University of Virginia Library

THE CYCLE OF VLADIMIR, OR
OF KIEF

Ilya of Murom the Peasant Hero,
and Hero Svyatogor

IN the hamlet of Karacharof, by Murom town,
dwelt Ilya[1] the Old Kazák. Thirty years
he sat upon the oven, having use of neither
arms nor legs, because of his grandfather's sin.

And when thirty years were past, in summer,
at the time of haying, his father and mother went
forth to clear the forest-girdled meadows, and left
Ilya alone in the cottage. Then there came to him
three wayfarers—Christ and two of his apostles,
in the guise of poor brethren, strolling psalm-singers,
and besought him that he would give
them to drink.

"Alas! ye wayfarers, aged men, dear friends!"
said Ilya; "full gladly would I give you to drink:
but I cannot rise, and there is none in the cottage
with me."

And the men made answer: "Arise, and wash
thyself; so shalt thou walk and fetch us drink."

Then he arose and walked; and having filled
a cup with kvas,[2] brought it to the aged men.
They received it, drank, and gave it again to Ilya,
saying:

"Drink now after us, Ilya, son of Ivan." When

he had drunk, the old men said: "How is thy
strength now, Ilya?"

Ilya answered: "I thank you humbly, ye aged
men. I feel a very great strength within me, so
that I could even move the earth."

Then the men looked each upon the other, and
said: "Give us to drink yet again." And Ilya
did so. And when they had drunk, they gave
the cup to him the second time, and inquired:
"How is it with thee now, Ilya?"

"The strength I feel is very great," said Ilya,
"yet but as half the former strength."

"Thus let it be," spoke the men: "for if we
give thee more, mother earth will not bear thee
up." And they said: "Go forth now, Ilya."

So Ilya set his cup upon the table, and went
forth into the street with all ease; and the aged
men said:

"God hath blessed thee, Ilya, with this strength
of His. Therefore, defend thou the Christian faith,
fight against all infidel hosts, bold warriors and
daring heroes, for it is written that death shall
not come to thee in battle. Stronger than thee
there is none in the white world, save only Volgá,
(and he will take thee not by might but by craft),
and Svyatogor, and, stronger yet, beloved of damp
mother earth, Mikula Selyaninovich, the Villager's
Son. Against these three contend thou not. Live
not at home,—labour not; but go thou to royal
Kief town." And therewith the men vanished.

Then Ilya went forth to his father, in the clearing,
and found him with his wife and labourers
reposing from their toil. He grasped their axes
and began to hew; and what his father with the
labourers could not have done in three days, that
Ilya achieved in the space of one hour. Having
thus felled a whole field of timber, he drove the

axes deep into a stump, whence no man could
draw them.

When his father with wife and labourers woke,
and beheld the axes, they marvelled, saying:
"Who hath done this?" Then came Ilya from
the forest, and drew the axes from the stump;
and his father gave thanks to God that his son
should be so famous a workman.

But Ilya strode far over the open plain; and
as he went, he beheld a peasant leading a shaggy
brown foal, the first he had seen. What the
peasant demanded for the foal, that Ilya paid.
For the space of three months, he tied the foal
in the stall, feeding it with the finest white Turkish
wheat, and watering it from the pure spring.
After these months were past, he bound the foal
for three nights in the garden, anointing it with
three dews. When that was done, he led the foal
to the lofty paling, and the good brown began to
leap from side to side, and was able to sustain
Ilya's vast weight; for he had become a heroic
steed. All this Ilya did according to the commands
of the aged psalm-singers who had healed
him.

Then Ilya saddled his good steed Cloudfall, prostrated
himself, and received the farewell blessing
of father and mother, and rode forth far over the
open plain.

As he rode, he came to a pavilion of white linen,
pitched under a damp oak; and therein was a
heroic bed, not small, for the length of the bed
was ten fathoms, and the breadth six fathoms. So
he bound his good steed to the damp oak, stretched
himself upon that heroic bed and fell asleep. And
his heroic slumber was very deep; three days and
nights he slept. On the third day, good Cloudfall
heard a mighty clamour toward the North. Damp

mother earth rocked, the dark forests staggered,
the rivers overflowed their steep banks. Then the
good steed beat upon the earth with his hoof, but
could not wake Ilya, and he shouted with human
voice:

"Ho there, Ilya of Murom! Thou sleepest
there and takest thine ease, and knowest not the
ill fortune that hangeth over thee. Hero Svyatogor
cometh to this his pavilion. Loose me now,
in the open plain, and climb thou upon the damp
oak."

