CHAPTER 7

It was the dimple on those smooth cheeks and the way she speaks that he admired the most, those whistling words that are always soothing to a grudging heart. No, that was not it; she had acted rudely last night when he presented his humble proposal. Okay, maybe it’s a far-cry from her smile, maybe it’s the mortar of kindness lurking in her actions, mixed with that fragile baby looks, which always flush with her eye lid. She had winked at him last night hadn’t she? Maybe or maybe not or maybe I am being a goat head for thinking she would want anything to do with me again. Not after all these passing moons and all that had happened.

The prince heaved and steered on his bed, the fur mattress from Umumba clan was the most expensive and finest in the whole kingdom, but beneath that softness, he could feel some stinging hardness on his skin which had nothing to do with the wooden frame of the bed. Somewhere outside a cock crowed loudly, announcing the break of dawn, but darkness hasn’t paved the way to the ferries of the morning, from the other side of the world. The cries of other rooster followed in chorus to the first, and the prince couldn’t help but remember the stories his father always told him when he was still a toddler. His father had said that the cries of these roosters, chiming every early morning, was to show that some area in the barnyard was their turf and that they ruled with utmost supremacy. That’s why each rooster tries to outcry the other, his father had always concluded. His mother on the other hand had a different story; she had said that each cock is only crying to prove to the hen that they were the big guys because the tendency of courting a beautiful hen all depends on the pitch of their morning cries. The prince still didn’t know whose account to believe; because both made sense, even though none explained why the cries of the rooster did not continue deep into the day when the sun bathed the earth with its yellow shower.

Tales, Children’s bluff, at least now he was an adult, those curiosities about how thing evolved, about why the sun was golden and the moon was blue–even though they are akin from the same mother, the sky–those curiosities were all but the fleeting mirage of smoke. Over the passing moons, he had grown to accept nature the way she is. He had learned to thank the designer of the universes of cloud and sand, for nurturing such order in grace so incomprehensible. Nature is so wonderful and beautiful.

So is Ada.

The prince’s mind drifts back again and he found himself frowning. That girl is too secretive; she is trying to make me believe she fell in love with another? Well, the prince steered back first on the bed, not able to find comfort. He couldn’t tell if she was lying, it was always hard for him whenever her issues were presented before the court of his subconscious mind. The fact that he fell in love with a servant was a testimony to the fact that love indeed was really blind. Those who said love isn’t blind clearly fell in love through gravitation. If what Ada had told him is credible, the compliancy of him accepting it was void. He can’t let another have her, not while he is still alive.

But what about Olamma?

Chukwu aju (the gods forbids). The prince sniffed with disgust at the voice in his head. He was never in love with that girl, everything she does displeases him. The foundation of their relationship had always been from his father’s diplomatic ideas. He never loved her and he regretted not pulling off the relationship at the bud. It’s too late and he knew it, but he will at least try one last time, maybe today’s discussion with his father, the Igwe (King); might bring stream to his desert.

The Prince sat up on his bed and his eyes went round the cloth of darkness. The room was warm, a contrast to the cold harmattan air which was shut by the windows at the eastern end. Beneath the window sill, laid the skull of the lion his father had killed and had given him as a gift when he aged to his first twelve moons. He knew this niche like the way to his mouth, even without light, the position of all his belongings came to him so handy. Out of habit than reflex, he found his hand tracing the wall, beside his bed, to where his virgin sword, Iya, lay in wait. His master had given him the sword at Dota village when he completed his training. The sword was his closest companion, even its name always reminds him that he was a warrior, not some coward that wait at home while other men are in the battlefield defending their tribe. Perhaps, this included, Ada was not the only thought dominating his mind this morning, he can’t wait to level his problems before his father, whatever be the case, he either might have his way and the marriage with Ola, canceled, or he might be the slave prince, whose volition was ripped and hung to a cross.

The prince picked up the sword and stood up from the bed. Without thinking, he tied the girdle from the scabbard on his waist and traced his way to the exit. Father should be up by now; I can’t win the way with my idle thought; I can only make things happen with my actions.

Widows of cold winds clog his exposed skin as he stepped out from his chambers and made his way through the sandy path. He only had a light vest on, but he ignored the cold and the greetings from the three guards posted on his door. The moon still flourishes the breaking dawn and the cocks still resound their crying competition, even the ornamental trees were whispering gossip with the wind, but the prince seemed not to notice any of it. His undivided attention was towards the direction of his father’s chambers. It was difficult to keep his nervous mind calm

What is father doing now? Is he up or is he still asleep? He might be saying his morning prayers to the gods, father hates being perturbed when he is praying. Perhaps I should return back to my chambers and wait till the sun rises.

