avakh ekhner!

Swirling eddies of the brisk north wind combed up the backs and bent necks of horses and riders heading back to Urga in a long, weaving string. Tired as they were, the villagers were laughing and talking gaily, eager for the wedding festivities to begin. The weeks spent in preparation for this important day promised that the wedding celebration for the chieftain’s eldest son would be one to remember. Many of the packhorses arrived from Qingdao had been laden with expensive, exotic goods brought especially for this night.
Hearing the quick thud of hoofbeats behind him, Shan Yu turned to see Sukhe pulling up alongside, and greeted him with a nod. They rode in silence until they rounded the bend and were enveloped in sweet, diffuse woodsmoke coming from Urga. The old chieftain lifted his chin and took a great breath of the north wind. He pointed beyond the base of the northwestern slope defining Urga’s canyon. Barely visible in the distance was a cluster of gers.
"My future in-laws," he said. "Duman is headman of a small but worthy tribe living beyond that third range."
"I know him," said Shan Yu, squinting in to the distance. "Haven't seen him for years."
"They arrived before sunrise this morning with Kaaje’s entourage and all the clan's warriors ready for the avakh ekhner."
Batu and Gaitan looked over with a sudden interest that did not escape Sukhe’s notice. He grinned, a sly twinkle in his eye.
"Were the Khan and his famous warriors to ride with us, Duman’s people would really see what a fine clan his daughter is joining," he said. "Qaidu has more than fifty skilled horsemen ready to ride the avakh ekhner with him, and if Duman sees the Khan himself riding with my son, his bards will sing about it for years." He laughed aloud. "Maybe I can lower the bride price!"
"Don’t dishonor the bride!" Shan Yu laughed. He was in too fine a humor to take offense at Sukhe’s joking and unintentional suggestion that the Warlord of the Huns could be used as a bargaining chip.
"Of course you know I jest, Shan Yu Khan," Sukhe said quickly, eyes wide as he suddenly realized how his invitation must have sounded. "It would be my family’s greatest honor to have you and your men ride with us to Kaaje’s keep."
"We don’t want to scare off the bride’s family." Though Shirchin was smiling placidly, his eyes were bright with anticipation at the idea of participating in the ancient ritual. "But it’s been years since I’ve ridden in another man's avakh ekhner."
Shan Yu nodded, starting to feel the spirit of the game. "When do we ride out?"
The old man gave Shan Yu an amused, knowing glance. "Qaidu’ meditation is over. He’s nervous by now. Probably not finding it easy to keep a clear head. He’ll be wanting to ride out within the hour. It’s a good thing Tianlin loves our traditions as much as she does her own. Qaidu might just burst into flames from the tension if he couldn’t ride his avakh ekhner."
"A young man needs to let off some of the heat he’s built up in the waiting," said Ulan, gazing off at the distant encampment with a slight smile. "Wouldn’t want him to overwhelm his bride on their wedding night."
Shirchin guffawed. "The Priestess was telling us about some of the foreign wedding rituals she brought with her. I was a wreck even without all those preparations and ceremonies! Not that I remember much. I was in a state that day." He smiled contentedly. "But it’s just part of the toll you pay for winning a beautiful wife."
"After the avakh ekhner, we wait until sunset for Tianlin to start the wedding." Sukhe continued. "The sacred Circle is also being purified, and must not be disturbed. If you’re planning on visiting our hotsprings, please allow some of my men to lead you there, so you don’t stumble onto the site."
Ulan gave an exaggerated shiver and drew his furred hood over his bald head. "Given this bitter wind, I’ll be glad to follow anyone to a hotspring. A cold bath doesn’t much appeal to me right now."
Shirchin flicked a bit of dried mud from his neck. "For once, I’m looking forward to getting cleaned up." He cast a smug glance over at Batu and Gaitan, who were unusually quiet. "And the hot water will probably soothe all those new bruises you two foals just got."
"No way you would have won if we weren’t so worn out from last night," said Gaitan.
Shirchin gave a wicked grin. "Maybe you’ll have more fight in you when the trophy’s a leather bag with a Chinese chieftain’s head in it!"
