Chapter 2: The Two Lions of Oyo (Part 1 - The Victor's Return)
The scent of victory in Oyo-Ile was rich with woodsmoke and roasting meat. The capital celebrated the decisive defeat of Olowu, a triumph engineered almost entirely by the new Alaafin’s decisive speed. The people praised Sango as a savior; he had done in two weeks what his brother could not do in two years. But within the Aafin walls, the atmosphere remained strategic and tense.
Sango sat on the throne during the victory feast, the center of all attention, draped in new silks but with the Edun Ara pouch ever present on his belt. He had brought stability and expansion, things the Oyomesi craved. Yet, his gaze often lingered on the two men seated far down the high table, flanking his first wife, Oba: Gbonka and Timi.
They were the heroes of the campaign, second only to the King himself. Gbonka, the physically imposing general, had led the main charge, breaking Olowu’s infantry lines with brutal efficiency. Timi, the lean strategist, had masterminded a crucial flanking maneuver that trapped the remnants of Olowu's cavalry, ensuring a total rout. They were magnificent war leaders, and they despised each other with a professional and personal animosity.
"General Gbonka," Sango called out, his voice cutting through the din of praise singers and revelers, who quieted instantly at his command. Gbonka stood, his massive frame looming over the table, pride radiating from him. "Your charge was the hammer that broke our cousin's shield. Oyo honors you."
The crowd cheered their local hero. Gbonka puffed out his chest with satisfaction.
"And General Timi," Sango continued, perfectly balancing the scales, "your strategy secured the victory with minimal loss of life. You are the cunning blade to Gbonka’s hammer."
Timi offered a sharp, respectful nod, his eyes flicking momentarily toward Gbonka's slightly disgruntled face. Sango had expertly given them both praise, ensuring neither felt superior to the other. He intended to keep them precisely there: balanced on a knife's edge, their mutual rivalry a safeguard against either of them growing powerful enough to challenge the throne itself. It was a risky strategy, but Sango lived for risk.
Later that evening, Sango escaped the clamor of the feast and sought refuge in the private chambers where his wives were gathered. The air in the Iyaafin was heavy with the fragrance of shea butter and spices.
Oba was arranging textiles, her demeanor calm but slightly strained after the public feast. Osun, draped in vibrant yellow, was mixing a sweet, aromatic palm wine cocktail, flashing a seductive smile at Sango when he entered. Oya was practicing with her own small axe, movements fluid and silent as the wind.
"My King," Osun purred, presenting him with a calabash cup. "A celebration drink, made just for you. To soothe the fire of battle."
Sango took the cup, drinking deeply. He favored Osun's attention; it was easy and uncomplicated, a simple pleasure—or so he thought. He felt a comfortable warmth spread through his chest.
Oya paused her practice, wiping sweat from her brow with the back of her hand. "The fire of battle cannot be soothed with wine, Sango. It can only be channeled." She looked at him with an intensity that unsettled him, seeing past the crown to the man, the warrior, while Osun seemed only to see the King to be manipulated.
"Oya speaks truth," Sango acknowledged, setting the empty cup down. "The war with Olowu is over, but the war for control of this Aafin has just begun. Gbonka and Timi are two lions in the same pride, and a pride can only have one king."
"You must eliminate the weaker one," Oba suggested simply, speaking for the first time with quiet conviction. "Stability requires clear hierarchy."
Sango shook his head, pacing the floor. "No. Eliminating one makes the other supreme, and a supreme general is a direct threat to the crown. I need them fighting each other, keeping each other in check. Their rivalry is my greatest, and most dangerous, tool."
He left his wives to their own devices, the weight of his new crown pressing down on him. The politics of Oyo were more complex and perilous than any battlefield in Nupe.
Sango was wrong. He failed to account for the human element: pure, unadulterated hatred.
Over the next few weeks, Sango subtly fanned the flames of the rivalry, believing he was a master manipulator. He assigned Gbonka to collect taxes from a notoriously difficult northern province, a task demanding force and presence, while giving Timi command of the newly secured southern borders, a position requiring strategic thought and diplomacy. Each was a highly visible position of power designed to breed envy.
This led to escalating sniping comments during council meetings.
"The northern taxes are always slow, a task for a lesser general who must brute-force compliance," Timi insinuated one morning, a cold smile on his lips.
Gbonka rose instantly, his massive face red with fury, his muscles bunching under his robes. "And commanding a peaceful border is hardly a task for the 'cunning blade' you claim to be, Timi! You hide while real men enforce the King's will!"
Sango watched them from his throne, a slight smile playing on his lips. They were perfectly balanced, perfectly controlled, he thought.
He was wrong. The rivalry soon moved beyond words. Small skirmishes between their regiments became common in the streets of Oyo-Ile. The Oyomesi grew concerned, urging Sango to intervene, to discipline them before blood was spilled in the capital. But Sango believed he was still in control, enjoying the tension that proved his generals were loyal only to themselves, not a unified front that could overthrow him.
The tension reached a breaking point during a large public festival in the market square. Both generals were present with their entourages, the atmosphere thick with the potential for violence. A minor disagreement over seating at the feast tables escalated rapidly. Insults were traded, referencing their mothers and their manhood.
Before anyone could stop them, Gbonka, driven by rage and a desire for physical dominance, charged Timi, intending to wrestle him to the ground and humiliate him publicly.