Then sprang Ilya to his nimble feet, loosed his
horse and climbed into the damp oak.

And lo! a hero approached; taller than the
standing woods was he, and his head rested upon
the flying clouds. Upon his shoulder he bare a
casket of crystal, which, when he was come to the
oak, he set upon the ground and opened with a
golden key. Out of it stepped his heroic wife;
in all the white world, no such beauty was ever
seen or heard of; lofty was her stature and dainty
her walk; her eyes were as those of the clear
falcon, her brows of blackest sable, and her white
body was beyond compare.

When she was come forth from the crystal
casket, she placed a table, laid a fair cloth thereon
and set sugar viands; and from the casket, she
also drew forth mead for drink. So they feasted
and made merry. And when Svyatogor had well
eaten, he went into the pavilion and fell asleep.

But his fair heroic wife roamed about the open
plain, and so walking, espied Ilya upon the damp
oak.

"Come down now, thou good and stately
youth," she cried: "descend from that damp
oak, else will I waken Hero Svyatogor and make
great complaint of thy discourtesy to me."

Ilya could not contend against the woman, and
so slipped down from the oak as she had commanded.

And after a space, that fair heroic woman took
Ilya and put him in her husband's deep pocket,
and roused the hero from his heavy sleep. Then
Svyatogor put his wife in the crystal casket again,
locked it with his golden key, mounted his good
steed, and rode his way to the Holy Mountains.

After a little, his good steed began to stumble,
and the hero to beat him upon his stout flanks
with a silken whip. Then said the horse in human
speech:

"Hitherto I have borne the hero and his heroic
wife; but now I bear the heroic woman and two
heroes. Is it a marvel that I stumble?"

Thereupon Hero Svyatogor drew Ilya from his
deep pocket, and began to question him:—who
he was and how he came in the pocket. And Ilya
told him all the truth. When he heard it, Svyatogor
slew his faithless heroic wife; but with Ilya
he exchanged crosses, and called him his younger
brother.

And as they talked together, Ilya said: "Full
gladly would I see Svyatogor that great hero; but
he rideth not now upon damp mother earth, nor
appeareth among our company of heroes."

"I am he," quoth Svyatogor. "Gladly would I
ride among you, but damp mother earth would not
bear me up. And furthermore, I may not ride in
Holy Russia, but only on the lofty hills, and steep
precipices. Let us now ride among the crags, and
come thou to the Holy Mountains with me."

Thus they rode long together, diverting themselves;
and Svyatogor taught Ilya all heroic customs
and traditions.

On the way, Svyatogor said to Ilya: "When we

shall come to my dwelling, and I shall lead thee to
my father, heat a bit of iron, but give him not thy
hand."

So when they were come to the Holy Mountains,
to the palace of white stone, Svyatogor's aged
father cried:

"Aï, my dear child! Hast thou been far
afield?"

"I have been in Holy Russia, father."

"What hast thou seen and heard there?"

"Nothing have I seen or heard in Holy Russia,
but I have brought with me thence a hero." The
old man was blind, and so said:

"Bring hither the Russian hero, that I may
greet him."

In the meanwhile, Ilya had heated the bit of
iron, and when he came to give the old man his
hand in greeting, he gave him, in place of it, the
iron. And when the old man grasped it in his
mighty hands, he said: "Stout are thy hands,
Ilya! A most mighty warrior art thou!"

Thereafter, as Svyatogor and his younger
brother Ilya journeyed among the Holy Mountains,
they found a great coffin in the way; and
upon the coffin was this writing: "This coffin
shall fit him who is destined to lie in it."

Then Ilya essayed to lie in it, but for him it was
both too long and too wide. But when Svyatogor
lay in it, it fitted him. Then the hero spoke these
words:

"The coffin was destined for me; take the lid
now, Ilya, and cover me." Ilya made answer:
"I will not take the lid, elder brother, neither will
I cover thee. Lo! this is no small jest that thou
makest, preparing to entomb thyself."

Then the hero himself took the lid, and covered
his coffin with it. But when he would have raised

it again, he could not, though he strove and
strained mightily; and he spoke to Ilya: "Aï,
younger brother! 'Tis plain my fate hath sought
me out. I cannot raise the lid; do thou try now
to lift it."

