AFTER a decade of sojourn in Scotland, the Prince of Igbobuike Kingdom returned to his hometown in a grandest of style. Graduating with a First Class Honours in Political Science from the University of Edinburgh, and, then, the best graduating student in African Studies in his Masters programme, from his alma mater, the young prince’s fame rose to a bourgeoning proportion — national dailies, newspapers, Facebook, Instagram, Twitter and other social media also made his name go viral.

His return was much anticipated by both the young and the old. But no other group of people was more obsessed about the young prince’s return than the maidens of Igbobuike Kingdom.

And so, after the red-carpet ceremony that marked the return of the prince and his laudable feat overseas, his father, the ailing king, invited him to his chambers late in the night and told him the issue at stake.

‘‘Nnanna,’’ said the king, leaning forward from the backrest of the Leopard Throne so that he wouldn’t have to raise his voice and disturb the nocturnal peace. ‘‘If I die today, I die in peace knowing that there is a strong pillar that will hold the weight of this kingdom in my absence.’’ He paused and looked away from his son, his eyes feeding absentmindedly at the insects fluttering around the white fluorescent bulb and the gecko waiting to pounce on them. ‘‘You’ve not only made me proud, but you’ve also made the entire world proud. But there is one more task left for you to do.’’ He looked at his son intently. ‘‘A wife. You have to marry before darkness overshadows me. And it must be urgent. Thank God, you were not carried away by the beauty of foreign life, and did not bring home one skinny Oyibo in the name of a wife.’’

Nnanna chuckled and held his father’s lean hand reassuringly. ‘‘That’s not a task at all, Nna m. Whatever that is done for love or with passion is never a task, neither is it a responsibility. It’s simply a desire…’’

‘‘I was only speaking in parables, my son,’’ the king cut in, adjusting himself on the royal seat.

‘‘I will start looking for a wife now that I’m back.’’

‘‘No.’’ The king waved his weak hand dismissively. ‘‘Our custom remains sacrosanct. The royal family has a unique procedure for contracting marriage. Have you forgotten? The maidens, for the princes, will have to engage in a dance competition on the first Afor Market day of the first month of the year. The best dancer among the competitors becomes your wife.’’

Nnanna swallowed hard. He had his reservations about some aspects of his people’s customs, but he maintained his cool and decided to wait till the D-day before he could bare his mind. So, if a girl as ugly as a hippopotamus emerged the winner, they would impose her on him for a wife? He sniggered silently at the thought of this.

★ ★★★★

As Ugonwa lowered the ‘jerrycan’ of water to the ground, she thought about what Nkata, the village tattler and drunk, had said to her on her way back from the stream. (‘Nkata’ means ‘basket,’ and it was a moniker for anyone who drank a lot without being satisfied and, in this case, anyone who couldn’t hold back secrets or information).

The village tattler and drunk had said to her: ‘‘Ugo, the most beautiful maiden in Igbobuike Kingdom! You’re destined for royalty, but, beware of your excitement lest it ruins your chances.’’

People always treated the tattler with scorn and disregarded his messages, but Ugonwa had a discerning spirit. She knew that some treasures, sometimes, come from ‘rotten’ sites. But she couldn’t deny the difficulty in interpreting this message.

Then, the dance rehearsal came to her mind. It was going to be held tonight at the village square, in preparation for the mega event.

She hurriedly poured some water in a stainless bucket, and scurried off for the bathroom.

★ ★★★★

Ugonwa held the bark of the oak tree, crying uncontrollably in the heart of the forest. She was all alone here, but she didn’t mind. She was heartbroken and needed an answer to her plight.

Just few hours ago, at the village square, the other maidens had called her a bastard and walked her out of their midst.

‘‘Why me?’’ she cried, looking up at the full moon of the December month. ‘‘What have I done to deserve this maltreatment? Is it my fault that I was born out of wedlock? God, why? I have never borne any grudge against anybody. Why so against me? Why?’’

She cried and sobbed until she got tired. Then, sleep overshadowed her.

More on >>> www.illufik.com