by AA Lee
Something bothered him, but he didn’t know what. It dawned on him as he stepped on a brittle leaf. The forest was too quiet. The only sound he could hear was his own footsteps.
The hairs on the back of his neck stood up, and when he looked up, yellow eyes stared back at him. That was when he knew the hunting ground wasn’t his alone.
Kisig raised his spear instinctively. It was a fatal mistake. The lion pounced, and Kisig had a moment to react and use his spear to stop its mouth from ripping his throat out. For a moment, he thought he had a high chance of survival, but a stabbing pain almost made him scream as the lion’s paws landed on his stomach.
The animal’s orange fur moved up and down as its unscathed mouth closed in on the spear Kisig had intended to kill it with. Kisig held on to the spear. His life depended on it. Knowing that he only had a short time before he passed out from blood loss, he looked for anything that could distract the animal. On his left, a sharp stone the size of his foot lay within reach. He quickly picked up the rock with his left hand while holding the spear with his right.
The lion seemed to predict his movement. It raised its paw and clawed his arm. He took advantage of the lion’s attack. He pushed the spear with all his strength into the lion’s mouth. The spear went through its neck.
A long whistle escaped his lips—an urgent call for his servants. He wished his signal could reach the hunting camp, but he was afraid he was too far away. The wound to his belly was deeper than the one on his arm, but both would kill him if he lost more blood. The lion’s body rested on his stomach and restricted his movement. Even if he were free, he probably wouldn’t have the strength to move.
He thought Hagibis would be near but didn’t see him. He blinked rapidly in an effort to stay conscious. He whistled again. He was torn between using his remaining strength to crawl back to the camp or to stay where he was. He feared no one had heard his whistle and he was waiting for nobody. But if they had heard and he moved, the servants might get confused about his location.
It seemed like an eternity before two servants came running. Their jaws dropped at the sight of the enormous beast, but their expressions turned to alarm upon realizing that the blood didn’t just belong to the lion.
“Quick! Run back. Tell anyone you see to come help me carry the village datu. Tell the village crier to head back to the village at once to get the healer. The healer must meet us on the way.” The older servant gave orders to the younger one like a head warrior.
The younger servant nodded and ran, whistling desperate calls to other hunters, directing them to gather around.
Kisig was thankful that the servants didn’t cower in front of him. They were no ordinary servants. They had been carefully selected to help the village datu and the officials. They were recent additions to his attendants, complements of the right and left officials constantly competing to be his father-in-law.
The older servant pulled the lion away, allowing Kisig to breathe easier. He retched after seeing Kisig’s wounds, but it only took him a few moments to collect himself. “Datu, please put pressure on your wound. I will make a stretcher so we can carry you without moving your wound too much.”
Kisig managed to nod before he lost consciousness. When he woke, he was lying on a moving stretcher. The high priestess and other priestesses surrounded him and sang foreign words. He felt confused and thought it might be a dream or that he was seeing things. The village was a day away. The old woman couldn’t have come in such a short time. His eyelids closed again, that time because he was sleepy.
Chapter 13
Tala
Just after lunch, the village crier—the fastest villager—shouted as soon as he entered the gate that the datu had been wounded and needed the healer immediately. Panic engulfed the village, and it baffled Tala that the village crier hadn’t just gone to the healer’s house. She understood later. The villagers collectively looked for the healer, who turned out to not only care for the datu but also for whoever was sick in the village by going to their houses.
As soon as the high priestess heard the village crier, she told the contenders to take a rest for the day. She and some of the older priestesses entered the shrine and never came out. Tala thought that they were praying for the datu, but when she went to see what they were doing, they were gone. Other priestesses helped locate the healer by asking around about who was sick.
The news travelled like wildfire. Tala heard some people say that the datu had killed a lion. Some said the lion had killed the datu. Others said he’d only been scratched, but people didn’t really believe the rumors. Like her, they wanted to see for themselves, so they waited impatiently inside the village gate. It was almost midnight, but the villagers continued waiting with torches that provided both light and warmth.
The crowd grew loud as lights like fireflies appeared far up the river. Tala held her head high, eager to see the datu. She had been worried all day, even though she didn’t really know the datu. When the torches came near, the villagers approached the hunting party.
“The datu is alive!” a villager shouted.
Tala couldn’t help but join in with the claps and shouts of celebration. She ran forward and only stopped when she saw clearly that he was indeed alive. She’d thought he must be badly wounded, but the datu walked like he’d just had a good rest. His arm had big claw marks, but they weren’t bleeding. They looked more like scars than fresh wounds. A cotton cloth covered his midsection.
The man raised his right arm to silence the villagers. “Thank you for waiting outside your houses despite the cold night. Today, I almost lost my life when I fought the beast.”
Four men carried forward a roughly made stretcher holding the lion. A spear protruded from its neck. Children wailed and ran after seeing the enormous beast. Even Tala stepped back.
“If not for the high priestess and her company, I might have died.”