Then Ilya strove, but could not. Said Hero
Svyatogor: "Take my great battle sword, and
smite athwart the lid." But Ilya's strength was
not enough to lift the sword, and Svyatogor called
him:

"Bend down to the rift in the coffin, that I may
breathe upon thee with my heroic breath." When
Ilya had done this, he felt strength within him,
thrice as much as before, lifted the great battle
sword, and smote athwart the lid. Sparks flashed
from that blow, but where the great brand struck,
an iron ridge sprang forth. Again spoke Svyatogor:

"I stifle, younger brother! essay yet one more
blow upon the lid, with my huge sword."

Then Ilya smote along the lid, and a ridge of
iron sprang forth. Yet again spoke Svyatogor:

"I die, oh, younger brother! Bend down now
to the crevice. Yet once again will I breathe
upon thee, and give thee all my vast strength."

But Ilya made answer: "My strength sufficeth
me, elder brother; had I more, the earth could
not bear me."

"Thou hast done well, younger brother," said
Svyatogor, "in that thou hast not obeyed my last
behest. I should have breathed upon thee the
breath of death, and thou wouldst have lain dead
beside me. But now, farewell. Possess thou my
great battle sword, but bind my good heroic steed
to my coffin; none save Svyatogor may possess
that horse."

Then a dying breath fluttered through the

crevice. Ilya took leave of Hero Svyatogor,
bound the good heroic steed to the coffin, girt the
great battle sword about his waist, and rode forth
into the open plain.

And Svyatogor's burning tears flow through the
coffin evermore.

Quiet Dunaï Ivanovich

QUIET[1] Dunaï Ivanovich roamed long from
land to land, and in his wanderings, came at
length to the kingdom of Lithuania. Three
years did Dunaï serve the King of that land as
Equerry, three years as Grand Steward, three as
Lord High Seneschal, and yet three more as Groom
of the Chambers.

The King loved the youth and gave him meet
guerdon; and the young Princess Nastasya favoured
him and kept him in her heart.

On a certain day, the King made a great feast
and banquet; and the Princess would have kept
the youth from it. "Go not to this worshipful
feast, Dunaï," she said. "There will be much
eating and drunkenness, and thou wilt boast of
me, the fair maid. And so shalt thou lose thy
head, Dunaï."

But Dunaï heeded not her warning and went
to the feast. When all were well drunken, and
the feast waxed merry, they began to brag.[2] And
Dunaï spoke much, boasting of his many wanderings,

of the King's favour and rewards, and of how the
young Princess Nastasya kept him ever in her heart.

The King liked not this brag, and cried in a
loud voice: "Ho there, ye pitiless headsmen!
Seize this quiet Dunaï by the white hands, by his
golden ring; lead him into the open plain, and cut
off his turbulent head."

Then Dunaï besought his keepers to lead him
past Nastasya's dwelling, and before he was come
to it, he cried softly:

"Sleepest thou, Nastasya? Wakest thou not?
Lo, they are leading Dunaï to the open plain."
And when he was over against her window he
shouted at the top of his voice:

"Sleepest thou, Nastasya? Wakest thou not?
Dunaï goeth to his death. Forgive!"

With that great shout the palace quaked;
Princess Nastasya woke, and ran forth into the
spacious court of the palace, in a loose robe without
a girdle, and cried in piercing tones:

"Ho there, ye pitiless headsmen! Take treasure
as much as ye will, and release Dunaï in the
open plain. Then go seek in the royal pot-house[3]
an accursed Tatar, some vile wretch whom ye may
render drunk with wine. Cut off his turbulent
head, and bear it to the King in place of Dunaï's."

The headsmen hearkened to the Princess's words,
released Dunaï, and bore the drunkard's head to
the King of Lithuania.

But Dunaï traversed the open plain and came
to Kief town. There he entered the royal pot-house,
and drank away his hat from Grecian land,
all his flowered garments, his shoes of morocco,
and all that he had.

And as Dunaï sat thus over his horns of liquor,
it chanced on a day, that courteous Prince Vladimir[4]
made a great and honourable feast, to many
princes, boyars (nobles) and mighty Russian heroes,
where they sat eating bread and salt, carving the
white swan, and quaffing sweet mead, and green
wine.

The long day drew towards its close, the red sun
sank to even, and all was merry at the feast when
the guests began their brags. One vaunted his
good steed and one his youthful prowess, this
knight his sharp sword and that his deeds of
might; the wise man praised his aged father or
mother, the foolish his young wife or sister.

