by Reni K Amayo
‘You don’t know that yet!’ Eni fumed. ‘You don’t know the damage you’ve caused. You could have led the general’s army right back here.’
‘That’s impossible, Naala was—’ Madi started.
‘We were very careful,’ Naala interrupted. She had no intention of discussing the events that had occurred with anyone, especially not Eni, not until she had made sense of them herself.
‘Where are the others?’ she asked.
‘They’ve moved on,’ Eni replied.
‘What do you mean?’ Madi asked, his face screwed up in confusion.
‘It was too dangerous for them to stay with you two gone. What if you had been taken by the army and forced to reveal our whereabouts?’
‘We wouldn’t have done that.’
‘You don’t know that, but that is the risk you decided to take, not only for yourselves but for us too,’ Eni chastised.
The Eze had made Enwe disappear into thin air without lifting a finger. Eni was right; if they had been captured, who knew what those people could have done? Naala felt a trickle of shame dripping through her body; she had never really considered the implication of her actions on the group. She had accepted the risk of death for herself. She had accepted Madi’s consent as his acceptance of that same risk, but she had failed to gather the permission of the group. She had gambled with their lives without any form of consent.
‘But if they are gone, then why are you here?’ Madi said quietly, after a moment of reflection. At this, Naala looked up, only to catch Eni staring at her. His gaze dropped nervously, which felt odd to her; after all, it was usually she who was forced to look away from him. She watched him closely as he turned to Madi to respond.
‘Kora … she wouldn’t let us leave. She wanted to stay here on her own, but we couldn’t let her do that … anyway, it was decided that I would stay for a few days before re-joining the group,’ Eni said smoothly. His words made sense and his delivery appeared honest, but Naala had a feeling that he was lying.
‘Why are you here?’ she echoed.
‘I’m not playing these games with you, Naala. I’ve said what I said and that’s how I’m leaving it,’ Eni said.
‘How about we re-join the group?’ Madi offered cautiously.
‘In those outfits? You look so… ’ Eni smirked, before turning back to Naala, his eyes softening with something that made Naala shift uncomfortably. ‘You look …’ He cleared his throat. ‘I’ll just—I’ll get something more suitable. Both of you can wait here for me.’ He dashed into the dense forest. Naala stared after him, her breath still caught in her throat.
THE BASEMENTS
CITY OF NRI
SINAI PACED on the uneven limestone floor with bare feet; her leather slippers lay discarded in the corner of the wide short room. She was in the dark basement of the palace, and the only light was the soft glow of the ọkụ flames lined across the corridor where the armed guards patrolled. Sinai had never been to the basements before.
They were used sparingly to hold those who had committed a crime against another person, long enough to decide what the victim needed as compensation. The perpetrator would stay in the room, unable to run away or hide their prized possessions, and they would only return back to society when the victim had been compensated. Sometimes that meant surrendering a herd of cows, or cubits of cloth, or, if the crime was serious enough, the perpetrator’s life.
After Meekulu was taken, Sinai had run after the soldiers. She had thrashed them with her slippers, demanding that they release the old woman.
‘Hush child, must you be such a bother?’ Meekulu had murmured with the usual twinkle in her eyes.
‘No! They can’t just take you like this! You have done nothing wrong!’ Sinai had exclaimed before being shoved harshly to the ground. ‘Please, just listen; you’ve made a mistake. This is Meekulu, she is the head chef, the Eze’s cook; you must unhand her now!’ she had cried as she scrambled to her feet and attempted once more to claw away the soldier’s grasp on the old woman.
‘Uduike, take this girl away. I’ve had enough of these antics,’ one of the soldiers had said and Sinai was picked up and dragged away with her arms outstretched towards Meekulu Amainata.
‘Remember what I told you, child,’ Meekulu had called, as Sinai continued to struggle in the soldier’s grasp.
Now, in the basement, Sinai stopped mid-pace. She heard movement rippling through the empty rooms. She walked to the rusty iron bars separating her room from the lit hallway. Sinai held the bars in her hands, whilst pressing her face against their cold surface. For several hours now, she had heard nothing but the periodic shuffling of her door guards. She was desperate to speak to someone who could speak back to her. She was desperate for clarity about the whole situation.
