Portion - universityofafricanart.org

daughter tonight,” the Evil King told Alfonso, dangling his feet freely from the throne on
which he sat. As he spoke, his large nose, wet with beads of sweat, swelled and reflected
the light. “He must win, or he must die.” His tiny eyes lit up. “If he wins, he will get my
daughter and obtain a permanent stipend as a captain of my palace guards. The stipend is
handsome enough to afford him a princely status, worthy of the husband of a princess. He
must have a chance to rise to higher ranks as a titled chief in the court. The sky must hold
for him no limit.” Then his eyes lit up. “But I must drink his blood for breakfast in the
morning, to clear my liver of all the alcohol, should he fail tonight to out-drink me.”
Alfonso did not know what to say, so he said nothing.
“You must be there to enjoy this event. You must sit with the palace chiefs.”
“I will be there, your highness.”
“You must also see Ipaye, my blind sculptor, after you’ve had a little to eat. You
must be hungry after all that sleeping.”
Alfonso could not hide his excitement at the prospect of seeing a blind sculptor
at work. His mind was full of questions: How could a blind person see what he was
sculpting to the extent of producing extremely intricate and beautiful sculptures? Perhaps
he was only partially blind? How did he learn to carve? Did he master carving before he
became blind? Alfonso decided to keep all his questions to himself until he came face-
to-face with the strange royal sculptor. There was no point in trying to find out anything
from Eghosa, who sounded too distant and abstract.
“You must go and have a bite,” the king said, dismissing Alfonso with a wave of his
hand. The Spanish sailor slowly rose to his feet. He heard giggles as two women walked
in. They were the same ones attending to him when he woke up earlier that morning.
They walked in with a smile, their hips swaying in a way that left him feeling sweaty.