Then through the banquet hall paced Fair Sun
Prince Vladimir, wrung his white hands and shook
his yellow curls. No golden trumpet pealed, nor
silver pipe trilled sweet, but Prince Vladimir spoke:

"Boast not, brothers; glory not in your prowess
nor in good steeds nor golden treasure. Have not
I also red gold, pure silver, fair round pearls?
But in this may ye glory: All at my feast are
wedded, save one, your Prince. I only am unwed.
Know ye not of some Princess, who is my equal?
Lofty of stature must she be, of perfect form, her
gait delicate and graceful, like the peacock; a
faint flush in her face like to a white hare, and
eyes of the clear falcon must she have, yellow
hair, brows of blackest sable, and swan-speech
entrancing. So shall I have one with whom I
may think my thoughts, and take counsel, and ye
my mighty princes, heroes and all Kief, one to
whom ye may pay homage."

Then all at meat fell sad and silent, and none
spoke a word. The great fled behind the lesser,

the lesser hid behind the small, and from the small
came no reply.

At length there stepped forth from behind the
oven a bold, brave youth, Dobrynya Nikitich,
saying:

"Our liege, Prince Vladimir! grant me to speak
a word without speedy death or distant exile, and
chastise me not therefor."

"Speak, then, Dobrynya Nikitich," said Vladimir,
"God will forgive thee."

Then spoke Dobrynya, and wavered not: "I
know a fitting mate for thee, a princess, and all
thou hast described is she—a beauty such as
exists not elsewhere in all the white world. I
have not seen her, but her fame I have heard
from my brother in arms, my cross-brother,
mighty Dunaï Ivanovich. He sitteth now in the
great royal pot-house over his horns, and hath
not the wherewithal to come to thy honourable
feast."

Then spoke Vladimir: "Take my golden keys,
open my iron-bound chests, take treasure as thou
requirest, and go, Dobrynya, to the royal pot-house,
ransom Dunaï's raiment, and conduct Dunaï to our
honourable feast."

So Dobrynya took gold, and went to the pot-house.
"Ho there, ye innkeepers and usurers!"
he cried, "take what ye will, and restore Dunaï's
garments."

When this was done, Dobrynya told Dunaï how
he was bidden to Vladimir's feast; and Dunaï
made answer: "Lo! with drunkenness and hunger
my turbulent head is broken."

So they poured him a cup of green wine, in
weight a pood and a half.[5] This Dunaï grasped

in one hand and drained at one draught. Then
the good youths set out; and as they passed
through Kief, maids and wives thrust heads and
shoulders from the windows crying: "Whence
come such fair youths as these?"

When they came to the palace of white stone,
to the fair banquet hall, Dunaï crossed himself as
prescribed, did reverence as enjoined, on two,
three, and four sides, to all the Russian heroes
and to Prince Vladimir in particular. And they
gave Dunaï a seat at the oaken board, in the great
corner,[6] the place of honour.

As he feasted, Fair Sun Vladimir began to inquire
of Dunaï, and poured out green wine into a
great cup of crystal from the East, set in a rim of
gilt, and brought it to quiet Dunaï. The measure
of that cup was a bucket and a half, and its weight
a pood and a half. Quiet Dunaï took the cup in
one hand, and quaffed it at a breath. Then Fair
Sun Vladimir poured an aurochs' horn of sweet
mead, a pood and a half, and after that a measure
of the beer of drunkenness. These also quiet
Dunaï drained at one draught, and intoxication
showed itself in his head. Nevertheless he stepped
forward without staggering, and spoke without
confusion:

"I know a bride fit to mate with thee, royal
Vladimir. Twelve full years I served in yonder
land of Lithuania, and the King's Majesty hath
two great and fair daughters. The eldest, Princess
Nastasya, is no mate for thee; she rideth ever

over the open plain seeking adventures. But the
younger, the Princess Apraxia, sitteth at home in
a fair chamber embroidering a kerchief in red gold.
Behind thrice nine locks she sitteth, and thrice
nine guards, in a lofty castle, that the fair red sun
may not scorch her nor the fine and frequent rains
drop on her, nor the stormy winds breathe on her;
—that she may be seen of few."

"Aï, my Russian heroes!" spoke Prince Vladimir
then: "Whom shall we send to far-off
Lithuania?"

And a hero made answer: "Fair Sun Vladimir!
we have not been in strange and distant countries,
nor seen strange people. It is not meet that we
should go. Send quiet Dunaï Ivanovich; he hath
served as ambassador, and viewed many lands.
He talketh much; therefore send him to do thy
wooing."

