Nobody's Slave Read Free Page B

understand from the evil rhythm that followed next, but it was long, there was more in it - something about death and … eating ? Then came the first message again: Form your warbands quickly, gather, come to the city. Hurry! Before it is too late! Hurry! Hurry!
    At last the drums around them fell silent, though they could hear the message being passed on, rumbling around the distant hills. Birdsong began again in the forest, and the younger boys jabbered excitedly, questioning their elders. Madu looked around at Temba, and realised from his friend's face that it was true, he had not imagined it. Temba understood the same as he.
    ‘Come on, you boys, move those goats,’ said Temba. ‘We must get back to the village quickly - they'll be needing us.’
    The younger boys, excited, hustled the goats, and scurried ahead in a rabble, Madu hobbling along in the rear.
    The village was a strange mixture of stillness and wild activity. Everywhere women were hurrying, shouting, scolding the little children, shaking their heads in dismay. Madu saw his own mother, Ezinma, bending over a great bundle of pots and pans which she was wrapping to put on her head, and scolding his ten-year-old sister, Ekwefi, who was trying to help. Next to her was a group of young men, his stepbrother, Ikezue, amongst them, carrying their war spears and shields and heading for the Council Tree, scattering chickens and children out of their path.
    But here, at the Council Tree, was the stillness at the heart of the flurry. The older men stood there, solemn and stern, conferring about what they should do. Occasionally one of them would stride away as a new decision was reached, taking a group of the younger warriors with him. Madu saw the witchdoctor, Mganza, walking past, the whites of his eyes gleaming more fiercely than ever out of the black swirls and patterns on his tattooed face, and he wondered what sacrifice he was going to make to ensure their safe journey, and whether he would brew new poisons for their spears and arrows before they went.
    In all the bustle and confusion Madu and Temba were ignored at first. But the moment had to be faced, even in this new chaos. Madu took back the burden of the leopard from the two younger boys, and together they hobbled, slowly, across the square towards the Boys' House.
    The first to see them were half-a-dozen boys of their own age, who came and clustered excitedly around. But before they could say anything much, a man came striding over from the Council Tree - a tall man, with a wide strong forehead, grave eyes, and the long leopard's tooth of the hunter piercing his ears: Nwoye, Madu's stepfather. He looked at them impassively, while Madu felt the weight of the leopard press ever heavier on his shoulder.
    ‘So - you have your leopard. And some wounds from him, too, it seems. That is not so good.’
    Madu said nothing, but the breath caught in his throat, as though he had been running.
    ‘But the story of that must wait. You have heard the drums?’
    ‘Yes, Nwoye.’ Temba spoke up, clear and unabashed. As Nwoye continued, Madu felt the eyes of others turn to them - a little island of stillness in the midst of the scurrying square.
    ‘So you know the drums spoke of war. We are summoned to the city, Conga. We shall leave tomorrow at dawn. So you must skin the leopard tonight, if you wish to keep it.’ He frowned at Temba, who was still holding the kid by its rope. ‘And perhaps somone will help you with the leopard - if you, Temba, can find it in your heart to leave care of the goats to their owners, and to the boys of the first years.’
    ‘But it's our goat now, Nwoye, isn't it? That is why I lead it.’
    ‘Your goat?’ Nwoye looked at the little kid in surprise. His eyes flicked from Temba to Madu. ‘Yours as well, Madu?’
    ‘Yes, Nwoye. It is the kid that was given to us to catch the leopard, but it is still alive. Does that not make it ours to keep?’
    There was a quick, indrawn hush of breath