Immigrant

A Story of the Bronze Age

The man was dirty, with long unkempt hair and beard, and torn clothes. The only reason he wasn’t already dead was because he had a spear. The chieftain had called for an archer – there was no reason to take any chances by letting one of the tribesmen get too close to him.

Kernosivsky KKuran stele

“Let me fight him,” said Kan. “I’ll take his spear and then we can fight hand to hand.” They had visitors from a neighboring tribe, and he wanted to impress the man’s daughter. Raiding season was over for this year. And Kan and four other men still had no wife.

The chieftain considered. “Stranger, will you set down your spear and fight? If you survive, we’ll let you go.”

The stranger saw the tribesmen surrounding him. There were so many! He came from a big town with 500 people, and of course with many more grown women than men. If this tribe had this many grown men, they must be even bigger than his town.

“How many do I have to fight?” he asked. It was just a matter of choosing how he wanted to die. He could probably kill more of them with his spear, with less pain, than fighting twenty or more men.

“Kan, for one,” said the chieftain. “Who else wishes to challenge the stranger?”

Then, to the stranger’s utter surprise, only three others volunteered.

“You’ll… let me live?” he asked, skeptically.

“If you’re still standing after fighting four of my warriors,” said the chieftain.

The stranger considered. Four against one. They looked young, which meant they’d be strong and probably undamaged, but on the other hand, they would, hopefully, have less experience. He nodded, dropped his spear, and stepped away from it. He still didn’t trust the chieftain, but it sounded like more of a chance than he’d had a moment ago.

The tribesmen marked out an arena and stood watch – one at each corner and one at each side. Then Kan stepped in. The only reason the stranger didn’t rush him immediately was because he was waiting for the other three to take their positions as well. But then the chieftain said, “Fight!” and he realized the reason Kan hadn’t headed for him immediately was because he had been waiting for the chieftain’s word.

“The others?” asked the stranger, and he dodged Kan, trying to keep an eye on the other three.

“One at a time,” said the Chieftain.

The stranger didn’t quite believe that, but decided to focus most of his attention on Kan. The tribesman was taller and had a better reach, but the stranger was stronger. Both were well accustomed to fighting without weapons. In the end, the stranger’s strength and skill overpowered Kan, who was on the ground with the stranger’s hands on his throat.

“Kan concedes.” The chieftain spoke the words he knew Kan could not. The stranger backed off, not surprised that the tribal chief would not allow a warrior to be wasted, but still not trusting that his own life was secure.

Someone handed Kan his spear, and if the stranger hadn’t clearly been out of reach of stopping Kan before he threw it, he would have rushed the tribesman. But Kan simply pounded the spear on the ground and stepped out of the arena.

So that was one. Where was the next one?

“We will give him a rest period,” said the Chieftain. “Does anyone offer food and drink to the stranger?”

Once again, a warrior stepped into the arena. But this wasn’t one of the other three youngsters. He looked well seasoned. The stranger was cautious, but didn’t automatically rush the man. He could see that this tribe was different than any other he had experience with.

“Here,” said the warrior, handing him a water pouch. “You’ve caught my sister’s eye.”

“What?” said the stranger, wide-eyed. Then he looked up at a rise on the other side of the arena. There did, indeed, seem to be a group of well-dressed women sitting under a canopy and watching. One of them looked familiar….

When the stranger realized the tribesman had noticed the direction of his gaze, he braced for the blow, but instead, the tribesman simply pointed.

“That one,” said the warrior. Then he leaned closer to the stranger. “We won’t try to kill you, although that could happen anyway. But if you kill any of us, you’re dead.”

The stranger nodded.

After he won his next contest, he stood calmly when the man he had beaten pounded his spear on the ground. When the same tribesman brought him water again, he asked, “Why does he do that?”

The warrior smiled. “It means you were a worthy opponent. They have to do that. Otherwise, it means they’re bad at fighting. But in this case, they’re right. Otherwise, I wouldn’t be doing this for my sister. By the way, I’m called Mel.”

After the stranger had won the third contest, there was a scuffle when the visiting family tried to challenge Mel for the right to tend to the stranger. The chieftain would allow the stranger to vie for a tribeswoman, who after all could not be given to a man of the tribe, but he would not let him take a bride that could go to one of his tribesmen.

But the stranger lost the fourth contest. He looked over at the chieftain. The man had claimed that he could leave if he survived, and he had come to believe that the chieftain would keep his word. But instead of being relieved that he was apparently going to remain alive, he was oddly dejected. It had seemed that Mel would have been content to give him his sister, had he won all the contests.

There seemed to be some talk among the men around the chieftain. Then he said, “Stranger, do you have a name?”

“I’m Tom,” he said.

Then suddenly one of the women from the rise came running down toward the arena, shamelessly unaccompanied by any man. No, there was a man. On crutches. He must have been wounded.

“That’s why you were familiar,” she said, arriving at the arena. “He’s my brother.” The warriors around the perimeter made way to give her room. A moment later, the man on crutches came up beside her.

“Gina?” asked Tom. It clearly was his sister, but she was a matron now. She wore a wife’s headdress and had a nursling bound to her. And a little boy holding her hand.

Gina looked over to the chieftain and nodded, and there was more conversation between him and the men around him. Now, Mel came down from the rise with the woman he had pointed out before, and she spoke with Gina, but they were far enough away that he couldn’t hear the words. Then Mel and his sister and Gina and her husband went over to the chieftain.

Tom sat down on the ground in the arena, totally confused, but at least no one seemed inclined to kill him or even force him back out into the wilderness.

Another seasoned warrior approached him, this time with a vessel of water and a cloth.

“I’m Lon,” he said, “and no, I don’t have a sister interested in you.”

Tom dipped the cloth in the water and started to clean the dirt and sweat off his face. Nothing anyone said would surprise him now.

“So you’re Gina’s brother?” he asked. “That makes this much easier. What do you think about joining the tribe?”

“Great,” said Tom. “But I’m not married.”

Strange as this tribe was, he couldn’t believe they’d let a grown, unmarried man join them.

“I think we can take care of that,” said Lon, smiling. “But not Sura,” he added. “It looks like she’s decided for Nwin – he’s the one you didn’t beat. Thanks for that, by the way. Especially after you beat the first three, it really let him show his worth.”

“Was that Mel’s sister?” Tom asked.

“No,” said Lon, and the tribesman suddenly looked angry. Then he seemed to think better of it, seeing the look on Tom’s face.

“Of course, you don’t know,” said Lon. “Sura is visiting from another tribe with her kinsmen. We were trying to arrange a betrothal for one of our young men. Mel’s sister is Noa, and of course no man of the tribe can marry a tribeswoman. But you can, and then you can join the tribe. We’ve been have trouble with her. She gets homesick – she didn’t want to to leave the tribe – and she hasn’t been accepting any of her offers. You would have to join the tribe, though.”