“Still, a princess is a princess,” Nunu continued. “Unloved though she may have been. Therefore, I have told Biodun to remember from whom I am descended—great queens, noble kings. Moreover, I am his first wife. It is understood—come what may, whoever he may love—I am always to be his chief wife.”
“Not a small thing.” Iyoke pulled her silken mantle across her shoulder against the wildly-blowing southern wind.
“And if fortune blesses Biodun by killing his older brother—”
“My sister! No!” Iyoke shouted. “It cannot be.”
Nunu raised an eyebrow. “Can it not? My husband is evil, My Sister.”
“But do not match his evil, Sister.” Her worried frown became a burst of laughter that sounded like ripples in a pond. “And yet I do not believe you could ever match his evil. Others, perhaps, allow evil to taint them. But your soul is too pure to be tainted thus. Indeed, I believe you would do all you can to prevent his evil if you had the choice.”
“All I can, but no more,” Nunu answered. “For I will not give my life to protect another. Even if I am as noble as you say, don’t the most noble learn at last to protect themselves?”
“I have heard it said, Sister.”
Nunu hugged her sister’s shoulder. “Do not fear. I will be quite safe. I have lived too long among intrigue to be taken by surprise. And while our mother is yet alive, how shall he kill me? The kingdom of Tentuke is his near neighbor and all mother’s allies surround him. No, My Sister, I shall be quite safe. So, yes, it appears that I will become chief queen of his land.” Now, Nunu also laughed. “And you are to become a queen of a great land, yourself. Therefore, forget our sister’s jealousy and think on future love and future greatness. There are lands which honor us, even if our own people treat us ill.” She turned toward the imperial cabin where the nuptial festivities continued. Through the doors, Iyoke could see robed performers celebrating her love story in dance. “Let us look ahead at future joys and future loves, for that is all we have. I only warn you. Beware! The time will come when this mother of ours dies. And then, beware. For our sister will then be queen of her own land. And if she remains unchanged, this raging of hers will grow. And before a sister’s jealousy, who is able to stand?”
#
Long, long, Queen Mizaka lived. And while she lived, the sisters remained at peace with each other. Hans’ little country was as small as ever. His father the king still reigned, but that mattered little. Sembele was wife of a third son and would never become queen. In the southern kingdom, after several extraordinarily sudden deaths in the line of succession, Biodun became king and Nunu, chief wife, became Queen. In Iyoke’s kingdom, the old king grew old but still reigned and Prince Jaejoong and his princess lived in the winter palace on the edge of the great salt sea. They had one sorrow only: In their twenty years together, Iyoke had borne only daughters. It was not like Tentuke where queens had ruled freely and equally with men. Several times, the lords of the imperial palace suggested Jaejoong take a concubine. He did not. Instead, the prince betrothed his eldest daughter to the son of his younger brother. Thus, he forfeited his kingdom for love of his wife.
At last, news came to the eastern kingdom that Queen Mizaka lay dying. Trembling, grieving, Iyoke prepared her heart. Throughout her marriage, she had exiled herself from her homeland. When she thought of the south country, she remembered only the belittling voiceless scorn of her kinsmen and their mocking jibes about being a changeling. But she now cast aside her fear and she and Prince Jaejoong set sail. When she arrived at her native land, her people bowed low to greet her.
The queen lay in her golden chamber dying, the royal ebony staff in her hand. She spoke to her three daughters, all three having rushed to her side. “My husband awaits me in the sky realm. This staff weighs heavy in hands and now I pass it and all it represents to the one who will rule my kingdom.”
“Oh mother,” her daughters said, “Oh mother, do not die.”
“Death comes to all,” the queen answered. “Iyoke, my youngest, you are happy. When you were young, I feared the kingdom might become yours. You would have ruled with equity, but you do not love your people. Nor they you. Stay, then, in the far eastern lands, you and your daughters. This is not the land for you.”
Iyoke bowed. She did not say: Mother, I have loved our people. Queen Mizake would not have believed her. She only wept and said, “Great Queen, Dear Mother, do not die.”
“Die I must.” Queen Mizake turned her eyes to her second daughter. “Nunu, your kingdom is near at hand. A stone’s throw. And you have daughters and sons. In your husband’s kingdom, men rule. Rather, boys with little knowledge and even fewer morals rule. I had thought to give my nation to you, for one of your daughters. But I fear all your children have acquired your husband’s ways. Like their father’s fathers, they will war among themselves, leaving you no offspring. No offspring, I said. For your boys will kill each other. And your daughters will learn the power of poisons. It is the way of their father’s people.”
Nunu straightened her back, looked askance at her dying mother. “I will remember your words, Mother,” she said. “But let not a curse upon my children be the last words on your lips.”
The queen smiled half to herself then spoke to Sembele, her favored daughter. “Dear Daughter,
