The following year paved a way for a weird happening Ayetoro. It was the first in the history of the land. Many a villager had long witnessed a white eagle, but no one had seen a train of them filling the air at once and hooting sad, mournful tunes. These sad birds chattered restlessly, their chatter was sharp and loud like the laugh of rusty metal. Predictably, the go-away birds enticed attention as almost everyone rushed out of their buildings and looked after the birds in the sky for so long. Aghastness crept into the present sucklings whose eyes seemed to be begging their mothers to take them in from the glare of the sun and the eagles bathing under it. Adolescents stood akimbo, observing the birds in liking. The people whose pots had been meatless for many years gathered a bowl of gravel and hung catapults across the roundness of their heads. As an eagle bent, such a weapon would mightily be flung at it. One of the gatherings was about to harm the flying animals when a group of priests marched past, simultaneously chanting a grateful word of incantation. Nothing was clear to the multitude until an hour later when it was publicly known that Oba Ajisafe had gone to join his ancestors in the world beyond. The weapon-carrying youth dumped the missiles in their hands. Women became unconscious and slumped on the sand-filled ground. Men removed their caps and stayed breathless for almost a minute. The people, whose lives the deceased had blessed in a way or two, burst into tears. Their hero was gone, they wailed. His exit from the world was too sudden, too heavy to embrace. They knew the rareness of such a heroic king and were optimistic his son would trend the same peaceful and selfless path he followed if IFA chose him as the next King.
Moments later, the elders and the grandees of the village including the youth themselves had massed together on the premises of the Palace. They stood round in a huge circle, leaving only the centre of the ground, which had a high statue, free. Everyone was lamenting. And the elders blew their noses. No face was masked in a smile. The Queen was still in the King's room where the King lay lifeless. She sat beside his corpse on the bed and fixed her gaze on him as if she were asking him to stand up. Adeolu was also right there in the room. His eyes were red like blood and gleaming with tears. His younger ones sat on the floor like lifers in the prison. The sight was deplorable. The priests felt that it was time to help the Queen and her children out of the room to the other room. They did. Only one of the priests stayed behind to tuck cottonwood into the king's nostrils and ears and spread a white garment on his body. Workers at the general hospital would sooner ride in to take him down to the mortuary.
Even as the priests walked out of the deceased's room to enjoin the mass of people, the teary-eyed crowd was somewhat larger than expected, and they had not stopped grieving. They roared on like lions.
"My People of Ayetoro," the chief priest began when the uproar was ebbed. He adjusted the white thick sweater placed on his shoulder towards his waist. He expected the crowd to acknowledge his call, but every heart was too weak to say a word. Then he spoke, "It is a bleak period for all of us. We feel the burning of fire in our hearts as we lost our king. Oba Ajisafe lived an exemplary life. His sacrifices to the development of this peaceful land cannot be forgotten in a hurry. He gave scholarships to several people and shelters to the tramps. The Widows and the aged also financially benefited from him. We pray Eledumare will grant him peaceful rest in His kingdom,
When the Chief Priest had partially addressed them, the people retreated into mourning, louder this time round like heavy rain. They blew the white, milky mucus from their nostrils and the mucus shamelessly fell on the sleeves of their wears. Even sucklings were also crying as though they knew what was going on.
In a few minutes, one of the priests snailed to the statute. There, he sprinkled grains of salt and palm oil on the statue whose bottoms had small-round earthen pots. They were twelves in numbers and they were placed around the statue and fire was lit in each pot. The Chief Priest had earlier told the crowd that if the fire died out on its own at the given duration, it implied that Oba Ajisafe had been accepted by his ancestors. One minute went out and each pot burnt on. Two minutes, it was the same. It was not until five minutes later that the fire all went out. The crowd partially rejoiced and felt delirious that his spirit had gone straight to Heaven.
•••
His resolve to possess her for a wife was still as active as quicksilver. It was assumed that his father's demise was enough to make him let go of Aduke and pursue a new woman, but that did not happen as long as he maintained his decision. After a few months of mourning like the hopeless, he resumed his hunting for Aduke. He was sure the period of selecting a new king was looming and he was certain that no one else would be chosen to succeed his father but him. Perhaps since his father was now gone and the throne was vacant, Aduke would be convinced to easily belong to him, to agree to his yearning, he reasoned. But he must do something about the poor teacher. What would he do? He had no idea yet. As he paced his room, an idea came to him. He smiled and rejoiced beforehand because he was positive of the infallibility of his plan.