Episode Thirteen: You May Have To Marry Me

From the cold manner in which the Chiefs addressed him, Adeyeri knew that something was wrong. Yet, he decided to ignore their reaction and focus on the reason he had called the meeting with them.

“If you are investigating the killer, I believe we should start from the most obvious place,” he said.

“Where will that be?” Iyalode asked, and it was on the tip of Adeyeri’s tongue to sarcastically ask if any of them had the ability to think deeply.

“Poison killed my father. Someone cooked the meals. Shouldn’t we be asking that person what went wrong? Someone served the meals. When do we question them? My mother said she has been asked to swear. Why would she ever kill my father?”

“You think we haven’t tried that?” Osi asked from his seat.

“And you found them innocent?” Adeyeri wanted to know.

“We didn’t find them,” Otun replied, downcast.

“Haa! The only leads we have in this murder have run away. How?” he demanded, looking from one Chief to the other, hoping for an explanation that made sense.

“This is what happens when there is no leader,” Osi uttered morosely.

Adeyeri rose, trying to rein in his anger. “You are the leaders,” he stated, pointing at the Chiefs. “You led with Kabiyesi for many years. Are you saying you are useless without him, that his trust in you all these past years have been misplaced?”

If someone else had spoken to them the way Adeyeri just did, the Chiefs would have thrown a fit, but Adeyeri was the next King of Iludoyin Kingdom, to be revered and respected. Besides, they knew that he spoke the truth; they could have done better.

“My mother will not be made to swear. The woman is grieving, yet you want to pour raw pepper on her wounds just because the culprits that should be made to pay for the crime have absconded.”

Osi rose, trying to suppress his anger, but needing to vent nonetheless. “You speak like this because you don’t know what that woman is capable of. Some of us are old enough to remember when…” 

Otun rose swiftly, standing between Adeyeri and Osi, his gaze fixated on the latter, whom he used his eyes to tell to shut up.

“Educate me. What am I too young to know about my mother?”

“Nothing!” Iyalode said, but she said it too quickly, Adeyeri knew that something was amiss. Before he could probe further, she changed the topic. “There are those who are saying that you could be guilty too,” she said, and the room grew solemn, Otun and Osi, shocked at her audacity to voice an accusation against a crowned Prince. “People are saying it, I am only re-echoing what people are saying,” she said in defence of her outburst.

“Iyalode, what are you saying?” Adeyeri asked, the vein in his chin visible as he ground his teeth, seething with pain at the thought that anyone would think he wanted his father dead. Not waiting for an answer from her, he faced the other Chiefs. “What have you all been saying? Do you think that I killed my father?”

“We haven’t said anything,” Osi replied.

Otun scowled at Iyalode and Osi, and moved closer to Adeyeri, holding his hands. “Prince Adeyeri, we are solidly behind you. We will find your father’s killers and ensure that the coronation takes place as soon as possible. The throne will not be vacant for much longer, but please, trust us to do what is best for you.” 

“We must be ready for all the other royal families, and there is still the issue of the Abobaku who my sources tell me is not where we thought she was. This coronation won’t be easy. If the King had lived longer, and…”

“The King did not live longer, Iyalode. Go straight to the point. What are the challenges I will face in ascending my father’s throne?” Adeyeri asked firmly.

They were all standing now, and the tension in the room was palpable. Adeyeri had thought that the Chiefs had his back, and he could rely on them to help him through this next phase, but it seemed they were non-committal, apart from Otun, his father’s friend.

Osi stared at Iyalode, signalling her to keep quiet, wondering what was emboldening her to speak so freely. “You have the strongest claim to the throne, don’t worry,” he said reassuringly. He hadn’t completely ruled out the possibility that Adeyeri could have been in on his father’s murder, but something about the vulnerability on Adeyeri’s face reminded him of why they all loved him. “The only credible person with a claim to the throne is Chief Otun here, and you already know he signed a pact with your father when they were boys that he would never challenge his claim, so the throne is as good as yours. We will support you,” he added, and Iyalode nodded in concurrence, but still looked non-committal.

