Amile The Queen

Chapter Sixty-Five

***Narrated***

He’s parked outside the palace gate, as per Dlamini’s instruction. He has no idea what for, he was just told to park, sit and wait. He knows better than to question their instruction. So he’s sitting and waiting. They were coming from council, and they were in silence the whole way, what they did do is directly hop out of this vehicle, climb into another suspicious one with another driver, and left, leaving the dust to collect itself.
Now he’s playing some hip-hop, to calm him down. He can’t stop glancing over at the watch anticipating their return. He promised that he would be home early to spend time with Amile. He hates breaking promises, especially made to his daughter. He understands the importance of treating his baby girl like the egg and princess she is because if he doesn’t, boys are going to be her playground.
The door abruptly opens and a lavender scent fills the whole car instantly. Before he cant even contest, she shouts: “Drive”
He doesn’t ask many questions, he starts the car and takes off as fast as he can. He doesn’t know the nature and seriousness of the situation she might be in.
“Take a left here.” she directs.
This way is leading them to town, he thinks to himself.
“Is the queen in any kind of trouble?”
“Not yet, no!” she said and gave him a naughty side smile.
He didn’t quite catch it because he was focusing on the road. He didn’t pay much attention to the answer. Again, he is in no position to be asking questions.
She directs him to a block of run down flats in town. They are located in a shady, unsanitary place. Not a place a woman like her should be seen in.
“Come with me.” she said and climbed out the car.
He didn’t move. He sat still in his seat and looked at her. She noticed this and peered through the window with a raised eyebrow.
“This is a dodgy place, I can’t leave the royal car here. And I’m supposed to be at the palace.” he said folding his arms across his chest.
He doesn’t even know her name, why is she always throwing herself at him.
“I’m more precious than a body of metal. I’m sure the king would kill you if something happened to me. So I need you to guard my body.” she winked.
In this moment, he hated his job description. He took a minute to contemplate the chances of him losing his job, or his life over this. So he got out the car, and prayed that he wasn’t putting anything in jeopardy by doing this.
She led the way into the building. They entered the first door from the entrance and when he was inside, she closed, locked and pinned him against the wall.
“Guard my body.” she instructed.
She lifted his hands and placed them on her hips. He unintentionally fell into a fit of laughter, hoping she was joking.
“What are you laughing at?” she asked pulling the same hands he has moved away back to her hips.
“My queen, I can’t be doing this with you.”
“This is an act of service, I don’t ask much of you. I just want you to give me a good fuck and we’ll move on.” he’s shocked.
“I’ll make sure Mhlaba adds a little something to your salary.” she held his belt buckle and went down on him.
He’s still trying to resist her by pushing her away. He doesn’t know what her intention is. Maybe this is a trap. Why would they tell him to park right outside the palace gate and give no other instruction, then just leave? Are they testing him, or are they testing the loose wife, because clearly, the king knows that one of his own is a straatmate.
“Stop what you are doing.” he tried to shout but his voice was strained.
She was getting through to him, he is a man after all.
“Make me.” she stroked him and he banged his head against the wall, surpressing a moan.
When even did she take off his pants?
“My queen.” he said holding her hair in his hands roughly.
He pulled her head violently and made her look at him.
“I said stop.”
She smirked and used her mouth to…
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His guilty concious is eating away at him. He knows what he did was wrong, firstly because it is someone’s wife, the kings wife, and secondly, he’s married himself. Makhosazane would be devastated if she dare find out. He can’t even bring himself to imagine what will happen if Mhlabawesizwe finds out. He’s good as dead.
He barely even enjoyed it from the guilt. He did a two-minute job, much to her disappointment. It serves her right for wanting other people’s property.
That doesn’t ease the guilt and fear. What if she goes ranting about it? Or worse case scenario, she tells her husband? Maybe she will twist the story and make him the bad guy. He’s shaking in his boots.
It’s after 8. He’s late and the two men still haven’t come back. By the time he comes back, Amile will be long asleep. He keeps glancing behind him when he hears a car approaching. He keeps praying it’s them, but they all end up passing by.
He leans back on his seat and closes his eyes for a second, trying to block out any thought that may come to mind. He just wants to feel nothing. He startles when he hears a violent knock on the window. His body jerks up and he almost jumps in fear when he sees the king peering inside, looking like he’s ready to kill him.
He opens the car door and he climbs out.
“My king.” he looks down.
He doesn’t respond, he just moves his hand up to his neck and strangles him. The air leaves his lungs faster because he is trying to scream and fight him off.
