Chapter Three

The Aku-Uka of Jukun land—His Majesty, King Aper Torkula—did not like what was happening in his kingdom and discussed it with twelve of his chiefs within his massive palace. He carried a deep frown on his face and raised his voice from time to time. “How can you all sit here and tell me the Attah of Igala land has continued to be stiff necked? Igala land is part of the vassal states of the Jukun people. It was so during the reign of my great grand father, my grand father and my father before I eventually ascended this throne. Why would it be different during my own reign? Does it mean I am weak?” He thundered looking from one face to the other.

“Be patient with us rankadede . We will bring them to their senses the hard way,” said the war general seated on one of the handcrafted stools in the room. “For how long shall I be patient, Kpera?” The king flared.” For how long shall I listen to your effeminate voice? I have heard the same thing for the past three years; three whole years!” Torkula fumed. “Our people say if you stay on it long enough, you can cook a piece of rock until it is soft.” It was Aku, one of the oldest men in the kingdom and an adviser of the king who spoke.

“I have waited long enough Aku. If a man stays too long in the latrine, all kinds of flies will perch on him. Sometimes, patience can be mistaken for cowardice. I am not a coward; the Jukun people are not cowards. You all know it,” the king continued angrily. At the end of the day, it was decided a full scale offensive should be launched against the Igala people.

“If it means involving all our warriors, we should do so. Igala people are our slaves,” he concluded.

”Lafia zaki!” the men chorused and the meeting was adjourned. The war general of the Jukun people—Ortom Kpera—knew he had to do something and fast too, if he must continue to retain his job. The Igala people must be taught a bitter lesson, he reasoned .The Igbirra people were beginning to reduce the quantity of foodstuff they sent annually to the Jukuns. “Soon, they too will stop altogether in emulation of the Igala people,” he told his deputy, “so we must act fast. I want the Igala people to be used as a scapegoat of what the Jukun people do to those who refuse to pay their dues,” he concluded laughing mirthlessly.

A week later, the best of the Jukun warriors gathered at the village square with their swords, machetes, bows and arrows, clubs and even horses. At the end of that day, over ten thousand foot soldiers with about one thousand, five hundred horsemen were ready to be deployed for battle.

In Benin kingdom, Efosa was preparing to attend the emergency meeting the Oba just summoned in his palace. He took a long look at his wife and smiled. Omoye’s beauty is spoken of in Benin and environs. She was six feet tall with long hair which she held up in a loop on top of her pretty head and her hips swayed from left to right gracefully as she moved. Indeed, no man could ask for more in a woman and this, naturally, attracted the admiration of men and even women not easily given to envy.

"I wonder what the Oba would want to see us for so early in the morning,” Efosa told his wife. “Why not go and find out, my lord. At least, we know it is not a call to war else the alarm would have sounded by now,” she replied. “Thank the gods for that. I am not prepared to fight any war again in my life; not when I am blessed with a woman as beautiful and as faithful as you are, Pretty One,” he said patting her behind.

“You must leave now, my lord or be late. Even if there is a war, I will always be there for you and you alone,” she said. “Of course. I trust you, Omoye. Is it for nothing all the men in Benin envy me?” He wrapped his hands tightly around her. “What do you want me to buy you, my love?” he demanded. “What about the gold necklace you promised me?” she asked. Everyone in Benin knew Omoye loved gold. “One would have thought you are satisfied with gold ornaments by now, Omoye. You have almost a bagful of them.”

“Can any woman have enough of gold, my lord?” she queried smiling mischievously. “Okay, okay. I will get them for you after next harvesting season, when I would have sold my crops,” he replied. Omoye felt it was too long a time to wait but she did not say so. “I will see you when I return,” Efosa said and hugged her tighter again.

"Oba ghatokpere ! Ise !” the ten chiefs greeted as soon as the Oba stepped in. They went on to lift up their white wrapper and show the Oba their behind as custom demanded and the meeting commenced. The subject was on the need to ensure vassal territories paid their dues as and when due. “The Udezi of Akure has been proving stubborn lately,” Oba Ewuare said with an expressionless face. “One more week’s delay and he shall feel the wrath of the Oba,” the Army chief said. “No one can try that and get away with it!” At the end of deliberations, Uzazakpo and three of his fellow servants were sent out to deliver the message to the affected kings in their kingdoms. “Let them know I shall wait an additional one week only,” the Oba emphasized. "Oba ghatokpere ! Ise !” The men chorused and the meeting shifted to the dining session.

It was while lunch was being served that Efosa offended everyone. He refused to eat.

“Your majesty, my wife is not only beautiful and loyal; she is also a fantastic cook. After eating her meals, I find it difficult to enjoy any other meals,” he explained proudly. Ewuare was visibly angry. It was not the first time Efosa will be boasting about his wife. “Even the king’s food, Efosa?” the king demanded angrily.

“Yes, your majesty,” he responded and everyone gasped loudly. “But since you are my king, I will take a morsel so I can have space for Omoye’s own when I get home,” he said smiling broadly. Ewuare shook his head and smiled.

“When a masquerade thinks he has become too powerful, it is time to show him the tree his mask was carved from,” he said to himself.

As soon as the meeting adjourned, Ewuare sent for the cunning cripple—Uwaifo, and he set to work instantly having been handsomely rewarded by the king.