To the Turmoil of Beings (2)
Mudiaga grunted as they made their way from the market, rubbing his fists. “I feel slimier than the devil’s butt crack after heavy diarrhea.” He faced Emeravwe, unsettled. “They were just punching bags—didn’t even put up a fight.”
Emeravwe looked nonplussed. “You thought it odd, too?” He nodded, and she mused, “It was almost as if they wanted to be captured.”
“If that’s true, then they’re idiots. They should know only death awaits them.”
“Why do you say that?”
His tone was sober. “The punishment for harming an Onorogu is severe, yet Okémeh has kidnapped several, and we don’t know if they’re dead or alive. It actually doesn’t matter, because the bottom line is that a bunch of peasants dared to touch the Onorogu.”
“Will they get a trial?”
He scoffed bitterly, “Oh, they’ll get a trial. Torture and interrogation. Either way, the sentence will be the same.” Emeravwe looked upset, but he simply shrugged. “The law does little to protect the lower castes, so we often have to find ways to protect ourselves. I wouldn’t be surprised if that’s what Okémeh’s doing.”
Emeravwe stared at the ground as she considered his words. “It is rather strange.”
He said grimly, “Extremely. It’s one of the reasons I decided to join the Palace Guard, though my family was against it. I’ve seen lots of injustice and thought, just maybe, I could do something. But I haven’t been able to do anything. I can only follow orders. If I overstep my bounds, well,” he traced the thin scar running down his right cheek with a dispirited frown, “I’ll get cut down. Pathetic, huh?”
Emeravwe’s throat choked with guilt. She had truly misjudged Mudiaga. She felt wretched for the prejudice she held against him when they first met. When he had spoken of change, she had no notion of his meaning. Compared to his motivation, her desire to improve her own status by wooing the king seemed scornfully frivolous.
She voiced quietly, “No. At least you are trying. And you have not given up, right?”
His grin was broad, shining anew with confidence. “Right.”
Emeravwe’s heart warmed at the dimpled smile. She could not help but feel admiration. She did not completely understand the strife of the lower castes, but thought if, on her way to the king, she could also lend Mudiaga a helping hand, then she would be glad to.
****
“Minister of Defense Odafe Beliko Efetobo!” the Eunuch announced.
“Enter,” allowed the matriarchal voice.
The Aya drew apart the drapes and Minister Odafe entered the glossy, pink marble parlor.
On one side stood a curved glass wall overlooking a pond where a flamboyance of flamingos honked and waded in the waters. On the other were broad bowed windows that opened onto a flourishing garden.
The pink marble walls and ceiling of the room were engraved with dendritic flourishes inlaid with gold. A wide, tiered, crystal chandelier hung low from the center of the ceiling, the crystals reflecting rainbows around the room as sunlight streamed through them.
Large vats of ice were placed around the room, creating a cool atmosphere to relieve the afternoon heat. In the center of the room sat the Queen Dowager’s attending ladies amid cushions and floor pillows. An assortment of refreshments and pastime games surrounded them, as well as Maidens who cooled them with fans. Among them was Odafe’s own wife, and his daughter chased a small yapping Pomeranian heedlessly around the room, an Aya trailing her reckless path, saving this precious vase or that jade figurine.
At the head of the parlor, a semicircle of steps led to a canopied dais hung dramatically with layers of silken drapes in stunning violet, accentuated with gold thread. Here, the Queen Dowager sat upon a great velvet floor cushion. Its curved backrest was flared out widely and embroidered with a magnificent phoenix with gleaming alexandrites for eyes. The Dowager lounged leisurely on the throw and bolster pillows surrounding her, while one Aye fanned her, and another fed her small pieces of carambola.
Upon the minister’s entry, the Queen Dowager nodded to her Chief Maiden, who fanned her. The Aye stood, announcing, “Ladies, the Bureau of Music and Royal Performers has arranged an afternoon show and should be finished with their preparations. Please allow me to escort you to the back atrium.”
As the Maidens ushered the ladies out of the room, Odafe’s daughter, a skinny child with his light green eyes and curled red locks held in two puffy pigtails, ran to him, the Pomeranian glommed to her seven-year-old frame. “Look, Baba! Sovereign Grand Aunty bestowed me this puppy! It is a gift from the Queen of Qaiar.”
“Oh! What an honor, Mine!” Odafe humored the child with an expression of awe. “Have you thanked your Sovereign Grand Aunty?”
The girl rolled her eyes. “It is not the first time I have received a gift from Sovereign Grand Aunty. If I thanked her every time she gave me this or that, I would sound like a broken parrot!”
“All right, come along,” his lovely wife guided their daughter toward the door, “your father has business with Her Majesty. You will have plenty of time to show him your puppy later.”
Odafe waved his daughter out the door as she complained, then crossed the room. He knelt to one knee in a digwe before the steps of the dais. He greeted, “Miguo, Your Majesty.”
“Vrendo. Rise, Odafe,” the Queen Dowager allowed, straightening in her seat.
Though now aged at forty-eight, the Dowager boasted, still, a shapely figure and was dressed in a sleeveless silk blouse, an embroidered, jewel-studded chiffon shawl draped around her shoulders. Her neck sparkled with an exquisite red beryl and white gold necklace, a princess-cut ruby gleaming in her forehead.
She sat regally, her voluminous pleated silk skirts sprawled grandly. Her back was straight, her copious, satiny copper curls pulled from her face, so they fell gloriously around her, framing her head like a fierce lion’s mane.
In her youth, her beauty had been even more devastating. As a boy, Odafe had found it difficult to believe she was his aunt and not some goddess felled from heaven. His father once told him she had been the desire of every young man. It was no wonder his father and grandfather took full advantage of this, and forced their daughter and sister to marry Orodje Otaroghene to attain the position of Queen, though she had loved another.