Chapter Twelve: The Woman Who Came at Dusk

THE FORBIDDEN TWINS

Three days had passed since the stranger visited Okuwa’s compound.

Life had settled into its familiar rhythm. The women fetched water, prepared meals and tended to their children. Men returned from their farms with tales of disputes, good harvests and the occasional misfortune that had befallen a neighbour.

Yet Adanna had begun to notice changes in herself.

The smell of roasted yam, once enough to draw her towards the cooking fire, now turned her stomach. By midday, a heaviness settled over her, leaving her eager to sit beneath the shade of the udala tree.

She told no one.

There were already enough questions in the household, and she had no wish to give uncertain thoughts the weight of spoken words.

That evening, while Nkechimka’s younger daughters argued over a broken clay pot, a woman appeared at the entrance to the compound.

She carried no basket and wore no travelling dust on her feet. Her wrapper was plain, her hair neatly arranged, and a string of pale beads circled her wrist.

“I seek Adanna, wife of Okuwa,” she said.

Nkechimka, who was sorting dried vegetables nearby, looked up.

“She is inside. Who should I tell her has come?”

The woman regarded her calmly.

“Tell her that one who serves Olamma’s priestess has come to speak with her.”

Nkechimka’s hands paused over the vegetables. The name was familiar, though not one she heard spoken casually. She studied the visitor for a moment before calling for Adanna.

Adanna came out slowly, wiping her hands against her wrapper.

The moment she saw the woman, she felt an inexplicable urge to lower her eyes.

“You have come for me?” she asked.

“Yes.”

“Have we met before?”

“No.”

The answer was simple, without invitation to further questions.

The woman asked to speak with Adanna where the others would not overhear. They moved a short distance from the cooking place, beneath the shadow of the outer wall.

“I am the handmaiden who carries messages under the authority of Olamma’s priestess,” the visitor explained. “I have been sent to deliver something to you.”

She brought a small folded piece of cloth from within her wrapper. It was white, finely woven, and marked at one corner with a faded red thread.

Adanna stared at it.

“What is this?”

“A cloth kept among the priestess’s sacred belongings. She has instructed that it be placed in your care until she asks for it again.”

Adanna hesitated before accepting it.

“Why me?”

“That question was not given to me to answer.”

The handmaiden's gaze rested briefly on Adanna's face.

“Keep it clean and away from the cooking fire. Do not give it to anyone else, even if they ask. When the priestess requires it, you will be told.”

Adanna folded her fingers around the cloth. She had expected a warning, perhaps another difficult message. Instead, she had been entrusted with something whose purpose she could not understand.

“Does Olamma know me?” she asked quietly.

The handmaiden did not answer at once.

“The gods know many things about the people who live beneath their sky. That does not mean every servant is permitted to speak of them.”

Before Adanna could ask anything more, the woman stepped away.

“Wait,” Adanna called. “Must I do anything else?”

“No. For now, keep what has been entrusted to you.”

The handmaiden walked towards the entrance. Nkechimka watched her leave, her expression unreadable.

When the visitor had gone, she turned to Adanna.

“What did she bring?”

“A piece of cloth.”

“And what does she want with it?”

“She said the priestess would ask for it when the time came.”

Nkechimka gave a short, humourless laugh.

“People bring strange things into this compound and leave others to wonder about them.”

“She brought no trouble,” Adanna replied.

“Trouble rarely announces itself before entering a house.”

Nkechimka returned to her vegetables, unwilling to continue the conversation.

That night, Adanna wrapped the cloth in a clean strip of fabric and placed it in a small wooden box among her personal belongings. She did not know why a priestess would entrust such an ordinary object to her, nor why the woman had refused to explain its purpose.

But as she lay down, one thought troubled her more than the rest.

The first visitor had spoken of children.

The second had brought something to be kept.

Neither had explained what connected their visits, and Adanna had no proof that the two events were connected at all.

Outside, the night settled over Umuezuna. In the compound, the household slept, unaware that a small piece of cloth had found its way into their midst.

And far beyond their knowledge, other lives were moving towards a day none of them could yet imagine.