Ugegbe knew who He was. She also knew that she had not sold her soul to Him—it was His anyhow—but rather, He'd given up His life for her. She was confident about her experience with Him and how she'd been saved by His grace. Most of all, she'd come to accept the salvation so freely offered to all. And oh, did it feel great to know and understand and comprehend all that she'd previously worried about.

She further discovered an interesting turn of events that she'd never noticed before; it genuinely shook her that Zelunjo could understand the white man's language, even speaking it occasionally. The realisation dawned on her when they were at the evening worship some days ago.

It was on her fifth consecutive visit to the outskirts of the village with Zelunjo to join in the worship led by the white men that she made the discovery. Under the open sky, they all sat, the preachers, the outcasts, the sick, the rejects, the hungry, to hear about the god who formed the earth and everything that was in it, the god who was so powerful that He could destroy the world if it were in His will, whose might was practically inconceivable even to the most magnificent minds, whose grandeur and greatness was far beyond the human intelligence could begin comprehend.

They all gathered to marvel at such unspeakable glory. However, for many of those present, the most valuable and important lesson they were given was that He loved them all irrespective of how insignificant and unworthy they were.

There were several, like Ugegbe, who were amazed by how much the being cared for creatures that sinned against Him repeatedly. She'd found it impossible to imagine giving up her son to die for the same race she knew would put the one sent to death, as He did.

She'd struggled to grasp the sheer, unalloyed benevolence that He bestowed on humans, though this was not the concept that initially evaded her grasp. Originally, she found it difficult to follow the interpretations of the only other translator the village had, a young man named Kwento.

Kwento was not as skilled at teaching as Mazi Njeze was. His translations were often stunted, abrupt and crude. Ugegbe could barely understand what he was trying to communicate more than half of the time. It was so unlucky for her that Njeze had been summoned by the king, just after her first appearance at the sermon-grounds, and had been absent since that day.

Notwithstanding, Ugegbe did her best to understand that Kwento probably was having tough moments as well. She could see this actuality in the way his brow remained furrowed from the beginning of the preacher's speeches to the very end and the nervous nibbling on his lip that was undoubtedly a nervous habit. Once, she even caught his hands trembling like a man suffering from an illness exacerbated by old age.

Moreover, if he wasn't so awful at expressing the needed words in a way that was meaningful, she might never have noticed that Zelunjo could convert English to Igbo. Then again, she would have had a chance, though considerably lower, to do so as she'd initially become suspicious when she saw Zelunjo chuckle at a joke the missionaries made even though there was no interpreter to relay their meaning to her.

Her talent was an absolute blessing to Ugegbe. After getting over her shock, she'd questioned Zelunjo on how she had achieved so remarkable a feat. Her answer was expected yet, also incredible—Zelunjo owed her new skill to her uncle.

Onwards, she revealed that Njeze was responsible for her coming to learn how to understand the white man's tongue. After he was trained by the missionaries, he'd begun to teach her gradually. Being quite intelligent herself, she'd caught on to the basics and was now capable of discerning what the white men usually articulated.

It was fortunate that the English the preachers spoke were often in their easiest forms. While they shared the word of God, the grammar used was rarely complicated, and Zelunjo had no problem relating what they meant to Ugegbe.

An added boon was that Ugegbe had someone to explain doctrines that were a little too foreign for her to come to terms with since Zelunjo was more knowledgeable than she was in that regard. What perhaps would have taken weeks to understand, Ugegbe had wisened up over in not many days. She had her devoted mentor to thank for the accomplishment.

Although not frequently, Ugegbe found herself wondering about what could have befallen Zelunjo to shape her into the committed and resolute believer that she was. In her heart, she was aware of the reason why she clung to the truth she'd been offered so hastily, but she was clueless as to what had pushed Zelunjo to search for light in crevices outside of the shelter built over eons to house the customs and beliefs of the people of Osisi.

For Ugegbe had found that desperation, hopelessness and a hunger for things spiritual could drive one to find God. She was grateful that He'd revealed himself to her before she could fall into despair.

