The Sacrifice of Princess Saadong
Once upon a time, in the verdant lands where the monsoon winds carried the scent of frangipani, there lived a princess whose beauty was spoken of in whispers from the river mouths to the mountain peaks. This was Princess Saadong, daughter of Raja Loyar who ruled the Kingdom of Jembal, where the kampung houses stood on stilts and the rice paddies stretched like emerald seas.
Now it happened that in those days, kingdoms were bound not by treaties written on paper, but by the sacred bonds of friendship and fosterage. As was the custom among the Malay rulers, Raja Loyar entrusted his precious daughter to Wan Kembang, the wise ruler of the Kingdom of Chinta Wangsa, who was known throughout the land by her familiar name, Che Siti.
Che Siti, who had no daughter of her own, raised Princess Saadong as tenderly as the padi farmers tend their first seedlings. Under her care, the princess grew in beauty and wisdom, learning the ways of adat and the gentle arts befitting a royal daughter. She could weave songket with threads of gold, prepare sirih for honored guests, and her voice when reciting pantun was said to make even the birds pause in their singing.
When Princess Saadong came of age, her beauty became legendary. Tales of her loveliness traveled on the lips of merchants and wanderers, crossing borders like the morning mist crosses valleys. These tales eventually reached the ears of the King of Siam, a powerful monarch whose kingdom lay beyond the northern mountains.
The King of Siam, being unmarried and proud, sent his most distinguished ambassadors bearing gifts of ivory, silk, and precious stones to seek Princess Saadong’s hand in marriage. But Che Siti and Raja Loyar, after consulting the pawang and considering the omens, refused the suit, for they sensed darkness in the foreign king’s intentions.
The King of Siam, who had never known refusal, burned with shame and fury. “How dare these small kingdoms reject the honor of my proposal!” he raged. He summoned his generals and commanded them to prepare for war, vowing to take by force what had been denied him by courtesy.
When news of the approaching army reached the two kingdoms, Che Siti and Raja Loyar knew they must act swiftly to save Princess Saadong from a fate worse than death. They arranged for her to marry her cousin, Raja Abdullah, in a ceremony filled with the beating of kompang drums and the sweet smoke of kemenyan incense. The wedding feast lasted seven days and seven nights, as was proper for royal nuptials.
As a wedding gift, the young couple received a territory called Jelasin, which some storytellers say was also known as Kota Mahligai, lying between Pasir Puteh and Kota Bharu. There they established their court, ruling with justice and compassion over their subjects.
But the King of Siam’s desire was not cooled by Princess Saadong’s marriage. Like a tiger that has scented prey, he could not abandon his hunt. He sent another delegation – this time accompanied by Buddhist monks in saffron robes and fierce warriors bearing curved swords – to demand that Raja Abdullah surrender his bride.
Raja Abdullah received them in his balai with all proper ceremony, but his answer was firm: “I shall never be separated from my queen, not while breath remains in my body.”
The next dawn brought terror to Jelasin. The Siamese warriors attacked like a monsoon storm, intending to seize Princess Saadong and carry her across the sea to their master. Raja Abdullah commanded all his subjects to defend their land, and there followed such bloodshed as the young kingdom had never seen. Fathers fell defending their homes, sons died protecting their mothers, and the earth drank deeply of warriors’ blood.
By evening, the Siamese forces retreated, but the cost was terrible. When calm returned, Raja Abdullah and Princess Saadong walked among their people, and the princess wept to see wives mourning husbands and mothers cradling their fallen sons. Her heart, which had known only kindness, broke like a porcelain bowl dropped on stone.
Soon, scouts brought word that the Siamese were preparing a second assault with forces so vast that all the kingdoms of Kelantan together could not hope to resist them. The people trembled with fear, and Raja Abdullah’s face grew dark with worry.
Princess Saadong, seeing the anguish of her subjects and the burden crushing her husband’s spirit, made a decision that would echo through the ages. She spoke thus: “Let me go to the King of Siam willingly, on condition that he swears by all his gods to protect Jelasin and never again trouble my husband or our people.”
Raja Abdullah, though it tore his heart like a parang blade, saw no other path to save his kingdom. With great sorrow, he sent messengers to accept the terms.
