She would pick out a man on sight and send Affiah to interview them later. When Affiah was satisfied that they met Attem’s requirements, she would bring them, under cover of darkness, into Attem’s secret quarters: a cave in the hills above the village. In the morning, they were smuggled out. It was a smooth operation that depended on the cunning of the women courtiers that Attem kept close. Shunning the offer of being tended to by the daughters of the most prominent businessmen and chiefs, Attem’s indoor equerries and guards were mostly servant women that Attem freed, educated and trained to be part of her retinue. She dressed them in fine uniforms and ensured they were well fed and happy. Attem made it known that, if the male guards so much as touched her women against their wishes, she would call for their manhood to be cut while they were alive. King Offiong initially resisted when he was met by the consternation of his court. They argued that Attem was disrupting the order of their land, that it would anger the gods. Attem was undeterred and unruffled, holding her head high against the weighty glare of the king’s raging men. Attem had swept a soft hand across Offiong’s cratered, sagging cheek, cupped his chin and whispered into his ear that she felt safer with women around her because the only man she ever wanted close to her was him. The oaf had lapped up her ego-fattening words from her palm and ordered the men to obey.
Affiah did the due diligence needed to ensure that the men Attem chose were discreet – and they were. Discretion was easy to come by, even without consideration of the mild fact that these men would certainly be flayed alive if the king discovered they had consorted with his wife. The secret was kept due to its sheer essence: they had been chosen by Queen Attem.
Attem was under no illusion as to what their attraction to her was. It was uncomplicated and she enjoyed the clarity. What was important to her was that it was her choice, a tangible flex of the only power she possessed. Her marriage to Offiong had happened because of her complete lack of choice. Her parents had been humble craftspeople who had found themselves in crippling debt to the throne after they entrusted someone they shouldn’t have with their life savings. King Offiong’s regime gave them two options: to give up the compound that had been theirs for generations and live the rest of their days enslaved, or run away. Meanwhile, Offiong’s estate fattened with the luxuries he plundered from everyone else. A benevolent king might have waived the debt, but Offiong wasn’t a benevolent king. He was the son of a man who had killed and manipulated his way to the throne; he was a violent liar, his kingship sired by blood.
Attem knew her proud parents would rather have been taken than run. They encouraged her to flee with her younger siblings, but leaving her mother and father to be enslaved was unthinkable, and she could never leave her two younger siblings to fend for themselves. Soon, Attem realised she had only one option. She would seduce the king. At the Harvest Festival she had pushed herself to the forefront of the assembled group of sickeningly young and coy girls and used everything in her possession to stand out. She had no other choice: be bold or leave her family in destitution. Either the lascivious old man fell for her or her entire world be destroyed. She had repressed her disgust and met his eyes flirtatiously. Adrenaline made her hips sway with more verve; her feet slapped the dust with increased vim. She was dancing for the life of her family.
King Offiong paid a handsome dowry. Her family were not happy about the arrangement, but could not argue with the facts: all their worries were to be quelled with this marriage. They retained their land and were able to help others in a similar predicament. All Attem had to do was drink contraceptive herb-spiked palm liquor daily, close her eyes and allow Offiong to pump into her once a week as she willed away the two-minute nightmare.
Attem’s expeditions to the marketplace gave her choice, power and freedom. She was fortunate enough to win Offiong’s leniency and favour. He said he liked her sass （the other wives tutted and rolled their eyes and said it wasn’t her sass he liked） and so he allowed her to roam town once a week. She decided that being bound needn’t mean that she had to be trapped.
This man, at the marketplace, with skin like silken copper pulled taut over muscles, looked like a perfect choice. She saw the fire in his eyes as they darted across the market, the slope in his mouth as he took it all in. He was a man with ambition.
Attem nudged Affiah. ‘Let’s move closer to him.’
Affiah looked at Attem curiously. This was not how they operated. Proximity could tempt suspicion, and this was not something that they could afford. Despite knowing this, Affiah trusted Attem implicitly. Affiah came from a herding family, but Attem never made her feel as if she was anything less than high-blooded. During the first few weeks of her marriage, Attem had seen Affiah give a man a dressing down after he tried to swindle her on some cows at the market: she had taken a stick and thwacked him in his privates. The man had tried to get Affiah arrested, but Attem intervened and called her to her court. Affiah was sure Attem was going to personally punish her for disgracing their gender in her proximity, but Attem stated that she needed women unafraid of men to be close to her. Soon after, the man that tried to rob Affiah of her livelihood disappeared. Affiah knew Attem would never put them in danger, so she nodded in assent.