He saved the prince. She'd prayed to God for him to be alive and whole, and he was. Maybe not so whole, but he was well, and his soul had not been given an opportunity to return to the spirit world. For her, there would have been no recovery from the situation if the second prince had died. Death had no button for backtracking with which one could reverse back and eventually take away its grave hands. Once a man was gone, that was the end of him.

But Prince Uzochi had come back to her safely despite the alarming and dreadful situation he'd been put in by the assassins. She would forever be grateful to God for the mercy he was showed. The prince had been saved, and so had she.

Maybe her reasoning would not make the most sense to anyone else, but it was completely coherent and rational to her: God had rescued her from an existence filled with self-hatred. If Prince Uzochi had lost his life in the unexpected battle he'd been slung into, Ugegbe knew she would have condemned herself for the rest of her life. She would never have been able to move past the guilt that came with the knowledge that the prince had protected her and refused to let harm reach her at his own expense.

Things could have proceeded down a less pleasant and extremely hostile path if Prince Uzochi had chosen to sacrifice her for his own safety. It would not be a first for such to happen. The crown prince, Prince Nnofo, was once faced with the same circumstances, but Prince Uzochi's actions were an antithesis to his.

It was no rumour afterward as everyone was already aware of the truth: the first prince had sold all the servants and attendants who were with him at the point of attack to avoid being murdered. The public talks came after, and they were formed on the assumption that there was not the slightest hint of hesitation from the prince when it came to offering up his own people.

Ugegbe had not been able to form her opinions of the first prince based on what he'd done. As did the whole of Osisi, she did know that His Highness was not like the majority of men in the village. Right from his birth, Prince Nnofo had been weaker than his brothers. As he grew, it became evident that the prince would never have strength as one of his favourable traits. What he lacked in brawns, however, he made up with brains.

Among the five princes, he was the most intelligent and cunning one. All of the proceedings Osisi had with other kingdoms were led by the crown prince. He exerted his influence over the kingdom's internal affairs also, leading his father's decisions, as the current monarch of Osisi, every now and then.

So far, the results of his meddling were in favour of the village, but there was no assurance that matters would always remain the same and not change according to the prince's personal desires.

An ungentle wind was, no doubt, slowly sweeping through the land. In the overbearing arms of its currents, it dragged along the briskness of change. Ugegbe was not prepared for the adjustments that were shifting into place. She wasn't exactly comfortable with them either. But there was nothing she or anyone could do.

The king of Osisi, King Mgbodile, was a man who feared war far more than his predecessors did. As a result, he made sure all his decisions bypassed the paths of conflict and combat. However, though the king meant well for his kingdom by taking on a stance that avoided battling, it also meant that he was easily overlooked and disrespected by the sister kingdom to Osisi, Oguri.

Long ago, Oguri and Osisi were one in a mighty empire known as Okeike. Due to pride and strife, there was a divide between the two branches of the nobility. Both sides had unique ways of dealing with the people under their rule and believed that their style of governing was better than that of their rivals.

In the end, there was a much-anticipated split into two factions in the kingdom. However, this did not stop the enmity. One could say that the hostility and malice between the two factions within Okeike hiked up after the separation into distinct wings.

Resentment rose like a hot geyser between two groups of people who were, at the outset, brothers and sisters who shared the same blood. The ultimate rip of the kingdom into two did not come as a surprise to those who had watched the cold wars rage on for years.

Osisi had the upper hand as its subjects were exceedingly more in number than those of Oguri. They, therefore, had the manpower and leverage to kick out their opponents. Oguri was forced to retreat, being at a disadvantage, from the village, which soon lost its name as Okeike.

Notwithstanding, the escape of the people of Oguri did not mean that they'd given up on their motherland. They wanted their homes back. However, against the prowess and iron rule of the previous kings of Osisi, they could not wage their attacks or infiltrate the kingdom. Until King Mgbodile.

