Chapter 14: The Four Bearded Fools

Realizing that continuing the search was futile, Nilamsuri finally decided to return swiftly to the cemetery. In truth, she had already met the one who had saved her when she was attacked by Bergola Wungu and his lackeys.

But Nilamsuri had no idea at all that the strange young man she encountered was the same person who had come to her rescue. And that person was none other than Wiro Sableng—the long-haired youth who had just descended from the mountain. His manner and behavior were so eccentric that anyone would easily mistake him for someone not right in the head.

When Nilamsuri returned to the cemetery, the ones she expected to find—Bergola Wungu and his three underlings—were nowhere in sight. Instead, it was Wiro Sableng who was there! The young man was kneeling in deep contemplation before a grave whose earth had almost leveled out and was overgrown with wild weeds and strewn with dry leaves.

“Where have those bearded apes gone?” Nilamsuri wondered, her mind unsettled. Not only had she failed to catch the man she was chasing, now the four thugs had vanished as well. And what was this odd fellow Wiro Sableng doing here? Whose grave was he praying at?

Then Nilamsuri saw Wiro rise from his kneeling position. When he turned around, the look on his face revealed a profound sadness. With all the strange events happening one after another, Nilamsuri couldn’t help but grow more curious about this long-haired youth. She opened the conversation by asking,

“Brother, when you first arrived here, did you happen to see four bearded men?”

The look of sorrow on Wiro’s face immediately vanished, replaced by his usual grin. “You’re quite something, Sister,” said Wiro. “When we first met at the riverbank, you were asking about one man. Now the second time, you’re asking about four. I wonder, if we meet a third time, how many men will you be asking me about?”

Whether she liked it or not, Nilamsuri’s cheeks flushed red from embarrassment.

“Brother,” she said, “Who exactly are you?”

“I already told you who I am back at the river, didn’t I? Why ask again? You haven’t even told me your name yet.”

Nilamsuri fell silent. Then she changed the subject by pointing at the grave and asking, “Whose grave is that?”

“You can read the headstone yourself,” replied Wiro.

Driven by curiosity, Nilamsuri stepped closer to the weathered old tombstone. It was carved from stone, and though the inscriptions were already cracked and fading, she could still make out the words:

HERE LIES “SUCI BANTARI“

Seeing that Wiro was still young, Nilamsuri guessed that this person was not his wife.

“Your mother…?” she asked.

The young man nodded slowly. He recalled what Eyang Sinto Gendeng had once told him on Gunung Gede—that he had been raised since infancy, and now, after so many years, after becoming an adult and never knowing the love of parents, all he had found were two neglected graves—those of his father and mother.

“Then you’re from around here?”

Wiro Sableng nodded again. “I never knew them.”

“You mean your father and mother?”

“Yes. Both died at the hands of a wicked man.”

“Murdered…?”

Again, Wiro nodded. His eyes, usually mischievous and playful, now looked dull and sorrowful. They glanced toward the carcass of a horse with its neck nearly severed—Nilamsuri’s work during her earlier fight with Bergola Wungu and his men. Wiro clenched his fists in silence. The fate of that horse wasn’t much different from his father’s!

Meanwhile, Nilamsuri was lost in her own thoughts. Earlier, Bergola Wungu had claimed that her father, Kalingundil, had murdered his parents. Could it be that this youth’s parents had also died at her father’s hands? If so, then this young man must have come for revenge—just like Bergola Wungu. Could he be her enemy as well?

To be sure, she asked carefully, “Do you know who killed your parents, Brother?”

“It’s a long story. Even if I told you, you probably wouldn’t know him. Besides, it’s not really your concern…”

“Was his name Kalingundil?” Nilamsuri pressed, heart pounding.

Wiro Sableng shook his head.

Relief washed over Nilamsuri’s face.

“What brings you to this cemetery, then?” Wiro asked in turn.

“The same reason as you. To visit my mother’s grave.” And Nilamsuri recounted everything that had happened to her—from when she was pulling weeds to when Bergola Wungu and his men attacked her. But she did not mention the reason why they had tried to assault her and take her life.

“What a strange tale about the one who saved you,” said Wiro Sableng, trying to suppress a chuckle. “He must be an incredible martial artist. Maybe even a heavenly spirit!”

Nilamsuri remained silent, her gaze drifting toward Wiro Sableng. Earlier she had admired his handsome features, but dismissed him as an irritating fool. Now, speaking with him in a calmer tone, it was becoming clear that he was not some lunatic after all.

“If you ever meet the man who killed your parents,” asked Nilamsuri, “what will you do?”

Wiro chuckled. “I don’t think I need to answer that, do I, Sister?”

Nilamsuri recalled the fate that had almost befallen her earlier and sighed. “This world is full of injustice.”

“What kind of injustice, Sister?” asked Wiro curiously.

Nilamsuri opened her mouth but quickly shut it again. She had nearly revealed the secret behind Bergola Wungu’s hatred toward her. Instead, she only shook her head.

“You’ll understand one day,” she said softly. “At the very least, you’ll witness injustice unfold before your own eyes.”

Wiro laughed.

“Why are you laughing?” asked Nilamsuri, irritated.

“How old are you, Sister?”

The girl hesitated. In her heart, she suspected the young man was about to start with his mischief again. But Wiro kept laughing and said, “You’re still so young, but you speak like someone twice your age.”

Nilamsuri couldn’t help but let out a laugh while pouting. Silently, the attraction she had begun to feel earlier now grew stronger.

Suddenly, both of them fell silent. The sound of galloping hooves could be heard in the distance.

“It’s just horses, why so startled?” said Wiro Sableng casually, though his own heart felt uneasy.

“I’m afraid it’s those cursed men who attacked me earlier!” said Nilamsuri.

“Then let’s get out of here, quick!”

The sixteen-year-old girl shook her head. “I’d rather die than run…!”

Wiro muttered, “Your courage is way ahead of your brains, Sister!”

Without another word, Wiro leapt forward and struck a pressure point on Nilamsuri’s right shoulder. The girl collapsed, stiff as a board—but before she could hit the ground, Wiro caught and hoisted her up.

But he was a step too late.

Four horsemen had surrounded him—none other than Bergola Wungu and his three bearded underlings.

“Hahaha! Looks like someone showed up late to steal our prey!” laughed Bergola Wungu.

“Filthy rat!” snapped Ketut Ireng. “Put the girl down!”

“Still wet behind the ears and already chasing women!” barked Pitala Kuning, the cross-eyed thug. “Put her down, boy!”

Wiro gently laid Nilamsuri on the ground. Then he looked at the four men calmly and said, “We don’t know each other, so why the insults?”

“Stupid brat! Take this!” snarled Ketut Ireng, lashing out with a kick to Wiro’s chest.

Bugh!

His foot landed squarely on Wiro’s chest—but the young man didn’t budge an inch. Instead, Ketut Ireng screamed in pain as he crumpled over his horse, clutching his swollen, darkened leg.

The other three were dumbstruck.

Sreet!

Bergola Wungu unsheathed his long machete. Seta Inging drew his cleaver, and Pitala Kuning raised his spiked mace.

“Damn bastard! Who the hell are you?!” roared Bergola Wungu.

“I’m warning you,” said Wiro evenly, his grin unfazed. “I’m not your enemy. You’d better leave now while you can.”

“Do you have any idea who we are, you little wretch?” growled Pitala Kuning.

“I don’t care who you are,” said Wiro. “Leave, before things get ugly.”

“You’d better kneel and beg for forgiveness, you mad fool!”

“I already told you to leave. Are you deaf, or just stupid?”

Blood boiled in Bergola Wungu’s veins…