The flaming stone (Episode 4)

Click here for Episode 3

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

Other posts

The Tale of two dying stars

The claws of shadows (Short story)

Turning a new leaf  (short story)

The buried passion (short story)

Treasure and the lucky digger (Novella)

The pride of a bride (short story)

The vengeance of omoge omi (short story)

Divine diary (Novelette)

Flame of honesty (short story)

Breaking the fear(short story)

                                                         

The Flaming stone (Episode 3)

Click here for Episode 2

“Go whip her, right now!” The warrior commanded his second. He gave the commander a look as if to say, “You must be mad! Why can’t you?” 

But he dare not utter such word. He was the superior among the three. Over thirty warriors in the kingdom. Ewatomi had sent those with the least magic wealth, as the target was a common villager—now the warrior regarded Abeni as a witch. A very powerful one. The victim was still on the ground, his chest heaving. They both ran to him, calling incantation, touching his head with an antelope horn. Like the after-surge of ocean, the heaving began reducing to gentle waves, to a regular breathing. Abeni was watching in wonder, still cuddling her mother. The neigbours—those who had gathered around on hearing the uproar—stood far behind the warriors, murmuring to each other. 

“she must be a witch?” remarked a middle-aged woman.

 Somebody shrugged, “Who knows?”

 “We never can tell,” said an old man, “it might be a coincidence. Possibly, the warrior is suffering from a certain disease.”

 “Good for him. He should have died!” snarled another man, “He’s the same one that nearly beat my son to death.” 

This time, the neighborhood had nearly become a market place, murmuring endlessly. The warriors began wondering what to tell Ewatomi. She’d ordered them to beat Abeni to pulp, so she would never near Akanbi again. At last, the warriors could revive their comrade, who was now staggering like a drunkard. 

“We are coming back for you!” growled the leading warrior at Abeni. Hardly had they turned around when the crowd scattered, like heap of sand in a tempest.

 ****

 It was a market day, at sunrise. Swarm of maidens, old women, each with a loaded basket on head, men leading goats, chatting and laughing on their way to the marketplace. Abeni and Fadekemi were discussing the incident of three days ago, each with an empty basket held in place beside them. Now pacing beneath a giant orange tree where the commotion of birds seemed to drown the passersby’s. Abeni could feel the breeze, cool and tender like swan feathers against her skin. The sun was a bit shy, almost hiding behind the lavender clouds. Today, people from the eight neigbouring villages would come to buy kernels and other goods. Oloyade was popular for growing excess palm kernels and it was the kernel season. The market was located near the village square. Fadekemi had been away for four days, to pay a visit to a cousin in the neigbouring village. She returned in the previous night. Abeni was telling Fadekemi how the experience had been the most mysterious in her life. She was afraid to sleep during that night, she said—neither did her parents nor her siblings. All were so paranoid. That the warriors might come back. Her father was confused as to why the warriors had come. Much more confused that one was victimized, inexplicably. Thinking aloud, he believed his personal deity, Shango, the god of thunder, must have protected his daughter. He thought they had come to capture Abeni to the palace, but not successful. Not even once did he think of Ewatomi as the masquerade behind the cloak. He thought the warriors were sent by the king. But Abeni knew. She knew it was Ewatomi. But how could she explain to her father, that after all his warnings, Ewatomi had caught her with Akanbi? How could she?

 “What could you have done to deserve that? Did you refuse to salute any of the royal folks while passing by?” That was her father’s question.

 “What was your response to that?” asked Fadekemi. “What do you expect me to say? I did nothing of such, of course.”

 “Anyway, I’m still surprised about the fallen chicken,” she giggled, passing the basket to her right side, “and truly, shango must have protected you. Or what do you think?”

 “I think so,” Abeni sighed, adjusting her bracelets, “hmn. You haven’t heard anything.” 

