 | The epic songs of Russia |  |
Dobrynya and Alyosha
FROM beneath white curling beeches, and
Levanidof the wonder-working cross, from
beneath the holy relics of Boris, and white
Alatyr stone, rose, rose and flowed, flowed and
rolled, swift Mother Volga river.
Broad and far ran Mother Volga past Kazan,
and broader yet by Astrakhan; many a river did
our Mother Volga flood receive into her bosom,
and yet more brooks did she ingulf. A vast
sweep she gave at Dalinsky, along the lofty mountains
of Sorochinsky and Smolensk's gloomy
forests; in a bed of three thousand versts she ran,
and fell into the Caspian Sea, through seventy
mouths; and broad is her flood at Novgorod.
And this, brothers, is no fable, no play of words:
neither is it Dobrynya's tale, which shall straightway
find beginning.
—Dobrynya went to royal Kief town, where
courteous Prince Vladimir had made an honourable
feast to his princes, nobles, heroes, and warrior-maids.
The long day drew towards evening, the honourable
feast waxed merry, the fair sun sank to the
west. And the feast grew ever merrier, and the
heroes began to boast of many things,—the wise
man of his father and mother, the foolish of his
young wife. Vladimir the Prince grew warm as
the fair round porch to gaze off on the open
plain.
Far, afar over the open plain, the clear falcon
flew not, nor fled the small white hare; the little
ermine galloped not, weaving the prints of his
small pretty paws. But from the verge of the
plain a bold and goodly youth emerged,—little
Ilya, the glorious, of Murom,—rode straight to
Prince Vladimir's court, and entered the banquet
hall.
He crossed himself, and did reverence as enjoined,
to all four sides, and seated himself at the
oaken board in the great corner of honour, on the
bench of precious fishes' teeth. Already had
the guests tasted bread and salt, and now were
carving the white swan, when Vladimir came into
the hall, stroked his black curls, and spoke:
"Ho, ye princes, nobles, strong and mighty
heroes all, and all ye bold warrior-maids! stand
for the Christian faith, for me, your Prince Vladimir,.
and for my Princess Apraxia, for widows,
orphans, and unhappy women! Whom shall we
send to defend the mighty barrier, and wage battle
with the Discourteous Knight? For he hath
written me a challenge to single combat, and
is now flying hither in form of a raven. Whom
shall we send to fight that raven, and to collect
tribute of the Golden Horde which hath been due
us these twelve years and a half, to visit the disobedient
hordes, and clear the straight roads to
the stern King Etmanyla Etmanylovich, to beat
back the white-eyed Finns, to exterminate the
Circassians of Pyatigorsk, the Kalmyks and
Tatars?"
All at the feast held their peace, each hiding
behind some lesser man. Then glorious Ilya of
and stood firm upon his nimble feet, and
bowed low until his white face touched his feet.
"Foolish are ye, Russian heroes, to hold your
peace thus, uttering no word! Not long is it,
brothers, since I returned from the open plain.
I have dwelt upon the Sorochinsky road, at the
heroic ditch of defence, contending in single combat
and waging battle these twelve years. Thither
flew the Discourteous Knight in form of a black
raven, but would not show himself to my eyes;
else would I have slain that dog of a churl with
my stout bow. But if I go, there will be none to
defend the barrier. Let us therefore send young
Dobrynya Nikitich."
Then Dobrynya drained a cup of green wine
which Prince Vladimir himself brought him, but
tarried not long at the feast, going thence in
uncheerful mood. When he came to his mother
he wept bitterly.
"Fair my lady mother," he lamented, "why
didst thou bear me in an unpropitious hour, without
genius, strength, great beauty, or tall stature,
great wealth, or curling hair? Rather shouldest
thou, fair and honourable widow, Afimya Alexandrovna,
my mother, have wrapped my turbulent
head in a sleeve of white linen, and cast me like
a white pebble into the black Turkish sea. Then
I should have lain at the bottom of the sea like a
precious stone; the stormy winds would not have
blown upon me, and I should not have roamed
through Holy Russia, shedding innocent blood,
causing tears to fathers and mothers, and making
little children orphans."
Then his mother made answer: "Gladly would
I have borne thee with the genius and fortune of
Ilya of Murom, the strength of Hero Svyatogor,
of Osip Most Fair,[1] the daring of Alyosha Popovich,
the wealth of Sadko the merchant of Novgorod,
the fame of Volgá Buslaevich, the curls
of the Tzar Kudryanisha.[2] But to Dobrynya God
gave courtesy alone; and other gifts were not
bestowed upon thee."
