Balogun

DARK

"In true love, the smallest distance is too great and the greatest distance can be bridged."
- Hans Nouwens.

"If you remember me, then I don't care if anyone else forgets."
- Haruki Murakami

xXx

For a long time after Abike left, Murewa just laid on his bed, unhappy and uninspired.

He had a lot of things to do, people to visit and a Throne Room meeting to attend, but he couldn't find it in him to get up and plan his day.

The Throne Room meeting today was going to be epic as he would be weeding out whoever it was that had helped the Grandfather plan the poisoning.
They had used his brother for their selfish purposes and he intended to punish every single one of them for the crime they had committed.

Suddenly, Murewa sat up.
Why was he dallying?
The earlier he could get everything over with, the earlier he could bring her back.

He jumped to his feet and raced into the bathroom.
In a few minutes, he was out and fully dressed with an obstinate look on his face.

For years, he had been made a fool of, deceived and played, it was time for him to go back to how it used to be.
These people must have mistaken him for someone else, probably his father.
He wasn't the type to sit back and watch his life crash around him.

He walked down the hall and up the stairs.
He didn't want to start the meeting without Jamal, so he decided to go see his father first.

He hadn't seen the man since that morning of the confession.

To be honest, Murewa was ashamed.
Ashamed of the way he had treated his father and his wife, Habibah.

As he took the last flight of stairs leading to the top floor, he heard loud thumps of footfalls from above and by the time he was rounding the bend, he saw Queen Habibah sweep tearfully into her room and slam the door.

Murewa walked down the hall and knocked on his father's door.

"Habibah! Leave me alone!" He heard his father grate from behind the door.

"Murewa," he said shortly and there was a brief pause before he heard the scrape of a chair against the tiles, followed by the footsteps of his father and then the door was swinging open.

His Father smiled at him and for the first time, Murewa noticed the lines on the man's forehead and the wrinkles around his cheeks and mouth.
How had he aged so fast? He was just sixty two.

"Good morning, son," King Bankole said and walked back to the dining chair to resume his breakfast.

"Good morning." Murewa returned and followed him.
He took the chair across the table from him.

"I saw Habibah..." Murewa observed his father as he ate. "What happened?"

"What didn't?" King Bankole looked up.
"Not only did she give information to King Ola about the letter, she just confessed to me this morning that the Grandfather had told her to keep me away from visiting Muyiwa when he was in the cell!"

"I don't understand." Murewa sat up.

King Bankole pushed his plate of food aside and looked up.

"You remember that Throne room meeting we had, that Jamal told us one of the guys who planned the poisoning had been apprehended, we were supposed to go see the person who perpetrated the act. But that was the day Habibah fell sick. Now, that woman is telling me the Grandfather had been the one to give her the instructions to make sure she didn't let me anywhere near the cell..."