A Tale of Five Bandits - Introduction

 

Prologue

1892 AD

The morning sky was clear and bright. The soaring birds chirped and the roosters crowed. The village came alive again with the blissful warmth of a new dawn as blacksmiths hammered hot iron and anvil, potters whistled, crafting pots and dishes and weavers weaved fabrics. Children laughed, screamed and played tag . Nursing mothers sang as their babies suckled on their breast while their husbands hurried to the farm to see if the gods had blessed them with bountiful fruits overnight. 
Then they came without warning. No sound, smell or sight advertised their arrival into their village but once they were there, they wouldn’t leave until every house had been burnt to the ground and every man, woman and child had been killed. They were like swarms of bees in thousands flooding the land with weapons glittering under the newly visible sun. The men brandish their weapons above their heads, promising death and gore.

The girl known as Adesewa had been walking hand in hand with her father. It was the day she was finally going to learn how to weave. The art fascinated her and luckily for her, that was precisely what her father did. Her mother often teased that she was a perfect replica of her father, so alike in many ways

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. He had planned on taking her to his shop to begin her training when the harbingers of death showed up.

The very moment he sighted them. He turned, kneeled and shook her with all his might “Run! Find your mother and sister and run like hell”. Her father shouted at his youngest daughter, Sewa, fear gripping his heart.

Pushing her backwards, he pointed to the road behind them, to the direction of their small hut, where her sister, Bola, would be making breakfast with their mother. She found herself staring up at her father in confusion. 

“Papa, I...I don’t understand” Sewa stuttered as she watched her father turn and head towards the invading army which looked like an impossible wall of black descending over her village.

The merchants and bards that passed the little village several weeks ago had spoken of them and said they had been making their way through the several settlements; burning and pillaging villages as they pleased.

Sewa’a mother insisted that the travellers were telling tall-tales. She believed the king would never allow such a thing within his kingdom and reassured her children that they were perfectly safe. Although, the villagers were a bit tensed for some time, anticipating some form of calamity but they soon became light-hearted and insouciant when nothing out of the usual happened. It seemed that they were all wrong and now a thousand strong armed men of the invading army were heading for her village.

  
“Mother! Bola!” Sewa yelped as she ran home.

The roads were crammed with fleeing villagers and Sewa struggled to find her footing, being as small as she was. She being pushed around and squeezed tight in the horrified crowd at the same time until she felt like she couldn’t breathe.

The air was filled with shrieks and screams of concerned mothers looking for their children and wailing juveniles in desperate need of their parents. The commotion only increased as the army got closer. The earth seemed to shake as Sewa pushed her way to the side of a hut and climbed to the top.

Small but startlingly agile, Sewa secured her feet upon the window and pulled herself up onto the straw roof. Hauling herself to her feet, she stood and gazed out at their small village and looked stunned in horror.

 
Fire was raging through the village already and as she looked into the distance she could see only a wave of blackness which, as they got closer, became tens of hundreds of men draped in black clothes with spears, clubs, swords and shields in hand.

Some were on horses whilst others roamed about, face smeared in black and white. The foot soldiers stood tall and proud, bodies built and bathed in blood as they grinned in mad delight. They busied themselves grabbing women and defiling them on the walls of their huts, barging into homes and coming out with food and treasures in hand, thrusting swords into villagers they didn’t find pretty enough to sodomize.

On the ground caked in dirt and blood, were the bodies of children not older than Sewa herself, stomped to death in the intense stampede.

Sewa wiped the tears that now spilled from her eyes and turned her head in full circle trying to figure out the safest route to her hut. As a plan formed in her mind, she nodded to herself and descended down the hut, running like the wind immediately her feet touched the ground. 
She ran with all her might, never pausing or glancing sideways. From the corner of her eyes, she could see Labake, the next would-be mother in the village, pleading for mercy as a man drove a spear through her swollen stomach. Sewa whimpered and suppressed the need to freeze and cower in a corner.

