The chief imperial jali* did his best not to appear anxious as he quickly made his way over to the imperial hall where the king and queen held court. He had received urgent summons in the middle of a writing lesson with his apprentices to appear in the hall as soon as he possible. The king had called an impromptu meeting of most prominent officials in the capital. Sarjo reached the doors to the throne room, took a moment to compose himself, a deep breath, and then entered. The hall was made in the classic Mandinka style with mudbrick columns and arches with intricately woven rugs, both domestic and foreign. Baturu, the king, sat in the middle of the room along with his wife, Oba. The king was a handsome man in the prime of his life and Oba was as radiant as polished copper. But it was the new addition to the throne room that drew Sarjo's attention. The skin of some great shaggy animal with a hyena-like snout and sickle-like claws was draped across the back of the hardwood throne.
The king stood up, instantly quieting the room before he spoke. “Sarjo, how many kingdoms lie among the Niger?"
“Five, my king” Sarjo quickly answered.
“Five kingdoms of our people lie along the Niger River. We share the same language, the same writing, the same gods, and yet we feud endlessly with each other. It is not right for our people to do so, especially when there are so many enemies that surround us. Five… all with populations less than Ansongo?”
“Indeed, over one million souls reside in your domain and half a million more in our client states. Mopti has two hundred thousand, Jenne has four hundred thousand, Ke Macina has one hundred thousand, and Koulikoro contains six hundred thousand.”
Baturu was silent as the jali listed the Mande states with their populations from east to west. It was Oba who spoke next, “Perhaps it is time a mansa united our people. The desert clans demand greater tribute for their part in the protection of the caravans and the nomads raid more frequently. These skirmishes threaten to spiral into a war that will leave us vulnerable and ultimately to our demise. We must stop this infighting, this constant struggle for supremacy.”
While the Berbers were indeed threatening to restrict the desert trade, Sarjo privately suspected that it was competition from the other Mandinka kingdoms that vexed Baturu most of all.
Baturu spoke then, “Mopti and Ke Macina grow bolder with each month, disrupting our trade and attacking our caravans, and enslaving Ansongo’s citizens. Their incursions would seem to be a display of strength but my spies tell a different story. Their croplands turn into dust as their herds grow too large and their demand for iron strips the land bare. Like lions dying from their wounds, lashing out at every passing thing. Left alone they may just as easily atrophy or regain their strength, but this an opportunity that may not come again. With one stroke, we ensure our survival and gain control over the trade with Carthage and the forest chiefdoms. As Sarjo said, we have the men, the grain, and the wealth to vanquish them all.”
It was now that Sarjo fully grasped why the king had called him, to legitimize his ascension from king to mansa and to provide the recorded context of why such a claim had been made. If the campaigns succeeded, he would be lofted as a protective king that had conquered out of humanitarian impulses. If the conquests went less favorably, the king would be able to defend himself against accusations of greed and hubris from the scribes and province-masters, because of what his trusted chief jali had told him of the state of the other Niger River kingdoms.
Dutifully, Sarjo spoke, “And so what is your charge, my king?”
The pause before the plunge, thought Sarjo.
With a smile so slight that only those that knew the king would have noticed it, Baturu addressed the whole gathering. “Begin the preparations for war. Soon our people will bow to one mansa alone.”
*jali is the Mandinka word for griot