“Ngiyakondla, ngikunikeza umsebenzi wena ungithifela ebusweni.” he spits.
When he finally lets go, it’s a struggle for a breath. He’s letting all the oxygen he can get go into his lungs, and he’s holding his neck from the pain. For a sixty year old man, he’s got good grip.
“Mgodoyi, ngena la!” he shoves him into the drivers seat.
He goes to the other side of the car and enters. From there on, he instructs him to drive. Now his heart is stuck in his throat. He knows exactly what he’s done, know the question is it the same thing that this man knows.
His leg can’t stop shaking, he’s swerving off the road here and there.
“Stop the car.” they are in the middle of no where, all there is is darkness and bushes.
he watches him climb out the car and slamming the door. He comes to open the driver door where he is looking up at him and grabs him by the shirt, and throws him on the gravel.
He could pick himself up, fight him back, or run. He’s strong enough to do that, but he respects him too much, that and fear. This man is rumored to practice heavy witchcraft. No one can even lock eyes with him, he’s that powerful.
One blow to the stomach and he rolls on the ground.
“Usithathaphi isibindi sokudla umfazi wami!?” he groans in pain.
It hasn’t even been 6 hours since it happened. Maybe it was a trap.
“My king, I’m sorry. It was a mistake, it never should’ve happened.” he coughs out.
That was a hard blow, his lungs feel like they have been pierced. He rolls around trying to find a way to get up.
“Come back here!” he bends down and picks him up like he weighs nothing and throws him on the bonnet of his the car. His strength is impeccable, he might lose his life for this.
“Please my king, please don’t kill me. My daughter still needs me!”
He was about to land another punch to his face, but he stopped mid way and looked at him.
“You have disrespected me, the whole kingdom and my ancestors! I don’t see a punishment fit for you other than death.” he spits!
“I beg you my king, I will do anything, I can leave the palace, just don’t take my life.”
He let him down and his body hit the hard ground and he groaned in pain. He was about to crawl away again when he grabbed him using hiss torn up t-shirt and brought him back to his feet. He towered over him and gave him a deadly look.
“Your daughter will marry my son.” his heart rate increased rapidly.
“My king…” he begged before a nasty cough burst from his chest.
“She will be raised in the palace and will marry Langalethu on her 18th birthday.” he felt his world come crashing into pieces.
“Everything else my king, not…not my daugh…” he was chocked by a sob.
“You owe me your life. I’m doing you a favour by not killing you. Your daughter belongs to me.”
He kicked him once more and went to get in the car, reversed away and left him sobbing and groaning like a bull in pain.
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He’s not fully healed, it’s only been two days since he was almost beat to death. He didn’t bother giving a reason to Makhosi, he just said he was mugged on his way home from work.
She obviously cried while tending to his bruises, she was worried sick, thinking only the worst and for him to come back in the state he was in made it worse. Now she’s adamant that he shouldn’t go back, at least not now.
He also didn’t tell her about what he did. That would just break her heart and he can’t stomach seeing pain on her face. He doesn’t know how to begin to explain that the king has instructed that Amile go live at the palace. He doesn’t want that for his baby, he wants her to grow up normally like other kids, and not live knowing that she has to marry a man.
In fact- if he could- he would run away, and take his family with him. Two errand boys have been here to tell him to go back to work, and said it was orders from the king. That’s why he’s up now, preparing for work even though he’s battered and bruised like a peach.
“I don’t like what you are doing Vumani.” Makhosi said holding the kettle with the boiling hot water in his hand.
He let go of it.
“You saw the king sending people to call me back to work. I have to go Makhosi.” his mood is off, she thinks to herself.
“You are hurt, ayikho into ozoyisebenza unje!” she raises her voice.
He ignores her and walks away. He picks up his shoes from under the bed and as he crouches down, he groans in pain. As he is doing the shoe laces, his mother bursts in and stands at the door.
“What’s going on?” she has Amile on her back.
“Vumani is refusing to listen to me Ma.” she had hope that maybe for the first time she’d be on her side.
“Sisi, ayithethiswa indoda. He’s the one that makes money for your and your child, how are you going to stop him from doing that.”
She drops her eyes in disappointment.
“He’s not fully healed.” she mutters under her breath.
“Let him do what he wants to do. You’ll just be here to take care of him when he comes back.” she hates her for inserting herself in their marriage and being biased the way she is.
As a woman, she should be on her side for the well-being of her son. This says a lot about her character as a whole. It’s very questionable. As she sways out the room with a sleeping Amile on her back, Vumani stands up and goes to Makhosi.