“Hehe, I’m all ears.” Both friends began to walk in slower saunter. “Akanbi came to my place on the following morning, “she began, gently, “I never knew he had returned from hunting. That moment, my father was heading for the palace to plead with the king on my behalf, for the incident. I was at the verandah, pounding some kernels in a mortar. When Akanbi was seated, he offered him some bitter kola. He told Akanbi he wouldn’t be able to listen to any matter, that he was on his way to the palace. When Akanbi enquired the reason for that, my father explained how ka’abiyesi had sent his warriors to me and the outcome. Akanbi looked surprised. When he was about to look at me, I took my face away. Then he offered to follow my father to the palace, so they would plead together. Baba, I would like Abeni to come with us, he said. My father was afraid that I would be detained in the palace. I’m assuring you. Abeni would come back home, he added. Eventually, my father agreed...”

 “So Akanbi didn’t state his purpose for coming?” 

“Oh, be patient. Just hear the rest,” Abeni smiled, “As I was saying, my father agreed. Getting to the palace, we met the royal highness. After we all saluted, it was Akanbi that spoke on our behalf. He narrated all that happened and pleaded with him to condone my misdeed. Ka’abiyesi looked lost, so was my father. My father must be expecting Ka’abiyesi to rebuke me, but he was calm on his throne. They eventually realized it was the princess. So she was summoned to the gathering. You can’t imagine the shock on her face on seeing me, especially with Akanbi and my father. Then she lied against me. She said I didn’t salute her while passing by. She claimed I was a witch, that I must be stoned to death in a market place. For the spell I cast on the warrior....” 

"Ehn, ehn, this is not a minor issue,” Fadekemi burst out laughing, clapping hands.

 “The chief priest was there,” Abeni continued, “Ka’abiyesi backed his daughter. And to prove the allegation, he ordered the priest to give me a witch-hunting concoction. At last, we returned to the palace. I was declared innocent...”

 “So what was her reaction? I mean....Ewatomi,” she almost whispered. “She wouldn’t come out of the inner palace.” 

“Good for her. She must be so shameful. I hope Akanbi eventually told your father his reason for coming.” 

“Hmmn,” Abeni grunted, smiling, “I know what you’re thinking. He didn’t come to ask for my hand in marriage; although, that was my expectation. He only came to invite my father to play at the Ogun festival, which will be held in three days’ time. He wanted me to be among the dancers. He paid my father in advance. I didn’t have a chance to speak with him. He left us on our way home.” 

“I can’t wait to see your performance again.... I wish I could dance like you.” 

For a while, they bantered on who or who was a better dancer before jumping to another topic. 

**** 

From the echoes of gunshots. From the beats of gangan and bata drums and the Ogun masquerades in parades, Oloyade was aware of the ongoing festival. Abeni was dressing up. The masquerades must have finished dancing, she thought. Soon, the maidens would get on stage to dance to bata drum. She was familiar with the rites over the past seasons. Every sixth moon the hunters would celebrate Ogun. As the god of iron, Ogun was revered by hunters— for the progress of the hunting occupation and the success of their tools such as gun, cutlass, spear, arrows and bows. Ayandele was already at the occasion with his ensembles. He’d told Abeni to come when the sun had retired to the southern region, at roughly seven feet shadows. It was almost time. The venue was two neighborhoods away. Yewande was standing at the verandah, waiting for her sister. She was a slender girl of eighteen seasons, the baby of the house. She liked following her sister to any occasion, unlike Romoke who was never interested in outings. They’re now on their way, both wearing beaded earrings and crown-like braids. Sheke, sheke, rattled their waist beads with each movement. Abeni was wearing five colourful bracelets, the red in the middle. As they paced further, the drum was growing louder. Turning to the bushy path leading to the next neighborhood, they met six maidens, one helping the other to adjust earrings or wrapper. They seemed to be heading for the festival. Abeni was familiar with them at the stream. One of them, Wuraola, was having grudge against her.

 “I hope you’re not blind.” Yewande had asked them to give way only to get that rude response. 

Abeni stood aside, gesticulating for Yewande to keep mute. 

“Please, can we pass?” Abeni said in a calm voice. 

“You can climb our heads over!” Somebody said, then hissed.