When they reached the village outskirts, the sense of festive anticipation humming around the gers was almost palpable. A few dozen young men were already mounted and waiting for Qaidu to emerge from his purification and lead them to Kaaje’s camp in the traditional mock raid–the avakh ekhner. The sport recalled more ancient days when raiders would actually ride out to steal the women of rival tribes, thus winning new blood for their own. In the ritualized avakh ekhner, bloodshed was replaced by awe-inspiring feats of horsemanship and a bartering game that delighted all involved.
"No sense in washing up before the ride," Shan Yu told his men, to the great relief of Batu and Gaitan. "Stay close until it’s time."
Lasuluun, already among the riders, heeled his mount into a trot and greeted his comrades with a wide grin as they approached. He had painted his face, neck and hands in a wild pattern of dark red war stripes, and when Shan Yu was within reach, he tossed him a small, ceramic jar.
"Time to get dressed for the party!" he laughed as his friend snagged the jar in one hand. Shan Yu smeared lines and circles of pigment over his own hands, face and head, then passed the jar to his men. By the time the Khovsgol warriors had donned their stripes, the group had swelled to more than fifty fiercely painted riders. The crowd bristled with blunt spears and staves tipped with bright red strips of torn cloth that snapped loudly in the wind. The horses, sensing the excitement, nipped at each other and made small, feinting kicks, prancing nervously if made to stand still.
A great yell arose from the edge of the mounted throng closest to the village. Shan Yu turned to see Qaidu, mounted on his shaggy grey, loping towards them. One of the riders tossed him a blunt spear, which he snatched in mid-air and lifted to the sky with a yell. His comrades answered him with a tumult of noise that made the horses buck and whirl in place. When Qaidu spied the Khovsgol men, he grinned broadly and sat even taller in his saddle. Sending a silent salute to Shan Yu with his upraised spear, he spurred his horse to the front of the herd, and with a high-pitched whoop, commanded his men to follow. As one, the horses jerked forward and sped off in full gallop across the shimmering steppe.
In the midst of the surging bodies, with dry grass flashing beneath the hooves of the squealing horses, Shan Yu felt his blood rise. He had not ridden with such a large band of marauders for years, and even though these men were riding for sport, the thunderous noise and roiling smell of sweat and leather swept him back to battles long past. He controlled his eagerness to race, reining his mare though he knew that even with a rider his size astride she could outpace any of the beasts charging around them. With subtle hand commands he signaled his men, and they obediently fell back. There would be time enough to be the center of attention once Duman’s women had been whisked onto their saddles and carried, giggling and screaming, back to Urga.
As the encampment loomed closer, Shan Yu spied a group of women sitting placidly by one of the many small streams winding through the grasses. They were plaiting each other's hair, chatting and generally pretending not to notice the small army of raiders loudly bearing down upon them. The women were spaced far enough apart to allow room for a skilled horseman to ride between and snatch them into their arms.
Close enough to see the women’s faces, Qaidu was the first to break the ranks of his small army. With a long yell, he spurred his horse far ahead of the rest and bore down upon a woman distinguishable from the others by the red ribbons fluttering in her long, black hair. She looked up in feigned surprise, raised her arms in front of her face and was smoothly scooped up and onto Qaidu’ pommel by one powerful sweep of his arm. He whooped triumphantly and spurred his horse in a wide arc to avoid his oncoming troops.
That was the signal the warriors had been waiting for. Each one flailed at his mount’s flanks, urging it to top speed to outdistance his companions and win one of the maidens. The women had sprung from their places and were screaming–loudly enough to frighten the fish from the streams, thought Shan Yu with a grin–that Kaaje had been stolen. At the sound of their cries, Duman’s men fairly tumbled out the doors of the gers, followed by curiously peering women, elders and children. They seemed to pause for a moment, perhaps allowing themselves a moment to enjoy the spectacle before becoming part of it.
Once Qaidu had captured Kaaje, Ulan uttered a command to his black stud and shot far ahead of the rest. First to reach the streams, he made great show of riding a quick, tight circle around a tall, slender girl, giving a sweeping gesture of greeting and invitation, then easily bending down to curl an arm around her waist and lift her onto his saddle. He was racing off behind Qaidu before the other warriors had time to pick their targets.
