By Muyiwa Adetiba
The room was dark; matching his mood. But the grey light that filtered in through  the slits between the heavy drapes showed dawn had finally broken.

He had not been able to sleep all night—he kept tossing and turning on an otherwise comfortable bed that had given him many beautiful nights in the past— yet he did not want dawn to break. He did not know which new problems dawn would bring and he was afraid to face the day.

Soon, very soon, the palace guards would stir and the activities of the day would start. He wondered why the sleeping tablets he took the night before didn’t work as they should. Was his system getting used to them? He was getting too dependent on them anyway. He also wondered why the women— beautiful and not so beautiful— were not giving him comfort any longer. It used to thrill him no end that he could have his fill of women in and around the palace.

Even those he would not have dared turn to in the past now threw themselves at him. He soon found out they were the ones showing off and using his relationship with them as a passport for all kinds of misdemeanours. Now the thrill was gone. In its place was the emptiness that reminded him of King Solomon in the ancient Bible who found that women, money, power and even laughter could not fill the void, the emptiness within. They were all, as Solomon found out, vanities upon vanities.

The past months had brought too many problems to the kingdom and everybody was pointing accusing fingers at him. Well, not everybody but that was how he felt. He knew many of the problems were not caused by him. Many of the people in the kingdom including his lieutenants and opponents knew that too. Yet he could feel behind their smiles, behind their sometimes kind gestures that they held him responsible as the King. Or was he getting paranoid?

He stared at the luminal hands of the gold clock in the ornate room. It was just a few minutes past five. How much longer could he enjoy this luxury of solitude? In another hour, one of his trusted aides would bring a cup of hot tea. Sometimes, he laced the tea with his favourite alcohol to pep himself. Sometimes the hot tea was enough. Today, he wanted neither the tea nor the alcohol— he was drinking too much anyway. He just wanted to be alone. But being a king means you are never really allowed to be alone.

After the tea, another aide would bring a file containing the appointments and activities of the day. This used to give him immense pleasure in the past as he looked forward to meeting famous personalities in his kingdom and neighbouring kingdoms.

He also used to enjoy being seen by the adoring eyes of his people as he solved their problems. Of late, what he felt were cold stares from the people and sympathetic but condescending handshakes and remarks from the personalities. Some of the foreign kings even tried to make him feel inferior with their remarks while some suggested he was complicit to the untoward activities of his lieutenants.

And speaking of lieutenants, how many were really on his side? Many he was sure, would smile at him and make scathing remarks at his back. Many dined with his growing number of opponents who spent the small hours of the night plotting against him. Last week at a meeting of the council chiefs, a thought came to him as he looked around.

How many of these people that had gained prominence and immense wealth through their association with him would not abandon him if push came to the shove? He had covered the backs of many of them from enemy attacks. How many would cover his back?

In fact, his chief warriors were beginning to cause him more sleepless nights. He had given them latitude and looked the other way as they touched the money meant for the rank and file. All he expected in return was that they should protect him from internal attrition and the kingdom from external aggression. But they did neither to his satisfaction. Again, if push came to shove, how many of them would not rise up against him?

How did it get to all these? How did it happen that he now had very few real friends left? How did it happen that events were breaking fast around him and he had very little control over them? Are the gods angry? But they must know he meant well when he took over the reins. He had assembled knowledgeable people to take care of the welfare of the people and improve the Kingdom’s economy.

Perhaps his one mistake was that he felt he could do things round the kingmakers and not tamper with a system that allowed a few to enrich themselves at the expense of the majority. But the dissidents and the rebels who kept raiding the outskirts of his kingdom caused too much distraction.

Again, perhaps he could have handled the situation differently, but his chief warriors and advisers misled him. Now, what started as a distraction had become a major headache. It had also led to impunity and insecurity all over the Kingdom. As If the kidnapping of people on the way to the farms was not enough, the rivers were now polluted. Worse, the young and the old were dying to a new, dreaded disease.

And the oracles were not telling him anything. Can the priests even be trusted? He knew from history that whenever there was famine, whenever the old died and the young disappeared, the King bore the responsibility and the wrath of the gods could be fierce. Is there a way to appease the gods or is it too late?

A discrete knock caressed the door. The aide with the hot tea had come. He sighed for it was time to face the day.