“I won’t stay there the whole day. I’ll just tell Dlamini that I’m not feeling well and hope that they feel compassionate for me.” he held her waist and brought her closer.
“The palace is far, you can’t walk all the way like this.” she said looking at him in the eyes.
He couldn’t maintain eye contact so he looked away.
“I’ll be okay.” he kissed her forehead.
“I love you mamakhe.” she sighed and put her hands on his shoulders.
“I love you too Phakathwayo.”
He exhaled as he just listened to his heart beating in his ears.
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They were served breakfast by MaJili once again, but today she wasn’t flirty, she in fact gave him a cold shoulder and a stink eye. All the men saw this, it was quiet obvious, even the way she threw the plate of food at him, the sexual tension between them was something else.
What she didn’t know is that her husband knew her dirty secret, because only he got the receiving end of his anger. Clearly he wasn’t angry enough if she’s still here.
He had hoped to avoid seeing Mhlabawesizwe by all cost, but that was going to be impossible because he works for him directly.
“Gumede, woza la.” Dlamini saw him as he patrolled the yard.
When he stood in front of him, he took of his cap and looked down.
“Why haven’t you been coming to work?” he lifted his face and he saw the bruises on his face.
“What happened to you?” Dlamini doesn’t know? He’s shocked.
“I was mugged when I went home on Wednesday.” he lies again.
“UZulu wants to talk to you. I’m guessing it’s something important.”
He cleared his throat.
“I will go look for him, but can I get the rest of this weekend off?”
“Yes, you can. You should’ve sent word out that you were not in the right state.”
“Thank you mhlonishwa.”
“Go look for Mageba.” he says and pats his shoulder.
He goes inside the palace door. His legs are shaking. He’s afraid to see him, but he’s hoping for a chance to try to convince him out of the thought to taking Amile. His 4 year old daughter can’t be married to a thirty something, that is absurd.
“Step into my office Gumede.” his loud voice stopped him dead in his tracks.
He took two steps back and went back to the door he had just passed. He was sitting there having tea like he’s the most innocent man on the planet. Evil people don’t drink tea, they drink strong alcoholic drinks that burn and destroy their livers.
“Bayede.” he bows and stands by the door.
He’s still mixing his tea. He puts two teaspoons of sugar and dips the teabag three times before he takes it out and pours the whole jug of milk into the cup. That is one tasteless tea he will be drinking.
“What happened to your face?” he asks lifting the cup to his lips, staring at him.
That was meant to be a rhetorical question.
“Sthuli sika Ndaba, I’m here to apologize you you Bayede, you can fine me, or exile me from your land, just please don’t do that to my daughter.”
“Sit down Gumede.” his heart leaps.
He doesn’t hesitate, he sits down and looks down.
“I realized a long time ago that my wife is loose. She’s young, although the time she should’ve been fucking around has passed, she still didn’t get to enjoy it, the thrill excites her. Unfortunately, you were weak enough to give in to that. Now tell me, when Langalethu is a king, would you want him to have a loose wife? Isizwe sizoba njani siholwa umuntu ongumahambe lala?”
“She’s just a baby Bayede.”
“Exactly. Zigotswa zisemanzi Gumede. Uzokhula kahle nje uMaGumede.” the calm in his voice is scaring him.
“It’s that or I kill you, and take her either way.” his heart raced. He felt tears burning his eyes.
“Can you please just give her a normal life. I don’t want her growing up knowing something like that. I want her to enjoy her life, the short time she has to herself.”
“That’s not part of the deal Gumede.”
He got off the chair, got on his knees and put his hands together, tears gracing his face.
“Ngiyakunxusa Mageba, sthuli sika Ndaba.”
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He died that very night. In his bed, in his sleep. He randomly started foaming at the mouth before he had a short seizure and lost his life.
That was traumatic for Makhosazane who had to witness all of that, he died with all the secrets, and the pain he felt. He never shared it with anyone else.
Vumani’s mother gave Makhosi an ultimatum, either she went back home, or she got a job to sustain the whole family because living for free was not an option, and that’s what she did. Got a job in one of the clothing stores in town and did a short course at the local university. She got a diploma right on time and when the little money Vumani had to his name was given to her, she took it and went to Durban to start over with her daughter, freeing herself from the shackles.
She never saw that land, or the house that Vumani was planning to build for the both of them. She was all alone, and only had Amile as her shoulder.
“Abantwana bafela izono zabazali.”