by Robi, Carol
I note the way with which he carries himself with both charisma as well as poise in all things he does, as systematic and predictable as they might be, as all the Bakoria warriors do them in the very same way. His movements stand out more, for one reason or another of which I’m yet to pin down. The flexing of his still been defined youthful muscles as he lifts the strap of his shield off his shoulder, before he ties it to his equally as arrogant zorse. He strokes his beast lovingly yet again, before leaving him to graze by the hundreds other zorses among those thick bushes and shrubs just beyond the beach. The Bakoria prince then walks ahead with his peers, talking animatedly among each other as though they were born brothers, laughing openly together about something witty someone says as they walk towards the wide expanse of the beach. The prince then plunges his spear head up into the sandy ground with enough thrust to keep it upright besides the hundreds of others before walking ahead with his peers, certain that upon return he’d be able to tell it apart from the others easily. How exactly, I’m yet to ascertain.
It’s not our way he and his peers first walk towards. That’d be preposterous! They first walk among the other warrior saros, groups of peers, paying each other their due respects, not giving the groups of maidens waiting patiently any attention.
When all the warrior peer groups have been given their due respect, the prince chances a few words with his sister again, though he’d already acknowledged her, before resorting to flirting with the more than willing maidens awaiting his attentions and that of his peers and the rest of the class of warriors.
Young Bakoria warriors spread out among the maiden peer groups, paying them compliments and attempting to charm them, mostly successful, I must admit, while sister and brother Nyabasi princess and prince converse with each other cheerfully. I envy them, the way with which they are so similar, and so close. The security they have with each other, whereby they are never to lose each other, for it is rumoured that his sister will give up the traditional female role of motherhood and opt to take the oath that will one day see to it that she helps her brother rule the kingdom. There is a woman that is never to be forced by society to leave her birth home and follow after her husband. How I wish I was of a stronger conviction, that I could manage to be assertive and to open my mouth before women at least. How I wish that should my brothers look at me that they’d see a leader, and not a petite flower to be nursed and protected, and one day married off to a loving, caring and patient husband. Maybe then Chacha would let me take the oath and be his Gake wa Maga, a role none of our other sisters has ever wished to take up, and one I’d beg for, if I trusted myself well enough to be able to carry out the duties entailed.
However love me as much as my brothers do, care for me with such blind affection as they do, we all know that I could never make for a good Gake wa Maga. I am too frightful, and the first thought one has upon looking at me is a mouse, and not a lioness. For that is what I ought to be, if I’m to take up the role of our kingdom’s Gake wa Maga. I ought to be a lioness, the lion being my kingdom’s spirit animal, the king being the lion. However, I’m no lioness!
Looking at princess Gati of the Nyabasi however, what I see is a true she-cheetah. That there’s no question about, and her brother easily fits the shoes of a king cheetah. That is the spirit animal of our brothers the Nyabasi, cheetahs. How appropriate that Prince Makena of the Nyabasi should be a wild cat. Fitting for he’s always attempting to be cunning and beguiling. One can never trust cats. They think too highly of themselves.
Lions though, lions are the only trustworthy cats. They are charismatic, majestic, prideful, and always love their home and their own above all. There’s no question why he, the lion, is the king of the vast Northern Plainlands. There’s no question about it either, that though no one ever mentions it aloud, the Bagumbe are superior of the four brother kingdoms.
My father is unquestionably the most respected of the four brother kings, my family the richest of the four brother royal families, with most held in debt to us. Half my kingdom is richer than all members of the four brother kingdoms, their royal families included, though discussing riches is a frowned upon topic.
We Bagumbe are renown for our wisdom, advanced medical practices that see to it that our physicians are the most sought after and the most highly paid. Our warriors train in fighting skills and endurance and survival skills like the rest of the Bakoria warriors, but though they may not physically be as strong and as dominating in battle skills as the Bairege warriors, they are the most well educated in the geography of the region, most learned in languages of the other kingdoms in this region we the Bakoria govern, and most educated in foreign practices and cultures. Our warriors lead the ambassadorial trips taken to see to it that our neighbours are living in accordance to our treaties, and the Bagumbe mathematicians are the ones that calculate the taxes our neighbours should pay us.
It was a Bagumbe high council in generations past that came up with the idea of using the Bairege mountain ranges hold as the kingdoms fortress, in times of war, and is why the caves under the Irege mountain ranges are constantly stockpiled with freshly dried or smoked meat just incase of a siege, or worst drought and famine, as well as with piles of firewood and weapons. A hereditary commission among elderly warriors has been appointed to see to it that there’s always ample and fresh supply of food, weapons and firewood every abundant main harvest we have. Most of the other kingdoms complain about having to waste food and livestock in so doing, as there hasn’t been a war or major famine in generations, but my father, and his fathers before that have been adamant that it’s better to be safe than sorry. The Bakoria people should always be prepared, and our brother kingdoms know well to listen to our king’s ruling.