“We will find the killers, but maybe we should crown our King first,” Otun rejoined. “I need to go and see the Chief Priest, we need to move forward with the plan,” he stated and left. 

Naturally, everyone assumed that the plan Otun was referring to was crowning Adeyeri as King, but soon they would all realise that he had had his own plan all along. Friendship with King Adeyanju was his foolish choice as a boy, and he had made a pact to seal his loyalty, but he was not going to make that mistake twice. He did not make a pact with Adeyeri, and therefore owed the boy no loyalty. For now, however, he would continue to play his part!

The morning King Adeyanju died, Otun had ordered pounded yam for breakfast, hoping to do a little personal celebration before the death of the King was announced. Unfortunately, the meal hadn’t been ready in time, and he had had to pretend that he was miserable, but the time for pretence was over. He was about to wage war to get his heritage, and he would enjoy every single step it took him to get back the throne.

The conversation with the Chiefs left Adeyeri torn. He wasn’t sure how to feel. They sounded like they were committed to helping him find his father’s killers and ascend the throne, yet, he couldn’t shake the feeling that he shouldn’t trust them. This was why he did not tell them about the killers.

“Alani! Alani!” Adeyeri called his servant but got no response. The man had just started working  with him, and he was not making any effort to prove himself. 

Areo was truly a gift, and Adeyeri wished that he had cherished his former servant better. He wished he had told him how much he valued him, and how irreplaceable he was. He was in this brooding state when he heard a light knock on his window. He stilled, wondering if it was a gimmick to get him to open the door and get shot by an arrow, so he ignored the knock. But the person did not stop. Eventually, after several moments, curiosity won over fear. He peeped through and was plagued with mixed feelings when he saw Tade.

“I should have known it was you,” he said as he climbed out of the window, but every reprimand he wanted to give her dried up in his throat when he noticed her frail look.

“Water,” she whispered, and Adeyeri lifted her into his arms and carried her into his room. It was the safest place he could think of.

“Why did you come here?” he asked as he grabbed the jar Banji had given him earlier. He did not trust consuming anything in the palace, and he refused to allow someone else to die because of him.

As she drank the water and sat at the corner of his bed, Adeyeri felt a peace descend on the room. Naturally, harbouring her here was awkward, but that wasn’t how seeing her here made him feel. It was almost as though his helper had come again, and the cloak of mystery was lifting.

“Why are you here, Tade? You should be resting at home,” he said gently, but Tade simply looked away, which worried him. She had never shied away from speaking her mind in the past, and he feared she may have seen another vision of a horrible fate that awaited him. Adeyeri went to check his door to ensure it was latched then he came to sit beside her on the bed, holding her hand. “What did you see?”

“Prince Adeyeri, I am sorry to be here because this time, I am not here for you.”

Concern appeared on Adeyeri’s face. “What do you mean?”

“I can’t go home. I don’t think it’s safe for me there anymore.”

“Why? Is your Aunty angry that you didn’t come back home?”

“If that was the issue, it would have been easier to manage, but I think my life is not safe in this village, and I need to leave. I came here to tell you that you must be careful, and choose those you trust very carefully.”

Adeyeri stared blankly at her for a few moments, wondering if she was joking. He had been prepared to stay away from her when he told Banji to take her home, but the thought of her leaving town was a blow he didn’t expect to hit him badly.

“Tade, you can’t leave me,” he said, unable to hide the way he was feeling as he reached for her hands.

Tade held his hands tighter as though to transfer her fears. She didn’t want to leave either, but she also didn’t want the responsibility of dying with anyone.

“I don’t want to. I believe I have a role to play in your life, but I heard something today that scared me. I am scared. I can’t stay here anymore. I am going away.”

Adeyeri scooted closer to her, trying to keep his gnawing anxiety at bay. “What did you hear? Why are you scared?”

