When Sinag-Tala was only two-and-a half days old, her withered grandmother came. And she placed in the child's hand a fresh lily and in the other, a small, pallid pearl.
"Sinag-Tala shall grow soft and delicate like a lily," the grandmother smiled toothlessly," and pearls she shall admire, pearls she shall love. Someday, when she is grown-up, she will own priceless pearls taken from oysters living in the blue seas of faraway Magindanao."
Over two hundred silver moons had passed since then; the talisay and camagong trees had grown taller and stouter. And the first part of the prophecy came true.
"Lily by the river" she was admiringly called by the village youths.
She would only smile at them and say: "But I am not beautiful." For to the village maiden, to be beautiful one must have strings of lustrous pearls. Yes, pearls that would caress her graceful neck and follow the tender curve of her young, shapely breast. But she did not have them. she had only the tiny, pallid one given her by the old, prophesying grandmother.
And thus, from the time Sinag-Tala was born, the talisay and camagong trees had blossomed and frutified sixteen times, and the village urchins she had played with when she was a small girl were not grown to barangay warriors with muscles of steel and chests of iron. Ai! ai! Sixteen flower seasons had passed since first she came and still she had no pearls - only that little pale one.
But one morning their sawali door rustled. Then slowly it opened. The head of an aliping namamahay - house slave - showed.
"Sinag-Tala, the basket-weaver, daughter of Pirang Kawayan, is wanted by Lakambini, daughter of the rajah, chief of the Maynilad clan."
"Lakambini wants me?" the girl laid down her work. "She desires me - why?"
"I know not but she orders you to come soon," said the slave and withdrew.
And Sinag-Tala went, walked through grassy paths, under the shady palm trees, till she reached the rajah's house.
"Weave, you, two beautiful baskets for me," said Lakambini with the thin arms and the flat breasts.
The rajah's daughter toyed with her string of lustrous pearls - priceless sea gems brought by wily Moros from their faraway land. And Sinag-Tala's eyes glowed with wonder, and her lips slightly paled with desire. If she could only have gems like them.
"Need you those baskets soon, favored of the moon?" she asked.
"Hurry not their making," the rajah's daughter replied. "They must be strong and lovely, for they shall be gifts to the mother of Walang Gulat, son of a chief, he who rules the Pasigan barangay."
"And who is this Walang Gulat ...?"
"How foolish!" Lakambini laughed as her color deepened "You delight me with your innocence. Go you now, inquisitive one!"
So Sinag-Tala left. She went to the riverside to gather bamban reeds and young bamboo joints to be used in the basket weaving. And all the while she thought of the pearls adorning Lakambini's dark neck and flat, unappealing breasts. If she could only wear them. Ah, how much better still if she owned them!
She parted the bushes which brushed at her face and scratched her soft cheeks. The bambans grew in a marshy site; she would lose her balance if she leaned any farther over the water for them.
"Girl with the slender body," a voice sounded near, "wish you a fall into that stream?"
She turned. Ah! Magiting, the fisher of the deep, a warrior from the Pasigan clan. He paddled nearer in his small boat.
"Weaver Pasigan braves rave so much about, you want those bambans?"
"I need them," said Sinag-Tala, blushing prettily.
The banca drifted neare the long reeds. A bolo splashed many times in the water, bamban shoots were held out to her. She flashed a smile at him gratefully.
"Lilies you should gather, nilad floweres to adorn your hair."
She liked Magiting's word of admiration.
She gathered the bamban reeds and tied them with wild creepers.
"Must you be going"? said the young man who had moored his boat, and stood beside her. "those reeds are heavy, let me carry them for you."
"You say you have seen them... together?" Lakambini, owner of the pearls was pale.
"I see them... always," the female house slave said to her mistress. "Every afternoon when the shadows of the palm trees are longer."
"What have they been saying to each other? What did you hear?"
"They speak not much," the slave tattled. "They look only at one another. And Walang Gulat frequently holds Sinag-Tala and..."
"No, no! Don't go on!" Lakambini clutched at her pearls convulsively. "I don't want to hear about it anymore!" But then she screeched at the cowering bundle of humanity!
"Alipin - slave! Did I not tell you to get nearer, to hear what they were saying?"
"I did. I hid myself in the bushes," came the frightened reply. "And I heard him say that two Pasigan nobles would thrust his spear at the stairs of Pirang Kawayan's hut."
Walang Gulat wanted to marry Sinag-Tala, that common basketweaver! Why, it could not be!
"Go," she ordered her slave. "Call you Sinag-Tala. Tell her to come with the baskets I told her to weave."
Awih! Yes, when Sinag-Tala came, she, Lakambini, would tell her that the baskets were no longer wanted. Flirting along the riverside? How brazen of that girl! Should she...? Cheh! no, ten times no!
And Lakambini took off her pearls - they felt oppressive, those round pellets from the blue waters of Magindanao. They felt cold against her heaving, tumultuous breast. Carelessly she flung the glittering string into a bronze casket that stood on a table of camagong.
-ลลลลลล-
There was a presentiment of evil in the morning air. The sky was overcast; and more stubborn clouds were beginning to gather. The village of Maynilad was not happy that day. for the drums were beating weirdly, announcing that an ordeal would soon take place.
Five old heads of the village, the wise hukom - judges - sat in a semicircle before the village populace. The oldest rose and raised his tattooed arm. there was silence around; nothing could be heard except the faint barking of dogs in the distance and the rustle of the wind through coconut tops.