Sinai watched as a dark figure descended the hallway. The soldiers straightened. Whoever was walking towards her cell must wield significant power. As the figure drew closer into the light, Sinai felt her stomach drop in disappointment.
Obi Ife.
‘You’ve gotten yourself wrapped up in some serious mess,’ he said despondently, as he looked around her new dwellings in disgust. ‘First the nonsense at the party, and now this—fighting soldiers! This is no way for an Obi’s wife to act.’
Sinai wanted nothing more than to scream at him, but, before she could, logic kicked in. Obi Ife had power. He had the Eze’s ear, and he most likely knew where Meekulu had been taken. Sinai took a deep breath.
‘I … I know. But Obi Ife, I think you would agree that Meekulu, the Eze’s most highly regarded cook, should not be manhandled by those … those men. I lost my temper, and reacted in a way that is … beneath me. Maybe you could teach me a better way to act when something this unjust takes place?’
‘Yes, I have many things to teach you. First and foremost, always, and I mean always, abide by what I say; had you simply come to meet me as I requested this morning, none of this would be taking place right now.’
‘What do you mean?’ Sinai asked cautiously, releasing the bars and taking a step back. She felt as though she had just been punched in the stomach. Obi Ife looked at her indignantly.
‘I mean you would have been with me, not here shamefully locked away like a mad woman,’ he spat. ‘I will try and get you out of here, Sinai, but all of this must stop, do you hear me? It must all stop.’
‘Stop what? I haven’t done … we were just walking back to the palace, just walking, and we were apprehended … I don’t know what is even going on or where she is. She is an old woman—an elder. We all should be protecting her, and they were dragging her away.’ Sinai’s voice rose in volume as her repressed anger rose to the surface of her skin. ‘This—none of this is right! Where is she? Where is Meekulu? Do not shake your head—I know you know—please, just tell me what is going on?!’ Sinai shouted desperately.
‘You would do well to leave that witch woman alone. This has nothing to do with you, but you keep inserting yourself into the matter, attacking guards like a mad woman. It’s no wonde—’
‘Stop! You are wasting time—just tell me where she is! Tell me what is going on!’ Sinai cried.
Obi Ife looked at Sinai sternly, before taking a step closer to the bars.
‘I’m warning you now, stop this behaviour. You are quickly losing favour with me, and once lost, you will never be able to regain it,’ he hissed, before stepping back and taking a deep breath. ‘It looks like you need this time in the basement to regain control of yourself. Take that time—but once this has all settled, you better return to normal,’ Obi Ife murmured, before storming down the hallway, leaving Sinai sobbing in frustration.
THE AKWỤNA
CITY OF NRI
SINAI’S EYES were closed but her mind raced with images of Meekulu laughing in her kitchen, Chisi bowing at her door, Chief Ojo screaming as Asilia tore at his stomach, Ina lying broken in the small nest. The memories were disjointed and jagged like broken pieces of glass scattered on a dirty flo
or.
In the midst of her sleep, Sinai heard slow heavy footsteps descending the hallway. Her eyes sprang open, and the thick blackness that surrounded her sent a chill down her spine. Whether belonging to friend or foe, the footsteps drew closer, bringing a low but growing light with them. Finally they drew towards the bars, and Sinai lifted herself, once more, from her small akwa. Her heart sprang when she heard keys clanging against iron. Was she being freed? It seemed unlikely that the guards would have processed a release at this time of night.
Sinai clenched her hands in anticipation, but then slowly released them when she saw Sergeant Olu, the soldier who had brought her to Meekulu after her fall.
‘Wh—’ Sinai began, but he rushed to her and gestured for her to remain silent. Once he was certain that she wouldn’t make a sound, he waved for her to follow him out the open door. Sinai did not think twice before she breezed through the room, walking right past her slippers, leaving the cell barefoot and washed with relief. She gasped quietly when she entered the hallway and caught sight of one of her guards, wide-awake and armed. Sinai turned swiftly to Sergeant Olu, but he only nodded at the guard before striding down the hallway. Sinai looked at the guard cautiously, but he didn’t acknowledge her at all.
