Episode Four: Oh! Who Killed Him?

Pounded yam. 

That was what Chief Otun Atunluse ordered that morning. His wife secretly wondered what he was celebrating for him to want pounded yam for breakfast, but with the way he was focused on cleaning his teeth like a man who had not done so for one month, she dared not question him. 

There had to be something better to wash teeth than dried wood, Chief Otun thought as he washed his teeth vigorously. He was trying to avoid having to remove another tooth, but it seemed it was too late. There was another hole in his left molar, and the pain was blinding. The village medicine man had given him a herb to chew on to lessen the pain during their last consultation. According to his diagnosis, the hole could be covered up for a while, but in a few years, the ailing tooth would have to be taken out as well.

Otun Atunluse was still dealing with the irritation of washing his teeth when a woman came crying. Tears irritated him. Bad things happened everyday, and people should be used to it by now. He swiftly rinsed out his mouth, and scowled at his wife so she knew not to abandon his food preparation because a woman came crying.

“Wipe your tears and tell me what brought you here, or you may leave at once,” Otun said, not one for small talk, but the woman’s wail only grew louder. 

Soon, other people came trooping in, all crying. Remi couldn’t focus on the cooking anymore, damning the consequences of her husband’s ire. She walked up to one of the people crying, and as though they had been waiting for a show of concern before capitulating, one of them screamed.

“Kabiyesi is dead!”

Remi screamed in shock, and began to wail too, joining the people in their show of mourning. The calabash Otun had been using to pour water in his mouth fell immediately. This was the only sign that he was shocked. He turned his back on the mourners and swiftly walked into his hut, only to emerge in a matter of minutes, fully clothed, and on his way to the palace.

King Adeyanju was no more.

“That pounded yam will have to wait,” he bellowed.

Remi stared at his back as though to say, “What pounded yam?”

Every need, want, desire, ambition, expectation, and even the hustle of the day paled in the face of the news that the King, who partied yesterday, celebrating his Prince’s birthday, was no more.

Only one day ago, Adeyeri was the beloved Prince; a young man to be trained on the methods of ruling a Yoruba kingdom. Today, everyone looked to him for directions. The pandemonium that rocked the palace happened late at night, and Adeyeri had instructed that no one must announce that the King was dead, it was very possible that he’d merely fainted, he said, but everyone in the palace knew otherwise. Kabiyesi was no longer breathing, and Adeyeri struggled to accept that death had visited the palace and taken two people.

A King, and a servant!

It was finally at the sound of the cock crow that the medicine man had eventually convinced him that Kabiyesi had truly gone to the land of his ancestors. This was why the Chiefs heard that morning, and were rushing to the palace to see for themselves that the King was truly no more. Adeyeri laughed sadly, blinking severally as though to wake up from a very bad dream. He wasn’t hearing all the numerous words of sympathy, the gossips, the speculations, and the what-ifs. He was simply numb.

Poison.

They killed his father like a coward.

From the corner of his eye, he saw Chief Osi and Iyalode walking into the palace, and quickly stood before they could get to him or see him. He wasn’t in the mood to explain what happened, receive sympathy, or be a man, so he slipped out of the palace through his secret passway at the back, knowing that they would look for him soon, and there was no Areo to cover up for him. Adeyeri’s eyes filled with tears. He really couldn’t be bothered. He was not ready to be king.

Tade did not sleep a wink.

She was disturbed.

Something bad was happening and it involved the Prince.

She had prayed intermittently from last night till day break, but she was heavily distracted. Her mind kept wandering to Brother Joseph, wishing she could communicate with him. She hoped that the villagers had not found his hideout spot, and even though Brother Joseph didn’t care if he was found or not, it bothered her. They could easily kill him. 

Pray for the Prince. He is weary.

This Prince! Tade thought in irritation. She wanted to think about Brother Joseph in peace without thoughts of the Prince interfering. 

“Lord, release me from the burden and responsibility of praying for this man. I really don’t want to be bothered.”

But you are bothered.

