Chapter 4: A Visit To Ki Tanu

Suddenly, they halted. A rustle in the underbrush caught their ears. Sedayu’s already shrinking courage nearly vanished. In a trembling whisper, he asked, “Brother, did you hear something?”

Untara nodded. But he could not act. His body was too weak. All he could do was surrender himself to the mercy of fate.

Then Untara lifted his head. “That’s no human step,” he murmured. “Nor a prowling beast. Did you hear it? A horse neighing?”

“Yes,” Sedayu breathed.

Untara whistled, sharp and clear. His horse, if it still lived, would recognize that call.

“By God,” he gasped as a sturdy, dark horse stepped from the shadows. “It’s mine!”

Sedayu brightened. “Then… can we ride?”

“Yes,” Untara replied. “We’ll ride together. Your horse is lost, but mine is strong.”

“Back home?”

“No. To Ki Tanu Metir’s house. He must treat this wound.”

Sedayu said nothing. He feared his brother might die. So he helped him mount the horse, then climbed up behind. Fortunately, Untara’s horse was powerful. Even bearing two riders, it galloped swiftly.

Hope stirred in Untara’s chest again. They would reach Ki Tanu Metir faster now. With luck, the old healer would be home.

They emerged from the lush forest fields and entered a small village called Dukuh Pakuwon. There lived a half-aged healer known for his knowledge of herbs and poisons. This was Ki Tanu Metir—an old friend of their late father. Untara pinned his hopes on him.

The horse halted before a modest hut. Ki Tanu Metir’s home. Sedayu dismounted first and helped his brother to the door, tightly shut.

Yet Untara was relieved. A faint lamplight glowed through the bamboo walls.

He knocked, gently but with hope.

A voice called from within, “Who is it?”

“It is I, Ki Tanu. Untara, from Jati Anom.”

“Untara? Are you the son of Ki Sadewa?”

“Yes, Ki Tanu,” Untara said, voice quivering.

The old man recognized the voice. It was weakened—a man wounded. Quickly, Ki Tanu shuffled to the door. A moment later, the bamboo creaked open, revealing a modestly built elder. His hair and brows were nearly white. His eyes were sharp and clear.

He saw Untara leaning heavily on Sedayu. Shock spread across his face.

“You’re wounded, my boy? Come in. Sit. Let me see to it.”

Untara sighed with relief. He hadn’t even asked. Yet the old man was already helping him.

Ki Tanu guided Untara to a bamboo bench. “Hold the lamp close, young one,” he told Sedayu.

Sedayu obeyed, lifting the oil lamp nearer as Ki Tanu carefully unwrapped the bandage on Untara’s shoulder.

He grimaced at the sight. “Hmm. This is bad.”

“How bad?” Untara asked through clenched teeth.

“You have a strong body,” Ki Tanu said. “You’ve lost a great deal of blood and yet still stand. Lie back. Rest.”

Untara obeyed, slumping onto a stack of cushions. Pain clawed through him. Darkness teased the edges of his vision. He struggled to stay awake, knowing he must endure.

As Ki Tanu tended the wound with a mix of crushed leaves and herbs, he asked, “Did something happen along the road?”

“Yes,” Untara replied shortly.

“Robbers?”

Untara shook his head. “No. Remnants of Adipati Jipang’s soldiers.”

“Ah,” Ki Tanu muttered. “So they still roam these parts.”

“Around here?” Untara was surprised.

“Yes, near this area.”

Untara paused. His breathing was shallow, but the bleeding had slowed.

“One of them was a blacksmith from Sendang Gabus,” he murmured.

“Yes, I know of him. That group is desperate. Did you meet the blacksmith yourself?”

“Yes. They ambushed us in the woods. Four of them.”

“Just the two of you?”

Untara nodded. Sedayu lowered his head.

“Incredible,” Ki Tanu said. “You two fought those brutes. That blacksmith—he’s infamous. What of the others? Who were they?”

“I don’t know them,” Untara muttered.

Seeing Untara’s weariness, Ki Tanu hastened his work. Then he turned to Sedayu.

“What of the other three?”

Sedayu hesitated. He was ashamed. Still, he answered. “One was tall and thin.”

“Tumida,” Ki Tanu interjected. “Simple man, easily swayed.”

“One was tall and strong,” Sedayu continued.

“Him I don’t know.”

