Palembang was swarmed by millions of people. Besides the local common folks, there were traders, students, or noblemen from other cities. Even people from other kingdoms that were allied with Srivijaya could be found strolling near the palace. Thus its society has naturally developed certain tolerance to diversity in ethnicity, race, and religion. Though Palembang is one of the biggest Buddhist cities in the world, people of other religions such as Hindu, Islam, Confucianism, and other indigenous beliefs had lived side by side with local Buddhist for hundreds of years peacefully.
But that beautiful wisdom of society has been devastated overnight as Maharaja ordered to ban other religious activities besides Buddhism. The rakshin raided Hindu temples and mosques, some of them were burned to the ground. In one temple, the Hindu monks resisted and the fight was inevitable—both sides suffered significant numbers of deaths.
The city turned out to be in chaos—caused by the ruler itself—thus many common folks fled from the city to seek refuge in other cities such as Muaro Jambi. Some even took the extra mile to go to Bhumi Java. At first it was only the women and children, but then the men also joined the exodus, even those who initially volunteered on the Candi construction. Tension continuously grew as some of the men of construction who attempted escape were killed by the rakshin. Casualties also came from young people that are forced to join the military training and sambau construction as they were pushed too far and lacked proper rest.
Most of the Kumaramatyas had been vocals on insisting the palace to handle the chaotic situation. However, the Maharaja always argued that the chaos was caused by the disobedient of the common folks, not caused by his decrees, and the rakshin was out there “handling” it. But one day, news reached the palace that the Hindu monks had succeeded to avenge their killed ones by burning a rakshin headquarters. About fifty guards were reported dead.
Amretasari had had it enough. She planned to confront her husband and try to stop this madness. I will scream to his face if I have to, she thought as she walked toward the balairung where the Maharaja spent his time detailing the Candi’s design. Council meetings were rarely held at that time. The Maharatu even slept in another room to express her anger. But the Maharaja showed no signs he will become a reasonable leader as he once was.
The door was closed when Amretasari reached the balairung—which was not unusual since her husband was not in the mood to welcome any visitors anymore. There was no hulubalang guarding the door, she thought curiously before knocking on the door. No reply. She then pushed the door and confused since the room was empty.
Not empty, someone is here. Amretasari faintly heard a low breathing, took several strides toward the massive table and noticed something—no, someone—was lying on the floor. Amretasari was a woman who could control herself well so she didn’t panicked or hysterically scream or even fainted when she saw her husband helplessly lied among puddle of his own dark, nearly black, blood. Somehow she knew something like this would happen. But still, to find her loved one in that state was not easy; Amretasari could feel tears were gathering in each corners of her eyes.
Hastily, she ran toward Sumatrabhumi’s body and checked his pulse. She gave a sigh of relief as she was sure that her husband was still alive. Afterwards, she ran outside the balairung and cried for help, as loud as she could, though she realized her voice was trembling. In several seconds, the palace people rushed into the balairung; the hulubalangs inspected Sumatrabhumi’s wound and some of the marsis cried. Amretasari didn’t hold back her tears but she was too angry so she didn’t join the wailing servants.
“Find whoever did this,” she said sternly to the head of hulubalang while controlling her trembling body.
The hulubalang did not respond to her order, instead he glanced toward Amretasari and said, “We don’t need to.”
Amretasari felt a hand clasped in her arm. At first, she thought it was someone who tried to console her, but as the clench grew tighter, she then realized it was the hand of a hulubalang who definitely did not mean any consolation.
(To be continued...)
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