Vietnam or Thailand ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
So though it never was known who was the father of Ghitza, we knew him through his son. Ghitza's mother died because she bore him, the son of a white man she, the daughter of the chief of our tribe. It was Lupu's rule to punish those who bore a child begotten from outside the tribe. But the child was so charming that he was brought up in the tent of one of our people.
I sat near him at the fireplace and watched his wrinkled face while Murdo told me the story of Ghitza as it should be written in the book of heroes where the first place should be given to the greatest of them all.... No matter where the seed be carried by the winds, if it is the seed of an oak, an oak will grow; if it is the seed of a pine, a pine.
Tottering on his feet, in three jumps Ghitza was on the high point of the shore a splash and there was no more Ghitza. He was swallowed by the Danube. No Tartar had downed him! And so our people had back their wealth, and the people of the village theirs. No honour was lost and the maidens remained in the village only Maria did not. She followed her lover even as the people looked on.
The greatest that ever lived. See, son, what is there said about him?" I turned the pages one by one to the end of the book and then reported, "Nothing, Murdo. Not even his name is mentioned." "Then this book is not a good book. The man who wrote it did not know every hero ... because not Alexander of Macedon and not even Napoleon was greater than Ghitza...."
He was dressed in his best, wearing his new broad, red silken belt with his snow-white pantaloons and new footgear with silver bells on the ankles and tips. His shirt was as white and thin as air. On it the deftest fingers of our tribe had embroidered figures and flowers. On his head Ghitza wore a high black cap made of finest Astrakhan fur. And he had on his large ear-rings of white gold.
All shouting ceased. The men formed a wide ring around the two wrestlers. It was so quiet one could hear the slightest noise. Then the mayor spoke to the Tartars and pointed to the Danube; the inn was right on its shore. "If your man is thrown, this very night you leave our shore, for the other side." Ghitza kissed Maria and Lupu, the chief. Then the fight began.
And as he finished speaking he grasped the smith's helper around the waist and called to the musicians: "Play, play." For a full hour he danced around and around with the man while the village watched them and called to the white man to hold out. But the smith's helper was no match for Ghitza. He dragged his feet and fell.
Thus it happened that the Tartar chief spoke about his strong man. The peasants crowded nearer to hear the Tartar's story. Then they talked of Ghitza and his strength. The Tartar chief did not believe it. "I bet three of my horses that my man can down him," the Tartar chief called. "I take the bet against a hundred ducats in gold," the innkeeper answered. "It's a bet," the Tartar said.
Word Of The Day