“Why Lord? Why am I bothered? Why do I care? I barely know him, and from the little we know of each other, we can easily be enemies”

Tend my lamb.

It was in the position of sleep-praying that Shade found her. She had heard that morning that the King passed, and knew that if her work was difficult before with regards to living quietly with Tade, it was about to get worse.

“Did you stay here all night?” she asked, surprised to see that Tade was where she left her the previous night.

“Yes ma.”

“What were you doing in the cold?”

“I was praying?”

“Praying?”

“Yes. I was praying for the Prince. I think he may be in trouble.”

Shade stared wordlessly at her, shocked at the connection Tade seemed to have with the Prince. It was strange, and it scared her. “Don’t leave here today. You must stay at home till I can think of what to do with you.”

Tade couldn’t believe her ears. She rose, trying to suppress her annoyance. Her Aunty was beginning to over-do it. “Ah Aunty! Am I a small girl that you will hide me like this?”

“It is for your safety. Trust me, and obey me. You are not to leave this hut today!” Shade said despite the defiant look in Tade’s eyes, and departed swiftly, unable to remain with her without blurting out the reason behind all the secrecy.

The Chief Priest walked out of the palace with Olori Wuraola and seven senior royal widows to start a procession that led into town. Wuraola was crying, sorrow written all over her, while the women supported her, preventing her from falling to the ground and abandoning the tradition of announcing the king’s death.

“Ah! The Mighty One has fallen. I could never have imagined this happening today.” Chief Osi said as soon as the Chief Priest settled to sit with them.

“Must she do this today? Her husband just died. She needs time to process it,” Iyalode protested, tears rolling down her cheeks.

“Were you born yesterday?” Osi scolded her, and she eyed him sadly.

“Her husband died yesterday!” Iyalode maintained, refusing to cower to Osi.

“That is where you are wrong,” the Chief Priest quipped. “The King died yesterday. He stopped being anybody’s husband the day we crowned him king. He was husband, father, and god to everyone in the land, and it is her job as Olori to announce his death.”

At the mention of the word; death, Iyalode began to wail loudly. “They have killed my king ooooo,” she shouted continuously.

“Haa, death fears no one!” Osi rejoined, shaking his head vigorously.

The Chief Priest shook his head too, sad, but focused on the task at hand. “I must go and continue the cleaning ritual. Go and secure the Abobaku, Tadeyanju. We need to keep him close and prepare him for the journey ahead,” he instructed, and turned to walk away.

“This is all a joke, right?” Chief Otun said as soon as he entered the palace.

“Does anyone joke with death?” Iyalode retorted, trying to control her tears.

Finally, the reality of the matter dawned on Otun. His eyes immediately filled up with tears too. “Why? Why would anyone kill such a good king? ” he asked no one in particular, his voice breaking, his bravado fading.

“Hold yourself and be a man,” Osi said, gripping Otun before he could fall to the ground. “I know Kabiyesi was your friend, but you must be a man. I am going to secure his Abobaku.”

Otun blinked back the tears, and cleared his throat. Tadeyanju and Kabiyesi were his closest friends. “Call him Tadeyanju!” he bellowed.

Osi laughed sadly. “That’s a borrowed name. King Adeyanju is dead, there is no more Tadeyanju, only Abobaku remains. In fact, where is his daughter? I haven’t seen her for many years.”

“Tadeyeri is in Nnewi. We must send men to bring her back before the next coronation.” Iyalode said, wiping her tears, entering planning mode.

“Where is Prince Adeyeri?” Otun asked

“Adeyeri, you need to go back to the palace!” Banji said. Both of them were sitting on a bench in front of Banji’s house. 

“They murdered my father!” Adeyeri replied, one tear falling from his left eye.

Banji didn’t know how to deal with the hurting Prince, fully aware that any advice he gave his friend now could bring about his glory or  downfall. “Someone murdered him, not everyone,” he began carefully, hoping he could get past Adeyeri’s pain, and convince him of his responsibility to do his duty to the throne and the people of Iludoyin. “The people need your strength and presence, now more than ever. I also know that you may think it is too soon, but you must involve yourself in all conversations about the throne and who sits on it next.”

