A Love Story Untold Read online

  ALove Story Untold

  By Carol Robi

  All right reserved

  Copyright © 2014 by Carol Robi

  First Edition

  Summary

  A Historical Romance Story…

  They are the two least likely people to ever fall in love with each other. But as luck should have it, they do.

  With characters so different, family dynamics and responsibilities so great, and a passion strong enough to render all else irrelevant, our hero and heroine soon come to realise that love can- might indeed trample over all.

  Seasons, wars, winds, kings of vast lands,

  Things of past and future grands!

  But her smile I swear, her smile-

  Never before did one so beguile!

  I’ll sing her a song I’ll chant of her beauty, I swear,

  Dare you stop me my anger will sure flare!

  Watch out, my love ‘tis a violent one that I gear,

  Let any that dares steal my love away forever me revere!

  For my vengeance is best delivered by my spear-

  Of sharpest steel that you, brother, should fear!

  I love her, I do-

  I dare you trouble to spew!

  Then your life you’ll surely rue,

  For my spear your insides will sprew!

  So pray listen when I say- I love her, I do!

  My Violent Love, a poem by Carol Robi

  The glossary at the end of the book contains various terms and their meanings that you’ll come across in this book.

  Table of Contents

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Map of the region

  Glossary

  Chapter 1

  “What do you look forward to most?” Father asks while astride his riding beast that is a crossbreed of a horse and a zebra, a white stallion with dark stripes running along it’s neck.

  “Any other wedding, and I wouldn’t have hesitated before saying the mating,” I tell him, and we both develop into rich laughter, causing my own riding beast to shuffle uncomfortably under me, though he never misses a step. He’s a darling stallion of a rich brown hide with a striped tail, also a horse-zebra crossbreed, as all riding beasts in our kingdom are, and in our other four brother kingdoms.

  “Yeah, that’s one thing I too dread at this wedding,” father says in answer. It’s his sister’s wedding. Normally the mating is the one part of a wedding ceremony most men or boys look forward to, but not if the bride is of your relation.

  “I’d say the maidens,” I promptly tell him, my head immediately going back to the memory of the last wedding I attended. Then I’d been young and green, just fourteen, and had been unable to control my emotions whenever bare-chested maidens had danced with me.

  “I’d definitely say the maidens too,” father confesses, which sends me laughing hysterically.

  “Father!” I cry out in protest. “Some of them are young enough to be your daughters,” I say, still laughing.

  “Luckily they aren’t,” father answers winking at me, eliciting yet another laugh from me.

  “What are you two guffawing about?” Father’s right hand and his army’s chief commander, called an Isamura, and also his best friend asks, riding up to us. Isamura Nchoka Renchoka is his name. He and father have been friends since they’d been young boys. Right behind his heels is his son, also my own best friend, Chacha Renchoka.

  “Father just told me that he too will be staring at the girls’ breasts at the wedding ceremony today, Isamura,” I complain, feigning a grimace, which just draws a laugh from the two older men.

  “And why shouldn’t he?” The Isamura says laughing. “I know I’ll be doing the same..”

  “You old men are despicable!” I say laughing, riding over to meet my best friend.

  “Just wait until I tell mother,” Chacha adds chuckling.

  “I love you son,” his father says. “But I’ll cut your tongue out if you dare!” We are still laughing as the two of us break away from the group.

  “Anyone in particular you’d like to see today?” Chacha asks me as we gallop ahead from the rest of the group of royal dignitaries from our kingdom, before we finally slow down again to a steady trot.

  “I’d say the princess,” I tell him.

  “I heard she’s betrothed!” Chacha exclaims, laughing at what he assumes to be brazen intentions from me.

  “Not that one you dummy,” I tell him. “Princess Matinde!”

  “Oh, that one! Well she’ll definitely want you,” Chacha says.

  “Why d’you say that?”

  “Well, you’re a prince aren’t you? Plus you’re next in line.” A grim line adorns my face when he says this, and my best friend doesn’t miss my change in humour.

  “Why the long face, Prince Makena?”

  “I just..” I shrug, not sure how to go on.

  “I know what you mean,” Chacha says, his voice almost apologetic. “You’d like the chase.”

  “I would,” I admit honestly.

  “Well I wish we could change places, for I’d love for girls to fall on my spear at the drop of my name. And I hope you know what spear I’m talking about!” We both laugh long and hard at this.

  By this time we’ve come to the bridge going across the great River Mara, separating my kingdom from our brother kingdom, Bagumbe, to whose prince my father’s sister is to be married to.

  We are the Bakoria people, and within us are four brother kingdoms. The Nyabasi, to which Chacha and I belong to, the Bagumbe, that which we are now visiting, the Bairege, that which borders our kingdom to the east, and the Bakira Kingdom that borders our kingdom to the North. We have a shared ancestry, language and culture, so we call ourselves the four brother kingdoms of the Bakoria.