Sinai followed the broad stairs up and out of the basement, and was struck by how light it was outside.
She had imagined it was midnight, but the dark orange and purple sky suggested that it was the early hours of the morning. Sinai followed Sergeant Olu through the pillared bright corridors of the palace, winding back and forth before they came to a section that was all too familiar to her; the noble women’s quarters. Sinai stopped suddenly.
‘No, I … please take me to Meekulu,’ she blurted.
Sergeant Olu looked at her sternly. Only his jade eyes betrayed traces of sympathy.
‘We can’t do this here,’ he said deliberately.
‘I’m not going back to my room to sleep. I need to find her now,’ Sinai replied, louder and firmer, causing Sergeant Olu to look around cautiously before grasping her shoulders.
‘If you want to help her, the best thing you can do is get to the safety of your room, and form an action plan. Shouting up and down the corridors will only land you back in the basement—with me along with you,’ Sergeant Olu said seriously.
Sinai succumbed with a sigh. She was so tired. She was still clueless as to what was going on. She felt as though she was losing her mind, and Sergeant Olu was the closest thing that she had to answers. She did not have the energy to go against him, so she let him lead her to her room.
He swung her door open, revealing Ina sitting soberly on Sinai’s akwa nest. Sinai gasped before turning to Sergeant Olu who remained in her corridor. Ina sat up, her locs drapping over her arms.
‘Good. You were able to procure her,’ Ina said, as she stood stiffly and stepped out of the golden nest frame.
‘What are you doing here?’ Sinai said. She felt increasingly frustrated with how little she understood about her present situation. A dark feeling had weighed heavily on her shoulders ever since she had been dragged away from Meekulu at the entrance of the palace. The old woman was in danger and Sinai had failed to protect her. The chilling coldness in the eyes of the soldiers that took her had placed a shard of glass in Sinai’s heart, which twisted every time she thought of them. Sinai knew exactly what that coldness was. Those soldiers were detaching themselves from the task at hand, dissociating the body that housed Meekulu from the woman who had fed them, laughed with them, and at times even healed their wounds. They were reducing Meekulu to nothing more than flesh and bones that could be slaughtered at the Eze’s whim. Sinai felt completely powerless and stuck. She knew nothing, so she could do nothing, and, as she meandered up and down the palace, instead of gaining more information, she had simply become more confused.
‘Pleasant as always,’ Ina said drily.
‘Pleasant? I … you pushed me out of a window!’ Sinai replied incredulously.
‘I did not push you, and I think we have bigger things to worry about at the moment. You are not the only one that cares for Meekulu,’ Ina replied, before turning to Sergeant Olu in annoyance. ‘And why in heaven’s name are you hanging in the doorway?’
‘Well, I have not been invited into Sinai’s room,’ he said quietly and Ina rolled her eyes.
‘We do not have time for these formalities,’ Ina replied shortly. ‘With someone as respected as Meekulu, they push for an immediate sentence. Sinai, please.’
‘Sentence? I … you can come in—someone tell me what is going on. Where is Meekulu?’
‘Meekulu has been charged with witchcraft and the brutal assault of Chief Ojo,’ Sergeant Olu said, as he walked into her room, closing the wooden door behind him. Sinai felt the air rush out of her lungs as Sergeant Olu’s words hit her squarely in the chest.
‘Okay …’ she breathed slowly. ‘Okay … okay … so who do I need to confess to?
‘Confess?’ Sergeant Olu repeated, perplexed.
‘Yes. Confess,’ Sinai replied sharply, her heart beating so fast she could hear it in her ears. ‘I did it. It was me, I maimed him. Meekulu can attest to it, and Ina … she can too. So who do I need to confess to?’
‘I don’t think you understand,’ Sergeant Olu said, as he took a step towards Sinai, a look of concern spreading across his face. She took a step back whilst shaking her head viciously.
‘No-no, I really do. Meekulu has been charged for a crime that I, and I alone, committed, so now I need to confess and she will be released.’
