by: Loreto Paras-Sulit

Baybay was once a flourishing barangay by the sea, a happy and prosperous barangay. Those were the just and peaceful times of their ruler, the wise and understanding Rajah Bayani.

But suddenly, as a clear April sky is torn savagely into dark pieces by thunder and lightning, tragedy struck in the Baybay barangay, tearing it out of its peaceful contours. The pirates from the South descended with all their fury on the sleeping barangay one early dawn, and they plundered and killed and burned.

All the warriors defending Rajah Bayani's gleaming bamboo palace fell. That was why the pirates captured the rajah's young son, little Prince Alon, and his playmate and trusted servant, the faithful Lawin. Swiftly the pirates fled with their precious captive. They tied the young Boy to the prow of their leader's vinta, lean and swift as an arrow. Truly like an arrow it darted across the darkening waters to be lost for all time, it seemed.

The remaining warriors rushed to the shore and got a last glimpse of their captured young prince lashed to the prow like a common captive but bearing himself like the rajah's son that he was, calm and unaired. Burned dwellings can be replaced, lost belongings can be found again; but a broken will and a crushed spirit are shattered pieces of the life of a man, whether ruler, freeman, or slave. So Baybay became a leaderless barangay, for the will to live had left the old Rajah Bayani when his son was lost to him.

He groped about his palace like a blind man; he listened without hearing: he scarcely ate; he slept not at all. Seeing death so clearly marked on his face, his people let him be. Death would be a kindness to the old rajah.

Heroically, the people of Baybay worked to build their barangay anew. They built new dwellings, they traded, they farmed, they ruled themselves. But the people never forgot their lost young rajah and his trusted servant. They were faithful people. So, the traders plying the open seas dared to go to unlikely places to get news of the captured Alon and his servant, the faithful Lawin. Runners of the barangay peered into every young boy's face in the hope that their young rajah could be found again.

The women of the barangay prayed ceaselessly to the good God Bathala: "Watch over our young rajah, wherever he may be. Please do not let the faithful Lawin weaken in serving Prince Alon." They prayed and hoped and waited. They never ceased to wait. Then one day, from the blue, sun-drenched seas came a vinta, long and lean as an arrow. It was manned by two young lads, brown from exposure to the sun and wind, with bleeding hands and rumpled hair. Warriors of Baybay ran to the shore. With throbbing hearts, they knew that these lads who had returned were the long-lost Alon and his faithful Lawin.

The two boys were strangely alike in all ways. In height, in figure, in the contours of their faces they could have passed for brothers. They move lightly as young deer; they looked at the warriors without a trace of fear and yet with restraint, as if they were strangers touching unknown land for the first time.

How many years had passed by since that tragic day that the people of Baybay lost their young prince? Twelve long weary years enough time to have matured the young child of three and his Lawin into these two sun-burnt lads from the sea. And never had the people forgotten that vinta, long, lean as an arrow. Wondering, one of the lads asked, "Is this the Baybay barangay? We are looking for our people. A long time ago pirates stole us and took us to the South. We grew up among them as their slaves, but we swore we would be free one day. We escaped and now we are free. Are you the Baybay people?"

The shore was now crowded with men, women, and children. They stared back in wonder at the two lads. Which one was their prince, their rajah's son? An elder cried to the heavens, "Thanks be to the good Bathala. He has returned our ruler. Who is Prince Alon?" The two boys only gave them puzzled glances. They shook their heads and one of them answered: "We are nameless. We do not know each other's name. We have forgotten our names. Hunger, hardship, the lashes of our captors drove our names out of our memories. All we remember is Baybay, for the pirates always called us, Hoy, you slaves from Baybay. We call each other friend, so you may call us alike kaibigan."

The inhabitants of Baybay looked at each other. "This cannot be, they said. "One of these boys is Alon and the other is Lawin. Poor, ill-starred boys! How shall we find out who is our rajah's son? "Bathala will surely give us a sign. In the meanwhile, let us welcome these boys."

