Year: 1881
The Itsekiri delegation arrived at midday.
Olu Akengbuwa of Warri had sent his eldest son, Ejo, with a retinue of twelve. Formal tribute gifts—ivory, fine cloth, carved ceremonial items. But their faces held something other than tribute-bearer humility.
"The Oba of Benin receives his vassal's greetings," the herald announced.
Akenzua watched from the side of the throne. Ejo's posture was careful. Respectful. But his eyes measured every face in the room.
Something was wrong.
After the formal ceremonies, Akenzua approached.
"Prince Ejo. Your father's health?"
"Unchanged." Ejo's voice was flat. "My father sends his regards. And his concerns."
"What concerns?"
"Concerns best discussed in private."
---
The private chambers were cleared of all servants.
"Speak freely."
Ejo dropped all pretense.
"The British have approached Warri directly. Three months ago. They offered protection treaties. Exclusive trade rights. Promises of support against any aggressor."
"Any aggressor including Benin?"
"The words were carefully chosen. But the meaning was clear."
Akenzua felt the ground shifting.
"What did your father tell them?"
"That the Itsekiri have honored their relationship with Benin for four centuries. That we would not betray that without cause."
"Without cause. What cause would suffice?"
Ejo met his eyes. "My father is dying. Six months, perhaps a year. When he passes, I become Olu. And I must think about my people's survival."
"You're renegotiating the tribute relationship."
"I'm asking what Benin offers that the British cannot."
---
The negotiation lasted three days.
Ejo was a harder bargainer than any chief in Benin's court.
"Reduced tribute. Twenty percent less than current levels."
"Fifteen percent. Warri controls our river access. That has value we already compensate."
"Trade priority. Itsekiri merchants receive first access to interior goods."
"Second access. After Benin merchants. We can't disadvantage our own people."
"Military support. When the British pressure increases—and it will—Benin sends soldiers."
"Soldiers we may need ourselves. But we can offer weapons. Training. Intelligence."
"Weapons of the new kind? The rifles your smiths are building?"
Akenzua went still.
"You know about that."
"My father has been trading with Benin for forty years. He knows everything that matters." Ejo leaned forward. "We want rifles. Fifty. With training."
"That's a significant request."
"We're offering a significant commitment. Warri controls the Benin River mouth. The British want that access. If we give it to them, your coastal trade dies."
"If you give it to them, they'll swallow you within a decade."
"Perhaps. Or perhaps they'll protect us while they consume you." Ejo's smile held no warmth. "We're both gambling. The question is who offers the better odds."
---
On the third day, they reached agreement.
Reduced tribute. Trade preferences. Weapons sharing. Military cooperation.
"One more thing." Ejo produced a document. "My father's request."
Akenzua read it. His blood ran cold.
"A marriage alliance."
"My sister Ere. To the crown prince of Benin. When you become Oba, she becomes queen. The Itsekiri and Benin bound by blood."
"I'm not yet Oba. My father still reigns."
"And when he no longer does, this clause activates. Consider it... insurance. For both our peoples."
A political marriage. Binding the two houses. Ensuring that Itsekiri interests would be represented at the highest level of Benin's court—forever.
"Your sister. I haven't met her."
"You will. She's educated. Intelligent. Political." Ejo's eyes were sharp. "She's also my spy in your court, should you treat her poorly. Understand that clearly."
"I understand."
"Do you accept?"
The clause would complicate everything. A wife chosen for politics, not love. A permanent Itsekiri presence in the royal household. Intelligence flowing both ways.
But the alternative was losing Warri to the British.
"I accept. Subject to my father's approval of the formal treaty."
"Your father will approve what you recommend." Ejo stood. "We both know who's really running Benin these days."
---
The newspapers arrived the day after the Itsekiri departed.
Father Domingos spread them across the library table.
"European Powers to Convene on African Question."
"Berlin Conference Proposed for 1884."
"The Partition of Africa: A Civilizing Mission."
