Quite why her father had taken to showing such pity to him was a mystery to her. Uju had long known her father to be a man prone to pity, one whom often picked up orphans and ruffians whom he would attempt to reform. It was something of a bad habit of his one that Uju had sought to remedy and correct more than once in the past. In this situation though, she had long since come to the conclusion that this might well be the very worst of all the ‘pitiful’ charities he had taken into his mind to aid. Quite why he had done so was a mystery to her.
Certainly the man was mighty, by all accounts of those women she often in recent days visited with for their gossip, he was a lion of a man. One who could fight better than any other, and could crush any who might resist his mighty blade. The trouble was that though he spent most of his days shivering, weeping or otherwise hiding from the suns’, he was also prone to lashing out, to losing his temper and otherwise screaming madly.
The man is daft; Uju was prone to telling herself, and he could no more be of service to them than water was to sand. She could not see what her father saw in him.
“He is a broken man, my daughter,” Owalade told her sadly, “It is only by the grace of the gods that he is still alive, and does that not compel us to aid him and bandage him?”
“Hardly,” She would often respond.
“If a village rejects her child, that child will go on to burn the village to the ground,” Her father was fond of saying, it was a proverb he had come along on their many travels. “If we want to be good converts to the faith of Amun-Re and that of Roma, we really ought to do as it is preached in Deshret and the Orissian Empire what we can to help another.”
“Bah, I know that however this man will not help others,” Uju exclaimed every time they had that disagreement.
Usually it was at this time every day that the innkeeper arrived to tell them to be quiet, that brother Kayode was attempting to sleep or that the neighbours could hear them. Frustrated Uju would feel obliged at this time, to go attend after their patient which she would and usually found him asleep muttering to himself, or otherwise staring blankly or apprehensively at one corner of the room.
That day, something strange happened. It was not the innkeeper who interrupted the argument between her and her father, but rather Kayode. Stepping out of the room he had occupied for the past month, he glowered furiously at the young girl, saying to her with an air of authority that at once destroyed her will to resist. “And just what is this commotion about? I cannot believe how noisy you are so early in the morn’ Uju.”
“I did not mean to wake you!” She apologized mortified.
Her mortification was made all the worse when her father chuckled a little at her expense. The dark look that was cast in his direction stifled his chortles, and made him choke a little, as he hurriedly apologized also.
It happened that though both father and daughter had high hopes that he might decide to leave matters as they were, Kayode was hardly finished. “I was already awake, but how can a man pray for a safe day, for this lovely community that has taken us into the bosom of their family, if the two of you are preoccupied with exchanging curses and needless arguments. It is true that Aganyú Prince though he is, has done much wrong over the course of his short life however; to simply leave him to die in such a manner is unbecoming. In particular since he has survived thus far, for a reason, and that is because he has a destiny about him.”
“Destiny? I would venture to say that he has survived thus far precisely because he is a brute, rather than any such thing.” Uju snapped with a role of her eyes, hardly impressed by how he spoke of Aganyú.
“Yes, indeed young girl destiny, not that you would know anything of the sort about it,” Kayode snapped at her sharply, before he glanced away to look up the steps. “It is time now for us to check his wounds, come away with me. I would speak with him, as I do believe the two of you intend to leave before the end of the month correct? You intend to leave for Ariluwa to the north of this place?”
Uju was astonished, as was her father. Neither of them had after all spoken of their plans to the monk, who had demurred from discussing his own. Certainly they had spoken of the city of Fadaodi, but neither of them had mentioned Ariluwa to him. “How did you know this?”
“Thanks to the owner of this tavern, whom you told in a drunken stupor two weeks ago,” Kayode retorted with a faint roll of his own eyes.
“Will you be joining us?” Owalade asked hopefully, having greatly enjoyed the monk’s company in their journey south-west from Deshret.
Uju waited with bated breath. Certainly she liked Kayode also, however since they had first left Deshret for the south-west, on this commercial pilgrimage of sorts, he had comported himself with a great deal of sanctimony and haughtiness. Certainly he was a tireless worker, who never asked what he was not willing to do himself of them, however he often took to preaching to Uju in particular.
It was thus with a great deal of relief that she strove to hide from her face and eyes that she took in the revelation, “No I cannot. My duties pull me elsewhere sadly,” something of her true feelings must have shone on her face so that he snapped at her. “And do wipe away that glee from thy face young lady, it is quite inappropriate for a lady to behave so.”