Gaitan was next. Gripping his galloping horse tightly with his great thighs, he bent low and spread both arms to envelop not one, but two girls fleeing side by side. He swung one over his horse’s neck and onto his far thigh, and planted the other on his near thigh in one smooth sweep. Their breath taken away, the two young women were too stunned even to laugh as Gaitan, steering his mount with his knees, carried them off with a victorious howl.
Horsemen were wheeling their beasts in every direction, chasing after the women, some of whom made their capture more challenging than others. But even in the chaos, the riders never came close to causing accidental harm. Shan Yu smiled, pleased by the skill of his future warriors. Before Duman’s men had time to mount their horses, the entire wedding militia was storming back to Urga, twenty of their number beaming broadly at the shrieking women clinging tightly to them as they rode.
The Urga villagers who had not participated in the ride were waiting eagerly at the outskirts of the village bordered by the grassy steppe. They shrieked joyful approval as the horsemen, clutching their squirming, squealing prizes, rumbled into the canyon in a dusty cloud. Shan Yu watched as Qaidu and Kaaje quickly disappeared behind the people and horses, out of sight of any pursuers who might arrive.
And arrive they did.
Only minutes after the Urga riders had pulled up their horses and were trotting briskly to cool them, a plume of dust and shredded grass puffed above the steppes to the northwest. Faintly, a high-pitched, warbling war cry rode the wind to the village, rising as the cloud rolled closer. The voices of the Urga crowd began to hum excitedly, and the people drew close together as Duman’s warriors surged around the mouth of the canyon in a semi-circle, blocking the path of escape.
Escape, of course, was not the plan. As Duman’s men closed off the canyon, the riders in Qaidu’ avakh ekhner party who had not managed to capture one of the maidens trotted forward and fanned out to form a living shield between the villagers and the warriors who had come to retrieve their women. The two armies faced off grimly, no one making a move to attack, but more than willing to scowl darkly at one another. Not far behind Duman’s men came the rest of Kaaje’s people–every man, woman and child on horseback, some of them leading livestock and laden packhorses. They crowded behind their warriors to hear and see what would happen next.
When all the horses from Duman's camp had pranced to a halt, two riders moved away from the group. At first, Shan Yu did not know the elder, dwarfed inside his heavy furs. He was completely bald, his neck draped with long strings of polished shells, bones and flashing feathers. But as he came closer, Shan Yu recognized Cheren, Duman’s revered shaman. True to his name, he had attained long life. Though shrunken with age, he sat tall in his saddle as he surveyed the Urga crowd with brilliant, deepset eyes.
The other rider was tall, lean and brown-skinned, his sharp face beaked with an aquiline nose. His dark, grey-streaked hair was tied with beads and feathers that bounced and fluttered as he rode. The tips of his sparse, drooping moustache waved low under his chin, nearly touching his collarbone. Though Shan Yu had not seen his old ally for nearly fifteen years, he knew Duman at once. Leaving the old shaman to glare threateningly at the raiders, the headman stood in his saddle and sent his mount back and forth at a brisk trot in front of the Urga crowd. They waited with stilled breath to hear him speak.
"Who is the headman of this tribe!" he snarled. His dark, shining eyes flickered piercingly over the crowd.
At this cue, Sukhe moved swiftly to the front of his phalanx of warriors, fixing the other chieftain with an equally withering glare. "I am!" He called back. "Sukhe, son of Qairatai. Who are you, and what quarrel do you have with me, that you come armed with your warriors to threaten the very spirits in the threshold of my ger?"
"I am Duman, son of Balar. I have come to reclaim what is mine! Your thieves have stolen something precious from me. You will turn over my women now–or stand and do battle."
"What do you mean, Duman?" said Sukhe with mock innocence, spreading his hands wide. "You mean those little, prancing mares that just came in with my boys? I didn’t see any of them struggling. I think maybe they seduced my men and bewitched them into playing a prank on you. Perhaps they think you don’t value them enough?"
Duman, enjoying his role, stayed as serious and angry as the crowd expected. "My beautiful women seducing those hairy beasts of yours? Not likely!" At this, a collective chuckle rolled through Duman’s crowd.
"Ah, Duman," clucked Sukhe. "They’re just spirited lads having a bit of fun. But they might be willing to give you back your women, if the price is right. What do you think, men?" Sukhe turned to his own warriors, eyebrows raised. They answered him with loudly overacted grumbles of reluctance.
