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Akanbi was not convenient, like he was being tapped by invisible hands.
Something is wrong somewhere, he thought. He left the gathering of hunters and left for his chamber, which was a calling distance from the ceremonial field. Getting inside, he looked around his room. “I think she’s in danger,” he thought aloud, his finger tapping on his teeth. He’d been thinking of finding Abeni a permanent protection. The bracelet had expired within the three days of his absence. And it was specially made for those warriors. He knew they would come for her. Very soon, the dance would start and Abeni was not present, he wondered. Today, he planned to declare Abeni as his heart desire before the large crowd—which included the royal chiefs, the kingdom scepter-carrier, Ewatomi and other royal folks, even from the neigbouring villages. Like him, Abeni must be recognized across the nine kingdoms.
"I need to set out for her place right away,” He sighed, his arms akimbo.
At the threshold he stumbled across his mother. Seeing the moving muscles on his torso like a million infant snakes, she said, “I saw the way you left your seat. I hope nothing is wrong.”
“I will be right back Maami” He said and proceeded. And his mother recited his oriki or lineage panegyric:
The son of the sun,
The mighty child,
more than a thousand warriors...
In a few strides he was out of the compound. She noticed the spring in his steps, like a fierce dog chasing a bush meat.
“Look at him. Just like his father,” she sighed.
Meanwhile, the last masquerade was approaching the field, a multicolour costumed, a fire pot on head. The drummers began to stir the air with earth-quaking tempo.
Ghun. Ghun. Ghun. Ghunla-Kunla. Ghun-kunla. Ghun. Ghun....
Forth and back the masquerade surged like gusts of wind. Like the excited crowd, Ewatomi wouldn’t stop cheering—not exactly for the entertainment but Abeni. She had paid some maidens with tangible cowries on the day before. Their assignment was to mess Abeni’s dress after a merciless beating. She had got a spy for her, the hair-doer, who extracted the information about her festive participation.
A moment ago, one of the maidens had come, “My princess, the job is done.” She had smiled in response, “Let’s see how she will dance today, that useless thing!”
This moment, at Ayandele’s compound, Fadekemi was patting Abeni on the back. Her dress had been stained with palm oil and dust. There was no other dress to dance with. There was none again. Fadekemi didn't have any new cloth either. She insisted that Abeni should go with her, at least to see the events. But she wouldn’t go. She kept weeping. In the past seasons, Abeni had won several wears as prizes in dancing occasions. And she would share them among her mother and sisters. Otherwise, none of them would have more than two to three dresses in their baskets. A moment later Akanbi reached the compound. And with suppressed anger he asked what was amiss. Abeni explained how she was beaten and messed up, how Yomade had run to call for help, but there was no one in the surrounding.
“How many of them?” Akanbi fumed.
“Six.”
“It’s alright. Change to any other wear. And come along.”
“Abeni. Please, let us go,” urged
Fadekemi. Slowly she stood up and walked inside, followed by Fadekemi. Akanbi was beholding the beauty he couldn’t wait to taste.
Likewise, Abeni never ceased to think about him, wished he would come and ask for her hand in marriage.
*
This time, it was almost dusk. Abeni was now dressed in a casual wear, craning her neck in the crowd. At the furthest end, close to the gathering of priests, there was a dwarf tree littered with metallic objects, slaughtered male dog, palm oil and fronds. It was the Ogun’s shrine. As soon as the dancing was over, when the drums had subsided, Akanbi went to meet the orator, a fellow hunter, whispering to him. The orator was fully aware of the following drama. The orator splayed his palms to halt the drummers. As if the gods were in support of Akanbi’s action, no bird, no goat, or even hens could cry. The silence was so loud that one could hear another person’s heartbeat. As Akanbi approached the crowd they began to give way, as a forest would give way to fire. He grabbed Abeni by the right hand. And she wanted to whisper to him, to inquire his intention. But she imagined the silence, how the most dead whisper could echo from ears to ears. She lowered her head till they reached the mid stage.
“Long live the elders of Oloyade!” Akanbi saluted the royal gathering, the priests, and the village grandees.
“Ase-e-e!” chorused the crowd. Abeni began to tremble in his hold.
“I have waited for this special moment,” he began, “In order to seek the grace of Ogun to introduce the flaming stone that had struck my heart. She is Abeni, Ayandele’s first daughter...”