The prince stroked his hair with confusion when his eyes fell on the two guards guarding the small entrance. His quickened pace suddenly slowed to an amble and then a ramble. The sight of his father’s chambers seemed to have deprived him all the courage he thought he had. He swallowed and took a step forward, which brought him to stop under the shed of a cashew tree and question his decision again. What will father say when I tell him that his dream to strengthen our kingdom with marriage concealment is no longer possible? The prince closed his eyes but opened it with fright. Even the mental picture of the angry face of his father scared him to the bone, how much more a face to face confrontation. He didn’t think age has anything to do with it. His father was not one to see things through other people’s perspectives. Once he was convinced that something is right and was supported by two-third of his cabinets, he goes on with whatever he wants to do, no matter how trivial it might seem.

Howbeit, the prince tried to console himself, he must look pass his fear and confront his father on the issue, it was the only choice he had. The prince sighed and took a deep breath in. He was not going back, no matter what.

One step forward and he found his reluctant body obeying his sluggish feet. Courage or stupidity, he certainly does not know what was pushing him ahead.

The guards at the little gate were surprised to see him this early, but their spare and shield lowered as their greeting and respect. The heir passed through the wooden gate, barely noticing them. He wasn’t sure now, but he thought sweat was forming at the back of his head, with a little thumping.

Through the open court square he walked, with the sand still beneath his feet and the moon touching his pale path. He tried with all will power to keep his fears at bay. The place lay quiet and dark. Before midday, this place will be creeping with people and their problems, both those with solutions and those that only the gods could solve. At the far end of the court square, growing from the earth itself was the Oche Eze (throne of the king). Made purely from bone and leaves. It was the only thing in the square, save for the sand and the fencing plants. The prince knew he will sit on that throne one day, the gods willing. But this place and everything that was associated with it was one thing he still disperses about being king. This is one place that actually entails what kind of king one was. Here the king is entitled to know the people and the people the king.

“…please stop crying, someone said and the prince froze as the words suddenly hit him like a log of wood. That thumping at the back of his head suddenly increased.

Without thinking, he stooped and places his body behind the fencing plants–snug between flexible bamboos–trying to walk within the shadow of the night. Those words were familiar. He could make out the face anytime. Sure, he was sure. But what are they doing here and why the cry this early morning.

Curiosity. The prince couldn’t help that childish adrenaline which was surfacing. He tip-toed and moved close, with the hope of getting a clear ear. Sure enough, he saw vague features, from the curtains of the fencing plants, behind the other end of the fence. It was the compound of his mother. The fencing plant demarcated it from the court square.

“…it is not the end of the world” the voice that had spoken earlier continued “Pull yourself together and let’s think of what to do, crying yourself to sickness won’t solve a thing

“How can you say it is not the end of the world” the other voice sobbed.

The prince suddenly felt a pit in his stomach. It took a great deal of effort to keep his legs from rushing towards the direction of the cry, his shoulder ached as they long to give the hurting head solace. He was heartbroken, why is she crying. I will surely punish anybody responsible. The prince swore bitterly.

“I loved him. I gave him my all. I gave him my everything. I gave him my world. Chinwe, how can you then say that my world is not over. He gave me pain and betrayer in return, what should I do? My world is over”

“Please stop hurting yourself. You have been crying since you came back from the king’s sacred chamber…”

Sacred chambers? The prince gasped with confusion. Women are never allowed into the sacred chamber. Unless something bad had happened to them. the prince gnashed his teeth if it happens that any of those night guards had hurt …

“What do you think will happen if the king finds out that I have a hand in his missing Ofor”

“Ada, please stop it. The king will never know if we remain quiet. And besides, it was not your fault. You only told Ikenna where the Ofor is, its disappearance has nothing to do with you. Have you forgotten that the king’s sacred chamber is the second most guarded place after the king’s life?”

“It’s my entire fault, I shouldn’t have said it” Ada wept bitterly

The prince felt his whole limb going numb. The blur vision forming in his eyes was a testimony to his confused mind. He felt like crying amid the anger boiling within him. So his father confined the top secret of the kingdom to a servant girl, a slave? It was too hard to process it all at once. He was the heir to the throne, but his father has never taken him to the sacred chamber for once. Why? The prince asked rhetorically as he walked back carefully not wanting to hear more. The fear he once felt for his father suddenly transformed into anger. He was going to confront him, this time he needed answers, and his father must provide it, today and today alone.