"It's happening," Akenzua said. "The conference I knew was coming."
"Three years. Then they formalize their claims."
"The Itsekiri treaty suddenly makes more sense. They saw this coming too."
"Everyone sees it coming. The question is who prepares and who waits to be consumed."
---
Oronmwen stood in the hidden forge, his face illuminated by furnace fires.
Akenzua had brought him here in darkness. Now his brother surveyed the production line—the rifles in various stages of completion, the smiths working at their stations.
"This is industry."
"The beginning of industry."
"For what purpose?"
"The fever showed me what's coming. British soldiers. Thousands of them. If we're not ready, they'll destroy everything."
Oronmwen picked up a completed rifle.
"Better than anything we've ever made."
"And still not as good as what the British produce. But improving every month."
"And you've promised fifty of these to the Itsekiri?"
"In exchange for their continued loyalty. And other... commitments."
"The marriage. I heard." Oronmwen set down the rifle. "You're binding yourself to a woman you've never met."
"I'm binding Benin to its most important vassal. The woman is incidental."
"Is that how you see marriage?"
"That's how politics sees marriage. Ask any king in history."
---
The innermost circle gathered as dawn painted the sky gold.
Igue. Idia. Osarobo. Father Domingos. And now Oronmwen.
"The Berlin Conference," Akenzua began. "European powers will establish rules for dividing Africa. Two to three years from now."
"The weapons program must accelerate," Igue said. "We're producing fifty rifles a month. We need to double that."
"The Itsekiri want fifty rifles. That's a month's production committed to vassals, not our own army."
"That's the price of alliance." Akenzua pointed to the map. "Look at what we gain. The Itsekiri control our river access. The Ijaw control delta channels. The Urhobo and Isoko connect our interior trade routes. If we can secure all these relationships before Berlin, we have a consolidated sphere of influence the Europeans can't easily penetrate."
"And if Berlin decides Benin is in the way regardless?"
"Then we fight. But we fight with allies, not alone."
"The marriage clause," Idia said quietly. "You should have consulted me."
"There wasn't time. Ejo was prepared to walk away."
"The Itsekiri princess—Ere—she's known as ambitious. Intelligent. Ruthless when necessary." Idia's voice was careful. "She'll be more than a wife. She'll be a political force in our court."
"Is that a problem?"
"It's a complication. One we'll have to manage." Idia met his eyes. "But if it secures the Itsekiri alliance, it may be worth the price."
"The hidden clause becomes public knowledge eventually," Oronmwen said. "What happens when Osaro learns you've promised to marry into a vassal house?"
"Osaro already has enough reasons to oppose me. One more changes nothing."
"It gives him ammunition. 'The prince who sold his future to foreigners.'"
"The Itsekiri aren't foreigners. They're subjects of Benin."
"To Osaro's faction, everyone outside Benin City is barely civilized."
---
The meeting ended as the morning sun rose.
Idia lingered.
"You handled the Itsekiri well. Better than I expected."
"Ejo was going to align with someone. I made sure it was us."
"But the marriage clause..." She shook her head. "You've committed yourself to something that will shape the rest of your life. Without knowing the woman involved."
"I've committed Benin to survival. The personal cost is secondary."
"Is it?" Her eyes were sharp. "You speak like the general whose memories you carry. But you're also a young man who might want more from life than political calculation."
"I don't have the luxury of wanting."
"Everyone has that luxury. The question is whether they're brave enough to claim it."
She left him with that thought.
Three years until Berlin. The marriage clause activating whenever he became Oba. The Itsekiri alliance secured—but at a price that would echo through generations.
Both clocks were ticking.
And somewhere, a woman named Ere was preparing to become queen of a kingdom she'd never seen, married to a man she'd never met, carrying her family's ambitions into the heart of Benin's court.
The hidden clause would cause conflict later. Akenzua knew it even as he signed.
But some prices had to be paid.
---
END OF CHAPTER TWELVE