Men of Valor, Books 1

by Kiru Taye

  "It's not a problem. We can continue when you feel better. Go and see the palace dibia so she can give you something to treat your ailment."

  "Thank you. I'll see the dibia if I feel worse than I am right now."

  She stood and walked out of the hut. The hot earth singed the soles of her feet, reminding her they were bare. Out of habit she’d forgotten the leather slippers the prince had given her in the loom hut. In only a short while, her feet had become accustomed to wearing them when she would normally walked bare-footed.

  Footwear was only won by those who could afford it—nobility, titled people or wealthy merchants. It was another gift from Emeka that raised her from the status of a servant to a consort.

  She collected the slippers from where she’d abandoned them, put them on and headed toward the courtyard. She prayed what she'd heard wasn't true. Fear of the prince getting injured in quickened her pace. Cold sweat broke out on her skin.

  The palace was made up of rows of courtyards bordered by buildings. Each courtyard represented a unit. When you arrived through the archway into the palace, the first building was the King’s. His obi stood majestic and imposing at the front; murals of different scenes across the kingdom were painted on the outside and bronze statues of the gods formed a column outside it.

  The images were striking, giving the impression to a visitor that the gods lived there. At the back of the building there were other long houses to the left and right, forming a private courtyard of his dwellings.

  The next set of building were the prince’s, the construction mirrored his father’s—his obi at the front and private dwellings at the back. Behind the prince’s quarters were the barracks, servant quarters and service huts, where the loom hut was located.

  So it took little time for Ezinne to arrive at the prince’s courtyard. A small crowd had already gathered. It seemed everyone was interested to see a fight between the prince and the fearsome chief warrior. She heard the sound of clanging metal, and her stomach dropped.

  It is true! They are fighting with live weapons!

  The idea of men fighting or war in general, caused fear to ice her blood. Her mother had told her awful stories of how their village had been raided by warriors and she’d been abducted and turned into a slave in Umulari. Ezinne had been glad to find out that Umunri was a peaceful kingdom.

  As she couldn't see the fight properly from where she stood, she moved around the crowd trying to find a vantage position from which to watch. She caught glimpses of metal reflecting the sun's rays as the crowd cheered the combatants.

  She noticed a gap in the crowd ring and walked to it. When she saw the two men, she felt faint for a moment. Bothe men faced each other off, weapons raised. Their chests rose and fell with heavy breathing, and their dark skins gleamed with sweat.

  While they were matched in height being tall men, the warrior Ikem was heavier in muscle definition, one side of his torso covered in tribal tattoos.

  Yet her eyes were drawn to Emeka. She had never seen his body uncovered before.

  He had broad shoulders, a lean waist, and powerful legs. He was more athletic than bulky which surprised her. As a prince she had expected the flabby tell-tale signs of good living around his midriff but there was no flab in sight. He was all lean muscle. He had the frame of a working man.

  The instant response of her body caught her in surprise; her breasts felt heavy and sensitive, her skin flushed, and heat pooled in her belly, filling her with excitement and longing.

  Yearning seized hold of her. She wanted to move closer, to rub her hands over his slick skin, to feel the pulsing of his heart against his chest. She bit her lips to quell the desire growing within her, knowing it would never come to fruition. He didn't desire her in return. Yes, he'd told her she was beautiful, but she'd felt he'd only said it to make her happy.

  As the men circled each other, swinging their machetes, weaving out of the way, deflecting the hits with their shield, she stood there, entranced, suppressing the urge to scream every time Ikem swung a blow at Emeka. Her heart jolted each time. She told herself to be brave. It was only a practice fight, not a real battle.

  Emeka appeared to be a good fighter. From the way he deflected and returned the strikes, he looked like a skilled warrior. It felt strange to watch him in a bout. Since Nonye's departure the man she'd come to know and admire was gentle, considerate, responsible, self-disciplined, and sympathetic to others. He'd shown those characteristic in his actions toward her and the decisions he'd made concerning other citizens of Umunri.