On the appointed day, Princess Saadong prepared for her journey. She dressed in her finest baju kurung, adorned herself with the pending and gelang of her rank, but her eyes held no light. As the ship bore her away from her homeland, she stood at the stern, watching until the shores of Jelasin disappeared like a dream upon waking.
The King of Siam received Princess Saadong with great celebration. Elephants caparisoned in gold carried her through the streets, and the palace was decorated with jasmine and lotus flowers. But strange to tell, the moment Princess Saadong set foot in the palace, the King of Siam fell gravely ill.
A small sore appeared on his chest, no larger than a bunga raya petal, but it burned with such fierce pain that the king could neither eat nor sleep. Days passed, and the king, growing desperate, commanded that he be carried to Princess Saadong’s chambers.
The princess received him with the courtesy due to a king, though her heart remained cold as river stones. She observed the sore on his chest and asked, “How long has Your Majesty suffered from this affliction?”
“Since the day you arrived,” gasped the king. “This small wound torments me beyond bearing. Because of this agony, I could not come to you sooner as I wished.”
The longer the king remained in Princess Saadong’s presence, the more his pain increased, until he fled her chambers like a man pursued by hantu.
The greatest physicians and monks in Siam were summoned, but the sore spread like ink on silk, and the king’s agony grew until it threatened his sanity. The chief monk, after deep meditation, approached the king with a revelation: “Your Majesty’s suffering is connected to the Princess Saadong. You must speak with her to understand this curse.”
When Princess Saadong was brought before the writhing king, she spoke with the dignity of mountains: “Your Majesty asks if I have cursed you, but I bear you no malice. I came here of my own will to save my people. Yet my heart lies buried in Jelasin with my husband and my subjects who suffered for your desire. What sits before you is merely an empty vessel, a body without a soul. Your pain comes not from my curse, but from your own actions bearing fruit.”
The king wept tears of pain and remorse. Princess Saadong continued: “I cannot cure what I did not cause. But if Your Majesty will swear to return me to my rightful husband once you are healed, I will tend you with all the skill I possess.”
From that day, Princess Saadong nursed the king with herbs and poultices, with prayers and patience. Slowly, like the tide retreating, his affliction lessened. When at last he was whole again, the King of Siam kept his word. He loaded a ship with silks, jewels, and treasures, and sent Princess Saadong home with great honor.
But fairy tales do not always end with happiness, and fate had saved its cruelest twist for last. When Princess Saadong returned to Jelasin, she found that Raja Abdullah had taken a new wife, believing his first queen had willingly abandoned him. When she tried to explain her sacrifice, he accused her of unfaithfulness.
The princess, who had endured separation and servitude for her people’s sake, could not bear this final injustice. In the quarrel that followed – some say she defended her honor with a golden keris hairpin, others say it was Raja Abdullah’s own jealous rage that led to tragedy – the king fell dead.
Princess Saadong, her heart now truly empty, abdicated the throne to Raja Abdullah’s brother, Raja Rahim. She retreated to Bukit Marak near Bachok with her faithful servant Awang Selamat, and later to Gunung Ayam near the Nenggiri River.
The people of the villages near Bukit Marak tell that for many years after, whenever they held a kenduri feast, they could borrow plates and bowls from a cave in the hill – the princess’s own royal dinnerware, left for her subjects’ use. But as people do, some broke the dishes and others failed to return them. The princess, hurt by this final small betrayal, withdrew deeper into the mountains.
At Gunung Ayam, Princess Saadong vanished from mortal sight, though old folks say she appears still as a warning before great calamities befall Kelantan – before the great flood of 1926, and before the Japanese invasion. She stands on the mountain in her royal baju, forever watching over the land she sacrificed everything to protect.
And the moral of this tale, as the tok dalang might say when the shadow puppets are put away, is this: The greatest beauty may become the greatest curse, the noblest sacrifice may go unrecognized, and sometimes the price of saving what we love is losing it forever. But true nobility lies not in recognition or reward, but in the willingness to give everything for others, even when they may never understand the gift.
Thus ends the tale of Princess Saadong, and whether you believe it or not, the mountain still stands, and the wind still carries whispers of a woman’s sorrow through the bamboo groves of Kelantan.