self-respecting Malay, brought up in the poisonous atmosphere of an
Independent Malay State, could admit of any other opinion.
With Âwang Îtam things were different. I have already said that he was
passionately in love with Iang Mûnah, and he knew that he would at length win
his Heart's Desire. He would accompany his chief on his nocturnal visits to the
palace, and, while Tûan Bângau wooed the Princess, the handmaiden would give
herself to him. He felt the 'blood run redder in every vein' at the bare thought,
and he was the eager and impatient lover when the twain crept into the palace in
the noon of the night.
They effected their entrance by a way known only to themselves, and left by the
same means before the breaking of the dawn, passing to their quarters in the
guard-house, through the slumbering town, and lay sleeping far into the day. For
more than a month they paid their secret visits unobserved by any save those
whom they sought, and by the old crone who unbarred the door for them to
enter; but, upon a certain night, they narrowly escaped detection. The King, like
many Malay Râjas, kept curious hours. Sometimes, he slept all day, sometimes
he slept all night; some days he went to rest at noon, to awake at midnight; and,
on such occasions, he often wandered about the palace alone, pouncing upon ill-
doers, like the lion which seeketh whom it may devour. In this way he chanced
upon Tûan Bângau and Âwang Îtam, but they had fled from the palace before he
had learned who they were, and who were the girls whom they had come to
seek.
After this the meetings ceased for a space, but Tŭngku Ûteh was not to be so
easily baulked, and a taunting message soon brought Tûan Bângau once more to
her feet. The meetings, however, no longer took place within the palace itself,
the lovers meeting and passing the night in a wood-shed within the fence of the
royal enclosure.
Things had gone on in this way for some time when Tŭngku Ûteh began to
weary of the lack of excitement attending the intrigue. Like many Malay women
she regarded it as a reproach to a girl if no man desired her, and the longing
became greater and greater to show her partner and her immediate entourage
that she also was wooed and loved. She had an affection for Tûan Bângau, and
admired him as a lover and a man, but even this could not restrain the growing
longing for notoriety. Perhaps she hardly realised how grave would be the
consequences; perhaps she struggled against the impulse; who can say? The fact
remains that her lover was sacrificed, as many a man has been before and since,