As he approached her quarters, the room was crowded with all sorts of women of all ages as it was the custom not to meet with a spinster with less than a dozen women present, unless she was a woman of high position in the society.
As he entered, she waved her hands to show him where to sit—an un-wifely characteristic. It was the woman who drew the seat for her man. As he sat down she said, “Yes.” Another gaffe. A woman shouldn’t speak to her man until she was spoken to.
“I know you are looking for a man who can look through your voluptuous body and love your tumultuous mind. You seek the powerful emotion of the white man, giving your man your dress to wear. I just called to say your dance was imposing and good luck in your quest.”
“You are scared of me rejecting you,” the princess said, grinning.
“What would give you that impression? I am a man of defined views and, as of now, I am positive you make my wine taste sour.”
“Really? I might as well tell you anyway, my father had already told me to accept if you asked.”
“If you listened to your father, I am sure you would have married any of your former suitors.”
“Do I detect interest in the Great Chief Oludu?”
“Don't flatter yourself. It's that little word they call curiosity,” Oludu said, walking toward the door.
“For your curiosity’s sake, he has never asked me to marry anyone before. He just showed them the way to my place.”
“Then what makes me so special?”
“That is what I want to find out,” she said congenially.
“So, left to you, you would refuse any man who asked for your hand,” Oludu said from the doorway.
“I never refused any of the men, I just had a little chat with them.” Spontaneously, she clapped her hands and everyone in the room started leaving. “You seem uncomfortable; the seats are there to be sat on.”
He knew that was exactly what she wanted, but he was not ready to flirt with custom because of this juvenile and be left in the room alone with her.
“Don't tell me the almighty Oludu is afraid to be alone with a little lamb like me. If it will make you feel better, I don't bite.”
It was not as though anything would happen to him if he decided to alter such a law of minimal power, but if she decided to claim that he made an indecent approach to her, her word would be taken over his. He sat down anyway and said, “Talk, I am listening.”
“I know people have been saying things about me, like the only person I answer to is my father, that I am an Ogbanje, I choose the flexibility of a man whilst I am a—”
Before she could say another word, Oludu interrupted.
“I don't participate in rumors.”
“Well, I just wanted to let you know…they are not rumors, they are true.”
He tried hard to resist showing surprise, but it showed in every inch of his face.
“I am an Ogbanje, a daughter of the spirit world. I am possessed with powers beyond my control. The only reason I have not returned to the spirit world in death is because my father holds me down here with a force greater than the one that wants to take me away.”
“Then why...please continue,” Oludu said.
“Then why does he not tell the Ifa priest to find the package that makes me return to that other world when they call?” she said, finishing his question with the same grin on her face.
He was no longer surprised, now he was more cautious.
“You should know by now that people like us read your mind and see your future just by looking through your walls. The Ifa priest could not find my package because the spirits that led me to where I dug the package are the same spirits that lead him to see what he sees even without his eyes.”
“So where is this package?”
“You intrigue me, Chief Oludu. It would require a great force on me to reveal where I dug it because even I cannot remember where I put it.”
“But you said your father had a greater power than what holds you here.”
“The power he had that I was referring to is the type,” her voice lowered, “that makes a dove fly through all the skies and still comes back to its nest. It’s the power that makes a bat enter a cave with hundreds of other screaming bats and yet it still knows which cry belongs to its offspring. It’s the power that makes a chicken go after a hawk that took its chick. The power I said he had cannot make my tomorrow better, but it can make me go to bed at the end of every night and appreciate the day I am about to let go of. Chief Oludu, I think you better go back to your quarters for the night, you have an early journey tomorrow.”
She got up and opened the door for him.
“I thought you read minds. Why don’t you know that I cannot leave here without you?”
“I can be an expert at words from a man's mind, but I am an amateur at the words from a man's heart.”
“Am I to understand that as long as I ask your hand in marriage, you cannot reject me?”
“Yes.”
He made a slight bow and said, “I am yours if you will have me.”
The words started running faster as though their time to talk was limited and danger was knocking on the door.
“You realize that you can never marry any other woman apart from me, or else you will die along with the first son I bear for you.”
“When I saw you dance, I realized that my life was empty. The time I have stayed with you I have experienced a fullness not of this earth. With you I will need no other to fill the emptiness I feel within.”
“You realize that my life is transient. I cannot live for long,” she explained.
“Then we make the best of every day that passes us by.” The firmness of Oludu's voice intensified.
“Maybe you don't understand: I will go to the land beyond immediately after I hear that call in my dreams. It could be after thirty years or tomorrow. You do not deserve that kind of torture.”
“Let me be the man to choose the torture I can or cannot take. The question here is whether you want me or not, because if you don't, the King will never know that you refused me. I will just walk up to him and tell him that your voice was louder than the echoes of a cave,” Oludu said with a smile.
She looked at him with all the seriousness that he did not believe she could exhibit and said.