Oguri had no king, but they did have leaders who constantly brought the evillest of plans to being. As soon as King Mgbodile took his place on the throne, Oguri's heads grew bolder as they knew he was not as ironfisted as his predecessors. Years after Mgbodile's succession, they finally struck.

Being a small territory, they chose not to go head to head in battle with Osisi. Instead, they crafted a perfect plan, which involved them worming their way into the village and diligently ambuscading the royals. So far, only chiefs had lost their lives as a result of their attacks. But there was no telling who would be next and how soon and gory the next ambush would be.

Ugegbe tried her best not to agonise over what she had no control over. Still, it was apparent that Osisi would only be driven further into chaos if no action was taken by the king. She'd hate to hear that another assassination attempt had been targeted at the second prince. It would especially break her heart to smithereens if, the heavens forbid, it happened to be a successful one for the cold-blooded murderers.

Enough damage had already been done by the assailants of Oguri, yet the king had not presented forth needed solutions. Up to a quarter of Osisi was inaccessible as the rogues had taken them over and converted it to their domain. No one was allowed to visit the places that were no longer under the control of Mgbodile.

It was dangerous to even do the most insignificant action of bypassing the captured territories. The balance of the village so had been upset, and there was little hope on restoring it. Ugegbe did not want to think of the future as she could not picture much goodness awaiting Osisi.

"Gegbe!" The cry of her nemesis pulled her out of her trap of anxieties for the land on which she graced the earth.

"You need not raise your voice so high, Zelunjo."

"My apologies, Gegbe, but it is hard to control myself and keep calm when I am so excited about today." Her words burst out in tiny squeals. "Here, I have brought the white gown that you need."

"So soon?" Ugegbe muttered from her position on the straw mat. She'd decided to hide in the hut from Zelunjo's pestering and the sweltering heat of the sun—as afternoon aged, the weather's hotness only seemed to be soaring higher, and she most certainly was not impressed by the harshness of the great ball, which was the epitome of heat itself—sadly, there was nowhere left to hide from either thorn in the side.

"Whatever do you mean by so soon? It will be the evening in a few hours, Gegbe. Remember that we need to get to the stream before there is too much of a queue. You are not the only one meeting the priest today, and so we should go as early as we can."

Ugegbe groaned loudly as she sluggishly picked herself off her sleeping mat, from a reclining position to sitting upright. It was a process that called for a period of stalling, during which Zelunjo rolled her eyes uncountably. Ugegbe hoped, for her sake, that her eyeballs would not somehow get stuck under her eyelids with the vigour she applied to the act.

"Gegbe! Stop with this stalling." She demanded before narrowing her eyes in slits. "Do not tell me that you are unsure of your decision. Or are you?"

"No. Of course not." Ugegbe replied hurriedly as she reluctantly shifted her attention to Zelunjo, seated on the floor, just bare inches from the wooden door, with a skeptical expression flickering on her profile.

Indeed, Ugegbe was not unsure of the choice she'd made and neither did she doubt what she now believed in. However, like every instance where she had to take a significant leap in her life, she could not shake off the feeling that she was not prepared enough and, maybe, had not given the issue sufficient time to be thoroughly thought through.

The heart of the crisis lay in the reality that she hated making mistakes. She preferred to work at a steady pace till she reached her goal instead of jumping right onto the road with no weapons to fight her battles and no possibility of forging forward. She did not want any regrets of her own, especially as she was still suffering for and harbouring her father's, not that she blamed him for the misfortune that had befallen them anyway. Nevertheless, she did not desire a case where she would have to lament over a fate brought about with her two hands.

"Gegbe, what is it? You know you can tell me anything that is upsetting you." Zelunjo drew nearer to her as she spoke. Her voice was mellow, brimming with concern. "You are my only true friend, and there is no doubt that I love you. I only want the best for you, but if this is not what you want, then you can tell me. I will speak to the missionaries and inform them of your changed decision if you like. Or we could go together to do so."

