The Wound from 11 Years Past (1)

Aslan settled nervously at the head of the table in one of the private meeting rooms in the Hall of Solar Reflections. The red silk curtains of the windows were drawn, and the late afternoon sun shining through them tinted the room in a forbidding pale red.

Emuvoke stood just to the side of the table, his hands folded in his yellow robes, a blue quill pen tucked in the folds of his headcloth. He had the habit of wearing different pens in his headcloth since they were children studying together. It was there for easy access in case he needed to jot anything down, a thought or task. There was always a complementing note hidden in his robes.

Aslan indicated the seat to his right and said warily, “Sit, Voke.”

Emuvoke bowed, “Miguo, Ovye,” and took the seat, but remained silent.

Aslan watched tensely as Emuvoke reached into his robes and retrieved the note with pages bound in leather. He opened it, and Aslan wondered what he had written on those pages. Had he gained any new insight into his Sovereign Father’s death? Was it right for him to exhume the matter at this point in time? What more was there to find?

He had been by his Sovereign Father’s side until he took his last breath, yet he could not be sure of anything. He was unable to dispel the misgivings he had felt even before his Sovereign Father passed. Something had absolutely not been right. And Obogan Imodu Achojah likely knows what, Aslan thought. He had received no update on the Okémeh case since Minister Onomine’s last, however, so he had no choice but to wait. For now, he could only do his best to find the missing pieces himself.

He fixed Emuvoke with a resolved look. “Tell us what you have found, Voke.”

Emuvoke was grim. He traced a finger on his note. “I have scrutinized the records in the Department of the Royal Archives, examining documents of Orodje Otaroghene’s food, medicine, and daily activities in the months leading up to his collapse, and during the time he was bedridden. There were no anomalies in his food or activities.”

Emuvoke paused, looking up somberly. “But when I looked at the investigation records in the Department of Court Records, I found that a botanist of the Royal Pharmacy confessed to occasionally adding tinctures of deadly nightshade to Orodje Otaroghene’s tonics for as long as six months leading up to his passing. He alleged that Onóturode Oghenegba gave him the order to covertly add the poisonous element while preparing other herbs.”

Emuvoke turned to his notes again, tracing his finger down the page. “And when I checked the records of the Royal Pharmacy’s greenhouse, they revealed that approximately six months prior to Orodje Otaroghene’s decline, Orori Otega Imodu Omamerhi, Onóturode Oghenegba’s father-in-law, supplied several samples of deadly nightshade to the greenhouse for, as stated, ‘research purposes.’ All Royal Physicians at the time professed ignorance of the use of the deadly plant in their investigation statements. And they surmised that the poison accumulated in Orodje Otaroghene’s body, eventually taking his life.”

Aslan bowed his head, fists balled tightly. He was aware of all that. As Crown Prince, he had attended to his Sovereign Father’s sickbed day and night, scarcely leaving his side. When the shocking allegations were brought against Prime Minister Oghenegba, he had rejected them and cried to his Sovereign Father for a resolution. It was then that the late king revealed to him that he, Prime Minister Oghenegba, and Orori Omamerhi had all agreed to the use of the plant.

Orori Omamerhi, who was himself a renowned physician and botanist, had come across the plant in his travels to Omaron, the northwestern nation which bordered Xxene. There, he had learned that though the plant was mortally poisonous, it was also used for medicinal purposes in small amounts. He had brought samples from his travels, which he cultivated and studied thoroughly. When his Sovereign Father’s chronic disease resurfaced, causing him much pain, Prime Minister Oghenegba had sought his father-in-law, as none of the Royal Physicians’ remedies were effective.

Thus, with his Sovereign Father’s consent, they arranged for the surreptitious use of the plant to treat his chronic pain and inflammation. They used it only occasionally, when the symptoms were most severe. However, they kept its use secret, for it is forbidden to administer any foreign substance to those of the Royal House without extensive scrutiny. And they were certain it would be rejected due to its decidedly poisonous nature alone.