 “Wait first, what are you talking to?” Wuraola was addressing her friends, turning around, as if searching for something. 

“Would you leave the road!” Abeni said, her patience began to melt. She knew they were looking for trouble and she wasn’t ready to start one. Taking another path was no option. It was a long journey and the dance would begin any moment from now. Abeni was looking around if she could manage the tiny space. The bush was too thorny. It would hurt her skin. How ridiculous. She must take this path right now. She eyed her sister.

 “Follow me,” Abeni spoke with her eyes.

click here for episode 4

Other posts

The Tale of two dying stars

The claws of shadows (Short story)

Turning a new leaf  (short story)

The buried passion (short story)

Treasure and the lucky digger (Novella)

The pride of a bride (short story)

The vengeance of omoge omi (short story)

Divine diary (Novelette)

Flame of honesty (short story)

Breaking the fear(short story)

The Spiderweb

                                     

I shut the door behind me. Against my father's raging voice. To be honest, my father does not need a loudspeaker to address a hundred thousand congregation. The problem is not what I have done wrong, but his voice. It draws the whole neighbours to our compound each time he is scolding us - myself and my siblings. You would see the flock of pepeye coming to peck their mouths into the matter. If this sun crashed in our compound, I bet, they would still find their way here.

"Baba Folashade. Leave this girl. I thought we have talked to her. She said she will scrub it off!"

That's my mother's voice from inside. She's been holding my father from flinging me at the wall. A thunderstorm that he is. Huge in aspect with stubborn muscles.

 I didn't know how Granny saw the drawing at my upper arm. A spiderweb which I had asked my classmate to draw for me. She drew the same for herself but I thought I, Aponbepore, would rock it better. It was Granny that gave me the name Aponbepore, a girl whose skin rivals a palm oil. I like that.

But I didn't like how Granny told my father, "You don't look after these your children. Didn't you see the mark on Folashade's skin. Alantakun of all things, eh! She is calling bad luck upon her head."

I was coming from the kitchen to serve his food on the dinning when I heard them and I had paused.

"Maami" my father said, "you mean Folashade has drawn something on her body..." He was trying to call me but Granny asked him to be patient. 

I  saw Granny showing or rather reminding my father about the traditional tattoos on her arms and legs. 

"These marks you are seeing" she was touching the fading marks, spiralling patterns, on her both arms "during our own youthful days, there was nothing like the kind of marks seen on children of nowadays and our men were attracted to us. Now they have abused everything. You see the gombo marks on your father's face. That's what fetched him his work easily. The company manager had the same marks. He's also from Ogbomosho."

I remember asking Granny why Grandpa had those marks. Granny said, according to her own grandfather, marks were drawn on faces or bodies during slave trade so that parents could identify their enslaved children when they finally met.

Now Granny said that spider, especially, is a bad omen. Getting entangled in its web in dream or real life is a bad luck that takes a very powerful herbalist or cleric to cleanse. Drawing it on the body poses more ill luck.

My mouth was agape. But spider web, to me, is a beautiful work of art. I started falling in love with it when I saw the spiderman movie. Such beautiful creature is now a villain to us. Granny had not finished with my father.

"I asked you to put our ancestral marks on these children's bodies to prevent them from bad luck, you refused. You said we are now in a civilized world. The ones they are drawing on themselves is now what?"

"But..but Maami the world has gone far from all that."

"The Same thing I told you about Yemi when he arrived from America with the same marks, with earrings and nose ring. You said it's because of his job as a modern day musician. He even plaited his hair... when he is not a Sango worshipper. How can he ever reason like a real man? How can his head be correct? A true son of Yoruba soil does not emulate a woman. "

Uncle Yemi is my father's cousin. I can't forget the day he introduced his wife to Granny. It was then I realized I was dark-skinned. Uncle Yemi's wife looked like the snow I saw in American movies. Granny later invited uncle Yemi, told him to look for a decent lady, not that Asewo. Uncle Yemi argued that she's not a prostitute. Granny said a lady could not be so light-skinned and be faithful to her husband. "When she is not Oyinbo," Granny asserted. I think uncle Yemi's wife must have bleached her skin to be this light. She was almost like Afin, like Funke, an albino friend of mine in my present class, JSS3.

