Nandi’s eyes filled with tears, and she turned away. Since her journey into the spirit world her mother had lifted her punishment. But it made no difference. Her future had been decided. Tonight was the celebration of her betrothal to Abayomi the eldest son of Fela, Oba of the Edo tribe. The royal clan was preparing a feast in celebration.
Nandi’s union with him would ensure the union of their kingdoms, an end to the ceaseless fighting between them – and a powerful alliance.
She strode into the marketplace to buy fruit and her sisters, Iverem and Effiwat, fell into step beside her. The three young women filled their baskets with guava, pineapple, melons and plantains.
“You must be so excited,” Effiwat simpered. “Abayomi is very handsome!”
Nandi thought of Abayomi’s arrogant, cruel face and said nothing.
Iverem smiled slyly. “I heard that you did not want to marry him but of course that isn’t true, is it? I’d willingly share him with ten more wives.”
“Then why don’t you marry him?” Nandi snapped.
The women gasped in shock. “You dishonor your father!” said the first one.
Nandi pressed her lips together and hurried away from them – her long legs quickly carrying her home. They were jealous – jealous because her mother was lead wife, because she was betrothed to Abayomi, the son of an Oba and he had paid many goats, cowrie shells and other riches for her hand.
They should try being me. Then see how jealous they are.
Her life would’ve been so much easier if she could smile and passively accept the demands of her parents, like they...and later her husband.
But what if the ancestors whisper something else to your heart?
Nandi reached the palace. Inside, and to the right of the ivory structure Adegoke’s wives and the servants were busy cooking. Yams were being pounded into FuFu. Porridge rich with vegetables and goat meat bubbled in a pot above the three stones in Mariama’s kitchen. Palm oil was already siphoned into wooden serving bowls.
She put her fruit on a low table. At that moment Mariama, emerged from alcove to her right. “Little one, you’re back. What took you so long? Never mind, I need you to fetch some more water.”
The young woman smiled dryly. Her mother had always liked giving orders. But today she would gladly obey them – thankful to escape all the preparation for her marriage feast. It reminded her of how precious her last days of freedom were.
She grabbed a woven basket, and headed for their stream.
* * *
Nandi knelt beside the stream at the edge of the palace and dipped her basket into the water. She gazed at her reflection. How grim she looked! Like a woman about to be executed, rather than one embarking on a life of wedded bliss.
The image disappeared. In its place a black panther stared up at her.
In the next instant, the god Ogun appeared in panther form: gazing at her with his luminous eyes.
“You tricked me!” she shouted, forgetting that she was in the presence of a god. “You made me think I could have more!” She covered her face with her hands, and began to weep. “There is nothing else...not for me. Go and leave me in peace.”
The god spoke his bass voice echoing through the wood: “Do not despair Nandi, the battle is not over yet.” He vanished.
* * *
At nightfall, the two royal clans gathered for the feast. Oba Fela and Abayomi arrived with their royal entourage of ten warriors. Nandi had been bathed and perfumed with oils. Her hair was now braided in an elaborate upswept and decorated with beads. Bangles hung from her neck and wrists. She wore a cloth of colorful printed design wrapped about her shapely frame. Her feet were encased in paper thin sandals, more bangles decorated her ankles.
Nandi’s parents presented her to Abayomi. The prince was a young man with a face that seemed to be entirely crafted of hard arrogant edges. His head was shaved except for a beaded topknot, and he wore cape of white linen about his shoulders, and golden bracelets.
He smiled, his teeth flashing against his dark skin, and eyed Nandi as if she was his personal possession. “You’ve grown even more beautiful, since our last meeting.” And she managed a stiff smile.
Adegoke beamed at his future son-in-law. “Truly this marriage has been blessed by the gods. I know it will bring prosperity and long life to both the Bini and Edo realms.”
At this Abayomi bowed respectfully and took his seat opposite them. Nandi’s parents escorted her to the low seat facing the circle of wedding guests. Behind them in covered dishes the feast awaited.
Inside the circle the dance began. The unmarried Bini women entered the space: moving their hips and shoulders in demure, sensuous rhymes of virgins not yet captured by their lovers. The men danced into the space and the women swayed out of their reach. The warriors followed never touching the virgins, but seductively moving about them—all the while soulfully expressing, with hands and pelvis, the ultimate joy of wedded bliss.
Nandi spotted Sule among the dancers. It had been he, not Abayomi, that wooed her with eyes full of longing. And she’d answered his call with a body that burned for a touch that never came. He was no Oba’s son. He had no political alliance to offer her father, nor riches to give.
Only his heart.
Sule caught her gaze and quickly shifted his eyes to his partner lest his face betray the swirling emotions within.
Outside the circle in the savanna Ogun appeared. He spoke his voice like thunder: “COME!” Nandi glanced about wildly. Surely the guests heard his basso profundo command?
And she could not leave her wedding party. To do so would violate Nubian customs – tantamount to slapping her future husband in the face.
“What’s wrong with you?” Mariama hissed. “You’re embarrassing us!”
“Heed my command Nandi! COME!”
I cannot disobey a