He paused for a moment. There was a loud murmur, hisses, finger snaps, silent mockeries. Ayandele was baffled, his mood oscillating between bitterness and joy. His depression relied on whether the kingdom would cast his family out. How he was going to seek another refuge. Yet he was proud to have a person like Akanbi as his son in-law. His fatherland, Elekuro, was among the distant kingdoms, beyond the Awoyaya river. There was no going back and the way forward remained vague. He sighed.
“Abeni was nominated among the Ogun festive dancers!” Akanbi roared, “But some people conspired to afflict her! They messed her dancing costume and beat her! They deserve to be punished or not?”
A grumble of protests filled the air as Akanbi showed the bruises on Abeni’s back and arms. The chiefs were nodding at each other as if to say, “Yes. They deserve to be punished.”
“Before that, there is a mystery to be unfolded here!” Akanbi bowed to the chief priest, “Long live our elders....When I met Abeni, I asked our priest to consult the oracle. I remember the word of my late father. He said I must consult the gods if I meet my desired woman, if there is any disaster in our future union. So that a sacrifice would be offered to appease the gods. After the consultation, Baba said I must journey to Elekuro land, the mighty kingdom. I was required to give a message to their chief priest. I wore my hunting garb. On getting there, I met the priest and introduced myself. When I delivered the aroko, he said the village would be excited for the good news. Their king was seriously ill. His sickness can never be remedied, because of his misdeeds. He was near his grave already. They’ve been looking for their rightful king for over a decade. And the gods has never revealed his whereabouts until now. He praised the gods for accepting their recent sacrifice. Elekuro has been in disaster—strange death and diseases have overtaken the land...” Akanbi took a pause, during which the villagers rippled in confusion. Abeni stole a glance at his face, amazed. Ayandele left his drum and folded his arms. Aside from his blind wife, it was only Abeni that knew the true story. And since Abeni’s childhood, according to the sage advice, he would intimidate Abeni by saying“You must not tell anyone that we hail from Elekuro. If you do, you will die!” Back in those days in Elekuro Ayandele was known by a very few people as he was very poor.
“Tomorrow,” Akanbi pointed at Ayandele, “The people of Elekuro will come for their king. According to the priest, your wife will recover her sight.”
The villagers began howling like a frantic river. Elekuro possessed the most powerful magic and warriors, greater than the entire kingdoms in the territory. Amidst the pandemonium, Akanbi drew Abeni close, raised her head. His fingers roaming her tearful cheeks; she shuddered and shed more tears. He wrapped his arms around her, patting her back, her head on his chests. A moment later, the orator called for silence. If any of the conspirators was at the festival, Akanbi announced. They should reveal themselves. Otherwise, such person would be afflicted with deadly illness. When at the third warning there was no response, Akanbi started reciting incantation. He was commanding the wind and earth to come in unison. To hearken his voice. For the earth has never denied the word of a rabbit. As long as the wind was in contact with those....
The wind had begun to wail when Akanbi was interrupted. The six girls had sped onto the field, screaming. “Hehe! Please! Please!” They cried almost at once, falling on their knees,” It was the princess that sent us!”
“Hahahaha!” Voices rose in tumult, the crowd burst in alarm. It’s clear to the villagers that it was due to her jealousy. And more, she was a tyrant. Ewatomi had buried her face in palms. What had she caused to herself? No shame was greater than this. How could she have known that Abeni was a princess—a great princess. To her, Akanbi was no longer a dream fulfilled. He would forever become the prince of Elekuro. The six offenders were seized by the Ogun priest. They must be severely whipped in the public. The judgment of the king was futile in this case. All the priests had joined heads together and concluded that it was a shame to their king and the entire royal clans. For the first time in so many seasons the festival was ended abruptly. Adepitu was shivering when the news reached the palace. He was pacing up and down.
“Ayandele,” he thought. “The king of the giant Elekuro kingdom?” He bent his head. His daughter was in trouble. She would be forced to pay for her deed. She must also be whipped in the public. Or else, Elekuro might declare war, which might reduce Oloyade to nothingness.
***
The story was being told, even after a century, about a jealous princess who committed suicide. And about the powerful hunter who married the princess of Elekuro after he was made the warlord.
THE END
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