Funke was always sitting at the front of the class. She told me she couldn't see the board from the back. Sometimes I lent my notebook to her. Her first few weeks in school, all my classmates always avoided her, forbade her, like a curse. And when they realized she's very bright like her skin they started associating with her. 

Funke once told me a story about her family. A story that left a mist of sadness on my skin, that pushed out the ocean in my tear gland.

 It was a story of how her father treated her. How he took her siblings out for picnic or to amusement park without her. "You, don't leave this house till we come back," She quoted her father's warning. That's acceptable for her skin. But he would go ahead to call her useless, good-for-nothing child. He called her white cat. This had caused fights between her both parents. He never payed her school fees nor cater for her needs. Said there wouldn't be any use for her education. Said people of her kind were never employed in companies. Thanks to her mother for sponsoring her academy.

I was telling Granny about it one day. 

"But Funke was very gifted in bead-making o," I said, "When I noticed she didn't come to school for days I went to her house, I learnt that she had killed herself with a rat poison."

Granny grabbed her head in both hands, "Ohh, gbele-gbele oo!" she exclaimed in a language that portrayed shock and pains.

Granny said people of her kind were regarded as idols in the past. Unique beings. She said she must have committed suicide due to depression. I couldn't help but hurl curses on her father. Granny did too. These killing of oneself happened in our neighbourhood on two different occasions.

One was Prof Dee. He always had with him a book and pen, writing numbers, from vehicle plate numbers to house numbers. Some men had tried snatching his book. They blamed themselves they did. He hurled stones at them, chased and pounced on one of them like a mad dog. We learnt that Prof Dee was a graduate, but couldn't secure a job for years and began indulging in smoking, drinking and hard drugs. He always sat alone, looking like a dummy. After a while, he began to speak to himself on the street, laughing at nothing in particular. But, before then, they said he had been a gambler, a lotto addict. This must be the reason he wrote numbers. Many a time his family had captured him but he would always escape. One day, he was speaking to the wall, arguing with a non-existent being. He butt the wall nonstop, like a crazy he-goat, until his head shattered. He collapsed at the spot. Dead.

There used to be a girl, Dammy, about nine years old, three compounds away. Dammy was as quiet and calm as a neglected pool. But this pool was better left neglected, or else she became a turbulent ocean. When her peers came to her, she bit them or tore their cloths with an unbelievable force in her arms. She ran like a mechanical thing when angry. Occasionally she screamed herself out and ruffled her hair, and when calm again, she began breathing heavily. People said she's possessed, that she inherited the witchcraft from her mother. Her father refused to let her mother take her away after a quarrel that led to depart. He said she's a prostitute and could initiate her daughter. One day Dammy had broken a mirror and pierced herself in the heart.

After her death, we learnt from a doctor that Dammy had been suffering from a mental illness. That her condition must have gone worse because of her mother's absence. Worst because she wasn't given a medical attention. The family had, although, taken her to different churches for deliverance. The doctor said it was their ignorance and superstitious belief that killed her.

That brings back to mind the case of my spiderweb. I don't know if to call Granny's belief as superstitious too. But I think, surely, Granny knows quite a lot of things about life.

The Flaming Stone (Episode 2)

Click here for Episode 1

A scream erupted from nowhere. Akanbi was jolted like a stoned lizard, glancing around to detect the source of the voice.

Ewatomi, too, was alarmed, thinking it was one of her maids
.
 “Oh-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-h”

The voice was cutting across the plantation, this time, with a loud sob. Only then did Akanbi realize it was coming from the left hand side.

Akanbi made towards the location, fast like a frenzied cobra. Ewatomi was following behind, also confused.

There she lay, writhing in pains amidst the shrubs, sobbing in silence.