Then spake Prince Vladimir: "Go thou, my
Dunaiushka, to that brave Lithuanian realm, and
woo the Princess Apraxia for me with fair words."

"Lord," said Dunaï, "it is not meet for a youth
to go alone."

"Take then a host of forty thousand, and
treasure, as much as thou requirest: and if the
King give not his daughter willingly, then fetch
her by force."

"I need no host to wage battle, nor golden
treasure to barter," quoth Dunaï. "I will essay
heroic force and royal threat. Grant me but my
beloved comrade, Dobrynya Nikitich,—he is of
good birth, and understandeth how to deal with
people. And give us two good colts which have
never borne saddle or bridle. And write thou a
scroll, that our wooing of the Princess Apraxia for
our Prince Vladimir is honourable."

All these things Fair Sun Vladimir did. Then

Dunaï and Dobrynya went forth from the palace,
and saddled their steeds; put on them plaited
bridles of parti-coloured silks, and silken saddlecloths,
and upon these, felts, and then the saddles,
their small Cherkessian saddles, and secured them
with twelve girths with silver buckles,—the stirrup
buckles were of gold. Then they arrayed and
armed themselves; put on their little caps from
the Sorochinsky land,[7] forty poods in weight, took
their maces of damascened steel, their stout bows,
their silken whips, mounted their good steeds and
rode through the narrow lanes of Kief. And the
good steeds galloped at will.

But when they reached the highway out of Kief,
they urged their good steeds on, spurring their
brisk flanks, and smiting them with their braided
whips of silk. Past deep lakes they rode, through
forests dreaming still in primeval denseness; and
so came to the brave land of Lithuania, and to the
royal palace.

There quiet Dunaï asked no leave of gate-keepers
nor porters, but flung wide the barriers and led the
horses into the spacious court, bidding Dobrynya
stand there and guard them. So Dobrynya took
the bridles in his left hand, and in his right, his
little elm-wood club from Sorochinsky.

"Stand thou there, Dobrynya," spake quiet
Dunaï then, "and look towards the royal audience
hall; when I shout, then will be the time to come."

Then quiet Dunaï entered the royal hall where
sat the King, crossing himself and saluting as prescribed
by custom.

"Hail, little father, King of brave Lithuania!"

"Hail, little Dunaï Ivanovich! Whither leadeth
thy path? Art thou come to show thyself or to
view us? Twelve years thou didst serve us faithfully;

art thou now come to fight against us, or to
serve us as of yore?—Yet eat thy fill, fair youth,
and drink as good seemeth to thee." Then the
King seated him at the great table in the place of
honour, giving him sweet viands and mead, and
began again to inquire his errand.

"My errand is good," Dunaï made answer. "I
come to woo thy daughter Apraxia for the Fair
Sun, Prince Vladimir." Then he laid the scroll
on the oaken table.

The King looking upon it, tore the black curls
from his head and cast them on the brick floor, as
he spoke in wrath:

"Stupid in sooth is Vladimir of Royal Kief, in
that he sent not as wooer a wealthy peasant, a good
lord or a mighty hero! But he must needs send
me some noble's serf! Ho there, my trusty servants!
Take this Dunaï by his white hands, seize
him by his golden ring, by his yellow curls; lead
him to the deep dungeons for his discourteous
speech. Shut him in with oaken planks, with iron
gratings, and above sprinkle orange-tawny sand.
Let his food be water and oats alone, until he shall
bethink himself and gain his senses."

Quiet Dunaï hung his turbulent head, and
dropped his clear eyes to the floor; then raised his
small white hand and smote the table with his fist.
The fair liquors all were spilled, the dishes rolled
away, the tables fell together, and the railed
balconies of the palace sat awry. The Tatars all
were terrified, the King fled to his lofty tower,
and covered himself with his cloak of marten
skins.

Then quiet Dunaï leaped over the golden chair
(for he perceived that the matter was not a light
one), seized one Tatar by his heels, and began to
slay the rest.

"This Tatar is tough," he cried; "he will not
break; the Tatar is wiry, he will not tear."

Dobrynya at that shout, began to lay about him,
and slew five hundred Tatars with his own right hand.