“I crave for you more than the sun wants to shine,’’ she said. “You touch my soul in places unreachable to any man. I never believed I could look at another apart from my father and feel I was a female, but you make me realize that I am a woman. And the scary thing is, your stories are all that drew me to you. Now is the first time I have seen you, but not the first time I have known you.”
He stretched his hands and said, “Then come with me. This is no longer your home.”
She held his hand and they walked away, together.
Chapter 17
After the twentieth year of King Obi’s rule, the Okpalaukwu died at the age of ninety-two. During the burial of an Okpalaukwu, an initiation ceremony of his successor is carried out simultaneously. People danced on the grave of the dead high chief while his successor was locked in seclusion until the ceremony was over.
King Obi mysteriously died the day after, with the Head-of-Government and the Headman to the Oracle by his side. For the King to be buried, his successor was to be the first person to pour sand on the body in his tomb. The longer it took for a new King to be crowned, the more people died and the easier it was for neighboring kingdoms to attack, so the people always cried for a new King.
The kingdom at this time had two princes who were contesting the throne. Such circumstances could only be allowed if the high chiefs permitted it. The first was Weruche’s son, who had the dilemma of being born an unofficial prince and, by the time the king married his mother and he was officially a prince, another had already been noted as the first. The second was Onyela’s son, who was the first acknowledged prince of the kingdom, but not the first son. The high chiefs in such circumstances acted
like watchers, waiting till the eighty-second day for a unanimous decision from all the province chiefs. After that, if they all didn’t choose the same King, the high chiefs killed the chiefs and picked whomever they wanted to be King on that same day.
During those eighty-two days, if a King wasn’t chosen, the chiefs were exempt from the ruling of the high chiefs. They had the power to battle and conquer a province, putting whomever they wanted to rule. It was an opportunity for the lords to give their sons a chance at power, beating the inability of passing the chieftaincy position to their children, which only occurred when the King and the people of the province agreed. That was a very rare occurrence. Everyone knew the chiefs would take advantage of this time, when gods bleed.
There were six provinces at this time and six chiefs— Ihua of Ahoda, Otuturex of Abogima, Oludu of Ndemili, Vacoura of Alloida, Pokzee of Ogwashi and Odagwe of the Ekpona Hills. All the chiefs were supposed to come together to the palace on the seventh day after the death of the King.
In such a quandary where there were two contenders for the throne, the princes had their Hurdenes draw up any political scheme. The Hurdene was usually the person the King candidate trusted the most. The Hurdene always went out of his or her way to make sure their candidate became King. The Hurdene had powers overriding his or her candidate when he became King, unless the candidate was over fifteen years of age. The Hurdene could be his brother, his friend, his relative, his wife, but most kings always chose their mother. If one of the contesting princes was not chosen, both the prince and his Hurdene were immediately put to death by the high chiefs to prevent any form of treachery, so the Hurdenes normally fought till death to get their candidates crowned.
After the King’s death, the fastest messengers were sent to the six provinces to invite them together for either a quick decision to be made about the King’s heir or a longer one that could extend for not more than eighty-two days.
On the seventh day the palace was drained of all its vitality. Every woman in it had her hair shaved as a symbol of disowning her beauty with the death of the husband. The King’s palace was still with its flawless panache and the structure awaited its new master. Most times a new King built another palace at a site where he would feel safer, thereby creating a new capital province.
Everyone in the palace was expecting the high chiefs and the chiefs to arrive. It was evident that they were taking advantage of the death of the King to exercise the flexibility of their powers. The King’s first wife, Queen Ifrareta, was preparing the palace for their arrival. Due to her slightly bulky nature, her pregnancy was not too obvious. She was a very ordinary looking brown-skinned woman and she loved her position. She could have sent over a hundred maids to prepare the palace, but she chose to do it with them, notwithstanding the fact that she was six months pregnant. Throughout her preparation, she still did not let anyone know that she was in the vicinity.
Chapter 18
The first to arrive was Chief Ihua of Ahoda, who was still firmly built and unusually agile for his age. His people always complained of his age and each time this occurred he conquered a new village to rekindle their trust. To those whose voices were too loud, he sweetened their throats with the finest palm wine from the forest of the black sky. Once in a while he put a little poison in it. He had seen over sixty years, but he could not imagine giving up his chieftaincy to do anything else. He couldn’t become Okpala because he wasn't the oldest man in the province. Neither could his son take his place, as only an Omee of great respect could take that position and it wasn’t hereditary.
Why should I give up my title to become one of the elders of Ahoda, not even Utagba? To imagine that the elders are not allowed to sleep with other women outside their wedlock. May the gods forbid me that punishment. I know what to do. After this King succession problem I will go and get that enthusiastic warrior, that bloody son-of-a-palm-wine tapper and I will deal with him personally. Imagine the peasant wants to be a chief. Come to think about it, this succession thing might be to my advantage, but those old dismantled, dirty elders of the King’s court might bring up this chief issue. Why am I bothering myself? By then I should be talking to the King.