Tala couldn’t believe the high priestess had helped the datu. She hadn’t seen her go out the gate. She couldn’t understand how the high priestess and the priestesses could have reached the datu in such a short time.
“Our healer also made sure my body is well. So for tonight, your village datu is alive! Let us feast!” Kisig’s voice rose, like he was commanding warriors to attack.
The crowd erupted in cheers again. Tala could see that the hunting team had caught several wild boars, deer, big birds, and other animals, but she saw only one lion, and it was the biggest game.
Tala followed the villagers to the meeting hall. Outside, people gathered firewood. No one had told the villagers what to do, yet each of them moved like they knew their jobs. Men and women helped each other. Some cleaned the animals while others gathered torches. Tala spotted her master and mistress fetching water. The whole village had come to life.
“Tala, help me remove this boar’s hair!” someone called to her in a tiny voice.
When Tala looked back, she saw Nimfa rearranging the firewood under a big pot.
“Nimfa! When did you learn to do this?” Tala looked at the pot full of close-to-boiling water.
“You don’t know how to do this?”
“I don’t. I normally removed chicken feathers, but I’ve never dehaired a pig. My master…” She trailed off. She didn’t know if Nimfa knew she had been a slave.
“Your master didn’t trust you with pigs, I guess,” she said nonchalantly.
Tala shook her head but didn’t bother to explain that her master hadn’t been rich and had rarely killed pigs. They’d raised pigs to sell to other villagers. On a few occasions, people had gathered at her master’s house to kill pigs, but they’d been common people, and slaves weren’t allowed to socialize with them, so she had been assigned to fetch water. Her time to talk to them had been reduced to almost nothing.
“So look, here’s how to do it. The water’s boiling, so it’s ready. Scoop up boiling water, and pour it on the boar’s skin with hair. Then scrape the skin with a spoon or the spine of a knife. Don�
�t use the edge because you’ll ruin the skin. You also don’t want to wait for a long time because the skin will harden again when it cools.” Nimfa put the ladle back in the pot and scraped the boar’s skin. Hair and some of the boar’s outer skin fell away.
Tala also scooped water and poured it on a different spot, careful not to burn Nimfa. “So, have you done this several times?”
“Yes, when the datu goes hunting. I’ve helped cook the animals since I was… maybe eight? Just wait until we finish. You’ll enjoy eating and dancing.”
“There will be dancing?”
“Yes! I’m so excited.”
It didn’t take long for the two of them to finish. It was easier than Tala had expected. A warrior helped them chop the boar and roast the meat over the fire where they’d boiled the water.
They were almost done roasting the meat when some villagers carried banana leaves to the bonfire and placed them around it. They used banana leaves for plates so they wouldn’t have to wash dishes after eating. They could just throw the leaves away. People who had finished cooking started to serve the food on the banana leaves. Some of the children grabbed food, and as Tala expected, their mothers scolded them to behave.
The datu announced that the ceremony was about to begin. The two girls finished putting the roasted meat on the banana leaves just in time. Tala sat down in front of the bonfire like the others, and Malaya sat next to her. Tala thought that the girl had purposefully done it to irritate her, but she tried to ignore Malaya and looked at the food instead.
“I bet this is your first feast, Slave Girl.”
Tala was glad Malaya’s voice wasn’t too loud, but some people still heard her. They looked at Tala with disgust. Those who were near her moved away, except for those who were too young to care about status. She wished she could vanish.
“She has a name, you know. Her name is Tala. And don’t be mean, Malaya.” Nimfa pushed Malaya a little and sat between her and Tala.
For a moment, Tala wished Nimfa hadn’t defended her. It looked like a smaller girl was protecting her, and it made her feel more powerless.
“I’m just saying it. It’s the truth. It’s her first feast.”
“And what?”
“Okay, okay. I’ll shut up.”
The high priestess stepped to the front of the ceremony along with two other priestesses. They began singing praises to the spirits and souls. Tala had never heard such a song before. It seemed like they drew every syllable out, in the beginning, but it didn’t take long for the rhythm to speed up, like the raging current of a river. The priestesses moved their feet rapidly around the bonfire, as if chasing each other while dancing. Their bodies matched the speed of their words. They went faster and faster as their voices grew louder until they reached a crescendo. The song stopped abruptly, and their bodies froze like statues.
Tala held her breath as silence engulfed the village. When the priestesses finally moved again, Tala let go of her breath.
“Smell the smoke and come, oh spirits and souls. Come with us and enjoy the food the earth has provided. Don’t be shy, for tonight, all of us are the same.” The high priestess picked up the lion’s tail and burned it on the bonfire. When the smoke finally rose to the sky, she stepped back and nodded to the datu.
“Let us eat and drink!” The datu led the feast by putting a big chunk of meat in his mouth.
Men and women grabbed banana leaves filled with food. They sat side by side at a distance from the bonfire, where they wouldn’t get in the way of those getting food but could still see what was on their banana-leaf plates. The equality amazed Tala. She had never seen men and women eat together before. They even filled each other’s glasses with coconut wine after eating.