"I love you as well, Zelu. And I know that you care about me. But, there is no need for you to do all of what you mentioned." Ugegbe assured Zelunjo with a smile while gently patting her knee with her outstretched hand.

"Really? It is alright whatever your decision is. I am sorry that I was a bit too overbearing not long ago. Sometimes, I misplace myself in my own world and forget that you are not a child, like my siblings, whom I need to make a decision for. Whatever judgement you make, I will respect it."

"You were not overbearing, Zelu. I understand where your actions and statements come from. I am aware that you only bother about a person's deeds when you care about them. I know that, and I appreciate your concern for me."

Zelunjo's previously pale face brightened up at Ugegbe's words, and she beamed happily. "It makes me happy to be of help to you, Gegbe."

"Thank you again, Zelu. Thank you so much." Zelunjo's words did bring immense comfort to Ugegbe, and she felt very fortunate to have someone so genuine by her side as a companion.

In the bleakness of her life's woes, their friendship was a blessing, she reckoned, God must have mercifully granted her. It made her want to flop to her knees and praise His mighty name without ceasing.

What a fool she was to be dragging her feet when she was about to experience something so joyful that she would be unable to bend into words. She felt stupid for having hesitated when redemption was at hand. Shouldn't she have been thrilled to become one with her maker and leave all her sins behind? Alternately, and to her rue, she'd shamed herself by rivalling her present situation to that of the past and trying to make God a man whose promises could fail.

That was her mistake. She would not do so ever again. Lord, please forgive me. In her heart, she prayed for mercy for doubting God's providence. She'd promised to walk with Him and let Him lead her with His power, but she was still fighting with her own strength. She still wanted to be in control when she could simply let Him take the reigns and guide her.

No matter how she spun the topic in her mind, it was clear that she was weak even though she pretended to be strong outwardly. It was a farce. Behind closed doors, she was the little, frail child who cried for a mother she would never meet, at any inconvenience she faced. It was the truth, regardless of how well she hid her secret.

On the inside, she was timid, afraid of taking the paths of life that she was not familiar with, scared of getting hurt all over again and having to deal with the pain that came with the scarring.

She needed Him now, more than ever, for she was not sure of how she would walk away from all her fears without someone more powerful to lean on and hold onto. For, Ugegbe wanted to be strong the way she feigned to be. She wanted a day when all her doubts and worries would be wiped away. Only once did she ever experienced that moment of peace, and that was when she first met Him after praying for the second prince's safety. It would be disheartening if her irresolution caused that to be the last.

There were no more seconds to waste. She had to seize the opportunity she'd been given by the head, starting from the present. "Let us go to the river, Zelu. I am ready."

"With that look on your face, I am sure that you are."

"What look?" Ugegbe furrowed her brow as a puzzled expression creased her features.

"It is nothing, Gegbe. Do not suffer yourself over the meaning of my words."

"No. Do tell me. I want to know." She pressed, totally invested in whatever it was Zelunjo had been saying.

"I mean... I do not know how to explain it, Gegbe. But it is...hmmm... I will say that it is the expression you get whenever you are determined to do something. Your resolve becomes so firm and visible that I can read it on your face."

With a countenance of apprehension, Ugegbe reached out for Zelunjo's cheeks only to pinch them violently. "What are you doing?" Zelunjo swatted her hands away while pushing in ample space between herself and Ugegbe, presumably, to prevent another assault. Meanwhile, her attacker had the biggest grin on display.

"I only needed to check if you are real, Zelu. You began to talk like one of the wise, old women of this village. I was scared that maybe you were of my imagination."

"You annoy me to no end." Zelunjo shook her head at Ugegbe's antics. "I hope you are this enthusiastic when you meet the men waiting for you outside our quarters."

"Ugh. Not today again. I certainly am not ready to face another batch of idle men eager to squander precious time chasing after women."

"We will have to use the back entrance, then. There was quite a number waiting for you."