“Agreed, especially when it is an honour to travel with one such as the holy Kayode,” Owalade grunted with a sharp glance of his own to his sheepish daughter.
Spluttering she did not quite succeed in regaining her composure until well after Kayode declared with a glance up the stairs that led to the second storey of the small building. “Unless my ears do deceive me, it would appear that Aganyú has awakened. Come Uju, we must be away to tend to him. He shall prove instrumental in your own journey north, he and that friend of his.”
“What friend?” Uju asked curiously of her father’s friend.
Kayode did not answer at once. Turning away, he led her up the stairs with a burst of speed that could have impressed even the swiftest of falcons. To the mind of Uju it was as though he was seeking to defy all assumptions that those around him had made in prior days about his bulk when he crossed the whole of the tavern in less time than it might have taken Owalade to drink his wine or Uju to swallow a hunk of bread.
Staring at one another in alarm, father and daughter were quick to tip toe their way up the steps after the monk. Both of them were to hurry up after him, only to discover Kayode in the midst of severely correcting the shabbily dressed wanderer who stared aghast and in surprise at his interloper. “What-?”
“Kolwé you viper, I knew it had to be you, and do not think to pull up that vulture-cloak of yours and escape from me,” Kayode growled as he caught the younger man up by the arm, leaping forward to prevent the man from leaping out the large window. “I said not to consider it, and there you are keen to leap out once more!”
“Release my wing- I mean my arm, I did naught wrong!” Kolwé shrieked eager to escape the older man, his eyes flashing with madness as he struggled in the manner that might have better fitted one who had gone mad.
Still though, the monk held firm to the man’s arm whereupon he rounded upon Aganyú who looked on with a similarly confused gaze to that which father and daughter bore. The warrior broken and battered bore the mark of a number of blows, so that it was at this time that Uju’s heart first began to twist with pity.
Her heart though was never half so soft as that of her father, who seeing the marks on the face and part of the chest of his charge, and the rod that Kolwé held in his left hand became outraged. “Slaughter him Kayode, run him through with a knife! A rusty one I say! How dare, he do that to poor Aganyú!”
“Poor Aganyú you say? He is a murderer!” Kolwé squawked not unlike a bird that has had a stone thrown at it.
“As though you Kolwé the Brigand are much better,” Kayode snapped, seeing the startled expression of the other man he sneered. “Yes, I know of you and of thy vile misdeeds. I know of all the misdeeds; murder, extortion, theft, among many other crimes, yes I know, as I have been asking about you since I first heard you visiting my patient.”
Kolwé looked as though a solid bucket of cold water had been dropped upon him. He did not quite know what to say or do, this much was evident. The plump young man looked on at the monk in bewilderment and outrage.
It was as he attempted to make a new flurry of indignant excuses for his actions that, the man before him interrupted him once more, this time with a single finger held up to his face. “Did you think I would not notice the fresh bruises that have appeared all over my patient, since that first night we took him in?”
“He is still a murderer! And what I did, I did mostly to greedy merchants and corrupted noblemen.” Kolwé excused himself to the disdain of the father and daughter.
“That may be so, though I know not how true it is,” Owalade snapped having at last lost all semblance of self-restraint, “But this man is under my protection and therefore you have no right to beat or humiliate or degrade him! To have beaten him- why I ought to beat you!”
“As though you could-” Kolwé began to say.
“Leave him,” Aganyú’s voice cut through the hostile tension of the room with all the firmness of an iron knife.
Each of them stared at him, startled by this sudden decision on his part. None of them had expected to hear the Prince refuse to punish his tormentor. It was each of their view that the man ought to be punished for sneaking into his bedchambers to lay hands upon him.
Well they might have punished Kolwé or proposed that Aganyú had gone mad in the time since they had rescued him. The latter remark might well have been true, as they abided with the commands of the broken man on the bed.
Kolwé for his part, would not hesitate to take advantage of the momentary hesitancy on the part of Kayode so that he was gone before they could do much more. Chortling loudly as he went, with Uju rushing to the window with her father, both of them disgusted to find that rather than falling down to the ground, the young sorcerer had instead taken flight. Kolwé’s shape was now that of a vulture, the sorcerer was swift to disappear high above their heads and beyond their line of sight.
“He will return on the morrow,” Kayode grumbled unhappily.