He said to her: "Fair and good my mother,
thy youth hath neither good steed nor heroic
trappings."
"Go through the first unused stable, Dobrynya,"
his mother answered him, "and in the second
choose for thyself a good, well-broken steed. And
if none there shall please thee, descend into the
deep vault where standeth a good heroic steed
bound with twelve silver chains, with twelve fine
bits of silk,—not of our silk, but of the silk of
Samarcand, which weareth not nor teareth. There
lie also heroic trappings and all caparisons meet
for a youth."
Dobrynya inquired no further. He sprang to
his nimble feet, ran to the first stable, found there
no horse that pleased him, and in the second none
likewise, and so descended to the deep vault.
There he beheld a goodly steed, and fell down
before his right fore-foot.
"Thou good heroic steed," he cried, "thou hast
served my father and grandfather; serve now
also Dobrynya on his heroic quests." Then he
unchained and loosed the horse, and saddled him,
girding him with twelve girths of the silk of Samarcand,
the indestructible, and a thirteenth for
heroic strength, lest the good steed should spring
upon the open plain.
After that he arrayed himself. Under the heels
of his shoes of green morocco, studded with golden
pins, sparrows might fly; from their awl-like beaks
an egg might roll; his cap was gilded,—not for
youthful grace, but for heroic might. Next he put
on a coat of mail, not heavy (in weight but ninety
poods), and set his foot in the stirrup of damascened
steel.—More lightly than a hare he sprang,
more sharply than a little ermine turned, seated
himself in the Cherkessian saddle, and came to
the palace of white stone, to his mother, and said:
"Give me thy leave to ride upon this heroic
quest."
So his fair, good mother laid the cross of blessing
on him, and led to his left stirrup his beloved
wife, young Nastasya Mikulichna, and having bade
him farewell, went into the palace and wept bitter
tears, wiped them away with a fair linen cloth, and
said: "The warm and fair red sun which made
my midsummer hath set behind the gloomy forests
and lofty hills, behind mosses and wide lakes: and
now the bright moon alone lighteth me: young
Nastasya, my son's bride, alone tarrieth with me."
Young Nastasya, as she stood by his stirrup,
began to inquire of him: "Aï, my dearest Dobrynya
Nikitich! when may I expect thee from
the open field? Tell me when I may await thee
from yonder lands."
"I will tell thee, fair Nastasya. Three years
shalt thou wait for Dobrynya; if in that time I
am not here, then wait yet another three. And
when that space of six years is past, and I am not
returned from the open field, wait for me three
years more, and yet three years. And if after
twelve years I come not, then shall I not be among
pleasure. Choose a prince, a noble, or a mighty
Russian hero. But wed not with my brother in
arms, Alyosha Popovich, that scoffer at women.
For a brother in arms is worse than an own brother.
Therefore, marry a robber or a brigand if thou list,
but not Alyosha, the scorner of maidens: for he
loveth to mock at women, young widows, and fair
maids."
—They saw the good youth as he mounted,
they saw him not as he rode: from the court he
departed not by the gates, he traversed the plain
not by the highway. His steed's first leap was
over the city walls, the second compassed three
versts, and of the third leap no trace could be
found evermore.
—Year followed year as the falcon flieth.
Three years Nastasya waited, and Dobrynya came
not.
But Alyosha Popovich was cunning. He rode
forth into the open plain, and after that turned
back and came to Nastasya.
"Lo, Nastasya Mikulichna!" quoth he: "as
I roamed the open plain but yesterday, I saw
Dobrynushka dead. He lieth with his head in a
willow bush, his nimble feet amid the plume-grass
tall; in his yellow curls small wood birds have
woven their nests; Polish ravens have plucked out
his clear eyes; silken grass springeth through his
white breast, and amid it azure flowerets blossom.
His weapons are scattered, his good steed roameth
the plain, and his wife still liveth a widow. Therefore,
lady, wed now with me."
"Nay, Alyosha Popovich," Nastasya answered,
"thou hast not been on the open plain; thou hast
but wandered with the dogs in the outskirts of the
town."
—Day followed after day, as the rain doth fall,
week grew on week as groweth the grass, and like
the river, year flowed after year. Six full years
passed. Alyosha came again to the palace of
white stone, did reverence and crossed himself
as enjoined, seated himself upon the wall-bench,
and began to woo young Nastasya for his bride.
"Now marry me, a goodly youth, Nastasya!
Dobrynya will never more return from the open
plain."
