The Eighth Tribe, 1981 (8. évfolyam, 1-12. szám)
1981-03-01 / 3. szám
March, 1081 THE EIGHTH TRIBE Paf e 7 Keve and his soldiers were buried with honors. Today, the place where their burial mounds were built is called Kevehaza (House of Keve). Following funeral ceremonies, the Huns pressed after Detre forcing him into battle at Gesumor. From dawn to dusk, the battle raged. Macrinus, Bela and Kadosa died heroically. Detre, with an arrow in his forehead, surprisingly lived long enough to bring the news to Rome, telling of his army’s defeat at Gesumor. Rome sent peace-offerings to the Huns, gold and silver, and paid yearly tribute in order to avoid further invasion. • • • The long wearisome wandering was over at last. The Huns had found a new homeland which seemed to have been made by UR, the Heavenly Lord, specially for them. A chain of high mountains surrounded the rich plains. The forests were full of game and the streams abounded with fish. Sweet grass grew on the fertile plains, enough to nourish the herds. Could they ask for more? The Hun warriors enjoyed a peaceful hunting life in the new land. After the death of Bendegúz, his first-born, BUDA, became their Chieftain. Time passed. Minstrels sang happy songs. The bards recited old war stories around the campfires. As always, the young men became weary of hunting, fishing, or playing war games. They wanted to fight, for instance another encounter with the Roman Legions across the Danube. But their Chieftain, Buda, was a good and peaceful man. He had built himself a castle similar to the Romans. His pleasures were many, but his greatest enjoyment was the big hunt. Those big hunts usually started at night, with the hunters surrounding a large area. Early in the morning, with the bugles blowing, they would press forward, frightening the bear from his cave, the deer and elk from their hiding places, or the wolves and wild-boars from the slopes, driving them straight into the arrows of the waiting hunters. It happened during such a hunt. Unexpectedly a huge boar broke out of the circle and charged Buda. Hundreds of arrows pierced the animal. Hundreds' of swords cut him to ribbons, but it was too late. The hunters brought their dead chieftain back to bis beautiful castle which stood proudly on the shores of the Danube. The leaders disfigured their faces with ashes and colored pigment. They mourned for forty days, as custom required. Their sorrow, however, was not very deep. During the entire period of mourning, the warriors spent their time making arrow-heads and leather shields with but one thought in mind:— “Who will be our next Chief? Atilla?” The cautious and old said: — “Why change our present life? Rome sends us gold as often as we ask for it.” But the young warriors, tired of doing nothing, wanted war. The forty days of mourning ended. Buda was buried where the city of Buda now stands, in the western section of today’s capital city of Budapest. The clan chiefs gathered together, in order to elect their new chieftain. According to custom, if there was no one objecting, it was young Atilla’s turn as next in line. Should there be any dissent, the successor had to be decided by majority vote. The heads of the one hundred and eight clans were still sitting in a big circle, discussing and arguing, when an excited shepherd boy suddenly came galloping into their midst. His horse was covered with froth, and the boy’s body was covered with sweat. “An arrow for the disrespectful scoundrel!” the angry crowd roared. But the boy’s voice was loud and excited. “Huns! Chiefs! A flaming sword! A flaming sword! It’s in the middle of the meadow!” the lad cried. Atilla calmed the crowd and lifted the boy over into his own saddle. Holding the six-year-old child close, he spoke. “Speak up, son, and speak loudly enough for all to hear thy words,” Atilla said. “I took the herd to a new grazing place yesterday”, the boy said in a clear, loud voice, “and in the morning I found the foot of one of the animals was bleeding. I went to search for the cause, and my Lord, in the glare of the rising sun, I saw the tip of a sword appearing from the ground! And there was fire all around it and all over it!” “Guide us there”, Atilla said. The chiefs mounted their horses with young Atilla in the lead, holding the shepherd boy in front of him on the saddle, they raced away toward the West. Soon they could see a thin column of blue smoke rising toward the sky from the middle of a meadow. When they reached the place, the smoke was almost gone and the bluish flame flickered for the last time. And lo! There was the tip of a sword, shining like pure gold, sticking out of the burned ground, just as the shepherd boy had said. Atilla dismounted and with head bared, as if stepping on holy ground, he drew closer to the strange