“How do you know this?” Owalade asked dumbly of him.
“That is the incorrect question.”
“What would be the correct one?” This query was asked by Uju.
Kayode studied her for a moment, before he turned away to examine the new bruises that decorated the warrior’s chest and face. “Let us first examine Aganyú’s wounds, and to see if he will soon be prepared for travel.”
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Uju sighed long-sufferingly, irritated by the constant unending orders on the part of the monk, who was to bark another four at her, indifferent to her silent frustration. Seeing the stern glance her father threw in her direction so that she let slip another sigh. It felt as though she could never quite have things her own way in life.
She only hoped the next day might at last see some change, and see them finally begin to prepare for the journey northwards.
*****
It was the following day, when Uju would find out what it was that Kayode found out what it was that the clergyman meant by his words. The day began with Uju being asked to bring up to Aganyú’s room a full meal by the owner of the tavern.
“Why not have Kayode bring up his breakfast?” Uju complained sulkily, still not keen to look after Aganyú.
“Because he left to go buy some last minute items,” the tavern-master replied, only to cast a dark look once more upon her, “Now do hurry up girl, lest I tell your father you have once more refused to do as you have been told.”
“But why must we help him at all? He slew kinsmen of yours.”
“Because Kayode told me to, and has assured me they are at peace in the afterlife,” the bald man snapped at her only to point up the stairs with a jabbing finger as though he were attempting to stab a particularly stubborn enemy.
Reluctantly the young girl was to do as bidden, and went up as though she were headed for her grave. When she reached the room, she was to hesitate. She did not much like Aganyú, he did not strike her as a particularly safe individual, and had a tendency to bark or lash out at all those around him. Add to that, his reputation for murder that had spread or begun to spread outwards to the outlying farms near the town, was not one that made her particularly keen to continue to remain in the man’s proximity.
Yet would anyone pay heed to her warnings, or worries? No of course not, they were much too wise for that, or so they often claimed. Really, Uju often wondered if it might not be their egos that constrained them to stay in Puppata and look after the likes of Aganyú.
This led her often to wonder why she remained herself, when she should perhaps seize some of the coin that she had found on the prince’s nightstand. Overlooked by not only the Prince, monk, her father but also Kolwé the thief, she had seen it and been given to wonder what she might do with it. She could mayhaps, she thought to herself set her father up comfortably. Or maybe she could have used it as a dowry to some rich merchant, in Ariluwa and convince him to help care for her beloved father? Either choice would be preferable to remaining in this strange city, and near so violent a man as Aganyú.
The young girl leapt up a few feet in the air when she approached the door that she was to overheard the sound of a rod hitting flesh, and that of a loud voice sneering contemptuously. “And what of that? How does this feel O mighty Aganyú? How feels it to be laid low, and properly humiliated?”
Uju stared in bewilderment at the door, unsure if she ought to push forward and enter the room or turn back, and fly back to her father’s side. Suddenly she wished they had not finished selling what wares he wished to sell in the city of Ariluwa, so that she would have an excuse to avoid entering the room of the prince from across the eastern desert.
Praying to the gods then, specifically the goddess Bastet for courage, she pressed forward knocking upon the door at first softly then more forcefully. “Prince Aganyú if I may, I have brought you your breakfast.”
“What? Who is that?” the taunting voice from a few seconds prior wondered, with Uju now recognizing that it was Kolwé the Sorcerer, the man whom Kayode had caught in the middle of beating Aganyú the day prior.
“Uju, and I must warn you that if you have taken to beating Aganyú once more, I shall have to report it to Kayode,” Uju told him in a menacing voice.
The series of curses that she heard, told her more than she needed to know that he had indeed, taken to beating the Prince once more. Quite why the other man allowed himself to be beaten was a mystery to her.
It was a major reason that she was reluctant to sympathize with him and did not truly perceive him to be a proper man. A man in the truest sense of the word would not allow such a thing to happen to him, with Aganyú in her view thus with his many crimes, and his broken eyes the very worst sort of man she could ever imagine meeting.
Why, she asked herself could not more men be like that warrior Lachlan she had recently heard about, the escaped slave who was pillaging and plundering from merchant shops along the coast, and redistributing much of the goods along the poorer villages along the northern coast of Ifriquya.
The sorcerer stood thereby the straw bed of the Prince, eyes alight with a dark glitter as he stared at her with visible irritation. It was however Aganyú who attempted to shout at her to leave him, “Away with you, Uju I have no use for you!”