He saw a calabash of water and went to wash his hands. His reflection flashed before his eyes and he realized that it was not only his youth that had passed away; the heart of the Omee that became the chief had sailed to a place he could not reach. He looked around at the emptiness of the castle, and it sent chills down his spine in fear that it could be a trap.
Someone might have told the King about the slave transactions I had with the Portuguese. Then he makes me believe he is dead. I doubt that. They were too few for him to have noticed. It could be that palm wine tapper's son who went behind my back to set me up. Anyway, if they want to attack us, my Omee and I will fight to the end.
He sighed and scanned the room.
I should stop deceiving myself. With only two hundred men, my bones would be fed to the vultures.
When he heard the sound of horses, a relief grew upon him.
Thank goodness, it is not a trap. I wonder who it is. It’s not as though it prevents what is going to happen from happening. I have seen their voracious eyes over the pride of my land.
The next to arrive was Otuturex of Abogima. When he entered, there wasn't the crowd of hypocrites that normally surrounded him, or the dance of a thousand coquettes. It was accepted for now because this was a time of death. He was a big-boned man with a thick beard and he had a sluggish way of walking. Although the quietness of the palace made him realize that anything could happen, he wasn't called Otuturex the Conqueror for nothing and he didn't carry over a thousand men for decoration.
Why would they want to kill me anyway? I send them my normal taxes, which happens to be larger than what I am supposed to give. Probably their eyeballs want to stretch into to the vastness of my land. They were always jealous of my attachment to the King. They probably want to bring up that issue about that mysterious death of former Chief Ezeonisha. How can they even think about suspecting I killed a man who was more than a father to me, the first man to show me how to hold a spear? In fact, let me hear the first person to utter a word about it; I will bite his tongue out of his mouth. Then they will know that those who stick their fist in dirt usually get their fingers dirty.
The deeper he walked into the palace, the stronger the reality of the death opened to him, and he thought back to the first time he saw the King.
*
He was only eight years old. A man ran into the house soaked with water from the sky and blood from the flesh. He searched all the rooms as though he was looking for something in his own home. The child wanted to scream for his stepfather to throw this intruder out, but the look in the man’s eyes, even for a child, was fearsome. Otuturex took it personally that his presence as a child made him not worth noticing. The intruder suddenly started climbing to the top of the room. The boy at this time was positive of two things: the first was that he hated their moving to this isolated place at the boundary between Ozuoba forest and Utagba; and secondly he made a mistake by not following his mother out.
The boy watched as the man climbed to the rafters, holding firm to them with a knife in his mouth. When the man noticed him, they studied each other from different heights. Suddenly, the home was surrounded by six Omees armed with swords, knives, bows and arrows.
His stepfather ran to the door of the room with bewilderment in his face.
“Great warriors of good fortune, what brings you to my humble home?”
“We are in search of a rebel and we have reason to believe that he is seeking refuge here.”
“Honorable Omee, do you try to soil my name? I am an honest trader between the two boundaries. Why would I want to take a man who wants to rebel against an Omee? It seems you are not aware that my brother is Chief Ezeonisha.”
“He is a rebel against the King and our orders come from the Head-of-Government. Please step aside, we want to search the hou
se.”
With disgraced humility his stepfather moved aside and the Omee searched everywhere on the ground without looking above.
“Where are the other inhabitants of your home?”
“My wife and her sister went to see their mother and I am alone with the boy.”
“You mean you have only one wife and a child?”
“My other two wives couldn’t give birth to children and they convinced themselves that I had problems, so they left.”
“Why would they think so when you already have a child?”
“The child was by another man.”
The warrior grinned and continued.
“Have you seen anyone around here?”
“Not a soul.”
“How about the boy?”
“I don’t know. I was not with him.”
“What is his name?’
“Otuturex.”
The Omee walked toward the boy and asked, “Have you seen any stranger recently?”
The boy used all his willpower not to look up because the man they sought was hanging horizontally above him with a knife in his mouth.
“Is that supposed to be a jest? Nobody ever comes to this area and I am sure my mother is not coming back here again,” the boy said.
“Would you shut up,” the stepfather snapped.
The Omee laughed.
“If I were you, I would not talk to the little one like that or else he, too, will leave you for more fertile soil.”
Everyone laughed except his stepfather, who burned with rage.
The boy, meanwhile, had spotted blood on the floor; above him, the strange man was trying to shield his cut hand. The boy knew that sooner or later the warrior would notice, so spontaneously he grabbed the warrior’s knife and cut the Omee's hand.
“Is something wrong with you?” his stepfather shouted.
The Omee held his hand, speechless and shocked.
“It seems you are not man enough to raise a child. Let me teach him that manners are part of our custom,” said another Omee, who gave the boy a slap on the face.
When Gods Bleed Page 15