Prime Minister Oghenegba and Orori Omamerhi had no reason to murder his Sovereign Father. It had even been decided that the Royal Onomavwe House and Oghenegba clan would unite in marriage.

Aslan tightened his grip, his chest seizing with grief. Had it all been a misunderstanding then? A terrible mistake or miscalculation? Had the same medicine which alleviated his Sovereign Father’s symptoms accumulated in his body and turned altogether toxic?

Aslan’s throat clenched with an aching pain; his face darkened. No, he thought, that is not the end of it. He knew it in his gut. Otherwise, he would not have been disturbed all these years. He would not feel so guilty whenever he saw Emeravwe or held her in his arms.

“Ovyeme,” Emuvoke spoke up in a restrained voice, “how shall I proceed?”

Aslan did not look up. He placed his elbows on the table and lifted locked hands to his forehead, resting his head on top. Other than his attendants, the only ones who had access to his Sovereign Father while he was ill were himself, Prime Minister Oghenegba, the Royal Physicians, and the Queen Dowager. Yet, the Queen Dowager did not visit his Sovereign Father immediately after he collapsed. She attended him two days later. She claimed to have been working with the physicians on a solution and provided a herbal tonic, which the Chief Royal Physician approved of, to revitalize the king. But he worsened.

Aslan pressed his eyes shut. His throat constricted, suffocating him. This matter had tormented him for the past decade. Because of it, he could never be at ease in the Queen Dowager’s presence, and his feelings for Emeravwe were permeated with guilt. If he continued his investigation, there were only two possible outcomes. Either the late prime minister and his father-in-law accidentally killed his Sovereign Father, and Emeravwe would bear the burden of this crime if her identity ever came to light, or . . . Sovereign Mother. . .

He could not let this go. He had to get to the bottom of his misgivings. No matter what it would mean.

Aslan looked up at Emuvoke, ill disguising the anguish that etched his face and the doubt that laced his voice. “Begin an inquiry on the Queen Dowager’s movements in the days before Orodje Otaroghene’s death.”

Emuvoke’s mouth came ajar as he stared at Aslan, his chest visibly rising with a shocked breath. He saw Aslan’s gaze did not waver and lowered his own in bewilderment, his brow furrowed in confliction.

Aslan awaited his response, then called grimly, “Emuvoke.”

Emuvoke’s head jerked, his aquamarine eyes raising to Aslan’s. He studied the somber stare, then pushed his chair back and bent to one knee with head bowed and hands cupped before him. He answered sedately, “Yes. Ovye’s servant dutifully receives his command.”

Aslan sat wearily back in his chair. “You are dismissed.”

“Yes, Ovyeme.” He stood, backing away a few steps before turning and walking to the door. There, he hesitated.

Aslan had lowered his head in contemplation but lifted his eyes to the door when he sensed Emuvoke was still there. “What is it, Voke?”

Emuvoke faced him, uncertain. “I am doubtful of whether the situation is critical enough to warrant Ovye’s attention in light of… his other concerns.”

Aslan sat up, dragging his thoughts from his bleak deliberations. “Speak.”

“Two nights ago, a Maiden and officer of the Palace Guard were apprehended in the Department of Records of Xxene’s House of Nobles. They—”

“What did you say?” Aslan interjected, standing abruptly.

Emuvoke looked taken aback. “Y-yes. They were found in one of the inner chambers and were taken to the Compound of the Ministry of Justice. They are currently detained in the Bureau of Interrogations.”

Aslan rested a hand on the table, feeling unsteady. “We understand. You may go.”

Emuvoke exited the room and Eunuch Iroro entered.

Seeing Aslan leaning on the table, he rushed to his side. “Ovyeme, what is the matter?”

“Summon the Chief Royal Secretary immediately!” Aslan ordered. “We shall issue a decree!”

There was no doubt in his mind as to who that Maiden and officer were.