Queen Eluju sat before Awogbemi, the old priest.
The room glowed with the breath of Nature: handcrafted poles carved with figures held the roof from falling, bronze beds covered with aso-ofi shimmered with gold trimmings, and the head of Olokun
beaded and radiant hung over the chamber.
Woven baskets overflowed with coral beads, glass ornaments, cowries, and iron chests stacked high. Riches filled the room, yet silence made it sacred.
Awogbemi's voice was deep and slow:
"Ifa says: when sacrifice is demanded, he obeys.
The leaf becomes a broom in human hands,
the palm leaf becomes a roof above their heads.
The kernel is never wasted, nor the body that bears it.
My queen, the odu I see is Owonrin Meji."
"You said that before, Baba," Eluju replied softly.
A guard rushed in, whispered something to the head maid, and was quickly led out again.
Awogbemi leaned forward, his eyes clouded with vision:
"Your destiny is tied to this odu. It was from here your parents named you Eluju, but you have not yet embraced it fully."
"How, Baba?" Eluju asked.
"You must sacrifice. Three pigeons, three guinea fowls, and three bags of cowries. If you do this, you will give birth to a mighty child, a son like Oranmiyan himself—useful to his people and to himself. But remember this: do not rush. Impatience turns the hen into a bird with broken flight. Only patience can make destiny whole."
"I must be patient," Eluju repeated, her voice almost trembling.
Just then, King Ajaka entered.
"Kabiyesi ooooo!" They all bowed low.
"My king, you look troubled," Eluju said. "Why was your arrival not announced?"
Ajaka's attendants kept their eyes to the ground. His voice carried the weight of war:
"The royal farm was attacked. Okoleti warriors
they came not with witchcraft or charms this time, but with blades, aiming for my life."
His tone hardened:
"Summon the council at once. And bring me the leader of the Okoleti tribe."
As the attendants left, Kulubo entered with his hand bandaged.
Eluju rushed forward, her words tender:
"Are you well? I know you are not one to fall easily. Son of Oranmiyan, rain that wets the sekere, Dada with the sacred braids of the gods…"
"If my king permits, I will take my leave," Awogbemi said quietly.
"No, Baba," Ajaka replied, seating himself. "I want the truth. Tell me of the Okoleti people, . Why do they settle so close to Oyo's walls, as if they were gatekeepers of heaven itself?"
The old man sighed deeply, his eyes heavy with reluctance.
"I did not wish to speak of this… Royal griots keep such matters sealed. They guard secrets we are not meant to know."
Ajaka leaned forward. "Baba, why hide it? Is the truth so heavy?"
Awogbemi nodded slowly.
"Some tales bring hatred, some spark wars. Others shake legitimacy itself. That is why many stories were dismissed, buried for peace. But if you insist, Kabiyesi, then I will tell you what the griots whisper only in the dark."
Eluju held her breath. "We are listening."
Awogbemi's voice dropped lower, weaving memory with warning:
"Okoleti were never born of this land. They were warriors, wanderers, migrating from the deep west. Their home drowned in a great flood—disease and death claimed their women, leaving mostly hardened men. They arrived restless, with no place to belong."
Ajaka frowned. "Yet Father gave them land. Why would Oranmiyan trust such strangers?"
"Because," Awogbemi replied, "the kingdom was already trembling. When Oranmiyan returned from Ife, he found Oyo Ile broken. Villages that once traded with us withdrew one by one, slipping into the hands of his ally Ekundu of Nupe. Ekundu poisoned their minds, binding Bariba and other towns into his fold, and raised an army to rival Oyo itself."
Eluju whispered, "Ekundu… but Elempe are their cousins."
"Yes," Awogbemi said sharply. "Cousin kingdoms, bound by blood yet divided by ambition. That closeness made their betrayal cut deeper."
Ajaka's jaw tightened. "And when Father sent emissaries?"
"They were slain," Awogbemi's tone grew bitter. "Murdered by the earl's own son. Oranmiyan was furious. He summoned his men from Ife, from Benin, from Oyo, and sought to burn Nupe's settlements to ash. But the Attah of Igala already stretching his hand over Ekundu rose to challenge him. Two young powers stood on the field of destiny."
He paused, eyes glinting with memory.
"The war did not favor Baba. Too many men had been lost in Benin and Oyo's tribal wars. Even his son, Oba Eweka of Benin, fought from the cradle, locked in the endless strife of the Ogiso clan. Oranmiyan saw his warriors sacrificed like pawns, his regents using men as tools. He wanted to end this endless bleeding."
Ajaka asked quietly, "And that is when the Okoleti came?"
Awogbemi nodded.
"Yes. Stranded men, desperate, fierce. Oranmiyan struck an agreement: they would be given a home, and women willing to marry them, if they would fight Oyo's wars. They agreed. Ekundu, suddenly cornered, withdrew and bent in submission. But instead of surrendering heirs or becoming Igala's vassals, they offered something else marriage."
"Marriage?" Eluju echoed.
Awogbemi's eyes shifted to her.
"Yes. Princess Torosi of Elempe kingdom
the cousin of Ekundu's line
was given. She became the mother of your cousin, Shango. And so, without spilling further blood, the war ended. Oranmiyan kept his promise to the Okoleti without sending them into battle."
Silence hung heavy in the chamber. Ajaka looked at Eluju, then back to the priest.
"So the peace we boast of today… was bought not with the sword, but with the hand of a woman."
Awogbemi bowed his head. "Kabiyesi, that is the truth your griots will not sing."
"I owe them nothing! What do they want? Why did they try to kill me, when that land is ours? They are strangers!" Ajaka's voice thundered.
Awongbemi bowed his head, his eyes heavy.
"Let me ask Ifa…"
He spread the divination chain, murmuring the sacred words.
"Eji Ogbe…
No one walks majestically like the elephant.
No one carries fat like the bull.
No ruler stands above the Ooni.
No mountain rises higher than Ìgbádì…"
The old priest's voice deepened as though another spoke through him.
"Father, second among the commanders of the gods, reveals this tale:
A king, when things turned against him, was commanded to sacrifice for the peace of his people. He obeyed, and all came to pass. His people desired him again."
Ajaka leaned forward. "What did Ifa say about me, Baba?"
Awongbemi's eyes met his.
"He says you must call for a gathering of peace. Dine with your people. Peace will return, but beware, my king, men are not born evil, they choose it. Remember this."
The priest rose slowly, his frail body trembling. Ajaka stood to steady him. Awongbemi touched his hand, then bowed and left.
Ajaka exhaled, his chest heavy.
"My husband…" Queen Eluju came forward, her hand caressing his back gently.
"Peace is all I have given them," Ajaka muttered bitterly. "And for that, they call me the Peasant King."
Eluju's eyes hardened. "Peace is never enough. You are the king."
Ajaka turned to her sharply. "What were you and Awongbemi speaking of before I entered? Was it… about a child?"
Her face tightened. "Yes. Seven years you have ruled since Oranmiyan the Great. Yet no child. The court whispers that I am barren, a witch among the queens. And still, you never avoid my bed, the queens are ..."
"Shhh." Ajaka pressed a finger to her lips, silencing her. His voice softened, but his grip was firm. Pulling her toward the bed.
"You just escape death, My king"
He whispered with fire in his eyes:
"I escaped death today, Eluju. No man kills me. No man rules me. I am not just king… I am a god."
The servants and Kulubo exchanged glances, then quietly withdrew, leaving the chamber heavy with silence, prophecy, and desire.