Chapter 3: Ife, Northwest Africa

The boat rocked as the waves crashed into it. The sky was changing. The light was slowly disappearing. They had been sailing for days from Portugal to the Northwestern Coast of Africa. There was a small crew; Joaquin was the leader. His eyes were a soft green with flecks of brown. His jawline was strong; he had a dazzling smile. He saw the shore ahead, “Meu amor, estamos aqui,” he shouted as he pointed.

She looked at the port ahead. She was home. It had been years since she stepped foot on those beaches. Years since she walked those paths and saw her family. Her mahogany skin glowed. She was still the beauty that he had met all those years ago. She nudged her children, “Ji, a wa nibi,” she said to them in her native tongue of Yoruba, “wake up, we are here.”

She and her children were multi-lingual. They had been to many places with Joaquin, who took the time to teach them the languages he spoke.

Her heart pounded in her chest. He kissed her lips and then looked into her eyes, “No matter what, we will always have each other,” he promised.

She nodded. It was such a bittersweet moment. Yet she was ready to confront what she had avoided for years.

Yande’s eyes dazzled in the fading sunlight. She had the same sparkling green eyes as her father. She was gorgeous much like her mother. She hugged her younger brother, “Look, Samba, we are here. We are home.”

“This is not my home. I was born in Portugal,” he said proudly in Portuguese.

She nudged him, “It doesn’t matter. This is where our mother was born. And if our father had never visited this land, you would not have been born in Portugal. Be happy for this place.” Her heart smiled. She had not been there since she was a baby. However, she saw her mother’s home every night in her dreams. She always knew she’d return there. She spoke to her iya -iya agba obinrin (great grandmother) Abosede.

She never saw her face. She would hear her voice. Her great-grandmother was a powerful witch in her time, and as an ancestor, she offered her great-granddaughter protection and guidance.

The boat approached the docking area. Men were waiting to help them secure the boat. A local man with hands rough as sandpaper reached out to grab Aminata’s hand, “Kaabo,” he said to her, which meant “welcome.”

Her heart smiled. They continued to disembark. Once they had all their possessions, they walked a little way and were greeted by a couple. The man stood six feet wall. His skin was dark as the night sky; his eyes were as brown as leaves during the last days of fall. “Joaquin and Aminata, we are so happy to see you,” he said with a heavy accent.

Joaquin gave him a brotherly hug, “Kalu,” he said as they embraced, “it’s been a long time, my friend.”

“It has,” he agreed before he hugged Aminata. He stepped back, “You remember my wife, Adefolake.”

“Of course, I remember,” said Aminata with a huge smile, “Hello, my sister.”

“Welcome back to Ife, eh? Look at you. You look even younger than you did before you left,” she said happily. They were not blood sisters, but they were close. They both shared similar gifts. Gifts that people knew of but not many spoke about openly.

“My, look at the children. Yande was just a baby when you left. And look at her now. She is a beautiful woman.”

Yande smiled at the compliment, “Thank you, Uncle Kalu.”

“You are most welcome. Come, let us go to the house where we have been preparing food for your arrival.”

They planned to spend the night at Kalu and Adefolake’s before continuing to the village where her family lived in Ife.

Kalu did well for himself. He owned several ships and was in charge of the port not far from where he resided. He owned a large plot of land surrounded by greenery. His son, Oluwa was outside talking to several of his friends when they were approaching the house.

Oluwa saw his parents coming with the guests. So did his friends. One asked, “Are those your friends?”

He sucked his teeth, “They are my parents’ friends.”

“Who is the girl?” Akin asked.

He huffed, “It’s time for you two to leave.”

“Why should we leave? Your mother has cooked an amazing feast. And everyone around here knows your mother cooks the best food. I have to stay to see if she invites me to eat,” Akin said as he stood firmly.

Enitan nodded, “I wish to stay. My mother always cooks the same food. Here there is always something good.”

Oluwa sighed and rolled his eyes. The people were already standing before him, “You remember Oluwa, our son. He was born a few months after Yande,” said Kalu with a huge smile.

Joaquin shook his hand, “Yes, but it has been years. He has grown into a fine young man.”

“These are Joaquin and Aminata’s children, Yande and Samba.”

He shook their hands and mumbled a greeting. Yande felt the awkward gaze of his friends. She saw them hit his arm several times, “These are my friends, Akin and Enitan.”

“Where is your little sister?” his mother asked.

“Inside. I think.”

“You think?”

“She’s inside.”

She huffed before looking at Enitan and Akin, “Are you two staying to eat?” she asked.

They nodded rapidly. Their feet carried them swiftly into the house before Oluwa could enter. She chuckled as they followed their guests inside.

The room was alive with rich flavors and the smell of spices and herbs. Adefolake was a great cook. The rice had a red tint. It was fluffy and flavorful. There was roasted chicken, fresh vegetables, and a tea she made from the herbs she grew.

Everyone sat around the table, including members of Joaquin’s crew. They were like his family. Kalu’s daughter, Sade was a year younger than Oluwa and Yande. She was short in stature and full-figured. Her hair was braided in front. The back was fluffed out in an afro.

She gazed at Samba. He was a handsome young man like his father. His eyes weren’t as green as his father’s or his sister’s, but they were a soft brown. His skin was deep caramel. His hair was long and wavy, pulled back into a ponytail.

As they ate, Akin continued to caress Yande with his eyes. He had not seen a woman with her features. Her skin was so fair, her eyes the color of blades of grass, and her hair flowed down her back in long curls with two braids in the front.

“I was so sad to hear about your father, Aminta,” said Kalu as he held his drink cup.