“And the last… a youth. My age.”

“The Hawk of Jalatunda,” Ki Tanu whispered. “That boy was there?”

“Yes,” Sedayu answered, uneasily.

Untara stirred. “So he was the one? That explains his speed.”

“Yes,” Ki Tanu nodded. “After Penangsang’s defeat, the Hawk and the blacksmith became notorious. Their base is in Karajan.”

“Karajan? Near Jati Anom?”

“Yes.”

Untara fell silent. If they were based in Karajan, they weren’t part of the force headed for Sangkal Putung. That eased his mind—a little. But another worry rose. They would return. With reinforcements.

Ki Tanu asked Sedayu, “Were they the ones who wounded your brother?”

“Yes.”

The old man nodded thoughtfully. Then, curiosity piqued, he asked, “Who are you, child?”

“Sedayu,” he replied. “Untara’s little brother.”

“Ah, of course. You fought like twin eagles, then. To have survived such foes—it is no small feat. Did they chase you afterward?”

Sedayu lowered his head again. Embarrassment burned in his chest.

Still, pride swelled as he answered, “Three died. The Hawk fled.”

“Remarkable,” Ki Tanu murmured. He gazed at Untara, then at Sedayu. “Untara’s name is already known. Now, beside it, another may rise. Sedayu.”

But Sedayu bit his lip. He couldn’t meet his brother’s eyes. If only he had fought better, his brother might not be wounded. Shame filled him.

He remembered his youth. Sheltered. His parents had coddled him after losing their other sons. While others trained with weapons, he had tended fires and cooked rice.

His eyes closed. The past came sharply into focus.

Then Untara’s voice broke through. “Sedayu. I can’t stand. What of Uncle Widura?”

Sedayu remained silent.

“Don’t worry about the rest now,” Ki Tanu said gently. “Rest.”

Untara sighed, then said slowly, “Sedayu. You are the only one who can help him.”

Sedayu flinched. “What must I do?”

“Go to Sangkal Putung.”

His heart pounded.

“But… it’s far,” he said. “The roads are dark. What if I meet the Hawk again?”

“He will return to Karajan. You will go south. If you want the safest route, follow the Sat River. Come from the west.”

Sedayu’s mouth went dry. He regretted coming. Home was safer.

Ki Tanu watched him with puzzled eyes. “Why do you fear? You faced the Hawk once. And triumphed. The blacksmith is dead. None left are stronger.”

Sedayu said nothing. His breath came heavy. His chest ached.

Untara sat slumped. His thoughts blurred. Yet he reached a decision. Sedayu would be safer heading to Sangkal Putung than staying in Pakuwon. And Widura had to be warned.

“Sedayu,” he said firmly. “Leave before the Hawk returns. Go to Uncle Widura.”

Sedayu trembled. “What if I meet them again? Then this trip… is meaningless.”

“You won’t. Trust me. Take the western path.”

“What about the haunted bend near Randu Alas?”

“Nonsense! One-eyed ghosts be damned,” Untara snapped. “Go!”

Sedayu’s lips moved but no words came. His eyes shone with tears.

Ki Tanu didn’t understand the depth of Sedayu’s fear. But before he could ask more, Sedayu cried, “Brother, I’m scared.”

The old man nodded. Now he understood. Untara was a soldier. Sedayu… was not.

Suddenly, Untara’s hand moved to his keris. Weak as he was, his voice turned sharp. “Go, Sedayu! If you will not act like a man, then die like one—by my blade.”

“Brother!” Sedayu cried out.

Untara’s face was hard. “Better you die with a wound in your chest than weep like a child as the Hawk strangles you.”

Sedayu shook. His heart thundered.

Ki Tanu stammered, “Untara… you cannot mean that.”

Untara said nothing. Only growled.

Ki Tanu turned to Sedayu. “Your brother has chosen. If you stay, you will die. Either by his hand, or that mad Hawk’s. Better to face danger on the road than death in this hut.”

Sedayu’s head spun. Fear crushed him. Death was here. Now. He wept openly, hiding his face in his hands.

He sobbed, “Do you mean it, brother? Truly?”

Untara’s voice came soft but firm. “I do. I’m sick of your whining. Go! Now!”

Sedayu’s chest burned. Yet he couldn’t speak. Couldn’t move.

Then Untara shouted, “GO!”