  Yet watching him fight, she saw a brave, decisive, and strong man too. It seemed contradictory that a gentle man would also be strong. But he was. She guessed it was why he was such a good prince, a king in waiting. It was obvious his people loved him.

  She loved him too.

  She'd never thought it would happen. That she would ever meet a man she admired enough to love. Her hatred of men started with the man who sired her and abandoned her to all the other men who had abused and mistreated her in one way or the other. She'd had nothing positive to think or say about a man until she met the prince.

  Of course she hadn't believed he would be any different from the other powerful men she'd encountered. But his actions from the first day she arrived in Umunri had been without reproach.

  Though she'd been wary of him, slowly, unknowingly, he'd taken down the protective wall around her mind, one stone at a time. Now she had nothing to fight him with. Nothing to hold against him. Except that he was Nonye's husband. Even that defense didn't hold sway with her any longer.

  The fear she once held about her mistress was gone. Somehow during her interactions with Emeka, she no longer feared Nonye's wrath. He'd taught her to be brave and confident. He'd given her back her self-esteem. When he looked at her, he made her feel strong and intelligent.

  All her life she'd submitted to the wishes of other people, never doing anything for herself. She had always been loyal to Nonye even when the other woman was being nasty.

  Didn't she deserve something back? Why was it that Nonye deserved the prince and Ezinne didn't? Especially since Nonye was probably in Umulari at this very moment having an illicit affair with Dike. While she couldn't be sure, she knew it was a high likelihood. Nonye had practically said so herself.

  It was Nonye who had insisted Ezinne become Emeka's concubine. While she hadn't been in agreement with it at first, now she wondered if it was the only way she was ever going to get a chance with Emeka.

  He could never love her. She was a servant to his princess. She accepted it.

  A man’s love had never been her aspiration.

  Loving Emeka made her happy. Showing him would make her happier. If getting into his bed would allow her to express how she felt about him, even a little bit, then she'd take that chance. Nonye would be home in a few days and then their affair would be at an end.

  Observing the fight, she moved closer to stand in front of the crowd. When Emeka turned, their gazes connected. His black eyes held surprise for a brief moment before sparkling and his lips lifted in a smile. In the moment of his distraction, Ikem seized his opportunity and struck, swinging his machete at Emeka.

  Instinctively, Ezinne screamed with terror as the blow bounced off Emeka's shield he'd raised a tad too late. It connected with his shoulder before Ikem pulled back his machete. When he lowered it, Ezinne noticed blood on its sharp edge. Feeling faint she wanted to run to the prince. She took a step toward him. He held her gaze coolly and shook his head, halting her movement with his silent command.

  The rejection she should have felt was overshadowed by the fear that he'd been seriously injured. Blood trailed down his arm as Ikem helped him stand. He remained restrained showing no further sign of injury, while she felt sickness roiling her stomach. His guards came to attend to him, and he walked off toward his private quarters.

  As the crowd dispersed, everyone muttering about the fight and how brave the prince was, Ezinne couldn't move her feet
. Her body vibrated with tremors. She had never been this scared before.

  Seeing the blade connect with Emeka's shoulders had nearly knocked her over with fright. Guilty joined the other emotions spiking through her mind. She’d distracted him enough for Ikem to strike.

  The urge to go to the prince straightaway made her take a couple of steps in the direction of his chambers. She cared not about what anyone said.

  Gods! The man she loved was injured. She should be with him.

  But he'd indicated he didn't want her there. It would raise too many questions. She understood his need for decorum and secrecy. She would respect his wishes for now. However, she would go to him this evening; nothing in the world was going to stop her.

  She turned back and headed to her dwelling, the matter resolved in her mind.

  Little opportunities came along in her life. She needed to make the most of this one. Tonight she was going to tell the prince how she felt about him, no matter the consequence.

  Chapter Seven

  For the rest of the day, Ezinne was listless. Her concentration swayed from one matter to the other. Thought of Emeka overshadowed all else. As she didn't have any menial chores to do, she went back to the loom hut. But even that didn't keep her concentration for long. The day dragged on too slowly for her.