Ugegbe nodded, sighing at the inconvenience, which should be a norm but still had not grown on her. She wondered why her suitors were so stubborn. Countlessly, she'd let them know that the man she would choose to be her husband in the future would be the one who did not worry her in the present, expecting her to love him without caring for her feelings. Most of the men had taken heed of her appeal and stayed away. It was the only reason she was not hassled by as many men as she used to before.

Yet, some suitors believed that their persistence was more important and that she would come to accept them eventually, not minding whether they listened to her desires or not. Prince Ugochi was one of those men. Except, in his defence, he probably had not heard of her imploration since he was no commoner.

Those who had heard and still refused to respect her request probably had the notion that she was deceiving them all. But she wasn't, truly. Ugegbe shunned deceitfulness as conning people never sat right with her, and she believed in treating others the way she would prefer to be treated.

Therefore, she was honest when she'd given her suitors her wishes. She was certain she would not be making a choice of a husband from men who pursued her all day as if they had no jobs to do or farms to tend to. Laziness was not a trait she deemed tasteful in a man. Well, if he could still provide for his household by being so, then she had nothing to bother about. But until she found a man of that calibre—she was sure she would not—or hopefully, a better one, she would have to chase her callers away.

As they slipped through the hidden gate, with Ugegbe battling with her dress, having changed into the soft, cotton frock that kept swirling around her ankles, out of nowhere, Zelunjo started in a terrifyingly cheerful tone. "Gegbe, do you know what I think of?"

Whatever it was, Ugegbe was positive she would not be on board with it, but she responded anyway, "no, Zelu. Do tell. What is it that keeps your mind captive?"

"It is no trouble, except that I think you must perform at my wedding."

"What?" She was right.

"I want you to dance again," she professed dreamily. "You are the best dancer I have ever seen, Gegbe, and I want you to display your captivating skills on the day I marry."

"Ha. Indeed I am." Ugegbe scoffed. It had been an era since she last swayed her hips to the thrilling melody of the ekwe. The drum was a wizard at making her writhe to its rhythms, and she admired its ability not only to thrust her up onto her feet each time it played but also to place in her head steps she did not learn beforehand. In fact, she'd been praised for her dancing and likened to her mother, who was also a great dancer in her youth.

Truthfully, Ugegbe missed and also did not miss dancing. She loved how her body seemed to fit in seamlessly between the beats without even making an attempt. She enjoyed the thrill it brought her and how she forgot about the world while she stamped her feet on the dirt ground. But that was long ago; she had not danced since she became a slave as she'd stopped going to the village dances. Moreover, there was barely any chance to do anything else between the many chores of the two queens' palaces and her faithful trips to the white men's sermons.

"Please, Gegbe. You danced so gracefully when we were free maidens. I want you to dance like there will be no tomorrow on the day my husband takes me home."

"You say so like you want me to steal your day from you, Zelu." Ugegbe let her gaze burn into the side of Zelunjo's head.

"Stop staring at me so hard, Gegbe. My head might light on fire if you stay so deathly serious."

"Well, we are discussing a subject of great importance, are we not?"

"Not as gravely as you take it to be, however. In any case, you sharing my day with me would make me glad. You are the sister I never had. You would not have to steal my day or anything of the sort because I would joyfully celebrate with you by my side."

"Ah, Zelu. Zelunjo..." her lips quivered as she pulled the fair, curvy woman into a tight hug. "You mean so much to me."

"As you do to me, Gegbe."

After a while longer, spent discussing their sisterhood and older memories, they both arrived at the river. There was an extensive line exactly as Zelunjo had predicted, and they quietly joined in their rightful places on the queue.

The Father smiled encouragingly at them while holding his ground, with the book, Ugegbe had learnt was the Bible, clasped to his chest. By his side was an equally grinning Mister John and a timorous Kwento who had a shy smile. Ugegbe appreciated their kind and welcoming gestures, which seemed to quiet down her highly strung nerves.

It was a good day to be baptised, she noted, as she shut her eyes to pray. "Lord, give me strength."
•
A/N: What are your thoughts on this chapter, loves?