Adeyeri eyed Banji as though he had run mad. “Yes, it is too soon, and I cannot focus on the throne right now. You are forgetting that the person or even people who killed my father tried to kill me too,” he stated and rose, unable to remain seated, anger and frustration brewing inside him. Unfortunately, there was no one to direct it towards. The mystery killers also took away his beloved servant. Tears welled up in his eyes again. “Because of me, Areo is dead.”

Banji shook his head in disagreement, determined not to let Adeyeri take on such weight of guilt. “Don’t do that to yourself. Areo died because he always steals your food, and thank the gods for that because your life is worth more than ten of his.”

Adeyeri looked away. “Because I am the son of a king.”

Banji put his hands on Adeyeri’s shoulder. “Because you are the next king of Iludoyin. I may be your friend, but we are not equals. I will die a hundred times over before I allow any harm to come to you. You are the future, and the gods have preserved you to carry on the good works of your father.”

Adeyeri couldn’t help shedding a tear again, his voice breaking. “I am not ready!”

“No one is truly ready till it is time.” 

“I don’t even know where to start from. I need to go and look for Chief Otun just in case they had a conversation about threats to the throne. He was my father’s best friend.”

“But there are no threats! Everyone in this village loves you. The only other person that has a claim to the throne is Chief Otun, and it is only on a very fat chance that he could ever be King.”

“Otun hates the responsibility of Kingship so that rules him out, but there may be others we do not know about. Kabiyesi knew! He tried to tell me! I could have saved him, but I was too late. I need to know what and who killed my father before I can take on the throne, or I may be dead myself before I get the chance to ascend it.”

Banji looked away thoughtfully. “Maybe we can ask the witch.” 

Realisation dawned on Adeyeri as he remembered the warning Tade had given him the previous day. “Get my guards! We must arrest her at once. She knows something! She knew about the murder and said nothing that could have actually helped.”

Banji knew that Adeyeri was blinded by grief, and tried to calm him down. The Prince had finally found an outlet to direct his frustration, and there was no stopping him. He walked fast, and Banji struggled to keep up.

“I don’t think…” Banji started to say, but Adeyeri didn’t let him finish.

“Don’t think, just follow me. Let us find the witch.”

Finding Tade proved more difficult than they thought. 

Banji had gone to check the palm wine stall, but she wasn’t there, and her Aunty was not sharing any information about her whereabouts. It had required both physical strength and cajoling to stop Adeyeri from storming into the stall and tearing it down till Tade was produced.

“It will do you no good to be seen like this!”  Banji advised. “You need to go back to the palace.”

Everything fell on deaf ears because Adeyeri simply couldn’t bring himself to face his father’s death, and that was what awaited him at the palace. They were on the way back to Banji’s place when they felt a presence behind them, and turned to look back. Tade walked briskly towards them, and Adeyeri recognised her immediately.

“You are done hiding!” he bellowed.

“Hiding from what?” Tade asked, confused. “I have been looking for you.”

“To deliver another bad news, no doubt.” Adeyeri said, and pulled her hand as though to drag her with him, but Tade pulled away from his hold, refusing to be bullied. She had combed the whole village, hoping to see Banji or any of Adeyeri’s friends because she had caught a glimpse of a crying Queen walking round the village. She wanted to be there to support the Prince through his pain even if she didn’t know how.

“Where are you dragging me to?”

“You will follow me to the palace and tell everyone who poisoned my father’s food,” Adeyeri said, and Tade’s face widened in shock.

“The King is truly dead? I saw the Queen walking around the village but…”

Adeyeri cut her off, his tone biting. “But you thought she was performing drama to entertain the villagers? Well, you thought wrong, but you predicted correctly. I would have died if I ate dinner last night!”

