Hungarian Heritage Review, 1990 (19. évfolyam, 1-12. szám)
1990-02-01 / 2. szám
The Folklore of Hungary THE REUNION WITH THE SZEKELYS On the high mountain - ridges of Erdély (Transylvania), Szekely sentries stood guard for many centuries, watching for approaching enemies and hoping that one day the ancient prophecies would come true and CSABA would return from the East with the rest of the nation. Sons inherited sentry-posts from their fathers, together with the hope, and when their time came, they handed the posts over to their sons and grandsons. Then one foggy morning, the guard on Orko suddenly caught sight of a long column of riders emerging from the forestfbelow, slowly ascending the road toward the pass. The riders wore pointed fur caps, just as the guard did. Their flag displayed the TURUL bird, the sacred eagle of the Huns. The guard ran to the sound-tree, and old hollow tree that was used to send messages over the Szekely valleys. He began to hammer on it with the butt of his heavy axe. Bong ... Bong ... Bong ..., the sound of his axe rose over the silent forests, from ridge to ridge, across the dreamy valleys. In their small, hidden villages men and women stopped whatever they were doing and listened. Usually, these sounds coming from the ridges meant danger, enemy invasion, and people down in the valleys were ready to pack their bundles, herd their animals together and flee into the woods. This time, however, the messages they read from the sounds meant something different. It meant joy and happiness, it meant that the long-awaited arrival of the distant brethren, the unexpected news of Csaba’s return had finally come. “Leader Csaba has returned!” “ Here they are! The wanderers of old have returned home!” “Sing joyful songs, all ye Szekelys! Give thanks to UR, our God, for the hardships are over, the dangers are gone! The prophecies have been fulfilled!” These were the messages of the JOGURS (priests) of the tiny villages below the mountains read from the sounds that day, everywhere in Erdély. Farther toward the West, in the rolling hillcountry, the new inhabitants became frightened. They were Bulgarians of MENMARCOT’S tribe. Converted to Christianity, and sobered into fear by their bearded priests, they were afraid of their “pagan” neighbors. However, understanding the happy message of distant signal fires, the elders began to doubt the word of their priests. They remembered vaguely of old legends, very similar to those of the Szekelys. Jo defend their settlements from the new invaders, the Bulgarian warriors came together on .the bank of the Szamos River. Here they waited. Soon riders appeared, coming slowly out of the forest by tens, by hundreds, even by thousands. The Bulgarians stared at the oncomers. Could it be a mirage? Was it not themselves they saw approaching .’ From the opposite banks of the little river, similar faces stared at one another. Similar kinds of leather suits, fur jackets, also feathered caps were worn on both sides. Even the slightly bent sabres, and the battle axes were identical. “Deus, Deus, Deus!” cried the Bulgarian settlers on the Western bank of the Szamos. “Isten, Isten, Isten!” echoed the reply from the other bank. The older settlers remembered that not so very long ago, they, too, had worshipped a God called Isten. Men Marót, the chief of the Bulgarians, came forward on his horse, to the edge of the water. From the other side, two horsemen approached, a young and an old. They drove their horses into the shallow water, and so did the chief of the Bulgarians. They met in midstream. “My name is Arpadson Jutás”, the younger man spoke first. “I am the Commander of the Eastern wing of the Magyar army. I come with peace.” “I am the RABONBAN of the Szekelys”, said the old man beside him. “Our nation is filled with joy because our brethren from the East have at last arrived. We joined with them, and pledged our loyalty to Arpad and his people.” “I am Men Marót, chieftain of the Bulgarian tribe which moved away from the rest of our nation and settled part of this beautiful land. We were brethren of the Huns, and we are, therefore, brethren with the Magyars, too. If you come with peace, we receive you in peace, and pledge our loyalty, just as the Szekelys have done.” So right there, on the bank of the River Szamos, in front of a Táltos and in front of a Greek priest, Men Marót and the leader of the Szekelys spoke the sacred words of the oath. The alliance between them and the Magyars was declared. It was celebrated with three days of enjoyment, singing and dancing, fat oxen were roasted for everyone to eat, thus adding to the merriment. The old River Szamos heard the words of the sacred oath, the mountains and the hills around them witnessed the handshakes. The place where this event took place is now called the city of DES. ************- From Selected Hungarian Legends. Danubian Press, Inc. 36 HUNGARIAN HERITAGE REVIEW FEBRUARY 1990
