[centre][h1][sup]The ap-Cantar[/sup][/h1]
[img]https://i.imgur.com/tBjNQwX.jpg?2[/img][/centre]

[hider=Summary]Some newly arrived women have an issue with the ap-Cantar's polygamous practices and come complaining to Hiwcantar. He refuses to forbid the practice and attempts to persuade them. They are calmed for now, but will likely keep complaining from time to time.
Hiwcantar now dwells in an adobe home. Tara follows him everywhere. Not everyone is happy that she was declared his heir.[/hider]
When they found Hiwcantar he was sat beneath a palm tree on the Tala, the little orphaned girl, Tara, whom he had declared his daughter and heir sat in his lap. His cloak was wrapped about her and, in the safety and warmth of her adoptive father, she slept peacefully. In the nights after the final battle she had not been able to sleep at all, awakening from nightmares and calling out now for her brother and now for her father and now for her mother. One of Hiwcantar's wives would attempt to soothe her, but she would not find calm until Hiwcantar himself came and whispered words of kindness and love. Wherever he went, she was as his shadow. Even when the great chief - exalted and mighty is he, perfect beyond the bounds of normal men and the chosen one of GREAT Cantar - went to answer the call of nature, Tara would be with him. 'Turn away child, it is not seemly for one to look on the nakedness of her father,' and she would obediently turn her gaze from him. And he would command her, and she would bring him some stones. 'This here is not stone, this here is unclean,' he would say, throwing away a dried piece of faeces so that nothing but stone and mud was left, 'with these you may clean yourself.'

'She is tied to you at the hip, father,' Julandara, already heavy with the child of the riverman she loved, would say when she saw them, and she would bring her new sister to her and ruffle her hair and rain kisses on her cheeks and lips and brow. But not all his children were as accepting of little Tara as was Julandara. The eldest of his sons, Hubcantar, hated the child with a passion and did nothing to hide it. He had come to him on the night of victory and spoken angrily about this decision.
'Father, you have humiliated and disgraced me before the people, you have raised this rivergirl - of unknown lineage and little status - above me in whose veins runs the purest blood. How can you command such things? Would you give the mantle of authority to an unworthy foreigner, and a woman no less!' Anger flashing in his eyes, Hiwcantar had risen and rebuked his son.
'Where were you, [i]glorious[/i] Hubcantar, when we were  besieged and dying? Where were you when our people were hurt and helpless? While you were hanging yourself on the illusion of your own worthiness, that little rivergirl was staring straight into the shining sun. You were never my heir, Hubcantar. I would sooner have chosen Julandara.' Hubcantar seemed taken aback by this revelation.
'B-but... my name... you ga-'
'It is tradition, boy. In time you will be relieved of it, and the cantar title will be given to she who is my heir. Now begone from my sight before I have your unworthy remains scattered in the Great Yellow Scourge.' He had never before spoken quite so harshly to the man, and it seemed to have crushed him utterly. Realising this, Hiwcantar spoke once more - 'you came here to question not only my authority, Hubcantar, but the authority of GREAT Cantar himself. If my words are harsh, then it is the harshness directed against all who deny our GREAT father. You have it in you to be worthy, you have it in you to sit beside him in honour and splendour - but rid from your mind all pretensions to leadership and focus your efforts instead on becoming truly worthy. Your blood is strong and strengthens you, but it alone will not see you through to worthiness, only your deeds will.' Hubcantar seemed to find some comfort in these words, but he said nothing in response. Rising, he nodded to his father before turning and leaving the newly-constructed abode house.

It was a multi-storeyed house with many rooms and a courtyard in the middle, large enough to house all of Hiwcantar's wives and infant children, and it was connected directly to the new storehouse, which was yet under construction. In aforetimes the ap-Cantar had not bothered to house their different wives in different tents, all of them lay with their men under one roof, but this had changed now. The riverfolk were strangers to the practice of taking on numerous wives, some were even disgusted or horrified by it, and so an unspoken compromise had been struck early on - the riverwomen would accept this ap-Cantar practice if it was agreed that each wife was housed separately from the other; if not her own abode then certainly her own quarters and bed. And it was so. And Hiwcantar now joyed in his fiery-eyed river beauty, laughing inwardly at her antics to garner his attention and absolute love. Sometimes she would deny him and not even look his way, feigning anger at one petty thing or another - perhaps she had seen him displaying affection to one of his other wives, or perhaps he had not visited her in one too many nights, or perhaps the sun was too high in the sky or too low, or perhaps she did not like the bedding. And then on other occasions she was as sweet and charming as a gazelle, seeing to his every need and raining her affections on him as generously as the Tala loosed its waters into the Sea of Souls. On such occasions he would tell her - 'Dorla, you are a woman to ride the rivers with,' and she would laugh out loud or smile shyly, or punch him in embarrassment, or she would take his head and bring it to her chest. Aye, if any were to ask then the answer was clear - despite all the troubles Mewar had brought upon them, great indeed were the blessings of GREAT Cantar.