  We Bakoria Brother Kingdoms rule this region as we are militarily the strongest. We are in a treaty with the other neighbouring kingdoms in our region, and they pay us homage as well as taxes from the riches of gold, iron and precious stones available in their lands, just so that we can keep them safe from other kingdoms that may attempt to attack them.

  They also do so in hopes that we may never get bored and decide to attack them and displace them from their ore rich lands. What they don’t realize is that the Bakoria people have absolutely no interest in mining. We’ve been farmers and hunters since our ancestors settled in these lands ages ago, and we have no interest in going down dark mines to work. Were we to ever displace them, how would we get our gold and diamonds? Especially because we as a people do not believe in the owning of servants. Paid labour is highly frowned upon, and no self respecting Bakoria owns a servant. If you want something done and you don’t have enough people to do it, you simply sire more children, and therewith have more hands to help. A simple solution that we as a people are happy to follow.

&nbs
p; “Will you marry her?”

  “Who?” I ask Chacha slightly distracted, getting back from my thoughts.

  “The Bagumbe princess, Matinde.”

  “I don’t know,” I say shrugging. “Probably. She’s the most suitable,” I finish.

  “That she is,” he simply says.

  “I guess I’ll eventually have to marry her.”

  “You say it as though you were shackled to her. She’s currently the most beautiful maiden in all the four brother kingdoms.”

  “That, she is,” I agree with him.

  “Then why the long face?”

  “I don’t know,” I say shrugging. “I mean, nothing is the matter. She’ll do perfectly. Have you seen her breasts..”

  “My prince! I love you very much, I do, but at times I think you a slight fool,” my best friend says laughing. “Here you admit to me that she’s to be my future queen then you ask me if I’ve seen her tits!” We both laugh at this.

  “Well?” I insist, ignoring his incredulously funny jibe. “Have you seen them..?”

  “Of course I’ve seen them!” Chacha confesses laughing. “Who hasn’t seen them? They are right there! Half of the four brother kingdoms have dreamt about those pillowy breasts you can be sure!” We are now laughing loud and hard at this that we confuse our riding beasts with our cues.

  “Mind yourself, she might be your future queen!” I say laughing, as Chacha gestures the size of the said breasts.

  We are still very young men, and the question of breasts still fascinates us, even though we’ve both already had some fun with them. I may be what all maidens from the four brother kingdoms call the greatest catch, but Chacha too is a catch, as his father is currently the second most important man in our kingdom. And most have also guessed from our friendship that when it’s my turn to rule, I shall bestow the much coveted Isamura title on Chacha.

  “What about you?” I ask. “Whose breasts.. I mean, which maiden has caught your eyes?” We both laugh out at this again, but upon Chacha’s quick look to the party approaching us from behind, and the dazed look his eyes now have, I know whom he’s thinking about.

  “Forget her,” I tell my friend kindly, pitying him, but wishing to spare him the heart ache.

  “I’m sorry. In know she’s your sister..”

  “My eldest sister,” I remind him firmly. “And she’s already told father that she wishes to be my Gake wa Maga.” A Gake wa Maga is the highest position any woman can hold in the four brother kingdoms. The role is often held by the king’s mother, or by the king’s sister, and whoever is holding the position is expected to uphold the king’s interest first above all. That’s why it’s fruitless for my best friend to fancy himself in love with my sister. They’ll never be together, for should my sister accept the title, she’s never to marry or have a family of her own.

  I also know without a doubt that my eldest sister, Gati, does not have feelings for Chacha, but Chacha is intent on pursuing her.

  It’s funny to watch, if not also sad. Gati is so exceptional a woman, in that upon her initiation she chose to be a warrior. Few women ever choose the path of warriorhood, but those that do are often highly praised for it. Female warriors among our people are titled nyarmura, while we warriors are titled mura.

  “I know she’s asked to be your Gake wa Maga, but maybe if..”

  “Maybe if what, Chacha? Please listen to yourself. This is the most coveted, prestigious title for all women among our people, and she wants it. Do you think I’m going to ask father to deny her the title just so you could try woo her? She is not even impartial to you. I do not wish to be cruel with you, but you’ve got to be realistic! Turn your eyes elsewhere. The kingdom is filled with hundreds of maidens ripe for the picking. Most of them more beautiful than Gati!” I scold him sternly after we’ve left the rest of our party to cross the bridge before us, and we now trot across it last.

  “None is like her,” Chacha tells me quietly, in his voice a longing that I think one as young as him shouldn’t harbour. “There’s none that holds a candle to her, in my eyes!”

  As he says this, I do not pity him. I envy him, for I too long to meet that girl who’ll stroke so much passion in me, that all other girls will be a blur when compared to her.

