Laksamana: The Rise and Fall of the Kingdom of a Thousand Peoples

Footnote in History: A Failed Invasion by the Portuguese

The darkness of the night brought many dangers. Savage beasts, bandits, and even demonic spirits. Lit by only oil lamps, the pockets of houses in the jungles surrounding the metropolis of Melaka was dark and dangerous.

The house of one Cik Aminah was in that jungle, one of a few homes clumped together. It had lamps fixed to bamboo poles surrounding the humble wooden house. Of great use to scare off the occasional lurking tiger stalking these woods but not the predators that is about to attack that night.

Cik Aminah's was one of many whose home was broken into by the notorious thieves operating in Kota Melaka. She lost everything literally overnight but nothing else. She was one of the lucky ones.

Ever since it became a favoured stopping point for traders sailing through the straits long ago, the beating heart of this great kingdom of Melaka sees merchants, tradesmen, and a burgeoning upper class during the day but at night, scum and forgotten find themselves at home just as comfortably.

Underground criminal activity has been plaguing the city and this problem, passed on from one bureaucratic official to another, finally arrived at the desk of the Kota Melaka City Guard captain, Megat Rahman Aminuddin. The rough-faced man was rarely seen at his office more than a mile up the winding Melaka River, whose responsibilities include menial tasks such as examining trade permits or less menial tasks such as maintaining public order. Instead, he could be seen lingering around at the sprawling wooden docks of the harbour district.

Mingling with bare-backed sailors, weary fishermen, and unsavoury ruffians of all kinds meandering around the sun-bathed area surrounding the river estuary, Captain Megat is accustomed to the more practical means of enforcing the Sultan's laws, than up there listening to the unending tripe of lords whose mercantile dealings can become just as unsavoury, albeit with a little less grime. They would do anything to smooth out the process, for as little of a fee as possible, and that involves him and his office.

"I rather deal with pickpockets, than those glorified thugs", he says, stopping by a stall peddling rugs and incense all the way from the Arabian Peninsula. "A bit of coin and suddenly they think the throne owes them something"

As often as possible, the captain will patrol the bustling district, along with a few of his junior enforcers making way for him. The enforcers are meagre young ones around twice my size. I doubt anyone would want to stray the straight and narrow with them around.

"I try to be available to these common folk instead", Captain Megat said, his gravelly voice barely audible over the crowd. "These people are who I truly serve. Thankfully, I'm able to say that with ease, since I answer directly to the palace"

His daily schedule is filled with the usual surprise inspection on unsuspecting vendors lining the entire harbour from end to end, all the way up the main street. Later, he would ask to check goods freshly arriving onto the docks in order to crack down on smuggling of contraband. Sometimes, he would even board one of the many ships anchoring itself a mile out from the shallow bay, inspecting the conditions of the crew and slaves on board, and making sure they are following the proper protocols and procedures of the land.

At night, he would set out again, with his juniors, but instead into the seedy, spiralling alleyways in the interior of the city, with the serenely lit Mahligai Hawa Nafsu (1) ever present in the background, standing mighty above the sea of low-lying wooden houses and apartments surrounding it on Melaka Hill. Its ruby red windows gave it an otherworldly, fiery glow, projecting a unique sense of wonder not found anywhere else.

The captain commented on how every time he ventured into the heart of the city, he never once knew for sure if he was going to make it out alive.

"This is Bungah", he said, hoisting up a little girl, full of joy, up in his arms. "This ray of sunshine is now at the ripe old age of four years old, aren't you girl?". The captain's own city home was surrounded by other houses of similar modest construction but with the luxury of having a lawn. A small patch of grass with a rambutan tree, willowing under the shining sun.