Timi was ready. He was lean, quick, and the strategist always had a plan. He ducked the charge and used Gbonka's momentum against him, tripping him with a practiced move. The massive general crashed to the dusty ground. The crowd gasped. The seemingly invincible Gbonka had been bested by the leaner Timi.
Gbonka scrambled to his feet, shame and fury burning in his eyes. He drew his sword, abandoning the pretense of a wrestling match. Timi matched him, his face cold and focused. The festival ground became a dueling arena.
Guards rushed to separate them, but Sango’s chief guard, who reported everything back to the King, held them back. The King needed to see which lion would draw blood.
"Stop this madness!" one of the Oyomesi chiefs yelled, running toward the pair.
But it was too late. Timi moved with the speed of a serpent, slashing at Gbonka's sword arm. Gbonka roared in pain, dropping his weapon and clutching his spurting arm. The general who had broken Olowu’s army was bleeding in the dirt of the market square.
The silence in the market square was absolute, heavy with the realization that this rivalry was no longer just palace politics. It was a clear and present danger to the stability of the Oyo Empire Sango had just salvaged. Sango’s balancing act had failed spectacularly. He had created monsters and lost control of them. He had to make a choice, and quickly.
Sango arrived at the market square a moment later, having been informed of the duel. He surveyed the scene: Gbonka bleeding and disgraced; Timi standing victorious but wary; the crowd silent and fearful. The balance he had so carefully curated had shattered like pottery under a war club.
He did not yell. His silence was far more terrifying than any thunderclap. He locked eyes with Gbonka, who stared back with a mix of defiance and pain. Then Sango looked at Timi, whose victory seemed hollow under the King's icy scrutiny.
"You have disgraced your King and the Aafin in the public square," Sango’s voice was low but carried to the edges of the crowd. "This cannot stand. The rivalry ends now."
Sango knew he had to choose. Oba had suggested eliminating the weaker one. In a fit of temper, and perhaps feeling that Timi's cold cunning was a greater, more intellectual threat to his own authority than Gbonka's brute strength, Sango made a fatal error of judgment. He decided to send Timi away.
"Timi," Sango commanded, the formal tone signaling the gravity of the punishment. "You are banished. You are stripped of your title and your lands. You will go to the frontier town of Ede. Command the garrison there. Never again set foot in Oyo-Ile, on pain of death."
Timi, the strategist, bowed his head, accepting his fate with a cold dignity that further infuriated the hot-tempered Sango. He turned and left the square, his remaining loyal guards following in his wake.
Gbonka watched him go, a grim satisfaction on his face. Sango had chosen him. He was the favored general, the true lion of Oyo.
The King’s decision sent shockwaves through the court. It was a harsh sentence for a street brawl, but it restored order. For a brief time, there was peace. Gbonka took his position as the undisputed commander of the army, and Timi took up residence in distant Ede.
But Sango’s solution was merely a bandage on a deep wound. The banishment only granted Gbonka time to consolidate his own power, removing his only true rival and making him the supreme military force Sango had always feared.
Gbonka grew arrogant. He began to challenge Sango’s authority in subtle ways, showing up late to councils, questioning logistics, and expanding his personal guard beyond what was customary. He knew the King needed him to hold the vast empire together.
Sango felt the shift in power, the subtle currents of respect turning to cautious maneuvering. He had created the very scenario he sought to avoid. He began to regret banishing Timi, the only man who could keep Gbonka in check.
He turned to his wives for counsel, a rare moment of vulnerability. "Gbonka has grown too large for his boots," Sango confessed to Oya and Osun in his private chambers. "I have made him too powerful."
Oya, ever perceptive, looked at him with an intensity that suggested a solution. "A fire needs wind to grow strong, my King, but too much wind can make it unpredictable."
Osun, meanwhile, simply smiled, preparing him his favorite dish. The incident with Oba and the ear was still a few weeks away, but her jealousy was a slow-burning fuse.
Sango paced the floor. He needed a way to remove Gbonka without causing a civil war. He needed Gbonka to fall on his own sword, or rather, at the hand of his rival.
A messenger arrived from Ede, the frontier town where Timi was banished. The message was simple: Timi sought audience with the King, swearing allegiance and offering a solution to the growing Gbonka problem.
Sango agreed. He met Timi in secret, in a small shrine outside the Aafin walls, away from Gbonka's spying eyes.
"Gbonka is a usurper in waiting, Kabiyesi," Timi whispered, kneeling before the King. "He plans to overthrow you. I have heard the whispers. He is too strong, my King. He has magic that even you may not be able to counter."
Sango listened, his paranoia feeding on Timi's words. "If he is so strong, how can you defeat him?"
Timi smiled, the look of the cunning strategist returning to his eyes. "He is strong in body, Lord, but I am strong in spirit and magic. We can defeat him, but he must be challenged in a specific manner, a magical duel in the market square. He will accept your challenge, out of pride."
Sango agreed. He was trapped between two powerful generals and needed to eliminate the threat Gbonka posed. He was prepared to set his two lions against each other one final time, hoping this time, the winner would also be eliminated, leaving the King supreme above all. He was playing a dangerous game, one that would soon consume his kingdom in fire.
No comments:
Post a Comment