The man’s face was covered by a number of bruises, each of them purple, blue and the size of Uju’s hands. Disgusted she almost took pity upon the weakened Prince, she almost raced to his side when Kolwé caught her attention when he hissed at her. “Do not scream girl, lest you wish for me to curse you!”
But it was too late, for the young girl had already begun to scream. At once, her loving, doting father raced on forth from far below. Coming up the steps at the same speed that one might have expected from a suddenly unchained lion, he was to in less time than it might well have taken another man to breath make his way up.
His daughter’s cry awakened in him, as it would have in any father worthy of the name, so that Owalade made his way up the steps three at a time, nary a thought for his own safety in mind. He had just appeared when the brigand shrinking back, stumbling for his staff that he had brought with him that he might protect himself.
This he did, from the old merchant striking him with a gold light that extended from the rod’s crystal. It caught him up and threw him against the door, leaving him unable to move much more than his eyes.
Quite what was wrong with him was a mystery, with both Aganyú and Uju staring in wonder and fright for several long moments, before the latter raced over to her father’s side. “Father!” She tried to shake him and help him to his father yet found she could not do so, “Oh what have you done to him Kolwé? How could you hurt him?”
Kolwé for his part froze, mouth agape and unsure of himself was to stumble over his words, “Well it is just that- you see he startled me, and that is- oh no… I think I hear… Kayode.”
There was a sound not unlike that of a sudden thunder-clap. The door on the first floor, a drab thing made of tree-bark swung open, that the monk might enter once more. A tune on his lips, one that none there could recognize, he stopped mid-step to converse with the tavern-master before he tore his way up the steps. It was the former that Kolwé had to blame for the explosion of footsteps tearing their way up the stairs, so that the old monk might once more humiliate him.
Once more, as it was on the previous day and many days before that one, Kayode tore a path across the inn, over the steps and into the room, throwing aside Owalade and Uju as though they were little more than obstacles to him.
Sensing what was to come, Kolwé did not hesitate to throw about his shoulders, his vulture-cloak and leap from the window, in a blind panic.
Coming to a halt by the window, Kayode shook his fist at the terrified sorcerer, “Come back hither, Kolwé you coward! Get back here, lest I tear those wings from you and boil you in oil, and make a vulture soup to feed to the dogs!”
It was now that he had chased off the brigand-sorcerer, he was to turn his attention to the bruised warrior who stared back at him sullenly. His eyes somewhat unfocused, as though he was not truly seeing the monk or the young girl near the entrance of the room. Still visibly defeated, he was not to at once react to the monk’s defence of him.
Something in this was to as all present were to see, cause the old monk to lose his temper. Quite why it was was a mystery to Uju.
“Is that what you want Aganyú? To spend the rest of your days here, bemoaning your fate? Or will you at last do as your father did before you, and the rest of your ancestors and fight against all those who might stand between them and righteousness?” Kayode bellowed furiously as he struck Aganyú with the heavy rod that Kolwé had dropped in his scramble to put as much distance between him and the likes of the ferocious monk. “To lie herein bed, taking beatings from a disgraceful lout like Kolwé? You who once dominated nations, once conquered monsters and fought off their minions as easily as some might ward off insects. Is this what you truly wish for? I had thought you loved that water-maiden of yours, what was her name?”
“Charáji.”
“Ah yes, the harlot,” Kayode said while rubbing his chin with a thoughtful hand, only to sneer down at the youth in front of him. A smirk graced his lips when he saw the flash of anger that appeared in the younger man’s eyes. “Does that anger you Aganyú? If so will you strike me dead? Will you tolerate the insults of another man against the woman you have claimed as your own?”
It was with an unnerving speed that Aganyú struck. He was to appear then not as a pitiful, weeping broken mess to Uju but as a titan, almost a mountain itself. Rising suddenly, with the blinding speed of a panther he was to throw himself forward. Up he went, from the bed he had not left in nigh on a month hands outstretched as he made to grab at the monk who stood before him.
He might well have seized him, and punished him for his mocking words, his undignified insults swifter than Uju could have screamed. Her consternated words of warning were to stop midway up her throat.