 Shocked to realize it was Abeni, he flinched to a halt before crouching to part the trap.

Abeni broke into tears once freed, her weight on the left hand, right leg outstretched. Chain of bloody cuts lay boldly above her ankle. Gasping and weeping, she stared resentfully at Ewatomi who was behind Akanbi, ablaze in silent fury.

Akanbi had set the trap for the bush meats. He praised the gods within him. It wasn’t the largest trap. Otherwise, the wound would be more terrible. He hurried into the inner bush, plucked three different leaves, and mashed them together until the resin had stained his fingers.

 Meanwhile, Ewatomi was scowling at her, cursing under her breath, “Stupid girl. I don’t know what she’s looking for,” she paused, glancing left and right, “So you think you can snatch Akanbi from me? Your trouble has just started....”

 Ewatomi muted at the sound of approaching feet.
Akanbi rushed to the leg, rubbed the secretion on the wound, before tying a frond rope. He stood her up. She felt stinging sensation, but less aches.

 “You need to take a rest.” Akanbi was pointing at a thatched-roof tent afar off.

“No, I’m going home.” she moaned.

 Limping away, she fell abruptly, rescued by his hands in one sweeping motion, half way down.

Ewatomi stood still, stomach churning in rage, right arm across breasts, the other supported her jaw.

 Finally agreed to rest, Akanbi began to lead her gently, like a blind beggar. His arm across her back, soothing her skin like early morning dew. Yet she was moaning and wriggling as if by his touch the pain was growing. “Sorry, you will be alright.” He said.

 They soon arrived at the shed. The place was his zone of comfort, where he sometimes roasted yams and bush meat. In the middle, two black crocks lying beside a fireplace. Flanked by long bamboo benches.

This moment, Ewatomi was signaling to her maids, taking her leave without uttering a farewell.

***

Late in the night, Abeni lay on the mat, thoughtful, her mind muddled like overcrowded market. She could not tell her parents where she was truly trapped. Severally, her father had admonished that she shouldn’t defy the princess. But she couldn’t let go. Losing Akanbi seemed to be her greatest fear.

 "Please come to my rescue, the gods of my ancestors,’ she thought. ‘What if we are banished from this land? I will end up losing.... No...never... may the gods forbid such!"

Earlier in the afternoon, when she finished resting at that shed, Akanbi bothered not asking if his request be granted, perhaps because of her condition. Fadekemi had appeared from the bush when the princess was gone. Fadekemi, likewise Abeni, was in Ewatomi's watch list. The day before, after delivering a message to Akanbi that Abeni would not accept him due to Ewatomi’s threat, she had stumbled across Ewatomi at Akanbi’s compound.

“Oh, so you’re also among them?” She’d said, “I will make sure you never go unhurt when next I see you here.”

Fadekemi had trembled in response, trying to give a false excuse (like saying an elderly man had sent her to deliver a message to him) but Ewatomi didn’t care to listen. Fadekemi could not put herself in further trouble. Besides, she was the sole child of her parents.

 Abeni sighed, staring at her sleeping mother on a mud bed covered in raffia mat. Her siblings too. One was snoring, as loud as a croaking frog. The lamp was waving from the corner on a bamboo stool, shadows dancing across the brown wall to the tune of the wind from the small window. Yet Abeni could feel cold sweat running on her temple. Paranoid.

At daybreak, she roused to see Fadekemi, seated beside her. She’d felt a gentle tap on her thigh.

 “How are you feeling now?” She asked.

 Abeni yawned, rubbed her eyes, and caressed the wound. “It’s much better. Thank you.” She slurred

 “Oh, praises to the gods,” she spread her palms upwards.
Abeni smiled

 “This object,” she began, paused, peeking around to ensure nobody was approaching. She produced a knotted white fabric from inside her wrapper, “This is one of the reasons I came early. It’s a message from Akanbi. A few moments ago, he sent somebody to give it to me, with a warning. No one should reveal it except you. According to the messenger, the content is a bracelet. You start wearing it henceforth.”

“What for?” Abeni asked as she extended her hand, hesitant.