Duman sputtered in mock indignance, but offered. "The thought of paying for what is mine sticks in my craw! But to avoid trouble on the new moon, I will hear what you have to say. How might we take back our mischievous girls without a fight, then?"
"You’d better hurry!" came a voice from the center of the Urga riders. Shan Yu rolled his eyes and tried not to smile as he recognized the voice as Gaitan’s. "They might not be virgins any more if you stall too long!" His voice suddenly rose an octave. "Ow! Girls! Watch where you put your hands! I might start to like it!"
The Urga side erupted in wild laughter, and Sukhe beamed at the unexpected joke. He turned again to his own men and loudly asked them. "Well? Will you trade these lovely girls for other riches before they have you all rolling in the grass in front of everyone and our ancestors? If they can overpower Gaitan, then they must be great enchantresses, indeed. I say we return them to where they can bewitch Duman’s men–not ours! What are they worth, do you think?"
At this, Shirchin sent his horse out at a brisk trot, his great thighs smoothly absorbing the shock of his mount’s jerky gait so that he himself seemed to glide through the air.
"What will you give in exchange for this one?" he called, spreading his arms to display the laughing young woman bouncing on his pommel. "She’s worth at least two yaks, I’d say!"
The Urga clan cheered and Duman’s people gave mock groans of dismay as two of their men came through the crowd, each one leading a shaggy, horned beast by the halter. Xiart, and Altan took the yaks and led them through the crowd as Shirchin took the woman by the waist and gently passed her to one of her mounted clansmen.
Gaitan rode out next, holding two giggling maidens before him, one on each massive thigh. "What about these?" he howled. "They’re plump and lovely! I might keep them for myself unless I see ten sheep given over to Urga right now!"
Once again, the Urga people cheered with delight as Duman’s clan mournfully handed over ten black-faced sheep that jerked and bleated nervously through the crowd as they were led away. With great show of disappointment, Gaitan cantered over and deftly swept first one, then the other woman into the waiting arms of two of Duman’s warriors.
Eighteen more times an Urga rider or Khovsgol warrior rode forward with a kidnapped maiden and demanded such ransom as he had been instructed to ask, and eighteen more times the Urga villagers cheered as Duman’s clan loudly expressed dismay at losing their goods. Ten skins of arkhii for this one. Six ptarmigan for that one. Five wolf skins for her. A black studhorse in exchange for the sister of the bride.
At last all of the stolen maidens sat with their own clansmen on their mounts.
"Well, Duman," called Sukhe. "Are you satisfied? I think we’ve had a very profitable day! You have your women back, and I…"
"There’s one missing!" roared Duman, surveying the returned maidens in the laps of his men.
Every voice fell silent. Even the excited squeals of the children were quickly muffled by attentive mothers and aunts.
"Where is she!" demanded Duman, eyes flashing.
"Who, Duman?" asked Sukhe. "I don’t see any more of your women."
"Perhaps he means this one!" Qaidu’ voice cut like a clarion through the soft rush of wind in the grass. The slow, thudding rhythm of his horse’s hooves fell heavily in the silence. The Urga villagers parted as he rode through, tall and proud on his grey beast. He smiled triumphantly. For before him, gracefully draped sidesaddle across his pommel, was Kaaje.
"This one is precious beyond ransom," called Qaidu. "Never have I seen such radiant beauty and grace. This one stays with me."
"Never!" bellowed Duman. "You hold Kaaje, dearest to my heart! Warriors! Prepare to win my daughter back from this brigand!" Behind him, Duman’s mounted throng brandished their blunt staves and loudly clacked them together as they ululated a war cry and goaded their mounts into a threatening display of spins and rears.
"Wait!" A new voice cried out from the Urga crowd. Once again, the villagers parted, and Shan Yu smiled to see Tianlin emerge from the crowd on a big, brown stallion. Spattered with horse blood, dust-caked and still wrapped in her working clothes, she looked almost as fierce and scruffy as the painted Urga men. Her horse tossed his head proudly as he walked, setting the small bells on his hackamore jingling. "Has anyone asked this princess if she wishes to be ransomed?"
The howls of Duman’s warriors died down to silence, and they gave each other broadly acted, sheepish glances.
"I thought not!" said Tianlin with satisfaction. "I’ll ask her myself." She wheeled her horse and trotted a full circle around Qaidu and his intended before coming to stand behind them and calling out so that all could hear.
