The Eighth Tribe, 1975 (2. évfolyam, 1-12. szám)
1975-01-01 / 1. szám
Page Two THE EIGHTH TRIBE January, 1975 JWagprö THE DREAM OF EMESE The nomadic life of the Magyars on the wide Eastern plains was a quiet peaceful life. The herds moved slowly and lazily, grazing on the lush meadows. Heavy, six-wheeled wagons in which the women and children lived, followed them everywhere. Blue smoke came out of the smoke-holes of these wagons, curling lazily up to the sparkling sky. Big, white oxen, driven by young girls, pulled the wagons. A horse-loving people, the Magyars never hitched their horses to the wagons. They cared for the horses more than they did for themselves. The men either hunted, or rode leisurely along. These people had learned wisdom from the stars and patience from the endless horizons. Countless herds of horses, cattle and sheep were their wealth. In addition to this, beautiful rugs and carpets covered their tent-floors, even decorated the walls. There were heavy chests containing the gold silver goods, along with the carefully treasured swords, hows and other weapons of their ancestors. They had no need for houses. The airy tents were cleaner, neater and much more comfortable than the sod huts or the dark stone houses of the settled people. Their clothing was better than those worn by the neighboring settlers. The Magyars wore soft, comfortable leathersuits, and under these suits they wore white linen undergarments. According to the tribal customs, a boy-child lived in his mother’s tent until he was three years of age. Then he was given a sheep, on which he learned to ride, and a small bow, in order to learn its use. Moving with the herds, he rode that sheep until he reached the age of six, after which he advanced to a gentle mare, and grew up with her foal. Sometimes the boy even sucked the patient animal along with the colt. By the time he was ten, he knew the names of up to thirty-three of his ancestors. He was able to catch his own horse out of the herd with a rope, and owned a regular hunting bow, a shepherd’s crook, and a long whip. He was able to perform a man’s work as a shepherd and as messenger-carrier. He was allowed to hunt on his own. He carried his father’s weapons into battle. Battles on the plains became more and more frequent, until it was almost a way of life. The good old times had long passed when the plains provided living for everyone, and when battles were fought only for the battle’s sake. People and herds had multiplied, the fight was for survival. The weaker tribes were pushed to the colder north, some even annihilated. The greatest danger for nomadic people was always the unexpected attack. The open plains gave no protection. Just a dust cloud appeared suddenly somewhere on the horizon, and even the small children, riding on their sheep, knew what such a dust cloud meant. Enemy attack for certain. At that time, the Bessenyos (Petchenegs) were the most dangerous enemies of the Magyars. These fierce people came from the East, moving the same way with their herds as the Huns and Magyars had moved before them. Their attacks were always devastating. They neither asked, nor gave, mercy. One summer day, an unusually small clan was moving slowly across the grasslands, from East to West. It was the clan of ÜGYEK, the last descendant of Atilla’s son, Csaba. In front, the young chief riding his beautiful Black stallion, led a group of warriors. Behind them, in the first covered wagon, was his young bride, EMESE, the daughter of a tribal chieftain. They had no herds following the wagon column this time. Ügyek and Emese were on their way to the TÁLTOS, (the High Priest), to ask his blessing on their marriage. Suddenly, an ominous dustcloud appeared on the South. A huge Bessenyo war-party came at them in a raging attack. There was no panic among the attacked. Strong arms reached for the little children and lifted them into the covered wagons. The column stopped, women and children reached for their bows. The men on horseback formed a semi-circle between the wagons and the enemy. Their arrows felled the first line of the attackers. Arrows, aimed with deadly accuracy from the covered wagons, found their marks also. Many of the Bessenyo fell from their horses, hut the raging attack kept on coming just the same. Ügyek and his men drew their swords. They knew they were outnumbered, and only a miracle could save them. But they were ready to die. THE EIGHTH TRIBE Editor .................................................................. Sándor E. Chomos Contributing Editor ................................................... Albert Wass Published and printed by ................... The Bethlen Press, Inc. P.O. Box 637, Ligonier, Pa. 15658, U.S.A. Second Class Postage paid at Ligonier, Pa. 15658, U.S.A. Subscription: $8.00 yearly.