  Chapter 2

  I hate growing up. I hate the idea of becoming a maiden. It’s the single thing all girls look forward to, and it’s the one thing I cannot stand. I hate the idea that soon I’ll be considered to be of a marriageable age. That I’ll have suitors, and that I’d be expected to choose one of them. Should I opt against choosing one, my parents will pick one out for me.

  Gods forbid should King Muniko’s youngest daughter remain an old maid!

  Every girl in the kingdom would like to be me, except me. Your life is perfect, I keep hearing it said left, right and center. I’m a princess, and my father is the richest king of the four brother kingdoms that make up the Bakoria Kingdom. Even my sisters wish to be me, just because I’m the youngest daughter and they think I’m the most loved.

  Well I hate it all, because I hate the fuss.

  “My child,” mother says sleepily, pulling me closer into her arms. I snuggle in and let her cuddle me, giggling as she splays kisses on my shoulders and neck.

  “Mother, my queen,” I greet her as is customary.

  “Child, my princess,” mother answers me. “Why do you always get up so early?” She frets drowsily.

  I chuckle lightly at this. She’s probably the only mother in the kingdom that complains about her daughter waking up too early. All mothers would love their daughters to wake at the crack of dawn every morning.

  “Why- to rekindle your fire of course, mother,” I tell her chuckling.

  “Now that’s a welcomed thought,” she mumbles before falling asleep again.

  I creep slowly out of bed and head out to the outer room where slow burning embers glow red at the fire place. I quietly stroke and fan them, pushing more wood into the fireplace, and soon the warm glow from the fire is enlivening the whole room. I hear mother’s satisfactory moan from the warmth that must now have reached her in the inner room, and I smile happily before tiptoeing out of her house.

  It’ll yet be a while before dawn, a heavy dark blue hanging all around the kingstead. My eyes have adjusted to the darkness though, plus I know my home so well that I can pick out my way without a hustle in pitch darkness.

  I know the building looming before my mother’s house is my father’s, and I know that just to my right on the path I’m picking through is the trench he’d dug to drain the water away from our yards back when he’d been a young man, seasons and seasons before I was born.

  I make it to father’s house, slipping in through the intricately woven reed door quietly so as not to wake him. I peep into his inner room to see him lying on his back as he often does, hands spread wide, snoring soundly.

  I muffle my giggle at the sight of him as I step back into the outer room and make my way to his fireplace. His fire is dying too. I rush to rekindle it and then leave quietly when done.

  Next I start my morning water runs. I don’t have to do it, as I have older sisters that can take care of it. However ever since I could carry a gourd filled with water, and it had been a very small one indeed, I’ve been making water runs.

  We get our water from a brook that runs north of the Muhingira homestead, who are our northern neighbours. I especially love that initial water run when I’m the only person awake. It feels as though I’m the only person awake in the whole kingdom, though I know it’s not true because warriors on guard are always posted around, even though they make sure to remain hidden.

  The air is chilly, but not too much so, not especially now when I’m skipping and hopping about happily, humming to a song my mother often sang to me when I was younger, and now sings to my younger brothers.

  The ground gets rockier as I approach the brook, and it’s only when the rocks are continuous that I hear the low trickle of the brook.


  When I get back home with the gourd balancing on my head, my two elder sisters are now just leaving their house, the maiden gooti where unmarried girls of marriageable age in our family sleep. I’ll be sleeping there before the next new moon, because my initiation ceremony into maidenhood is in fifteen days.

  “Sister! Sister!” I curtsy by bending my knees a little in greeting, balancing the gourd expertly on my head, as both my sisters curtsy back, holding their empty gourds before them.

  “Sister,” they call simultaneously before hurrying away in the direction I just came from.

  Weigesa is seventeen and Matinde is fifteen. The two girls and I have never really had anything in common. Wei and Matinde are confident, flirtatious, happy, beautiful, luscious; while I’m.. I’m just me.

  Wei is kinder to me of the two, more patient with me and is often sure to pay attention to the delicate state of my nerves, while Matinde has never gotten tired of ridiculing me and emotionally bullying me.

  Now that a nephew of the Bairege King asked for her hand in marriage, Wei’s wedding will be held just after the next main harvest season, and I’ll be forced to sleep in the maiden house with Matinde alone.

  The thought depresses me each time I think about it. Matinde who makes my life a living hell each moment she gets, her tauntings neverending, is to be my roommate. I hope she meets with a suitable suitor soon, gets married and leaves me be. I love my sister, but it doesn’t mean that I must tolerate her.

  Today is to be a special day, however. Our brother Wandui is getting married. We’re all tired, for the better part of the last ten days have been spent in preparation for it all. Millet had to be soaked and fermented to make enough porridge for the guests. The men have been out hunting for the best wild game from the Northern plainlands to serve our guests, and the line up of antelopes and gazelles are waiting in the animal gooti for their slaughter later today, so that their meat is fresh for grilling for the guests to be in attendance. Goats and cows that we girls have spent the last few new moons fattening are waiting for their slaughter too.