As Flora and I entered her "village", it grew larger in appearance, the depth of its interior making it clear that the lack of tall buildings hid the true extent and size of this thriving community of river dwellers. I saw tribesmen, their wives, and children everywhere, with the women unabashedly engaged in breastfeeding and other important pursuits. Modesty was evidently an alien concept here, for which I was glad. Nudity was commonplace, so it was little wonder that Flora was comfortable walking around in the buff.
What quickly became apparent was how different I looked from everyone else. There was something strange, in fact, in how the people stopped when they saw me, as if in awe of me for a reason that I couldn't quite grasp. I saw that everyone lived up to the tribe's adjective: they were extremely fair in complexion and hair color. My dark brown hair, coal-black eyes, and hillbilly tan must have struck them as truly alien, yet they finally approached me with some hesitation when they saw that Flora had my hand in hers. She had evidently indicated that I was hers and she was mine. That indeed, as she said before, made one of them.
"Brothers and sisters of the Tribe, I present to you my husband, Marcus Rogers. He told me to call him Mark, however. Welcome him, please, to our humble town. Treat him as one of our own, just as you have always done with strangers who marry our people. Do not let his dark looks frighten you," she told them, quite bluntly.
"Why would they fear me?" I whispered her.
"Because dark-haired men are so rare that they are believed to be powerful wizards or warlocks. Dark-haired women are thought to be witches. There is also a prophecy, that a dark-haired man with coal-black eyes and swarthy skin would become Head of All Tribes someday, so naturally there is a fear and respect of any man who might have that kind of power someday. You have an advantage, my lord. See how the women already ogle you. Get used to it, because they will do a lot more of that over the years," Flora explained the mystery to me, which only made me wonder if she believed the prophecy herself.
The Head of the tribe then walked up to me, dressed in a red tunic and trousers, unarmed except for a dagger buried in the sheath attached to his hard leather belt. He curtsied to me, and then extended his right arm to me in what seemed a gesture of goodwill. I reached out to him and he gripped my forearm with incredible strength.
"Welcome, husband to my daughter. I am proud of such a son by marriage. You are a worthy man, I can see it in the ferocity of your eyes and feel it in the power of your arm. You are now a thane of the tribe. May you prove worthy of my trust. What weapons do you use? My name is Rand," he greeted me.
"I can shoot and wield a knife, but this is the best weapon that I possess," I pointed not to my gun, but to my head.
"You mean your mind? Well stated. Few warriors come armed with that, sad to say, especially the younger ones who rely too much on pure brawn," the Head agreed with a smile.
"Enough talk of weapons, please, Father, Mark. Let's talk of how best to celebrate my new marriage and prepare for the coming of my unborn child. Not to mention the other wives who are soon to join me in serving my new lord," Flora interjected, not wishing to be forgotten (as if she could be, the lovely lass).
"I like those ideas, for certain," I grinned, as Flora began kissing my neck and nibbling my ears.
No one seemed even slightly embarrassed by the sight of my naked wife and her passionate attention to me. She had dropped her tunic on the ground and nobody thought to pick it up or comment on it. Everyone was much more interested in the fact of my arrival. I noted much whispering and pointing, especially by the ladies.
"Well, there is a traditional feast for the men who marry the Head's daughters. This is particularly significant if the Head has no surviving sons, as I do not. My living wives are all around my age, past their time of child-bearing. Flora's mother died giving birth to her, so I married her sister. All of my daughters except Flora had already wed, so her union with you completes the family arrangements. She must have sensed something in you, something that I realized as well.
"My sons, Flora's brothers, were twins. They were slain by the Lord Constable, hacked to pieces in a raid. Their parts were sent back to me in a gesture of disdain. I have no heir, as yet, since the Head must be a man. It will have to be one of my sons-in-law, but which one. I believe the prophecy. I can tell that you have been chosen by the Gods for something great. I put those thoughts together, and I must think that you are the Dark Man. You are he who will be Head of All Tribes, uniting us under one common rule. You are my designated heir," Rand declared with pride.
"Father, that is what I believe, too. I am glad that he is your heir, but there is the slight matter of arranging the feast. We women need to have time to plan it, not to mention that we need to find more wives for Mark. Can we talk about something other than politics and war for the moment? I want some time alone with Mark, too, if you don't mind," Flora responded between kisses.
"You have things to do, eh?" he teased his daughter in a way that most fathers in my world would have found shocking.
"Don't worry, when Mark is busy with other women, you'll get your turn with me," she reassured her father in a clearly amorous tone, before guiding me toward our temporary home: her small house.
"Is that common in your ... our tribe?" I asked her when we were alone.