  At intervals, she walked past Emeka's quarters whenever she could, hoping to catch him in a quiet moment. It seemed he was having a busy day because he didn't come outside again. Once, she caught a glimpse of him walking to the king's obi, his footsteps hurried. He didn't look in her direction. She wasn't sure if he knew she was there.

  Later that day, she saw some of the elders of the high council arriving at the palace. There was a sense of urgency in the air as people hastened to get to the king’s obi. She wondered what the commotion was about. The palace had regular visitors, but she'd never seen so many people arrive at the same time. She assumed there were important matters of state to be resolved.

  Would Emeka discuss them with her later tonight? While he discussed most things about his day, he never talked about weighty issues. Political wrangling was not for servant ears.

  As evening approached, she decided to have a bath in preparation for seeing Emeka. She wanted to make herself as appealing as possible to him. Tonight she was going to present herself as a concubine. She didn't know how he would accept it, but she had to try. Time was running out on her. She only had a few days with Emeka until Nonye’s return.

  When Nonye returned, Ezinne would request to be sent back to Umulari. While going back to Umulari didn't appeal to her, it was the sacrifice she needed to make in exchange for the time with Emeka.

  Otherwise, staying on would mean dying slowly. To have to sit back and watch Nonye with Emeka, knowing Nonye didn't care for him as much as Ezinne did, unable to say or do anything. And worse, having Nonye treat her like she was nothing again. It would be an unbearable torture.

  Putting the harrowing thoughts out of her mind, she went to the main stream used by the villagers. Though Emeka had granted her use of palace bathing facilities, she still felt awkward about using it. The stream was a longer walk but she needed the time to calm her nerves so she didn’t appear too eager when she arrived at Emeka’s chambers.

  Due to the day being mostly gone, there were less bathers using it—only two other people, servants from the palace. She got distracted chatting with them and didn’t notice the time pass.

  It was dusk by the time she returned to her quarters. She dressed with care, choosing the best clothes from the ones Nonye had left her. Instead of twisting her hair up in the formal way, she wrapped it in a loose knot at the back of her neck to provide for ease when she wanted to loosen it later.

  She put on her trinkets but didn't use the heavy neck beads. Instead she chose the waist beads and left her chest bare. Her breasts were full and firm and, in her opinion, her best assets. She didn't want them covered up. The skirt she wore was heavy woven cotton in emerald green color that worked well with her skin tone.

  On arrival the prince’s dwelling, she hesitated for a moment, her boldness fled. Emeka was the Prince of Umunri, and she was a slave girl. Did she really dare to win his heart or even his body? Would he stoop so low as to claim her even temporarily? The guard at the entrance coughed, jarring her into action, and she stepped into the main chamber.

  Emeka sat in his lounging chair. He looked neither happy nor displeased to see her—not his usual welcoming demeanor. Winged creatures seemed to flutter in her belly. Her uncertainly increased as she walked toward him, each step hesitant.

  He didn't get up or say anything as he would normally do whenever she arrived. She sensed instantly something terrible was afoot. She studied him trying to comprehend his behavior.

  Tonight, he wasn't in a long caftan as he usually wore. Instead he was in a purple toga wrapped over his uninjured shoulder and around his waist. A tight piece of cloth surrounded his injured shoulder. It looked clean. She assumed someone must have tied a fresh cloth after his evening bath. She realized the change in his evening attire was best so as not to aggravate his injured shoulder.

  Still, she worried about the extent of his wound and how much it must hurt him. She wondered if it was the reason for his unusual mood this evening.

  She knelt before him, placing her hands on his knees. "My prince, how is your shoulder?"

  "You are late," he stated as if he was making a simple pronouncement in the palace court.

  She looked up at his face but couldn't read his expression. Was he angry with her? She noticed the vein ticking on his jaw and realized he wasn't pleased though he appeared calm.