"Aï, bold Alyosha Popovich! I have kept a
man's oath, and now will I keep a woman's. If
in twelve years Dobrynya return not, then I shall
be free to live a widow or to wed. But thee,
Alyosha, I may never wed."
Then Alyosha was not merry, and said: "Thou
mayest turn and strive thy uttermost, but none
other wilt thou get for a husband; and so shalt
thou wed with me."
Thereupon he went forth from the palace of
white stone; and time passed on until the full
term of years was accomplished.
Again he came to woo with Fair Sun Prince
Vladimir, and sat upon the wall-bench as before.
"Marry me now, young Nastasya Mikulichna,"
said he.
"I will not marry thee," she answered.
The Fair Sun Prince Vladimir spoke: "Young
Nastasya Mikulichna, if thou wed not bold Alyosha
Popovich, I will shut thee up in a nunnery; I will
give thee in marriage to Murza the Tatar in the
Lithuanian land; I will make thee my cowherd."
But she still made answer: "Nay, I will not wed
bold Alyosha."
Then they said: "If thou wilt not do this freely,
we will take thee by force." Thereupon they took
her by her white hands, led her to the cathedral,
Fair Sun Vladimir took their hands and led them
to his palace, where he made for Alyosha a great
banquet, and an honourable feast, and bade to it
many of all degrees. And the honourable widow
Afimya Alexandrevna wailed: "Now hath my
bright moon set also!"
—Now Dobrynya had gone to the Golden Horde,
and had fought for royal Kief and his native land
all those years, wandering far through many
countries. When Nastasya married Alyosha, he
was far away upon the open plain, beyond the
glorious blue sea. As the good youth sat in his
tent, diverting himself with chess, upon a board
of gold, he knew not of the misfortune which had
befallen him. Then flew thither a dove and his
mate, perched upon a damp oak, and began to coo:
"There is feasting to-day in Kief town, for
Dobrynya's young wife is wedded to Alyosha
Popovich."
When Dobrynya heard that, he sprang to his
nimble feet, and flung his golden board upon the
damp earth, whereat mother earth quaked. Then
he saddled his good steed with haste, fell down
before his right fore-foot, and besought him:
"Aï, my good steed Fly-alone! Thou hast
borne me hither in three years. Now bear me
home in three hours to royal Kief town."
Then he mounted his good steed, and quickly,
quickly, very, very quickly, with speed, rode
Dobrynya from beyond the blue sea. Good Fly-alone
left the earth; higher than the standing
wood he soared, yet lower than the flying clouds.
He leaped the lakes and rivers, dashed through
the dusky forests, galloped round the dark blue
sea,—afar in the open plain, 'twas not the first
light snow descending, nor a white hare coursing
and goodly youth swift riding. Straight to Kief
town he rode; not through the gates, but over
the city walls, past the angled towers, he entered,
and took his way to the honourable widow's
dwelling. He asked no leave of the porters at
the gate, nor of the keepers at the doors. Thrusting
them aside, he broke open the portals, and
entered unbidden, unannounced, and boldly, the
honourable widow's dwelling. "Hail, honourable
widow, Afimya Alexandrevna!" he said when he
had crossed himself and done reverence as was
the usage.
The porters and door-keepers, entering, made
complaint of the bold youth, and the widow said:
"Why, bold and goodly youth, hast thou
entered the orphaned dwelling unannounced?
Were my dear child living, young Dobrynya
Nikitich, he would have cut off thy turbulent
head for thine unmannerly ways. Were he but
alive, all the drunken boors would not come to
jeer at this unprotected dwelling. But twelve
years have passed since my fair red sun set for ever."
"Mournest thou not in vain?" said Dobrynya.
"But yesterday I parted from Dobrynya, and not
a week hath passed over since we exchanged
crosses. He went to Tzargrad, and I came to
Kief. He bade me, his own brother, inquire
for his dear wife, young Nastasya. Where is
she?"
"Go forth, thou pot-house boor, and mock not
a poor old woman! Though I already totter with
extreme old age, yet will I myself put thee out by
force."
"Aï, my fair lady mother," answered young
Dobrynya. "Knowest thou not thy beloved son,
young Dobrynya Nikitich?"
"Young Dobrynya had shoes of morocco upon
his feet, but thine, thou sot, are torn and patched.
Dobrynya's face was white and red—thine is dark
and dust-begrimed. His eyes were clear as the sea
falcon's, but thine are troubled. Young Dobrynya
had yellow locks, curling in three tiers upon his
head,—thine hang upon thy shoulders. Upon his
curls rested a fair new cap, and his raiment was
flowered; but thy garments are rent and pieced."
