The Legend of Hombarume (Legends Series, #1)

32.

‘Seems the rain is coming,’ Revai said, staring at the darkening sky.

‘Possibly, but I doubt it.’

Ever since Pomerai's controversial disappearance, the old Chief had stopped spending his days indoors but rather out at a she'd fashioned out of wooden bars and a straw roof at the edge of one of his major fields that overlooked the mango plantation. There he would enjoy the fresh air and think freely without being pestered by the noisy maids that ran up and down his palace day in and out. Revai was also there, wondering what had gotten into a man who had followed a routine religiously everyday of his life.

‘Are you sure?’ Revai asked, obviously convinced by the heavy clouds and thunder.

‘It will drizzle at most, if anything.’

Banga shifted in his seat then chugged his mahewu, some of it dripping on to his beard. Revai eyed him worriedly.

‘Vakuru, it has been days. Don't you think we should do something about Pomerai and everything else that has happened?’

Banga cleared his throat and soured his expression, either the potent mixture he was drinking had warranted this or he was annoyed because Revai had disturbed the peace.

‘This is one fine brew, share it with me, Revai.’

The head of the Chief's guard was more confused than surprised by the blatant evasion of his valid question. Nevertheless, he played along, pressing harder would provoke the Chief or unearth his dormant rage.

‘Of course, master.’

After the news of the seer's tragic passing, Revai started to understand less and less of what was happening. It went against everything he knew and believed would happen. Nothing like it had ever happened in his entire lifetime. How could a man maul another like a lion would? Instead of considering that ridiculous story, he decided that the seer was either killed by his family or by an animal. The former wasn't so far fetched, everyone knew the man's deeds.

What he didn't understand was why the Chief was acting like none of it had happened, like his own son wasn't part of some murder conspiracy of sorts with unbelievable spiritual undertones. Now there was a deafening silence between them, one that was occasionally broken by Banga's careless, loud swill of his mahewu.

‘A lion resting in the shade is not idle, it is plotting. All is being taken care of, Revai. Quietly.’

***

Banga could see the confusion written all over Revai's face and he decided to ascertain him that his actions were not to warrant any alarm. After he revealed that things were under control, he saw relief slowly creep back on to Revai's face but the worry did not fully dissipate.

He wanted to explain further but he couldn't. The more he revealed about what he was doing, the less quiet it became. People talked and the last thing he needed right now was the locals breathing down his neck and everyone meddling in his business like they were kin. A good example was what Ushe had done at the hearing, a gross mistake. Banga now had a bone to pick with the farmer for further complicating Pomerai's situation.

The air outside was refreshing, almost liberating. At last he could feel himself think, no disturbances at all. However, the more he thought about why he started spending more time outdoors the more it felt like hiding rather than embracing freedom.

The mahewu did wonders, refreshing and fermented impeccably. The enhanced feeling of it going down the throat as the now cool breeze blew tied the afternoon together. Just as it started feeling like it was at it's peak, he saw from the corner of his eye one of the guards cutting through the field, his step hasted so that he could reach them as soon as possible. What was it now?

‘Your lordship, there is someone here for you, he says he has an urgent matter. I wasn't sure whether you would address him in your chambers or here, sir.’

Banga looked at the guard, staring him down like he was seeing his insides, like he could see his entire life through his eyes.

‘Very well, I will be there shortly,’ Banga finally said.

The Chief kept on watching the guard as he walked away. His strides were even and perfect as though someone was pulling at his limbs with invisible strings. His motions looked unnatural, too perfect to be real. Banga brushed the thought away and welcomed the reality of his afternoon turning to ruin. He wondered what it would be this time, a decapitated man, perhaps three? All at the hand of his murderous son. He wouldn't be surprised.

‘Ndauyawo nechichemo changu mambo,’ the man said after greeting the Chief.

‘Speak, my fellow man,’ Banga nodded.

‘My son is ailing. His health is deteriorating by the day. Now that the healer is...is dead, what am I to do, your majesty?’

One could hear pounding of pestle on mortar in one of the kitchens over the incredible silence. Banga remained silent as if he wasn't the one who was being asked for help. Revai, on the Chief's right hand also remained quiet and waited impatiently for him to clear his throat at least. Slowly, the man came to the realization that the man in front of him was clueless as ever. Banga hadn't yet thought this through and the sudden epiphany that people would get sick or injured whilst there was no healer slapped him in the face.

He loathed Vhudzijena until his end, despised him with a passion, infact. Although he never liked the man, he wasn't too proud to accept that he kept the community going for decades. He was good at what he did, the villagers had no worries. Of course others headed to Makura for famed healers who could ”cure boils with a single touch". Only the elite could afford such, the likes of the Chief himself. He resorted to this after he let go of the personal healers he used to have. Thus it had slipped his mind that the village's only healer was dead.

Glossary.
Mahewu – a drink made out of maize meal and/or rapoko.
Ndauyawo nechichemo changu mambo – I have a grievance, my Lord.