A Useless Tribe

A Useless Tribe

I tell this story as a captive of the Mingala mountain tribe. I tell it because they command me to do it. You may believe that it is the truth since a prince of their royal house watches over the writing.

My tribe settled in the plains hundreds of years ago. We were very prosperous . We had plentiful herds and abundant crops and good trade with the tribes along the coast. All was well until the Mingala came down from their mountains.

First Encounter.

A large war party assembled in the pasture outside our town. They sent an old blind man to tell their terms. This unsettled everyone. He stood in the town square and spoke into the air.

“Your tribe can be spared destruction” he said in a clear voice, “You must deliver over to us a sacrifice, either your three most prominent men or every girl child aged 2 to 12. If you do this you will have peace with the Mingala for six years. At dawn tomorrow send one or the other to us at our camp.”

He left the town and no one stopped him or even spoke to him.

Naturally a council was called. Everyone knew that the three most prominent men were Obal the old Judge, Caba the leader of the hunters and also the traders and my Father, the King.

I always sat on a small stool next to my fathers throne so I could learn skills from the older men for when I would be King. I had no doubt that these men would know what to do.

Obal favoured fighting but Caba assured him this was impossible as the Mingala outnumbered us and had a reputation for savage courage. Then Obal said that since he was old and had fully trained his son to take his place he was ready to be sacrificed.

My father listened to Obal patiently and nodded wisely at this conclusion. He then invited Caba to speak.

Caba said that, though his four sons were grown he had yet to complete their training, that his two roles in the tribe were complicated and many regarded him as indispensible. He also argued that the King himself could not be replaced especially as his own son, myself, was still only a young boy of seven years. The other men of the council made noises of agreement as Caba spoke.

My father looked tenderly down at me and then pronounced his decision. “Caba is right. Though my heart is heavy on account of my own daughters we have no choice.”

At that moment, you might be disgusted by this, I felt so safe. I was within the age group selected but I was a boy so I was safe. I would not be required to fight so I was safe. I was the King’s son so I was safe. Also my sisters who teased me would be gone. I loved those wise men, my father’s men.

Caba made a joke, “One thing we know how to do is make more children. Unless you have all forgotten. Shall I show you? Ha ha ha.” I didn’t laugh because I didn’t understand.

The next day at dawn my two sisters led the girls out to the camp of the Mingala.

Second Encounter

No one ever talked about the Mingala. Wives new better than to mention the episode to their husbands even as they mourned the loss of their daughters.

The Mingala had not mentioned whether or not they would return after six years so when they did the town was shocked and alarmed.

There in the fields one dawn was the Mingala war camp, sprung up in the night like mushrooms. The same old man walked into town and offered the same terms as before.

Again the council sat. Obal had died but his son Deko had replaced him as Judge. The council of men waited for him to speak first.

I was in attendance again but I now had my own throne and was permitted to hold a ceremonial spear.

Deko, like his father, wanted to fight and this time other men added their voices to his.

Caba strongly disagreed and a fierce argument took place. I remember Caba shouting that a lion could live without his tail but not without his head. At this pronouncement the men looked to my Father expectantly.

My Father once again looked at me tenderly before he spoke. “Though it breaks my heart to say it, our friend Caba is right. The loss of labour will be compensated, the council will purchase a new slave for every household.”

The men accepted my Fathers decision. A slave was a considerable gift. Even so some anger remained and festered over the next six years.

Third Encounter

As the end of six years approached two things happened that increased the confusion and fear of our tribe.

First Caba died and his son Murgo succeeded him. Murgo was an aggressive and insolent man who only showed my father a minimum of respect.

Second a traveller, one of Obal’s sons, returned from a trip around the country with the following tale. He told this before a meeting of the council.

“There is a tribe on the other side of the mountains,” he said, looking around at the men of our tribe. “ When I sat down to rest in their town square I saw a statue in the middle, it was also a fountain; three old men, two kneeling with throats bared and a third preparing to kneel holding his palms upraised. Water gushed from his palms and the townspeople got their water from the pool at the foot of the statue. I asked the men what it meant. They me told that some years ago the three most prominent men of their tribe had offered themselves as a sacrifice to save the tribe from the Mingala. I immediately asked “How did your tribe survive without its leaders?” “It was only a test” they replied “to find if the leaders were worthy of their tribe. They live among us to this day, highly honoured, and this fountain was a gift from the Mingala.”

There was silence in the council chamber.

Deko spoke. “The Mingala will be here within the week. If we change our response now do you think we will be shown mercy? I do not. We must fight this time. King I call on you to lead us in battle to save the honour of our tribe.”

My father waited a long time before he spoke.

“It breaks my heart to admit it, but my generation has failed the tribe. I am not worthy to lead. I must step aside and let my son take my place as King.”

He stood and indicated to me to take his place on the throne. I sat and waited for him to take his place on the second throne where I had been seated, but he did not. He found a place at the back of the chamber.

“It is regrettable” I said, “that the Mingala chose to trick us in this way. I agree that it is unlikely we will be shown mercy if we change our response. However a war will result in the destruction of our tribe. Therefore, prepare the sacrifice as normal.”

Two weeks later the Mingala camp appeared. No messenger was sent into the town this time. I called the council.

“Send out the sacrifice” I instructed Murgo.

At that moment terrible noises were heard from outside the chamber. The doors were forced open and Mingalan warriors rushed in. They held the entire council at bay with their horrific weapons. Two women, in the garb of soldiers entered the chamber. One of them, the older of the two, searched the room with her eyes. She found my father and, herself, dragged him into the center of the chamber. The younger woman unsheathed a long curved blade. They forced my father to kneel, pulled back his head and then in one swift motion the older women slashed his throat and the younger struck him with the sword from his groin to the base of his breast-bone. Then the older woman spoke in a harsh rage filled voice.

“Cowards! surrender to the Mingala or suffer the fate of your King.”

So here I remain, a prisoner of the Mingalian Queen. I maintain that my father was murdered since, according to all traditions, a woman cannot bear arms. It should not be viewed as an act of war.

I have been offered my freedom if I renounce my title. I will never do this. If I am not a King then I am nothing, no better than all of you who read this. Nothing but worthless subjects of a murderous Queen.