The Tribal Bet

Upon a hill in Inca land,
Long before the Incas did stand
Stood a tipi inside of which
Sat a warlock, the chief male witch.

Upon his lap lay his daughter,
Who thought about her love: An archer.
Tears streamed down her doe-like eyes;
Her father had questioned; she hated to tell lies.

The one she loved from her heart so true,
Was one her father wouldn't accept, she knew.
Belonged to another tribe he did.
For him to be summoned the warlock had bid.

Six hundred seconds and three thousand did pass
But the lover of the tribal lass
Did not appear. Her hands trembled.
"Where is he?" when asked, for words she fumbled

And then gathering all her confidence
Spoke like a man in loud prudence,
"He is not a coward, he does care
To wake his sleeping lion do not dare.

Arise, awake oh Gods of the Earth,
Unless for him , of my love, there be any dearth.
Challenge him not, don't treat him a fool
For I vow he will come today before the sun does cool

And if he does not, take my head
Slay me, and give me no bed
Instead, cut me in pieces of pounds
And feed me to the wolves and hounds."

No sooner than these words were said
CAme the sound of a horse's tread
More like a gallop that the earth shook
And people came out to take a look

A stately figure controlled the horse
Bearing bow and quiver, he rode without pause
And pause he did when he reached a line.
"This line does divide your boundary from mine,"

He spoke, holding high his chin
"Have I your permission to come in?"
A nod from the warlock, and the lad jumped down
And placed his foot into the new town.

The warlock observed him from head to toe.
Whether to accept him, he did not know.
"A challenge will follow as tradition does say
When there be more than a suitor a day."

He announced and thrust the crest
Of holy feathers on his daughter's chest.
"Though only one, you we will test
And for that purpose we put you on a quest:

Come back by dawn with gold from your land
And a coin of "The Unspoken Hand"
Made from the unspoken metal, so rare,
But get it alone from there.

Or choose wisely and leave my daughter
I'd rather get her married to the potter
Of my tribe and be better off
Than to you and have relatives who scoff."

"By dawn I shall return to thee
And upon my face shall be a smile of glee
Having achieved what I wanted to get
Being the winner of this tribal bet."

Her voice came out, as she put the crest
Upon his head from her chest,
"I swear upon the sky and water,
I swear as the warlock's daughter,

That I shall marry none other than the archer who stands
Before us, lest he fail in the quest of our land.
In that case I shall give up my life
For I'd rather not live than not be his wife.

Gods! Bless my husband-to-be,
Whom tommorrow at dawn I pray to see
With a Silver coin and the pot of gold."
(And they all shudder, for silver is a metal untold)

The horizon was sleepy as he set off
On his horse. Many did laugh
At his zaniness, "Oh lovestruck fool,
The task is like jumping into a fire pool!!"

Her faith burned on like a flame of hope
Her heart knew, to the task their love would help him cope
No 'Unspoken Hand' couldn't her love beat
For their love she knew, he'd not take defeat.

He rode on, ramrod straight and still
She watched till his shadow vanished behind the hill
She watched and stood and prayed for love to win.
He would not give up and she would not give in.

Will they win in this strange battle?
Or will they be seperated like a child from its rattle.
A time will come when the truth unfolds,
Only heaven knows what fate the morning dawn holds.

Copyright©Vaishnavi Prasad

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Poet's notes: My first Romantic ballad ever. I took inspiration for writing a ballad from Lochinvar by Sir Walter Scott. One of my best works so far.

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Glossary:

Inca: In·ca also In·ka
n., pl. Inca or -cas also Inka or -kas.


A member of the group of Quechuan peoples of highland Peru who established an empire from northern Ecuador to central Chile before the Spanish conquest.

Tipi :ti·pi (tē'pē)

A native American tent; usually of conical shape