IKALABING-PITONG KABANATA - tr. CHAPTER 17
Like a Serpent
Tila Serpyente
DIWA
Rajah Maisog took measures to fortify our defenses, organizing the warriors and strengthening alliances with neighboring villages. We knew that unity was our best hope against the encroaching threat. Training sessions became a common sight, with men and women alike honing their skills in preparation for any conflict. The clang of weapons being forged and the sight of warriors practicing their stances filled our days.
One evening, as the sun set over our village, casting long shadows across the fields, Rajah Maisog and I stood together, watching our son chase fireflies. The peaceful scene was a stark contrast to the turmoil brewing around us.
"We must be ready for whatever comes," Rajah Maisog said, his voice resolute.
I nodded, my gaze never leaving our son. "We will protect our family and our people," I replied, determination steeling my voice.
As our son approached his third year, his curiosity about the world grew. Rajah Maisog and I taught him the values and traditions of our people, instilling in him a sense of pride and the importance of our heritage. We wanted him to understand the significance of our land and the need to protect it. Stories of our ancestors and the legends of our people became nightly rituals, filling his mind with the rich history of our lineage.
One night, after putting our son to bed, Rajah Maisog and I sat outside our hut, the cool breeze carrying the distant sounds of the night. "Do you think we will be able to keep the Spaniards at bay?" I asked, voicing the fear that had been growing within me.
Rajah Maisog took my hand, his grip firm and reassuring. "We will do everything in our power. Our people are strong, and we have faced many challenges before. This will be no different." His confidence was a beacon of hope in the growing darkness.
The days ahead were uncertain, but Rajah Maisog and I were prepared to face them head-on. Our son's future depended on the strength and unity of our village, and we were resolved to defend it at all costs. Our nights were filled with plans and strategies, often burning candles late
into the night as we sought ways to outmaneuver the Spaniards.
The atmosphere in the village was charged with a mix of anxiety and determination. Our son, oblivious to the larger world, continued to play and explore, his laughter a constant reminder of what we were fighting for. His innocence was a stark contrast to the grim reality that Rajah Maisog and I faced daily.
Or would we?
I didn't think so.
I stared at Alon, my son. He was busy playing with Lila, who had become his caregiver. Her presence was a comfort, a reminder of the love and support within our community.
This won't work.
The foreigners... the Spaniards... they have something, something we don't have.
Weapons.
"My love."
I turned to see the man; the father of my child.
He was so handsome.
He looked at me, a small smile on his lips. His demeanor had become more gentle since the birth of our child. Alon immediately stood up from playing and ran to embrace his father. Alon looked so small compared to him, his tiny arms barely reaching around his father's waist.
Weapons...
Weapons enough to kill us...
Weapons enough to kill the Rajah.
******
3RD PERSON'S POV
As the days passed with an agonizing slowness, the agreement between the Rajah and the foreigners loomed ominously over the village like an ever-expanding dark shadow. Despite the promises of benefits, mutual cooperation, and the potential for growth, Diwa's unease only intensified. She couldn't shake the pervasive feeling that allowing the foreigners to construct their elaborate structures in their sacred territory would bring unforeseen, potentially devastating consequences.
Diwa spent her days meticulously tending to her numerous duties as a devoted wife, but her mind was perpetually elsewhere, consumed by an overwhelming tide of thoughts about the uncertain future. She couldn't help but wonder what lay in store for their beloved village, for their people, and most importantly, for her precious child, Alon.
One serene evening, as the sun dipped gracefully below the horizon, casting a golden glow over the landscape, Diwa sought solace by the edge of the river. The water flowed gently, reflecting the fading light of the day with a serene shimmer. She closed her eyes, letting the soothing sound of the river's gentle current calm her troubled mind, if only for a brief moment.
But even in the tranquility of the river's tender embrace, Diwa couldn't escape the relentless, nagging doubts that plagued her. She couldn't shake the unsettling feeling that they were unknowingly walking into a cunningly laid trap, that the foreigners' grand promises were nothing more than empty words, artfully designed to deceive them and serve their hidden agendas.
As she sat there, lost in the labyrinth of her thoughts, a shadowy figure emerged from the gathering dusk. It was Emiliano, the foreigner whose arrival had stirred up so much turmoil and discord within their tight-knit village. His presence only served to heighten Diwa's deep-seated unease and growing distrust.
"Diwa," he greeted her with a disarmingly warm smile, his voice smooth and persuasively melodic. "Are you enjoying the evening?"
Diwa forced a polite smile, though her heart was a turbulent sea of distrust and suspicion. "It's peaceful by the river," she replied cautiously, her words carefully measured. "What brings you here, Emiliano?"
Emiliano took a seat beside her, his eyes scanning the tranquil waters with a seemingly casual air. "I wanted to talk to you about the agreement between our people," he said, his tone deceptively relaxed. "I understand that you have concerns, but I assure you, there is nothing to fear."
Diwa's grip on her emotions tightened like a vice. She couldn't afford to show any semblance of weakness in front of this man, not when so much was at stake for her people. "Forgive me if I find that hard to believe," she said evenly, her voice a steady anchor amidst the storm of her emotions. "Your people have already brought enough trouble to our village."
Emiliano's smile faltered momentarily, but he quickly regained his smooth composure. "I assure you, our intentions are pure," he insisted, his voice a careful blend of sincerity and reassurance. "We only seek to bring prosperity to both our peoples."
Diwa's skepticism only deepened, her eyes narrowing with suspicion. "And what do you gain from this agreement?" she pressed, her voice laced with an edge of accusation.
Emiliano's expression turned serious, his eyes meeting hers with a hint of earnestness. "Peace," he said simply, his tone almost imploring. "We gain peace."
But Diwa wasn't convinced. She had seen too much, heard too much, to trust the honeyed words of a foreigner whose true intentions remained shrouded in a thick veil of mystery.
"I will not stand idly by while you and your people trample over our traditions and way of life," she declared, her voice firm and unyielding. "We may have agreed to this arrangement, but that doesn't mean I have to like it."
Diwa stood up, her eyes locking onto the man who was nearly as tall as the Rajah himself. "But I need your help," she said, her voice carrying an unsettling edge of determination. Emiliano extended his hand, and as they shook hands, a chill ran down his spine. The woman before him—Diwa—was perhaps one of the most strikingly beautiful women he had seen in all his travels around the world, but there was something profoundly unnerving about her, something that sent a shiver through his very core.
Without a word, Diwa turned and walked away, her movements eerily graceful and deliberate, a haunting elegance in each step.
She moved just like a serpent.
Like a serpent.
*****
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