But when they found Hiwcantar under the the palm tree on the Tala that day, it was clear to the great chief that trouble was afoot. Those who approached him were largely women, nearly all of them were carrying children, and others had little ones at their side in addition to those they carried. 'Peace, Hiwcantar!' declared an older one, and Hiwcantar responded to the greeting of peace with peace. 'We were promised security and safety and a good life, and that is why we came; but you are a sensuous and lewd people! Your men are not satisfied with one wife, they have three and four and five! You must put an end to this evil practice - and you must begin with yourself.' Hiwcantar raised an eyebrow at this strange demand.
'You are Ofrita are you not?' Hiwcantar asked. The older woman seemed surprised that he knew her name, but she nodded.
'That is me.'
'Are you a married woman, Ofrita?' asked the chief, his voice calm yet intrinsically commanding respect and attention.
'No, I am not, for my man was killed in the war.' She did not say it with any great degree of sadness, 'and before him I had others, some died of illness, others in raids, and others yet of unfortunate accidents.'
'And who cares for you now, pray tell?' She crossed her arms and did not respond. 'Who feeds you and provides for you and houses you?'
'We all get our sustenance from the storehouse, as does everyone else! And we work the fields - we earn what we eat!' Hiwcantar was silent, and they stared at each other for some time. Her lips were pursed and she scowled, 'alright! It is you who provides for us, oh [i]great[/i] chief!' Ignoring her insolent tone, he continued.
'And who is it that protects you?'
'Why the warriors of course, just as they protect everyone else,' said Ofrita.
'And who ensures that the warriors do not abuse you and that those stronger than you do not steal from you and do not deny you the good things?' Ofrita was quiet, and spoke after a while.
'You do, we know this - but what is the point of all this questioning? It has nothing to do with the vile and evil practice we wish to see gone.'
'It is simple, old Ofrita - you women have no guardians; no fathers or husbands or uncles or brothers. You came to us widows with children, and you placed yourselves under my protection. Had you male relatives, they would have cared for you - and those women who came to us with male relatives are indeed under their guardianship. If they wish to marry, their guardian manages that. Now all of you are under my personal guardianship. In many ways, all of you are my wives, for I-' but Hiwcantar could not finish, for his words brought about shouts of shock and outrage. The noise was so great that Tara, sleeping in his lap, awoke. Ofrita soon managed to calm the women down and turned on Hiwcantar angrily.

'That was a lewd and licentious thing to say, Hiwcantar! Have you no shame? I am old enough to be your mother!' The great chief laughed.
'Marriage has many parts - there is joy in it and laughter, there is peace, companionship, and there is protection. What I mean when I say that you are my wives is that you are under my personal protection. You will find men, and you will marry them even if they are married already. They will house you and protect you and care for you, and they will see to all of your needs as you will see to theirs. That is our way and it is a goodly way - think on it: there are many more women than men due to the war, if we were to insist that men may only marry one woman than there will be great woe and great corruption. The unwed women would have no way of seeing to their needs but through evil and dishonourable acts, and I am not one who willingly lets loose evil and dishonour amongst my people. Go ye forth, and when a man approaches you for marriage do not shun him - there is good in it.' And then he stepped forth with a smile on his face and extended his hand to the old Ofrita, 'so what do you say, old woman, will you marry me?' She pursed her lips and slapped his hand.
'Stupid boy,' she muttered irritably, though she could not completely hide her sudden openness to the prospect. Ofrita turned and walked off, and some of the women looked from her to Hiwcantar and back again. It seemed that he had calmed them for now, but it was far from the last time he would hear of it, he knew.