The boys walked softly on the sand as if on sacred ground. Eagerly they sniffed the home-winds of Baybay. Truly it was different here. Tears welled into the boys' eyes and now unashamedly they let them flow. For they were home at last!

Life took on new meaning for the Baybay barangay. A leader had returned, and all the people took this as an auspicious omen that the good old prosperous days would return. Men worked with a lighter heart; women went through their household tasks singing their old lullabies.

But the elders—the old men of the barangay who formed the advisory council, had a big problem on their hands. How were they to tell the prince apart from his faithful friend?

“Why must you worry about it?" laughed one of the boys. "Make each of us the ruling rajah alternately. Each of us will serve for one full moon. Is that not an answer to the problem?" Then the other rejoined, "We suffered together. Without each other we would not have won our freedom. Now we must share everything."

The elders shook their heads and looked at the boys with com- passionate understanding. How could they tell these lads that one ruled not with strength or just the willingness to share and give, but that it is a divine power that guides the rightful ruler when times of stress come?

How to find out? How? Without telling the boys, the elders sent them through tests of their courage, their strength, their keenness in judgment, their quickness in understanding. their resources in danger and uncertainty. And both the lads were equally brave, keen, resourceful, and alert. For he who had been the servant had l0st the shackles of servitude and served in freedom and equality. He who had been prince had given up his cold aloofness and lived freely and on terms of equality with his companion.

But the destiny to rule had been given to one of these lads and that destiny must be fulfilled.

While the elders worried and sighed and racked their brains for a solution, the two boys hunted and swam and sailed on the seas around the barangay.

One day they came upon a vinta sailing secretly near the shores of Baybay. The keen eyes of the boys picked out the lone occupant of the spying vinta. The long years of their cruel capture had carved in their memory that crouching figure. He could be no other than one of the pirates from the South.

Relentlessly, the boys gave pursuit, and the cornered spying pirate, losing his bearings, grounded his vinta on the unseen rocks of Baybay shore.

Somebody from the barangay had seen the pursuit; so, when the boys landed, there was quite a crowd to give fierce welcome to this pirate. But he was a courageous one who had known the dangers when he set out on this hazardous trip. As he looked at his captors, his eyes lighted up with recognition when he saw the two boys.

"Ah!" he snarled. "Our former slaves from Baybay, although one was not a slave but a. . ."

"A what?" leaped the question from the elders.

“A rajah's son," smiled the pirate.

“Which one?" the elders eagerly asked.

“Which one?" repeated the pirate mockingly. "I do not remember that he continued with a sneer, The warriors leaped on him in fury. but the pirate knew well he was safe as long as he had the secret with him. So, he taunted them and said: "Perhaps I can remember for a price-perhaps I can remember which is the rajah's son if I can be free."

“To the crocodiles!" decided the old men in fury. "Throw him to the crocodiles to be torn slowly apart until he gives the answer. Pirate, do you understand? You shall not escape, and neither shall you keep your secret. We have our way of tearing secrets from swollen lips."

The pirate paled in spite of himself. He had heard of the crocodiles of Baybay and how they gnawed at captive’s morsel by morsel from toe to head until life was completely gone from them. The pirate gazed wildly from man to man, from warrior to freeman, from the youth to the old. In every eye he saw only the hard, cruel judgment. These people had waited all these years for their reckoning. And they were going to have it at the gleaming edge of crocodiles' teeth.

Then from the crowd one of the boys stepped forward, speaking naturally, as a leader speaks. "Let this pirate go," he commanded. "He shall not say he declared who is a rajah's son through fear and torture. Let him keep his secret forever, for not one of us can tell whether his answer has been true or false. Surely the good Bathala will give a sign to tell you who the rajah's son is."

Then the people of Baybay saw the boy in a new light. Truly he was the fairer, the taller one, the more divine one. For when all the rest of them, including his companion, were blinded with a common desire for revenge, here was a boy who saw crystal-clear and justly.

As one, the people turned to him and knew that they had seen the sign. They cried, "Truly you ‘are Alon. You are the son of our just and understanding rajah!"