, just pray the betel will keep the wound from rotting, Nak.”
“What did they do to you?” harsya's turn to ask. Seeing Sham up close enough to make his teeth grin.
“The bastard... forced me to carry a pile of bricks twice in number,” he replied as he groaned holding the betel pulp in his wound that was getting hot. “They bet I can, but I slipped, then.... then... they, shit!” Sham could not hold back any more, he cried, his cry sounded sad, and long.
Harsya rubbed the head of the sham. He could feel the warm sweat of Sham seeping from his thin hair. “Hold my brother, hang on. Wish I wasn't born a coward and a loser.”
“I can't take it anymore, we have to report it to Mr. Purnapana,” Satria said.
“What can Mr Purnapana do little sister? He's just a recluse.”
“Also fighters!” Satria insisted.
“Who's a Retirement, Nak?” Asih turned his head, the foreign name seemed to sound more terrible than the name Dhanu.
“I can't tell it.”
“You can't keep dangerous things from mom, not even in this place, Nak.”
“Trust me, mom will find out later.”
“Nak,” Asih looked at her more pity, a sincere motherly look on her eyes. “Do not make me have to lose you in the midst of this suffering.”
“What about the secret of my real mother? Isn't that the secret that makes me have to live in the middle of this hell.”
Asih covered his face with palms, his cries broke again soaking the barren land next to the straw mat where Sham lay.
“Little sister, don't you ever hurt your mother.”
“I'm sorry,” Satria is downcast sorry, she squeezed the barren land. His nails feel sore.
Satria loved her biological mother as much as she loved Asih, but she had abandoned herself when she was seven days old, leaving her alone in front of the humble house of a single healer. Satria remembered how Asih finally told her a tearful story one night when she was ten years old. That night Asih hugged her tightly, she apologized for not being able to nurture her well and raised her in a decent place.
His mother, the cause of Asih, had to bear the severe slander of the Nasai City officials, they considered Asih gave birth to an illegitimate child from the results of cursed acts with patients in the independent city. Officials decided to punish Asih in order to clear his good name. Asih was sent to Mayakarsa to be a healer of sinful slaves with Satria, a child considered to be his illegitimate son.
Not long after the confession, Asih willingly hated himself. Accepting that fact is like a sinful woman. However, Satria never hated this fate, Satria still called Asih as mother. For Satria, Asih is still a mother even though Asih's blood and flesh do not grow and flow in her body. Asih then promised after they were freed from the shackles of slavery, Asih will tell who is the real mother of Satria.
When the sound of the clap was heard again, the two of them rushed out of the slave camp to return to the temple courtyard. Satria left with great regret, she should not follow the emotions that drew her tongue to say as sharp as a dagger. during the journey Satria began to pensive.
During his life as a slave. Their distance is now limited to the responsibilities and supervision of slave soldiers in the temple environment, so as Satria grows up, the communication of both becomes reduced. Occasionally, when the guard soldiers were caught off guard, Satria slipped into the tabernacle of the healers, met Asih to say hello.
For the Contok Temple area, Dharma bought five city healers scattered from all over the continent. However, obtaining a healer's slave wasn't as easy as slaughtering livestock. The city healers were mostly noble, they were needed as nurses of the wounds of the war troops and royal nobles.
Physicians were provided with difficult and rare medical knowledge, while the healer slaves bought by King Dharma were very expensive as the royal food for three months. It was this cause that made it difficult for tyrannical kings to obtain a worthy sinner's physician to become a slave. Moreover, most of them were old and during these fifteen years, healers had long since died. Three of them live in a sense of high pressure, making them sick and experiencing great depression. The other two are sick because they are too old. Only Asih was the only physician to survive.
While in the middle of the Condok Temple area, the courtyard was filled with slaves who stood lethargic. Some looked towards the statue of the prosperity god, grimacing and bowing. Harsya breaks Satria's daydreams by saying, “This year has been the worst little sister, but that doesn't mean we're unlucky.”
Satria stood upright facing the statue of the god. Luck or misfortune, best or worst, Satria was fed up. Right now it is freedom that he most often craves more than anything.
Someday, those kings will pay for it, what happened to us today will be paid for by their thrones flooded with blood from their own veins. Be free... please god full of lies, give us a chance to fight.
***