9.

The first time Kyabaggu summoned him, Kintu confirmed that Namugala was dead. It was there in Kyabaggu’s eyes—the confidence that the challenge had been eliminated. Kyabaggu was so relaxed that there were only two guards on duty. For a moment, Kintu felt sympathy for Namugala: Did he die mercifully?

On this occasion, Kyabaggu was human. His smile reached the eyes. He talked about his ambitions for Buganda. As soon as Kintu was given liberty to speak, he broke into praises for the new palace, his quarters, and the sure prosperity that Buganda was going to enjoy because of Kyabaggu’s expansive vision.

“Did the girl entertain you sufficiently?”

“That luxuriant beauty, Nnanteza? Ha! One look at her and I thought, is the kabaka testing me? I couldn’t soil her. Me? Not with these commoner’s hands!”

“Luxuriant beauty?”

“Hwo: you’d pour water on Nnanteza and I’d drink it.”

“Nnanteza? Go fetch her.” Kyabaggu snapped his fingers and a guard ran out. Meanwhile, Kintu expounded on the state of his province and illustrated his plans to extend Buddu beyond the banks of Kagera River to Kyamutwara. He assured Kyabaggu that, like his father and grandfather, he had no intentions of looking back at Bunyoro Kitara, the kingdom from whence his province was plucked six generations earlier.

Kyabaggu looked at Kintu condescendingly.

Kintu swore that the pitiful Nyoro blood—he spat—had been wrung out of his family, that no one was more Ganda than the people of Buddu. At that point the guard reappeared, Nnanteza in tow. Kyabaggu raised a hand and the guard nudged Nnanteza forward. She walked in a few steps, turned to face Kyabaggu, and slowly walked backwards.

“Turn.”

Nnanteza turned but continued walking toward the end of the room, her back toward the king. She was visibly shaking and Kintu feared she would wet herself.

“Come back.”

She turned and walked toward Kyabaggu. In the middle of the room, she stopped and dropped to her knees. All the while, she kept her eyes on the floor. Kintu heaved a sigh of relief—Nnanteza had been coached well.

“Look up.”

She raised her face but her eyes were still focused on the floor.

“Look at me.”

Nnanteza stole a glance at Kyabaggu and looked away.

“I see what you mean,” he glanced at Kintu. Then he dismissed both Kintu and Nnanteza with feigned indifference.

Kintu was uneasy. The meeting had gone too well. Kyabaggu was too calm, too confident. Kintu was sure that his grovelling had worked. Kyabaggu was contemptuous. He hoped that he had laid a foundation for Nnanteza, as she never returned to Kintu’s quarters. If she plays her mpiki well, Kintu thought, he would have an ally close to the throne.

On the second occasion, when Kyabaggu met all his governors as a lukiiko, he staged terror. First, the drums sounded to announce his entrance and the governors prostrated themselves. But instead of the king entering, Kintu heard a pair of footsteps, timid, come in and climb the podium. Up there, Kintu could not make out what was going on. Then the footsteps came down and scurried out.

The governors remained on the ground.

Then Kyabaggu and his bambowa entered. The men stopped at the entrance while Kyabaggu climbed the podium and walked to the namulondo. Kintu heard it squeak as Kyabaggu sat down. Then two men climbed up and stood on either side of the kabaka.

“Arise.”

The governors raised their upper bodies and pressed down again in appreciation, like geckos, turning their heads to the left, to the right and to the middle.

When they sat up, shock ripped through the lukiiko. Some governors choked, others yelped.

In front of them, Ssentalo the Ssabatabazi’s freshly severed head glared at them like a ghoulish trophy.

Twice, Kintu’s nausea rose but he held it in his throat and swallowed. Ssentalo was the highest general in Buganda’s army. He had served over eight ba kabaka, not counting Mwanga who had only lasted nine days.