Brother and sister proceed to laugh heartily at something, just as the prince’s best friend and rumoured future Isamura, army’s chief commander, walks up to them. I confirm yet again that which I’ve long deduced, that Chacha Renchoka is madly in love with his prince’s sister, a maiden warrior who holds no tenderness in her heart for him.
I watch as a normally very confident and very sought after young warrior says something with clear discomfort and difficulty, as though forcing himself to remain unaffected in her company and painfully failing at it.
She regards him with impatience, his affections obviously not well received, and his best friend proves yet again kind by choosing to quickly add something to whatever Chacha Renchoka is saying, as though reinforcing it, which then forces the sister to say something in response.
The prince then chooses not to let his best friend embarrass himself further by bowing his head to his sister slightly, before seeming to ask his friend to take his leave with him and leave the nyarmura to socialising with her peers. Chacha Renchoka seems to want to argue, his better judgment at the moment obviously blinded by his affections for her, before he finally agrees to follow with the prince.
The two young warriors then move to flirt with the most sought after peer of maidens at the moment, those whose saro is in their eighteenth cycle, as they are the most mature, and their bodies most appealing in all honesty. It will be a while as always before the warriors of the brother kingdoms finally turn their attentions to us, the youngest of the ton, for which I’m glad for, and my peers most saddened by.
I do a good job of keeping my silence this time, when he and his peers finally venture our way and start conversing with us. By us, I mean my peers, for I keep myself as hidden as I possibly can, and as quiet as one can venture themselves to be.
Not a sound escapes me, my breathing quiet and well regulated, my eyes veiled, as I rest my bottom on some smoothly naturally curved rocks under the water, which allows for just my nose and eyes to peek out. I remain in that very same position all afternoon, groups of warrior peers after another coming to flirt with my peers and leaving, my peers swimming about, prancing in the water sending showers and bubbles everywhere, laughing and talking among themselves chirpily as though life were made of rainb
ows and long sunny afternoons. How odd to see them so easily confident in their element, a fact that leaves me feeling inadequate and poorly placed.
But the afternoon does get on, and soon I’m finally able to leave the water, my skin shrivelled up and leathery gray from the extensive stay in water, of which my peers are sure to make fun of again.
“You’ll wrinkle up like an old woman even before you capture a mura’s eye!” Boke, one of the girls among my peers taunts.
“How unfortunate, for you’re yet to ripen,” Nyangi, a maiden among my peers with the same name as mine reaches out and pinches my slender upper arm, right under my golden armband that I’ve just fastened in place.
I frown at her, but say nothing, choosing instead to ignore her, as I kneel on the hard sand with both knees and begin fastening my necklaces, one after the other around my neck.
“I’d gladly lend you some of mine, these girls are more than enough for me,” Nyangi Ngoti goes on to taunt further while laughing, placing her hands to the sides of her very plump breasts and playing with them confidently, pretending not to notice that a number of warriors are still about, and that they are watching the movements of her girls with much keen interest.
This seems to amuse my peers very much at the moment, and they begin discussing among themselves on what surplus parts they could share with me. I dislike the direction the conversation has turned to, but there’s nothing I can say to dissuade them. They aren’t undermining me in any way, per se, they are just making jokes with me, a fellow peer. However cruel the jokes might be, it’s quite acceptable and just within the boundaries of overreaching.
“You’ve made your points, waiseke,” I tell my peers when I’m sure I can’t take anymore. “I prefer we don’t talk further about this anymore.”
“Really, princess? For I was just thinking to share with you my more than enough share of my derriere,” Robi, a girl in the same location as I goes on to say, slapping her very endowed backside to emphasize her point.
I turn away hastily from her and the rest of my peers laughing away, wanting to get to my riding beast as fast as I can, now that I’m done dressing, all my heavily jewelled necklaces in place.
“An interesting conversation you maidens seem to be having,” a brusque voice surprises me by saying from behind us, and I turn right on time as the two beautiful stallions walk past us, the Nyabasi prince and his best friend on their way home.
My face burns with shame, and I wish for nothing else but to run back into the lake and bury myself under the water. I can’t believe he overheard all that, listened in as my peers humiliated me so. He must think me utterly inconsequential, unable to command enough respect, or even just enough loyalty from my peers, to keep them from embarrassing me so.
How pathetic he must think me!
“I’d expected a lot more from ladies of what is famed as the most intellectual kingdom of our four brother kingdoms. It mustn’t be so anymore,” he scolds my peers, which confuses me, irritates as well as pleases me in equal measure. I hate that he’s attempting to save me yet again, but his words do have the desired effect, for my peers look mortified, a harsh silence falling over us.
“We just have to remember not to marry into this batch,” Chacha Renchoka shames my saro members further by saying.
“No doubt about that!” The prince retorts. “They have no respect for the monarchy and the royal blood flowing in their princess’ veins!”
“Prince of the..,” Boke attempts to start an apology, but the prince leans to the side of his beast and spits out, a Bakoria sign of open contempt and derision.
“Have a good evening, maidens,” the prince says, before turning my way and bowing lightly. “Princess,” he acknowledges low, before digging his heels into his beast which then sets off, his best friend riding in step beside him.