She nodded, “Thank you, Kalu. Thanks for everything. You and Adefolake have been so good to Joaquin and me. We appreciate everything that you’ve done.”

“It’s no problem. You and Joaquin are family. Maybe your daughter and our son will make us grandparents.”

Simultaneously, both Yande and Oluwa spat out their drinks. “Father, don’t—”

“Oluwa, you are a young man now. Soon you will need a wife. Yande is a beautiful woman. Look at her.”

Yande hated the idea of being matched with anyone. Even if Oluwa was cute and had nice muscles, she refused to be matched. Her blood started to boil; when that happened, things would move. The house began to rumble.

Everyone’s eyes widened, “My, what is that?” one of the crew members asked in Portuguese.

Her mother eyed her, “Yande.”

She took several breaths and calmed herself, counting to herself in Yoruba. The house stopped shaking.

Kalu looked at his wife. She made a face at him, “Yande doesn’t live in Ife. They came here to check on Aminata’s father. We should all bring an offering to water tomorrow before visiting him.”

“That’s a great idea,” said Yande excitedly. She usually had to hide her practice in Portugal. Such things were viewed as witchcraft. And even though she was what she was ... she didn’t like the idea of being burned alive.

Joaquin nodded in agreement. It wasn’t his practice, but he didn’t stop his wife or children from exploring what they believed. He took a deep breath, “Yande plans to be my apprentice. She loves to travel. She loves the excitement.”

Kalu’s eyes widened, “So she won’t ever marry? What kind of life will she have sailing from place to place? She’s too beautiful not to be married.”

Joaquin shrugged, “Perhaps one day she will change her mind.”

Samba nudged her and chuckled. Through narrow slits, she eyed him until he stopped laughing.

After dinner, the kids headed outside, but Aminata stopped Yande. She whispered, “You must control yourself. You do not want to hurt yourself or anyone else.”

She nodded, “Yes. I understand.”

Her mother touched her face. She admired her daughter. She saw the strength in her. Strength that no one thought a child born from a pale face could have. Yande’s birth was considered a curse by a secret society of Warrior Witches her mother once belonged to. She kissed the top of her forehead, “Play nice, or I will marry you off and not to a handsome young man like Oluwa. To some old man with rough hands that scratch your back side every time you have sex,” she joked.

Yande chuckled before heading outdoors.

With the kids outside, Aminata and Adefoloke had a chance to catch up. Years ago, they served in the sacred secret society of Warrior Witches. A group of women who fought alongside the men for the King of Ife.

They reminisced on the battles they fought. The times they nearly lost their lives. And the moment when Kalu and Adefolake had to shelter Aminata when she was pregnant because the leader of their group wanted to kill the child that grew in Aminata’s belly.

“What have you heard of Nneka?” Aminata asked with concern. She was the one who convinced the others to hunt Aminata and Joaquin down. Joaquin almost lost his life defending Aminata. Kalu was there to help them escape.

“Some say she left and went east, taking most of the women with her. The King has been looking to reestablish his Warrior Witches, but not enough of them remained. Unless—”

“Oh no,” Aminata said with a chuckle.

“Why not? I’m sure you have been teaching Yande how to fight if she is anything like you, she would be a fierce warrior.”

She nodded, “I have taught both Yande and Samba many fighting skills; so has their father. I can only hope there will never be a time when they have to use those skills. I have grown tired of fighting. Now, I want peace.”

Adefolake kissed her teeth, “Don’t we all hope for peace but—”

“Yes, I know. Peace doesn’t last forever. Still, I have no plans to return to Ife to live. My life is with my husband.”

She touched her hand and smiled, “I understand.”

Kingdom of Mercia

Several nights passed, and Princess Winfred made good on her promise. There she was in Arledge’s bed again. She savored all of his might deep within her. Her hips moved methodically, “Oh God, yes,” she moaned repeatedly. Her eyes rolled back. Arledge gasped as his balls emptied; he filled her center with gooey goodness.

She leaned over and showered his face with kisses, “If only I weren’t a princess. I could marry for love,” she uttered as she rolled off his cock.

He turned to her, “We could run away.”

She laughed, “My father would hunt you down and cut off your balls. I don’t want that for you. You can still find love.”

“I will never love a woman like how I love you.”

She smiled, “Then we shall carry our love for each other within our hearts until we die.”

He smiled, “We shall.”

She rose. Her feet touched the wooden floor. He watched as she dressed herself. It was time for her to sneak back into the castle undetected. He had another week to enjoy his love before she her marriage to the Prince.

He stood. His body was toned. He touched her face, “Until tomorrow night, my love.” Their lips touched for several seconds, and then she was gone. He took a deep breath. Things were magnificent, at least for a little while longer. Not many men could say that they had the love of a princess.

He smiled. His heart danced in his chest. Then he heard the door creak open, “My love,” he said as he turned and froze, “Lady Darleen, what?”

Her eyes were glued to his naked body. She saw his softened cock as it dangled. She stopped. They were face-to-face. “I’ve watched night after night as you have taken advantage of my poor cousin.”

He shook his head, “I’ve done no such thing. We’re in love.”

She scoffed and turned away from him. Her eyes rested on the bed, “We shared that bed once.”

He scoffed, “That was a long time ago, and if I can remember correctly, you said that I wasn’t good enough for you.”

“You aren’t. You are my uncle’s servant. You and I could never be. Just as you and Winfred can never be. Why are you doing this?”

His face turned red, “Why are you here?” he asked angrily.

She touched his bare chest. He grabbed her hand, “No.”