 “The same question I asked the messenger. The purpose not identified. But why should you doubt anything from Akanbi?” Fadekemi smiled, “I think he’s truly in love with you. Just do as he said.”

 Abeni tied the object to her wrapper.

"I will come and play with you at noontime. My pot is outside. I’m off to the stream,” she stood to her feet, wished Abeni could follow her. They almost never missed fetching water together over the seasons— ever since Abeni and her parents had settled in Oloyade about sixteen seasons ago. . Abeni’s father, Ayandele, was supposed to be the king in his fatherland, Elekuro village. He was the choice of the gods. Meanwhile, he was not related to the royal clan. And yet Ifa, the oracle, had declared him the king after the demise of the then king who was never survived by a male child.
 “How could Ifa choose an ordinary drummer as the next king?” was the song of the villagers, especially the royal chiefs and corrupt elders. Anger and indignation had seized the royal family. Despite their wealth, none of them was chosen?

 Ayandele had gone to consult a priest on hearing the joyful but dangerous news. The old man had shaken his head after his divination. “My son, there is a disastrous augury. Praise your personal god that you have come at the right time....For now, you need to leave the land before sunrise. Or else, you and your family may not see the next twilight. Here is a piece of advice. Drum it to your wife and children. They must not reveal their true identity. It’s dangerous.”

 On their way, they had journeyed across bushes and mountains, they came across a gourd floating in mid-air, hovering over them. Ayandele was not so shocked, unlike his wife, Ayinke, who began trembling and wailing after she cuddled her three children. The sage had prophesied that Ayandele would come across something terrible. It was the work of his enemies. So he had given Ayandele a white powder. When he blew the powder, the gourd had vanished once, like smoke in the storm. Ayinke had cried out almost immediately. Her sight was gone. The little Abeni had burst into tears.

***

Three days later Abeni had recovered the ever-glowing leg, but with a faded bruise. And she had started wearing the red bracelet. It was made of a circled rod, shrouded in red fabric. Most times, she wore the bracelet with several colourful ones in order to disguise it. Akanbi had gone hunting in a remote forest for the past two days. Whenever Abeni fiddled with the bracelet, a smile would sail across her cheeks. For having a gift from such a man of valour.
Now the sun was already retracting into the dusk clouds. Abeni was at the fireplace, gathering some hays and firewood in between the triple stones. She struck fire from two little stones. The flames, like infant serpents, crawled across the hays, then stick to stick, before leaping to the bottom of the water-filled pot. Her mother was seated at the threshold of their hut, a two-roomed, staring at the sky that only existed in her imagination. Her father would soon be back from a palmwine joint where he played three days weekly. And her siblings were in the market selling palm oil.
Abeni was about to enter her mother’s room, when a voice as loud as gunshot struck at her from behind.

“I said come back here!” The warrior repeated.

 Three royal warriors standing a bit far away, bare-torsoed, in batik shorts and charm-embedded necklets. Their eyes red and their chests rippled as much as their muscles.

As if the earth was shifting beneath her, Abeni’s feet began quaking in terror.

“Abeni! Who is that? Who is that?” Her mother began wailing, groping around, grabbing the air.

 Abeni ran to assist her mother who was about stumbling over a stone. Then, one of the men, fast like a catapulted stone, lounged towards them, a whip in his grip.

Abeni started screaming, clinging to her mother.
 The warrior whip ascended in a dash.

And when it was descending on her body, his hand froze. A strike of lightning, only visible to other warriors, stood from Abeni’s hand. And like a cobweb it entangled their comrade. He began to whirl round and round the compound like tornado.

Then slumped to the ground.



Click here for Episode 3

Other posts

The Tale of two dying stars

The claws of shadows (Short story)

Turning a new leaf  (short story)

The buried passion (short story)

Treasure and the lucky digger (Novella)

The pride of a bride (short story)

The vengeance of omoge omi (short story)

Divine diary (Novelette)

Flame of honesty (short story)

Breaking the fear(short story)

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