Chapter 13
“You like her.”
“What?” I ask over my shoulder. We are trotting at a steady but fast pace along the stone path, urgent to get home as the clouds are threatening some rain this early evening. It shan’t be heavy downpour, as we are still in the dry summer season, but it shall rain alright, if those darkening clouds are anything to go by.
“I said, you like her,” Chacha repeats, urging his zorse to pick up its pace a little, so that we now ride in step, the path having widened enough to let us.
“Like who?” I ask puzzled.
“The princess,” he states chuckling, to which I chuckle too.
“Of course,” I admit, which seems to surprise him. “Whose dreams aren’t bothered by images of princess Matinde?” I add, my chuckle now developing into a suggestive laughter.
“True,” Chacha says slowly, “But that isn’t who I was referring to.”
“Who were you referring to?” I see the look on his face, and start laughing, for I now know whom he’s talking about. Matinde’s younger sister.
“The mermaid?” I ask my friend laughing, to which he chuckles and nods. “Are you serious? What would make you think that I’d be attracted to the child..?”
“She’s not a child, my prince.”
“I don’t know what your eyes see that mine don’t,” I tell him laughing. “But I tend to avoid children.”
“We both know she’s not a child. She might not be as endowed as we Bakoria men prefer it, but we both know she’s not a child.”
I hate that he says this, because it does make me want to picture the girl, and then find out if she’d indeed grown..
I shake my head to stop my thoughts from going down that destructive journey.
“I already think of too many girls naked, son of Renchoka, please don’t make me add some more. My nights are torturous as it is already,” I say, to which we finish off chuckling heartily.
“Keep pretending that you haven’t noticed her if it makes you feel better, my prince,” Chacha mocks me further.
“Honestly Chacha, when would I even have noticed that she’s grown? She spends all her afternoons at the lake immersed in water, and all fete evenings hiding behind barrels of drink.”
“Are you serious? Hiding behind the drinks?” Chacha asks amused, his laughter ringing loudly across the flat plains we are riding along, our party of peers much further ahead.
“Why would I lie?” I confirm while laughing.
“That is one queer queen you’ll make yourself,” Chacha mocks me.
“Shut up, don’t cuss me so! The gods might hear you and make it so!”
“Apologies, my prince,” he promptly says, right before we both burst out laughing again.
“You want to tell me that you aren’t affected by her in any way?” Chacha asks when he recovers from laughing. I shake my head in answer.
“Not in that way that you seem to be insinuating.”
“Then why defend her today?”
“Because for some reason that princess can’t seem to do it herself. I had to do it, remind her peers the respect their princess deserves, at least as long as she’s princess. After she’s married off, then they can mock her however often they want.”
“How gallant of you,” Chacha coins, to which I laugh again.
“Just doing my duty,” I say chuckling.
“So you were just defending her honor, and not defending your future interests in her..”
“Would you stop with that nonsense, mura.”
“I’m just saying, you’ve been showing that girl a great deal of interest of late..”
“I’ve done no such thing!”
“Really? Then how do you know that she hides behind gourds of drink at youth fetes? Is that why you’re always offering to refill our drinks..”
“Now you’ve gone too far, mura,” I warn him when I start feeling signs of irritation. “I love you like a brother, but you’re overstepping.”
“Forgive me, my prince, but like you did her a service, so shall I also do you a service. You know I love you too, like a brother, but we are not brothers really. You are to one day be a ki
ng.”
“Do not talk aloud of the day I’m to be king when my father is still alive.”
“Apologise, prince Makena. I do not wish to tempt the gods, but I wish to point out to you that you ought to be careful about the woman you’ll chose to be your wife..”
“And you presume me too stupid to pick right?” I struggle to keep my voice calm but fail, as I’ve already lost my temper. I do not wish to have a quarrel with my childhood best friend, but he’s clearly looking for one.
“Of course not, my prince,” he exclaims passionately. “I just know you well, maybe better than you know yourself, though you might wish to argue with me about that. The same way you know me very well, and you know my heart belongs to your sister..”
“Not this nonsense again, Chacha! My sister will not have you..!”
“I do not wish to talk about it. I know both you and your sister seem to think so, but I will not quit my endeavours until she takes the oath..”
“You’re a fool!” I snap at him more harshly than I wish to. What I wish to do is find an appropriate cure for this spell my sister has him cast under, for I hate seeing my friend suffer so.
“A fool I may be, but it’s not about me and princess Gati I wish to talk about. I wish to talk about you and princess Nyangi..”
“You can’t be serious..!”
“On the contrary, I’m very serious, Mona wa maga,” prince. “I think there’s something about her that has you slightly intrigued, and your attention does not often wander away from her. She amuses you now, but I’ve seen her grow, and she’s beginning to fill up in all the right places that will soon have your other head paying her some attention too.”
“You should listen to yourself right now, mura. You sound crazy. I like my women well filled..”
“And you also like your women witty enough to catch and understand the underlying dark irony you deliver your words with. And also, you’re a hunter, and at the moment, she’s the only one you have to hunt. The others want you, she doesn’t.”