Her feet felt like they could fall off at any time and her chest felt heavy, arrows whizzed closely past her ear but she kept on running, nothing mattered but her mother and sister. Her father had told her so and she needed to find them. 
Her hut now in view, she slid and crawled to the front door. Pushing it open with all of her strength, she walked in on her mother and sister running around frantically, packing their belongings and valuables.

“Adesewa!” Her mother yelled and ran to her, wrapping Sewa up in her arms.

“Mama!” Sewa cried back and hugged her mother tightly, never wanting to let go.

She was safe in her mother’s bosom now, nothing could harm her not even the scary looking men outside.

“Bola, take your sister” her mother ordered as she stood and tossed a bundle of clothes wrapped in a blanket to Bola.

Sewa was pushed into her sister’s arms and her sister held her wrist tightly as she made for the door. Bola’s eyes widened in horror and her jaw dropped when she spotted three warriors heading towards their hut.

“They’re here!” Bola yelled. She hurriedly pushed Sewa into their parents’ room and shut the wooden door.

“Stay quiet and stay down” Bola said “No matter what you hear, DO NOT MOVE!”.

Sewa was crying now, tears dribbling down her cheeks like a dam had been broken behind her eyes. The door to their hut was suddenly shoved open and the three warriors came running into the room.

Sewa peered through a crack on the door, clasped her hand over her mouth, biting down on her fingers to keep from yelling out. She watched as her mother and sister screamed, clawed and bit, struggling futilely against the strong men. They were soon subdued as the men rammed their fist to their chins and threw them across the room.

“Let’s have some fun”, one of the men chuckled and licked his lips.

Sewa watched as the men tore away her mother’s and sister’s clothing as her family protested in a teary voice. She watched as the men’s trousers dropped and a third leg, black and fat, dangled between their legs. She watched as the men spread the legs of her family and moaned as they thrust atop them. 
Sewa didn’t understand what they were doing but seeing the way her mother and sister screamed and the blood that snaked down her sister’s legs, she knew what was happening before her was terrible.

She watched her sister arched her head, her eyes fixed on Sewa through the crack on the door. Sewa closed her eyes unable to hold the gaze of those glassy eyes and blank expression. Soon enough, she heard the men moan loudly and laughing to themselves. She opened her eyes to see them jerk awkwardly and pulled away from her mother and sister. Their attention was then diverted by a command that boomed through the air outside the hut. Sewa looked at her mother and saw only a woman of broken spirit lying there.

She looked like the living dead on the floor, neither moving nor blinking. The only thing that proved she was still alive was her uneven breaths. When Sewa thought the worst was over, her mind searching for words to console her mother and sister. The warriors whispered amongst themselves and glanced at the women sprayed on the floor. One of them sneered in disgust and drove his sword through the women’s chest. Red liquid oozed from their bodies to the floor. Sewa would have screamed at that moment had she not bitten her tongue. 
Sewa stayed in the room for hours even after the warriors had gone, time ceased for her as she stared down in horror at the lifeless corpses.

Read " The Thorny Path " by the same author ( Obinna Tony )

. She curled up on the floor, pulled her knees to her chest and cried. She cried until her eyes were completely drained of liquid and her throat ached. Exhausted, she slowly dozed off to sleep. When she awoke, her eyes were sore and her throat was dry. She opened the door and crawled out of the room, went over to her mother and planted a soft kiss on her forehead and took her mother’s ring from her left finger. She turned to face her sister, hugged her tightly. She said her farewells and took the bags her mother had packaged before the murder.

Opening the door, the sunlight blinded her momentarily and she looked around to see smoke rising from charred huts. The smell of death filled her nostrils. Their once animated village was now a graveyard. Confused and dazed about what to do and where to go, she searched for her father but she found no living person. Soon enough, she found herself on the trail out of the small village and into the world beyond.