The reason for this ought to be apparent, as Kayode though not a warrior was still the healthier man and was to react with a swiftness that startled even Aganyú, who blinked in surprise also. Even Kolwé was to gape in wonder, as Kayode caught the warrior by his wrists, his lips curved upwards in a mocking sneer as he did so, one that angered sorcerer and prince alike.
“Is that all? Is that the extent of your love Aganyú?” Kayode demanded of the warrior-prince with no small amount of disdain.
“Release me!” Aganyú bellowed, roaring in a manner reminiscent of that of an enraged lion.
“Why should I do that?”
Aganyú did not answer properly, preferring to look away. Once more he seemed no mightier than a downtrodden child, his shame and grief such that Kayode glared down upon him. It must have been nearer to several hours or so before another word was uttered, or so it felt to Uju who observed the exchange between the two men with keen interest. Hardly convinced that Aganyú still had it in him to fight the monk, or even Kolwé.
What also amazed her was that Aganyú loved another, she had not considered the possibility so that she was even more confused. She wondered to herself, whether he was a criminal guilty of countless murders, or a man in love fighting to reclaim his wife?
“Release me,” Aganyú grunted once more.
“Aganyú, is this the extent of your love? Will you give up on Charáji? You told me you loved her this past month more than once,” Kayode retorted sharply.
“I do!”
“Then why did you murder all those men, Aganyú?” Kayode asked and when Aganyú did not answer at once, the holy man carried on if in a softer voice. “I must ask, you must realize what you did was wrong. Therefore, what will you do now to atone for what you have done?”
Aganyú had no answer. How could he properly answer that question? He had done too much, slain too many and failed all too often to properly answer it. It was as Kayode had said; he had sinned and must somehow atone, yet he did not know how he might do so.
It was with a downturned gaze that he was to answer with nary a trace of the old pride he had exhibited when confronted by others. “I was full of anger. I had to rescue Charáji it seemed however that all those I came across simply sought to stand in my way.”
“And did you never once stop to think that perhaps, those people had their reasons for doing so?” Kayode replied quietly with a raised brow.
Aganyú remained quiet for some time. He wished to rebuttal the words of the older male he however preferred to swallow them. He had never previously done so yet at this time it seemed preferable given that he had made mistake after mistake since he had crossed the desert. “I simply longed to have her returned to me.”
“Yes, I know that and recognize that, and you merited her return to you if only by nature’s law. But Aganyú, nature’s law and that of morality are different from one another. You broke moral law when you took up the sword and tore everything that those men who stood in your way had. You took their lives, made widows, orphans and left parents bereft of their beloved children. You tore from dogs the only family they had and left brothers without brothers, sisters with no protector or father, and left naught but broken families. This is what you did. This is why everyone hates you. Why your kingdom was torn from you; you may not be a thief but you stole men’s lives from them!”
Each one of his words left Aganyú ever more bereft himself. It was all he could do to keep from throwing himself from the window. He longed to do so, if only to escape to lick his wounds in the manner that a wounded dog might.
He could not help but to ask himself, why? Why was he born if only to be hated, and rejected? Certainly he had been born with a temper that could frighten the very worst of fire-spirits, and reduce a demon to quailing. However, he had never longed, never looked to destroy and be hated by all. I had no wish to betray and be betrayed, he thought to himself, only to be loved so why does every single soul I meet reject me? Even his own father had rejected him, so that he was given over to wondering; how long before Charáji rejected him also? Would she do it in spirit, or mayhaps she would do it when next they met? He did not think he could endure such an eventuality.
Kayode though would not grant him any such opportunity to retreat from him though, as he bent the knee before Aganyú, looked him in the eye and said to him. “Aganyú, you may not believe it though it might seem impossible, there is a power greater than yourself that longs to see you set free.”
Aganyú mesmerized stared him in the eye. “What power is that?”
“That of the heavens, the gods themselves long to see you redeemed,” Kayode told him earnestly, hand upon his heart as he took up the hand of the Prince as might a servant before his liege. “I beg of thee, O Prince… will you not turn away from the darkness? Turn away from grief? Why cling to hatred, when you could so easily be redeemed?”
“Redeemed? Do- do you really think I can be, Brother Kayode?” Aganyú pleaded hope blossoming for the first time in his heart.
Kayode stared him in the eye, looking past the worst grief, the worst of Aganyú’s anger and pain and his guilt, and all that he had endured in the eye. He did then what the young Prince had always hoped someone might, even if he had never admitted it to himself, and nodded his head.