‘It is as though you have never lived in this palace,’ Ina replied coldly. ‘It won’t make a difference if you confess. You think they couldn’t figure out who maimed that man? You think Meekulu is the most plausible suspect here? I was wearing a garment imprinted with lions, for heaven’s sake. They charged her because they wanted to charge her, not because that they think she is guilty.’ She turned away from Sinai.
‘Ina is right; confessing will just get you put back in the basement, so that they can charge her in peace,’ Sergeant Olu added.
Sinai stared in complete bewilderment. ‘But why? Why? She has done nothing … nothing,’ she said despairingly.
Sergeant Olu replied, ‘I don’t know.’
‘Cruelty is always senseless and never far away in this city,’ Ina added quietly.
‘For years there have been rumours that Meekulu is a witch, but no one has ever taken them seriously. At best, people just regard her as quirky—but the Eze has been … unsettled lately. After the Ofala festival, he has just been on a rampage. It simply took one complaint from Obi Ife to set this whole thing in motion.’
‘I’m sorry … Obi Ife? What does he have to do with anything?’ Sinai interrupted.
‘He complained about Meekulu getting in the way of him meeting someone, doing something? I can’t be sure—’ Sergeant Olu replied.
‘Meeting me,’ Sinai said quietly.
Shocked, Ina opened her mouth to say something, but closed it before any words came out.
‘H-he wanted to meet me and I ignored him,’ Sinai said, as she scrambled through her room, pausing only when she found the discarded invitation. She tore it open and read.
Sweet Sinai,
I have arranged a lunch in the Gburugburu room at noon, with the Eze and a few select Obis and their wives. I look forward to seeing you.
Obi Ife
Sinai read and re-read the short message until she couldn’t see the words anymore through her tears. She threw it on the ground and let out a strangled cry. ‘He wanted to meet me! He took her because of me!’
Sergeant Olu marched towards her and hastily covered her mouth. ‘I know you are upset, but now is not the time for this. If you draw too much attention to yourself, I cannot guarantee your safety,’ he hissed in her ear.
‘You did nothing wrong, Sinai,’ Ina said firmly, as she walked slowly towards the both of them. ‘You are allowed to ignore parchments, you are allo
wed to move and walk around without having to accommodate these men. You know this, you know this—that is why you did what you did to Ojo. You saved me from that monster, but now you need to be strong again. Do not take this blame, do not let him do this to you.’ Ina gestured for Sergeant Olu to remove his hand. He did so cautiously, as Sinai blinked away her tears.
‘What can I do?’ she said hoarsely.
‘You need to appeal to the Eze,’ Ina replied.
‘No, she cannot go to him in this state,’ Sergeant Olu warned. Ina’s eyes remained fixed on Sinai.
‘No, she cannot,’ Ina said softly, before turning around and scanning Sinai’s room. Her gaze fell on Sinai’s wardrobe where she kept her garments. ‘She needs to splash some water on her face, and change her clothes.’ Ina marched to the wardrobe and opened it, rummaging until she pulled out a black garment that Sinai used sparingly to sleep in.
‘She cannot wear that to meet the Eze, she’s not an akwụna!’ Sergeant Olu exclaimed, visibly distressed. Sinai stared at the garment before shifting her gaze up at Ina’s hardened face.
‘Sinai needs to appeal to the Eze. The elite world works through exchanges. Exchanges of land, wisdom, assets—all of it is centred on exchange. Women have only one thing to offer as an exchange: themselves.’ Ina straightened her neck, before taking a few steps closer to Sinai. A tense pause ensued. ‘I would go myself,’ she whispered, blinking away tears. ‘But alas, I am out of favour. The Eze would consider it an insult; me, a shamed woman, offered as a prize. But he might listen to you. I’ve seen the way he watches you. I think you have a real chance at saving her.’
‘You must be out of your mind,’ Sergeant Olu began. ‘No. Absolutely not. Sinai is not cattle. Not all men are like that. The Eze is not like that—’
‘He is a man,’ Ina snapped. ‘And, if she succeeds, Sinai would not be the first woman to offer herself to him in exchange for mercy, this I know for a fact.’