  "I'm sorry. Please forgive me. I—"

  "It's done now. Let's eat." He interrupted her speech. Brushing her hands off his knee, he stood and strode to the table.

  Shocked, she remained kneeling, unable to understand the reason for his uncharacteristic ire. He had never snapped at her before and was usually quick to forgive her when she stepped out of line. But the rage she sensed within him was beyond any she'd experienced before.

  With as much grace and serenity as she could muster, she rose and walked to the table. He was already seated which was also unusual because he always waited for her to sit first.

  "My p—... Emeka," she caught herself before she used the formal phrase. "Have I done something to offend you? I promise I'll not be late again. Whatever it is I've done please forgive me. If you tell me, I won't do it again. I promise."

  The earlier winged creatures in her belly seemed to have undergone some metamorphosis into slithering worms. Her initial nervousness turned into sickness.

  Disappointment with herself for causing his upset made her ill. More than anything, she wanted Emeka to be pleased with her, especially tonight.

  "There is nothing to forgive. It isn't your fault. It is my fault for thinking I could expect more from you, for thinking there was more to us."

  Pain seared through her like someone had pushed a knife into her stomach. Her eyes stung with banked tears. "But there is more to us. I want there to be more to us. You mean a lot to me, more than I can put in words. Why would you think any different?"

  "Ezinne, this is hard enough as it is. Let's just leave it and eat." He dismissed her words with a wave of his hands and looked away from her.

  His rejection hurt the most. It also angered her, raising her quick temper. Agitated with her pulse racing, she spoke, forgetting her place.

  "No, we cannot leave it. If I have offended you, don't I deserve to know what it is? Or does a lowborn concubine like me not even warrant a fair hearing?"

  The vile words left her lips before she could call them back.

  Emeka sat up. His grip on the table tightened, turning his knuckles a pale color. His eyes changed to fiery onyx flashing his anger at her.

  "Stop this nonsense, Ezinne." The growl in his voice reminded her of the sound of a tiger warning off intruders. Her instincts told her to take caution, but she ignored it.r />
  She'd had enough of not being given a voice, not being heard. For years she'd kept quiet in Umulari. Emeka was the one who told her to always speak up. He was going to hear her out whatever the consequence.

  "No, I won't stop. Would you rather I strip now so you can call the guard to whip my back until it is welted and red with my blood?" she continued, ignoring his warning.

  Pushing back his chair, Emeka stood. The sound of the wood against the stone floor screeched in her ears. He paced the room like a confined wild animal. Had she pushed him too far. When he stopped by the table again, he appeared calmer.

  "Is that the way you see me? Like some depraved, bloodthirsty tyrant, a man with no conscience?" Though his voice was serious and mollified, his eyes looked troubled and uncertain.

  Shame and guilt washed over her, churning her stomach. This man who had treated her so compassionately was not a tyrant. She was ashamed she'd made him think so.

  "I thought you were that way two months ago when I first came to Umunri. But the past few days with you have shown me otherwise. I believe you to be a fair man. It is why I'm surprised by your irrational behavior tonight," she replied, hoping he would explain what was going on.

  "If I'm behaving irrationally, it is you who drive me to it, Ezinne." He stared at her as if unsure of what to do. There was no anger in his eyes. She could have sworn he looked at her with tenderness. Then he growled again, scrubbing his face with his right hand before turning his back to her.

  For a moment, she was stunned. Had she heard him right? Could it be that he felt something for her but was trying to hold it in? He was a man of veracity. He lived his life openly. So she understood why he wouldn't want to put his honor in question.

  But surely there was a way forward for them. They were not doing anything that wasn't already approved by Nonye, except maybe Ezinne falling in love with Emeka. But that was her risk to bear, not his.

  "My prince, Emeka, please. Tell me what bothers you. I know I fall short of what you deserve, but I'll listen and atone for whatever offense I have caused you. Please." She lowered her voice and walked to him. Lifting her hand, she touched his rigid back seeking to calm his unrest. The muscle twitched under her fingertips.