Tade held his gaze a moment before she responded. “I think I am your Abobaku. I heard my Aunty telling a woman on my way home,” she stated, and Adeyeri dropped her hand immediately, not believing her, yet reaching for her feet. He turned it around to see if she had the mark. He gasped at what he saw, for it was evidence that she truly was his.

“Tadeyeri? How do you have this mark?” he asked, but he already knew the answer.

“I have always had it since I was a child.”

“You have a role to play in my life,” he said solemnly, holding her again.

“I can’t do this! I won’t sign my life away to be the woman who will be celebrated towards an eventual death.”

“I won’t die anytime soon,” he replied with a smile as though to liven the mood, but it didn’t work. 

She pulled her hands away from him. “I never knew my parents. I had no siblings. I belonged to no one, but I decided that I would reverse it. I have prayed to God to help me settle down with a good man, have my own family, with children I can give love that I never had. I am not going to throw that dream away to become your Chief.”

Adeyeri rose, anger building in him. The situation was impossible. “Why did you come here? This is the worst place to be right now. Or what did you think? Do you expect me to simply let you go, knowing that I can never become King as long as you draw breath unless you are initiated as my Abobaku.”

Tade rose, and walked towards him where he stood by the window. “Who created these rules? It doesn’t make any sense.”

Adeyeri turned to face her, and she could see the pain in his eyes. He was struggling with the news and the consequences. “Our Iludoyin ancestors are not here to answer your questions, but what I know for sure is that right now, you are more important than me.”

“How?” she asked, confused.

“No one can be crowned King without the initiation of the next living Abobaku. You belong to the next King.”

“I thought you were the next King.”

“I have the strongest claim to the throne, but…” Adeyeri didn’t let himself finish. Someone was definitely out to get the throne from his family. It was the only reason they would have plotted to kill both him and his father on the same day.

“If I run away or die, who then becomes the next Abobaku?” Tade wanted to know. She was desperate to get out of the horrible heritage.

“If you were a man, you would be made to marry, and your first child would be named the next Abobaku, but since you are a woman, you will end the Abobaku cycle in your family. The gods will determine the next family to be bestowed the honour after a sacrifice has been made.”

Tade wondered if she heard wrong. “Honour?”

“It is an honour to die with your King.”

Tade tried to blink back tears.

Jesus, did you save me to die?

Adeyeri moved closer to her, her tears hurting him. He pulled her into his arms to comfort her. “You shouldn’t have come to me, Tade,” he said. “I need you. I can’t let you go,”

The tears fell without restraint. “I can’t agree to this destiny, Adeyeri. I want a different life. I don’t believe in your gods. It won’t work. Jesus died to save me. I am not Jesus, I am not dying for anyone. I have been saved.”

Adeyeri eased her away from his arms briefly. “I don’t understand you. I thought your Jesus died for me.”

Tade smiled through her tears. “Stop confusing this. Jesus died for everyone who chooses to believe in Him.”

“Hmm…”

Adeyeri moved back to the window then took a deep breath. “I know a way to get you out of this.”

Tade wiped her tears, hope brewing in her. “How? What must I do?”

“Do you remember why you were sent away to Nnewi?”

Tade tried to remember her childhood, but as usual she couldn’t remember anything before her time in Nnewi. “I can’t remember.” 

“I remember,” Adeyeri revealed, bracing his hands on the window. “We were too close as children, and my father feared that we may fancy and develop feelings for each other as we grow older, so they sent you away because you can never be my Abobaku if I lie with you.”

Tade raised her brows in confusion. “You laid with me yesterday.”

Adeyeri laughed at her innocence. “The only way you can get out of this is if we have sex,” he said plainly, and Tade gasped. “A female Abobaku must be a virgin.” 

“I will not have sex with any man who is not my husband,” she retorted, her voice a little too loud.

Adeyeri put his hands over her mouth to keep her from being too loud. “That is why you may have to marry me.” he said, and smiled, knowing there was no way she would agree to it.