Tade raised her hands as though to touch Adeyeri’s face, but dropped it. She could see his pain, it was palpable. “I was praying for you. No harm will come to you,” she said confidently, and it irritated Adeyeri even more.

“Who are you to assure me of no harm? What is your business? And why did you not pray for the King?” he snapped, and Banji held him back, afraid that he might hit Tade. “Stop praying for me, I don’t need your prayers!” he retorted and shrugged free of Banji’s hold, walking away.

Banji motioned to Tade to go away, but she ignored him and followed Adeyeri till he stopped mid stride and shouted at her in frustration. “What?”

“You were looking for me. Have you changed your mind?” she asked quietly.

“I have changed my mind about arresting you because I can see that you have nothing to offer me, but stay away from me.”

“How do you know that I have nothing to offer you?”

Banji raised his brows in confusion. “What is wrong with you, woman? Do you want to be arrested? Please, leave the Prince alone,” he stated, coming to stand between her and Adeyeri.

Adeyeri’s pain called at Tade, and for the life of her, she couldn’t walk away. She walked past Banji, and held Adeyeri’s hands, trying to soak his pain. Adeyeri stared at her hands in his, wondering what she was playing at, and finding himself unable to stalk away despite his irritation.

“What is this for, witch?”

“I am not a witch,” she protested, and pulled her hands away from his.

“You knew that I would be poisoned. How?”, he asked, and Tade looked away.

The connection she felt to Adeyeri was mysterious even to her, and explaining it to him felt weird. “I didn’t know for sure. I only saw it in a dream.”

“You dream about me?” Adeyeri asked, surprised.

“Yes, but my dreams are obviously not accurate. You didn’t die.”

Adeyeri looked crestfallen. “My father, and my servant died .”

Unable to help herself, Tade raised her hands to his cheeks and caressed gently. She half expected him to fling her hands away, but he remained where he was and stared at her, his expression, void of emotion, while Banji looked from one to the other, wondering what had come over them.

“How can you be like this? How can you be sane when you have just lost two of your most trusted people in the world?”

Adeyeri removed her hands from his face, but held them in his. She was a stranger, but it was as though he had known her forever. He wanted to hate her, but he felt like he needed her.

“Because a killer is on the loose, and I don’t know who to trust. I have a mother to protect, and a throne that may be the reason my life is not safe.”

Tade sighed. “You need answers!”

“I have come to you for answers. I could also use a good witch on my side.”

“I am not a witch!” she exclaimed, tired of defending herself against this label they had given her.

“Can you help me?” Adeyeri asked, ignoring her protest. He could hear the sound of mourners singing from a distance.

“You are in pain. You need to mourn, maybe even cry and process this…”

Adeyeri did not let her finish. “This is not a moment of weakness. I need to show strength.”

“You need to heal, and finding strength to mourn is an ability only strong men can summon.”

Adeyeri dropped her hands. They had felt so comfortable in his, letting her go felt like losing a part of himself. “I am not going to cry. My father knew something. He was going to tell me last night. I need to find out. I need you to help me.”

Tade sighed in frustration. “I don’t know how,” she stated solemnly. “I dream about you a lot, even before I met you yesterday and saw your face, but…”

Banji was tired of the back and forth. The Queen was drawing close. “My Prince, we cannot remain here. You need to leave now. The Queen and her mourners will pass here soon, and they cannot meet you here.”

Adeyeri nodded in understanding, but didn’t take his eyes off Tade, willing her to help him. “What is it going to be?” he asked 

Tade’s shoulders dropped. “I don’t know how to help you,” she said honestly, and watched him turn his back and walk away from her. Banji followed, and soon, they were out of sight.

“Oh Lord, why do I have an assignment I don’t understand! How will I help this man?” she asked out loud, confused about the next step. Suddenly, she felt a cool breeze and a reminder of a verse Brother Joseph had read to her before she left Nnewi.

“For the vision is yet for an appointed time; but at the end, it will speak, and it will not lie. Though it tarries, wait for it; because it will surely come, it will not tarry – Habakkuk 2:3-4