Chapter 7: The Man in the Mask

“Hey, answer me!” came the voice again—deep and commanding. “Who’s there? If you mean no harm, then show yourself. If not, prepare yourself—we’ll settle this with force.”

Agung Sedayu was frozen stiff. He couldn’t move a muscle, trembling from head to toe, yet unable to utter a single word.

“So be it,” the voice rang out again. “You refuse to show yourself. Then whoever you are, I will not fear you. Ready yourself, we shall test our strength.”

Sedayu heard the rider dismount. Then, a masked figure peered down from the edge of the embankment, and the sight nearly made Sedayu faint. The man’s face was covered with a mask, his body wrapped in a cloak of gringsing cloth. Upon spotting Sedayu, the masked man let out a laugh.

“Well now,” he said. “What are you doing down there? Meditating? A ritual soak? Come now, break your meditation for a moment. Anyone able to endure such cold water must be a master of self-control. Come, rise.”

Still trembling, Sedayu remained speechless. The chill in the air didn’t seem to register anymore—it was his fear that froze him.

“Heh,” said the masked man again, “you truly must be a hermit sage, able to shut out all senses. But if you don’t wake from your trance, I’ll have no choice but to wake you myself.”

Suddenly, the man jumped down. He reached out to lift Sedayu from the water, but found him heavier than expected. He grunted, “I’ve traveled across the lands of Demak, Pajang, and Jipang, but never have I seen a man so heavy. Come now, rise. If not, I’ll have no choice but to slay you where you lie!”

That threat stirred something in Sedayu. Slowly, with great effort, he raised his head and pushed himself up, leaning on both hands.

The masked man took a step back and laughed again. “Ah! You’re alive after all. Now stand—we’ll have ourselves a match.”

Sedayu stared blankly at the man, confused by his oddly jovial manner. Though he was being challenged, the man’s tone was different from the sharp hostility of the pande besi of Sendang Gabus or the cruel Hawk ofJalatunda.

“Come now, stand,” said the man again.

Still half-submerged in the muddy water, Sedayu hesitated. Unexpectedly, the man offered him a hand and pulled him to his feet. “There,” he said. “The cold nearly froze you.”

Once upright, the man inspected Sedayu closely. “You’re quite the specimen—strong limbs, firm build. The perfect frame for a warrior. Now, are you ready to fight?”

Almost involuntarily, Sedayu shook his head.

“No?” the masked man exclaimed. “You won’t fight?”

Again, Sedayu shook his head weakly.

“Hmph,” the man muttered. “Clearly, you don’t know who I am. You may call me Kiai Gringsing. It’s not my real name, but it’s a name I favor.”

A strange feeling crept into Sedayu’s chest. Though he was still afraid, the presence of this man began to ease him. If this masked figure had meant to harm him, he’d have done so already.

“I thought you were one of those sages who hate violence,” Kiai Gringsing said. “Very well. I once knew another like you.”

Suddenly, without meaning to, Sedayu whispered, “Who?”

“Ki Sadewa,” the man answered.

“What?” Sedayu gasped. “You said that name?”

“Yes. Why? Do you know him? Was he your teacher? If so, it makes sense. You must be like him—powerful, yet peace-loving.”

“He… he was my father,” Sedayu said, pride swelling in his voice.

The masked man stepped back in surprise. “You’re Ki Sadewa’s son? Is that true?”

“Yes,” Sedayu replied firmly.

“No wonder,” the man murmured. “You have his strength, his endurance, and even his gentleness.” Then, suddenly, he barked, “Liar! Are you trying to scare me? If you truly are his son…”

“I am,” Sedayu said quietly. “It’s the truth.”

“Then prove it,” said Kiai Gringsing.

Sedayu’s heart skipped a beat. Prove it? Must he fight to do so?

“Still refusing to fight?” asked the masked man.

Sedayu hesitated, then nodded.

“Just like Ki Sadewa,” Kiai Gringsing muttered. “But you could still be pretending. He was a master archer. Skilled with bow, javelin, sling—you name it. Did you inherit any of that skill?”

A small light flickered in Sedayu’s eyes. This test didn’t require courage. It was something he was good at, something his brother Untara could never beat him at. “Yes,” he said.

“Very well,” Kiai Gringsing picked up a small stone. “I’ll toss this in the air—hit it with another.”

“Alright!” Sedayu said with excitement. He used to play this very game with his father. He picked up a stone. As the one Kiai Gringsing threw reached its peak and began to fall, Sedayu let his fly—and the stones collided midair.

“Excellent!” the masked man cried. “In this dim moonlight, you hit it perfectly. You really are Ki Sadewa’s son. I believe you.”

Sedayu smiled. A calm bloomed in his heart—maybe he wasn’t helpless after all.

But then, from afar, came the beat of hooves.

“A horse,” Sedayu whispered, paling.

“Yes,” Kiai Gringsing said, unfazed. “From the direction of Randu Alas.”

Fear twisted Sedayu’s gut again. Could it be Hawk of Jalatunda? He broke into a cold sweat, trembling.

Kiai Gringsing paid the sound no mind. “Ignore it. Whoever it is, let them pass.”

But Sedayu couldn’t. The hoofbeats filled his chest like thunder.

“You’re really quite skilled,” Kiai Gringsing said. “Since when have you trained?”

“Since I was a child,” Sedayu muttered. He remembered his childhood clearly. Untara loved the hunt, but Sedayu had stayed behind, honing his aim.

But the memories were swept away by the sound of hooves growing closer.

“Ah, perhaps that’s your friend,” Kiai Gringsing said. “Shall I leave you two alone?”

“No, don’t leave!” Sedayu cried, lunging toward the man.

“Why not?”

“That might be Hawk of Jalatunda!”

“Are you sure?”

“He’s chasing us—me and my brother.”

“I’ve heard of him. But what’s the matter? If he dares challenge Ki Sadewa’s son, he’s surely mad.”

“He’s hunting me… and my brother Untara,” Sedayu said, trembling.

Kiai Gringsing was taken aback. “Your name is Sedayu, and your brother is… Untara?” He smiled faintly. “Then Hawk of Jalatunda truly is courting the death.”

“Please,” Sedayu begged, “help me.”

Kiai Gringsing studied him. Then, chuckling, he said, “You truly refuse to fight? Or is this another ruse to measure me?”

“No, I swear—I’m afraid. I’ve never fought anyone before.”

The masked man shook his head. “How odd. Ki Sadewa was peaceful, yes, but never a coward. He would’ve destroy a rogue like Hawk of Jalatunda in a heartbeat.”

Sedayu didn’t hear the words. The hoofbeats were almost upon them.

“Help me,” Sedayu said again.

“How can I help one who has greater skill than I?” the man teased. “Or do you wish to see how I fight?”

“No, please,” Sedayu begged.

“Listen,” the man’s voice turned serious. “If you fight him and accidentally kill him, don’t regret it. It’s either him or you.”

Sedayu could only shake his head. “I can’t, Kiai. I’m too afraid.”

The masked man sighed. “Very well. Perhaps you doubt me and wish to see my technique. But can you handle The Hawk on your own?” With a sudden leap, he landed atop the embankment. “Don’t soak yourself again, Sedayu, or you’ll turn to ice,” he called down, then muttered to himself, “So I failed…”

Meanwhile, the galloping rider had drawn close. Even from a distance, he could see the lone rider waiting in the middle of the road. And a question stirred in his mind:

“Who is this stranger?”