"Kaaje, daughter of Duman. Headwoman of your clan. Has this man Qaidu, heir to Sukhe and future chieftain of Urga, kidnapped you against your will?"
"No!" Kaaje cried out, laughing wildly.
"Do you wish your family to go to war against Qaidu’ people to win you back?"
"No!" she repeated, regaining her composure and sitting tall and proud before her bridegroom. "I wish to stay with Qaidu. He has asked me to marry him, and I am considering it. He is very handsome!"
The entire crowd gasped with mock amazement. A few young girls were giggling in helpless delight at the spectacle.
Sukhe rode to the front of the crowd and stopped his horse beside his son’s.
"What am I to do, Duman?" he called sheepishly, raising his palms to the sky. "It seems that my young stallion and your lovely filly are bent on spending the night!"
"If you want my daughter to stay with you," said Duman, "It’s going to cost you!"
The crowd went wild with laughter and cheering, and it was some time before they quieted enough for Sukhe to make his offer.
"Fair enough, I suppose, since you paid for your women," he said. "Duman, will you take these in exchange for Kaaje? Xiart! Altan!" he shouted over his shoulder. "Bring the yaks!"
Obediently, his sons brought the very same yaks they had just "won" from Duman a few moments before, and relinquished them to their beaming handlers.
"Excellent yaks," said Duman. "The finest stock I’ve ever seen!" Appreciative chuckles rippled through the crowd. "But you don’t honestly expect me to give up the Flower of my House for a couple of cattle!"
"Then add these wolf skins!" shouted Sukhe. Once again, the goods Duman’s people had given over to win their maidens were returned.
"Huge wolves!" Duman nodded admiringly. "The man who hunted these beasts could surely sire bear cubs! But still not enough to buy my Kaaje!"
And so the game went on, with each prize previously won by Sukhe’s clan being turned back over to Duman. By the time the bartering was nearly done, Duman had not only his own goods back, but a herd of twelve young yak, three hundred sheep, six fine broodmares, thirty large baskets of wheat and barley and thirty bulging skins of grain liquor.
"You have broken me!" pleaded Sukhe. "Please tell me that these riches are enough to win Kaaje for my son!"
"Almost, Sukhe. But I require one last thing!" said Duman, beaming mischievously.
Sukhe raised up his hands and searched the sky. "If it is anything but the dry grasses of the steppe," he said. "I no longer have it to give!" The hundreds of folk standing and mounted around the two chieftains were absolutely still and silent.
"I ask no tangible thing, Sukhe," said Duman, his voice softening and suddenly welcoming. "The last token I require is that of your brotherhood. That your sons and mine will from this day onward fight side by side against our enemies. That our clans be joined as family by this union of your son Qaidu to the Flower of the House of Duman. May our bond grow and swell like the river of our grandchildren! If you will agree to this, then Kaaje will belong to Qaidu and the avakh ekhner will be sealed!"
At those traditional words, Sukhe gave a whoop, spurred his horse forward, straight at Duman, and pulled his mount up so quickly that it rose in a half-rear. Sukhe reached over to embrace Duman, who returned the hug with a great deal of back-slapping. They pulled apart and gripped each other’s forearms.
"This I give freely!" Sukhe cried loudly. It seemed to Shan Yu that the old man's voice broke slightly, though he was smiling. "Have we reached an agreement, then?"
"We have!" was Duman's rejoinder.
"The avakh ekhner is sealed!" the chieftains yelled in unison, breaking into joyful, toothy laughter.
If the crowd had been uproarious before, Shan Yu thought they would make his ears bleed this time. It was several minutes before the wild stomping, yelling and ululations died down. When they finally did, Shan Yu saw that Tianlin had ridden to stand in front of Qaidu and Kaaje, and seemed to be waiting to speak. This was different, he thought. It must be one of the foreign rituals Tianlin had brought to Urga. She waited for silence so that her voice would carry for all to hear.
"The fathers of these two young lovers have agreed to the match," she called into the wind. "And now I must hear it from the lovers themselves. Qaidu and Kaaje, are you both determined to bind yourselves together in lifelong partnership? And do you bind yourselves freely and of your own accord? If so, then give me a sign!"