“Try this. You’ll like it.”
Tala let Malaya pour her a cup. She wanted to forget her hatred for the girl, just for the night. Malaya also filled Nimfa’s cup. Tala contemplated whether Nimfa was too young to drink, but after seeing the girl’s eager eyes, she didn’t stop her from drinking.
The wine tasted bitter at first, so she sipped slowly. After finishing her cup, she thought that it hadn’t been so bitter after all. She concluded that maybe, because it had been her first time, she’d thought it was bitter.
“Come on, drink more! You’ll feel really good,” Malaya said, leaning toward her.
The villagers spoke more loudly, and Malaya’s voice sounded far away. The girl poured more wine, and Tala gulped it faster the second time. The wine tasted sweet, and she wanted more. Malaya was right. She felt good.
It didn’t take long for the villagers to start singing and beating drums. Tala hadn’t even noticed the drums before. Some beat bamboo in sync with the drummers.
Nimfa stomped her feet and clapped her hands but shook her head when Tala gulped more wine. The girl stopped dancing and walked toward her. “You’ve had enough, Tala. You should stop drinking if it’s your first time. You’ll get drunk. It will be ugly. Enjoy. Dance. Perhaps talk to others. It isn’t just about eating and drinking tonight.”
“Oh, don’t worry about me, little girl.” Tala giggled. “I’m enjoying.”
“Exactly. I’ll take care of her. We’re enjoying here.” Malaya shooed Nimfa away.
After looking at Tala once more, Nimfa walked back to where other girls were dancing.
Tala’s anxiety about getting attention slowly disappeared, so she tapped her hand against her cup to the beat of the song. A few moments later, she found herself stomping her feet to the rhythm.
A man in his fifties extended his hand to her during her fifth glass, or maybe it was her sixth. She wasn’t sure. She took his hand and tried to match the speed of his feet stomping the ground. She was out of sync, slow, and her body felt a little stiff. A few cups more from Malaya and she felt like she was one with the crowd.
The man turned his back to her and faced another partner. She continued dancing, not wanting to stop the exhilarating feeling. When she made another turn, her hand brushed against someone else’s. She took it and felt the hand close around hers. When she looked up, intent and equally surprised dark eyes met hers.
The surprise only lasted a moment. The man’s brows furrowed. His eyes drew her in, and she felt like no one else was around. The claps seemed to slow and quiet. All she could hear was the beating of her heart. Her eyes moved down to his broad shoulders, to the scars around his midsection. Her eyes widened. She wanted to pull away and run, but the man held her hands tight.
The datu’s face moved closer to hers. “So, you made it to the second round.”
Chapter 14
Kisig
Kisig traced the scars on his stomach. They looked several months old. Even the wound on his shoulder had been reduced to a white scar the size of his big toe. He hadn’t known that the priestesses had such incredible healing magic, but the high priestess had warned him that they wouldn’t be able to do so for all the warriors during an attack. Healing took the priestesses’ energy. When they healed, they took the pain of the wounded. Weakness was only one of their side effects. The priestesses had managed to find him faster than the healer and reinforcements. How they had was a mystery to him.
He longed to stay in bed longer and forget about the attack, the shortage of food, and the security of the village. Kisig wished he weren’t the only boy in the family. Then he could live quietly and without the pressure. He was so tired of the expectations and arguments, but his conscience gnawed at him, banishing his wishes.
Thanks to the coconut wine, he’d had the most satisfying sleep in days. The face of the slave girl came to his mind uninvited. Last night, she’d been completely different from the slave girl who’d kept her head down. He shook his head to banish his thoughts about the girl. The high priestess had promised to keep an eye on her. He had more important things to think about. He stretched his arms above his head and let out a big yawn. Despite drinking several cups of wine, he had a clear head. He walked out of his bedroom and went straight to his living
room, which was also his dining room. The attendants stood with their eyes on the floor. In the center of the room was a short table brimming with breakfast.
“Let’s eat.” He sat down cross-legged on the floor. The five ladies sat down around the table and waited for him to start before they ate. Eating together with women had been a hot topic of debate when he’d started accepting attendants. Women were supposed to serve their husbands. They were not his wives, but it was understood that he would choose one or all of them. All the wives in the village waited for their husbands to finish eating before they did so. Kisig had wanted to change that by letting the officials see him eating with his attendants, but he’d only received criticisms and disapprovals. Kisig hoped that one day, people would change.
Ganda deboned a fish and put it on Kisig’s plate. He muttered a thanks. Hinhin, a meek girl, did the same. He wiped his mouth with a clean cloth before the rest of the girls could participate in the competition. He was aware of the jealousy between the girls, and he couldn’t blame them. However, he had no time or energy to waste on it.
“It would be nice if you would control our meals moving forward. I don’t want to waste food when other tables are empty. Make sure the leftovers are given to slaves or commoners who are hungry.”
“Yes, Datu,” the girls answered as one.
“There will be a ceremony today to appease the spirits. I need you all to be there.”