"People of this barangay," the old man's voice echoed across the river," Lakambini's pearls, the priceless heirloom handed down from mother to daughter for generations, have been stolen. Many days of search have passed; but they have not been found. And Lakambini therefore charges Sinag-Tala, daughter of Pirang Kawayan, with the theft of the jewels."
"The lost Magindanao pearls were left in a bronze casket," explained the judge. "And the box was on the camagong table in Lakambini's room the day Sinag-Tala came to deliver the baskets."
Men shifted their weights uneasily.
"Sinag-Tala, swear you that you did not steal the jewels?"
Again the deadly silence punctuated by the crackling of burning branches and the greedy simmering of the water in the huge cauldron.
Then came the trembling hesitant voice of Sinag-Tala: "If I did take the pearls of Lakambini, then may the hungry crocodiles swallow me and the flames scorch me!"
Two slaves, also accused, likewise swore by the memories of their dead forefathers, by the gigantic aswangs that roost on balete tops, and by the terrible beings that prowl about on dark, stormy nights.
"Alipin," the chief judge asked one, "dare you say before all these people that you did not see, you did not take the priceless heirloom?"
Terror was written across the slave's wrinkled face - but guilt was not in her eyes." No pearls did I take, no sacred heirloom did I hide," she said and looked accusingly at Sinag-Tala." But I saw the basket weaver and she was standing by the camagong table, staring covetously at the string of Maginadao pearls."
The judge brought their heads together. They nodded slowly, wisely.
"Was the rajah's daughter in the room when the basket-weaver came?"
"No, she was not," the slave said, gathering courage." And I left the room to look for Lakambini. but I could not find her. And when I came back, the basket-weaver was already leaving, and she said that Lakambini did not want her anymore."
"Noticed you anything in Sinag-Tala's look?"
"Awih! yes, the girl was pale in the lips and wild in the eyes," the slave added. "And the baskets shook in her trembling hands."
The village people were silent. Pirang Kawayan, father of the accused girl, shut his eyes and muttered under his breath. In the distance a ripe coconut fell with an echoing thud.
"Wish you to make a reply to what you have heard, Sinag-Tala?"
A helpless, imploring look appeared in the girl's eyes as she sought for pitying faces around her She only saw the grim, unwinking stare of her father, the maker of sawali walls. She cringer under his fierce, blazing gaze.
"No...no! I didn't ...!" her ashen lips quivered.
"If the pearls can still be found," said the spokesman, "nothing more will be said. But if they are not...?"
There was a great shout. A boatload of people from up the river was swiftly nearing the shore, and the young man who stood at the prow was gesticulating wildly.
"The son of the chief of Pasigan," cried the Maynilad braves.
Hope surged in Sinag-Tala's breast: "Magiting!"
The young warrior leaped from the boat; others followed him.
"Men with the wisdom of the aged," he began after saluting the judges, "I come with the plea that Sinag-Tala be not tried. Too I have with me the indemnity for the lost pearls, other costly gems sent by my father, the Pasigan chief, that Sinag-Tala may be spared the shame of the ordeal."
There was a glad rumbling among the village people.
But the white-haired judges shook their heads slowly, wisely.
"We thank the rajah of Pasigan and his son," they said. "But by the laws and customs of ancient Maynilad, a theft done to the family of the rajah is irreparable. The trial must therefore go on."
Walang Gulat rushed to the side of Sinag-Tala. But the law forbade that they should talk to each other. They only stared and stared at one another. so Magiting was Walang Gulat whom Lakambini wanted to wed, Sinag-Tala told herself.
"The jewels are not yet found," the judge was again heard." And all the accused have sworn they are innocent. Therefore must we proceed to the ordeal by fire."
Lakambini choked back a cry. She alternately crimsoned and paled. She wanted to run away, to hid; but she could not move. She stood as if petrified by horror.
Pirang Kawayan's lips trembled as he strode away. He stood apart from the crowd, alone, in a a place where he could see everything. The old man's eyes were moist with despair, yet his head was held high and his massive shoulders did not stoop. For Pirang Kawayan knew that the blood of his ancestors - nobles themselves - coursed in his veins, the blood of famous men who valued their lives less than their unsullied honor. But Sinag-Tala, his wretched offspring, accused of the theft of the pearls!
And his massive arms uncoiled themselves from their folded position. Deliberately, his right hand fumbles at his waist. But then both his hands balled themselves into mighty, knotting fists of iron.
Sinag-Tala would be the first to pass the ordeal, so it was ordained. Swiftly, she was blindfolded. The smoke encircled her uncertainly, while the fire under the cauldron crackled.
"Therefore must he accused Sinag-Tala - as the others who will follow..." the voice was but a drowning sound, "dip her hands into the boiling pot and take out the white stone that rests in its bottom. And if her hands remain unblistered, unburnt, then it is a sign that our gods find her guiltless and we pronounce her innocent. But if they be burnt..."
But Lakambini, owner of the stolen Magindanao pearls, was late, too late...! For Sinag-Tala's father had suddenly whipped himself up. With the speed of lightning, his hand had traveled to his waist and out came a glittering, thin-bladed, sharp-pointed dagger.
There was only an instant pause after Lakambini's shriek. Then, something flashed and scintillated as it swiftly whizzed through the air and struck Sinag-Tala in the breast. Old Priang's hand was firm and his aim had been fatefully true!
"Bathala! God, she's innocent! I have the pearls!" Lakambini babbled foolishly, incoherently. She madly kissed the comely, paling face and pressed the dying girl close to her. "Sinag-Tala, forgive me! I hid - the- pearls - I hid them! Sinag-Tala...!"
Source
MI
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