At that command, Qaidu gently directed Kaaje to entwine her left hand in his, then he raised their arms above their heads, smiling broadly out at their families and loved ones.
"Then so be it!" said Tianlin. With a great flourish, she whipped a long strip of red silk from her pommel and urged her stallion close to Qaidu’ mount until the two horses stood facing in opposite directions, shoulder to shoulder. The Priestess leaned over and wrapped the bright strip in a long spiral around their upraised arms. A loud cheer went up from the Urga villagers, to be echoed quickly by Duman’s clan, unfamiliar with this particular part of the ritual.
"Qaidu and Kaaje are handfasted!" proclaimed Tianlin loudly. "By this they promise to give themselves willingly to one another in marriage." With a gentle tug on the reins and a subtle foot command, the Priestess asked her stallion to walk backwards until he was once again standing behind the betrothed couple.
"And so, esteemed guests, Sukhe and the People of Urga invite you to the wedding promised by this avakh ekhner and handfasting. Will you come?"
Duman’s people made joyful, vocal acceptance of the invitation. Tianlin raised her arm and pointed to the horizon. "When the sun is one fist above the mountain, Kaaje will come before you in the heart of Urga. From there you will follow her to the Sacred Circle and be witness to their promise. You have been called!"
The voices of both clans rose in a deafening roar that made some of the flightier horses shy and crabhop. The ceremony was set. Now there was time for visiting and final preparations before the wedding itself. The two clans rolled together like waves rejoined after a long parting. Mounted and on foot, people embraced as if they had not seen one another for years.
Happy conversation buzzed in the air until the crowd began to wander off in small groups, guests and hosts linked together in celebration. Through the thinning crowd, Shan Yu spied Tianlin dismounting and handing her reins to a young boy who led her horse away. She trotted over to Cheren and spoke softly to him, her eyes sparkling. She held him in the traditional Hun greeting of youth to elder, gently supporting his elbows in her upraised, strong, young hands. She stepped back for a moment, laughed loudly and threw her arms around the old man. He grinned toothlessly and patted her back affectionately. The two shamans were not strangers.
Duman watched their greeting, then pulled his horse away and turned to trot over to Shan Yu.
"Shan Yu Khan! Tanri-kut," he said warmly, reaching out with both arms to greet his longtime ally. Shan Yu reached over and gripped Duman's forearms in traditional greeting.
"Well met, Duman! It's a happy occasion that brings us together after so long, and just before we travel together to Gobi Orshamo."
"I think when last we met, my Kaaje was just a baby."
"Stop, Duman!" laughed Shan Yu. "You're reminding me of my age!"
Duman chortled. "I was already wishing to be your age again ten years ago."
"Go," said Shan Yu, gesturing at Duman's group. "You and your family have preparations to make. My men and I will try to make ourselves presentable for your daughter's wedding." He gave a sidelong glance at Shirchin and Batu mounted nearby. "That could take hours."
Duman laughed and turned away with a salute.
"Time to clean up, right?" Batu was at his commander’s elbow, trying to sound glum about the impending bath, but not quite managing it after having had such a fine time in the avakh ekhner.
"Nice work, Batu!" Shan said, turning to give the big fighter a hearty clap on the shoulder. "Get your brother and let’s find those hotsprings everyone's been talking about."
"Gaitan!" Batu bellowed. From a dozen lengths away, his twin looked up from the two giggling women he had wrapped in his arms. Giving an apologetic shrug, he leaned down to whisper something to them. Both clapped their hands over their mouths to stifle their laughter as Gaitan trotted over to join his mates.
"What happened to your other girlfriends?" said Shirchin with a smirk.
"Variety makes for a happy, healthy man!" sighed Gaitan as he mounted the horse Batu had been holding for him.
"Better not let Huulda hear you," said Batu. "She might turn around and do the same thing to you!"
"The scorpion tells the spider his bite stings!" snorted Gaitan. He mustered the look of a wounded puppy. "Besides. Huulda understands my needs. Not like Ammake with you. If she found out you were frisking with the village girls, you’d be sleeping with the dogs!"
"At least he'd be less likely to catch anything from them," remarked Ulan. He turned his mount and trotted off to the paddocks, his laughing comrades close behind.

copyright 1999 Dana M. Krempels

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