"My garments have become worn in these
twelve years past, fair my lady mother; my shoes
are rubbed through on my stirrups, my white face
the fierce heats have discoloured, and my cap hath
been soaked with frequent rains."
"If thou be indeed young Dobrynya, my son,
thou hast a birthmark upon thy right breast."
Then Dobrynya showed her the mark. His
mother heeded not her age, but ran and caught
him by his white hands, and kissed his sugar
mouth, calling him her beloved son.
"Where now is my young wife?" he asked.
"Where is Nastasya, that she cometh not to meet
me, returning from the open plain?"
"The clear falcon hath flown into my court,
but the white swan hath fluttered forth from it,"
his mother answered, and told him all Alyosha's
treachery, and how it was now the third day of
the wedding feast.
"Fetch quickly my minstrel's[3]
garment, which
lieth upon the table in the new chamber, and my
little gusly of maple-wood, from the peg in the
cellar."
Then he arrayed himself in haste, and strung
his harp, and took his way to the palace of white
stone, where the wedding guests were making
merry.
The gate-keepers had been strictly charged to
admit no one, but when Dobrynya gave them gold
they permitted him to go in to the feast.
When he was come to the banquet hall, he
crossed himself, and did reverence on all sides,
and in particular to the Prince and Princess, and
to young Nastasya Mikulichna.
"Fair Sun, Prince of royal Kief," he said, "is
there not a little place and small for the little
jester, where he may play upon his harp?"
"Aï, little minstrel!" said Prince Vladimir,
"all the places are filled; but there is yet a small
place upon the earthen oven—the minstrel's place."
Dobrynya was agile of foot: lightly he sprang
upon the oven, and tuned his harp. One string
he tuned to Kief, one to Tzargrad, and the third
to Jerusalem; and the tones he sang were from
over the sea; but the theme was Dobrynya's
adventures, and the men of Kief town.
"Ho, little minstrel," quoth Prince Vladimir,
"thy place is not upon the oven. Come hither.
Three places are thine to choose: the first is
beside me, the second over against me, and the
third is where thou wilt."
Then Dobrynya seated himself opposite bold
Alyosha and the young Princess Nastasya, and
said to Valdimir:
"Fair Sun, grant me to pour out a cup of green
wine, in measure a bucket and a half, in weight a
pood and a half, and bear to whom I will."
"Thy song was great," said Prince Vladimir,
"and the solace thereof was sweet. Pour the
green wine without measure, take golden treasure
without stint!"
So Dobrynya poured a great cup of wine,
dropped therein his marriage ring, and gave to
Nastasya.
"Drink to the bottom, young Princess Nastasya,
and thou shalt see good; and if thou drink not to
the bottom, thou shalt not see good."
Then Nastasya took the cup in one hand, and
drained it at a draught, and lo! she beheld the
ring with which she had wedded Dobrynya.
"Fair Sun Prince Vladimir," she said, "not he
that sitteth beside me is my husband, but he that
sitteth over against me, that little minstrel, young
Dobrynya Nikitich."
Thereupon she rose to her nimble feet, put her
little white hands upon the oaken board, and
vaulted over, fell upon Dobrynya's white breast,
and kissed his sugar mouth.
"The proverb saith—`A man goeth to the
forest for wood, and his wife doth wed straightway!'
Take thy silken whip, therefore, Dobrynya,
and beat me."
But Dobrynya answered, "I marvel not at thee,
woman; as 'tis said, `a woman's hair is long, but
her wits are short.' But at Prince Vladimir, the
Fair Sun, I do marvel,—that he should woo the
wife of a living husband for another man, and
should compel her to wed when she would not
willingly. And yet more do I marvel at my
brother in arms, bold Alyosha Popovich. Yestere'en
was but a week that Alyosha saw me in the
open plain; and now the younger brother hath
taken away the elder brother's wife."
Then he seized Alyosha by the yellow curls,
dragged him over the oaken table, hurled him
upon the brick floor, and began to beat him with
his little cudgel of ninety poods; and when he
was done, he flung Alyosha under the wall-bench.
Quoth he, " `Any man may marry,' saith the
proverb, `but not with every man doth it go
well!' " Then the guests were all terrified and fled.
And Dobrynya took his young wife by her white
hands, and led her to his palace of white stone.
Thenceforward he rode upon no quest, but dwelt
in Kief town; but Alyosha went, with shame and
grief, to a strange and distant land.
And Dobrynya's fame, and the fame of that
feast, have been sung since that day, and shall be
so for ever, and for evermore.
| The epic songs of Russia | |