Kintu was baffled. Ssentalo had been friends with Kyabaggu. Had he become too familiar? Ssentalo had been untouchable. His head was considered cemented onto its shoulders: Did some ambitious warrior take advantage to further his career? But Kyabaggu seemed too politically savvy to be manipulated. Was Ssentalo mistaken to harbor Namugala? Then, there was the issue of Ssentalo’s reveling in his indiscriminate sexual tendencies. But as long as the kingdom’s frontiers kept shifting outwards, his sexual avidity had not bothered earlier kings. Besides, he was always away looking for war. Ssentalo’s beheading did not make sense.

Even in death Ssentalo’s comeliness was still visible. He had been a muvule tree: tall and erect. He was charming, if a bit too good-looking and aware of it. The fact that he was a warrior who made both men and women groan beneath him had propped Ssentalo’s manliness to unprecedented heights. Was Kyabaggu intimidated by Ssentalo?

Ssentalo and Kintu had been close. During Kintu’s grooming, his father told him that Ssentalo was the only official he could trust in the lukiiko. The immense size of Buddu made Ppookino the most powerful governor, but Ssentalo was key to its expansion. He first introduced himself to Kintu when he succeeded his own father. He inquired about the “flaccid situation,” and Kintu was alarmed that Ssentalo had misunderstood the path he walked. Seeing Kintu’s panic, Ssentalo had said, “Don’t worry. You’re good-looking—but in a way that appeals to women. There’s something gentle about you. When I want a woman, I go for a proper woman: soft, smooth, and round. When I want a man, I want hairy, sweat, musk, granite.”

Kintu had smiled.

“Don’t ever try men out of curiosity,” Ssentalo had winked mischievously. “It’s like a river: a one-way flow for many people, no return. Once you have heard the hoarse groan of a man, felt the moist hairy skin and drunk the scent of male sweat you will not want to hold a woman again. I have wives and I enjoy them. To the kingdom I’ve given a lot of children. Do you see what women do when they harvest cassava?”

“They replace it.”

“Exactly: to avoid famine. As humans, we don’t only replace ourselves, we multiply. Where there was one man, ten boys should grow. It’s the ultimate law.”

“I am not planning to try—”

“Do you enjoy women?”

“One of them—”

“Aha, Nnakato. I’ve heard that she was carved for you.”

“Hmm.”

“The others?”

“Sheer labor.”

“What agony! This body,” Ssentalo’s hands had swept over his person, inviting Kintu to appraise it. “Was made to be enjoyed.”

“Hmm,” was all Kintu could say.

“If you want to make the arduous sexual labor through your wives bearable, here is the medicine. When you return home, rather than ravish Nnakato first, start with the wife that repels you most. Then work your way from the repellents to the favorites. Keep Nnakato for last. It’s like eating sugar cane: the anticipated sweetness of the bottom pieces makes the top bits, which taste like tears, bearable.”

Kintu had hoped to sound out Ssentalo of his decisions about Baale and Babirye and seek his counsel. Now, looking at his head dripping on a calabash, turning gray, while the lukiiko discussed raids on Busoga, brought pain to Kintu’s joints. No doubt this was Kyabaggu intimidating the lukiiko. Kintu’s shock melted and abhorrence took over. Ssekiboobo was discussing the best time to cross the River Kiyira, the size of fleet needed, and whether they could use the alternative route on Lake Nnalubaale. Listening to them was painful because all these campaigns were within the remits of Ssentalo’s office. From then on, Kintu worked to mask his odium and maintain a frightened countenance. Meanwhile, Kyabaggu had made it clear that his eyes were set on the Ssoga people in the east. Annexing them to Buganda Kingdom would be his legacy. He wanted to know how many men each governor would supply for the invasion. Luckily for Kintu, Buddu was exempt because of the distance.

Kintu spent two moons at the palace. Soon after Kyabaggu’s coronation, he returned to Buddu. Before setting off, he bought sheets of quality cloth from Lubaga. This time he oversaw Kalema’s second burial. The party spent three days working on his grave. The men collected stones and piled them onto the grave until it stood out in the featureless o Lwera landscape. Then they planted the prolific musambya shrubs around the grave. When they finished, Kintu called Kalema and told him that he had done his duty by him as a father. He reiterated that in death as in life he was his son. However, Kalema had to stay dead. If he did not and chose to play mischief, Kintu would have his spirit bound.