Then the King's trusty servants fled to him from
his princely court: "Aï, little father, King of
brave Lithuania! Thou knowest not the evil that
is come upon thee. Into thy royal court no falcon
clear hath flown, no raven black hath fluttered,
but a bold and goodly youth hath ridden. In his
left hand he graspeth the silken bridles of two
good steeds, in his right he holdeth a club of elm-wood
filled with lead. Wheresoever he waveth
that club, the Tatars fall before it. He hath slain
them all, to the last man, and none is left to
continue the race!"

Then the King of Lithuania cried: "Aï, quiet
little Dunaï Ivanovich! Forget not my hospitality
of yore! Sit thou at one table with me, and let
us consider this wooing of Prince Vladimir. Take
my elder daughter."

"I will not," said quiet Dunaï, and ceased not
to slay.

"Take then the Princess Apraxia, if thou wilt!"
said the King when he saw that.

Then quiet Dunaï went to the lofty castle, and
began to knock off the locks and to force open the
doors. He entered the golden-roofed tower, and
came to where the most fair Princess Apraxia was
pacing her chamber, clad in a thin robe without
a girdle, her ruddy locks unbound, and no shoes
upon her feet.

"Aï, Princess Apraxia! wilt thou wed with
Prince Vladimir?" said Dunaï.

And she made answer: "These three years I
have prayed the Lord that Prince Vladimir might
be my husband."

Then quiet Dunaï Ivanovich took her by her
small white hands, by her golden ring, and kissed
her sugar lips for that sweet speech, and led her
forth to the spacious court.

There the King met them, and said: "Take
also the Princess's dowry." So thirty carts were
laden with red gold, pure silver, fair round pearls
and jewels.

Then they mounted their good steeds, and rode
over the glorious, far-reaching, open plain.

Dark night overtook them on the road. So the
good youths pitched a linen pavilion, and lay down
to sleep. They placed their good steeds at their
feet, their sharp spears at their heads; at their
right hands lay their stout swords, at their left
their daggers of steel.

The good youths slept and slumbered, enjoying
the dark night. Nothing saw they, and nothing
did they hear, not even the Tatar riding across the
plain.

They rose while it was still very early, and set
out upon their way. And the Tatar rode in pursuit,
his steed all covered with the mire of the way.

Then Dunaï was aware of the knight in the way,
and sent Dobrynya on to Kief town in Holy Russia,
with the fair Princess Apraxia, but remained himself
in the open plain to meet that stout, bold
adversary.

When the Tatar perceived that he was pursued
in turn, and that Dunaï had overtaken him, he
began to smite Dunaï with his spear, and to say to
himself: "Halt, Tatar, on the open plain; roar,
Tatar, like a wild beast; whistle, Tatar, like a
serpent!"

So the Tatar roared and whistled;—the pebbles
were scattered over the plain, the grass withered,
the flowerets drooped, and Dunaï fell from his good

steed. But quickly sprang Dunaï to his nimble
feet, and fought the Tatar knight, with mace, far-reaching
spear and sharp sword, until all were
broken or dulled, and he had overcome his adversary.
Then he drew his dagger, and would have
pierced him to the heart.

"Tell me now, accursed Tatar," cried Dunaï,
"and conceal it not: What is thy birth and tribe?"

"Sat I on thy white breast," quoth the Tatar,
"I would inquire neither tribe nor family, but
would stab thee."

Then Dunaï sat upon his foe's white breast, and
would have pierced it, but his tender heart was
terrified, and his arm stiffened at the shoulder: for
the bosom was that of a woman.

"How now, fair Dunaï! knowest thou me not?
Yet we trod one path, sat in one bower, drank
from one cup! And thou didst dwell with us
twelve full years. — But loud-voiced men have
come from Holy Russia, while I was from home,
and have stolen away my sister. And her I seek."

"Aï, Princess Nastasya!" cried quiet Dunaï,
and raised her from the damp earth by her white
hands, and kissed her sugar mouth. "Let us go
to Kief town, and receive the wonder-working
cross, and take the golden crowns."[8]

So he placed her upon his good steed, took from
her her mace of steel and her sharp sword, and
mounting, led her horse behind them.

Thus they came to Kief town, to God's church:
and in the outer porch, they met Fair Sun Prince
Vladimir and the Princess Apraxia who were come
thither to be married. The sisters greeted each
other, and Nastasya received baptism. Then they
were married, the younger sister first, as was meet,

and the elder afterwards. And great was the
marriage feast which courteous Prince Vladimir
made for himself and for quiet Dunaï Ivanovich.

—Three years they lived in mirth and joy: and
in the fourth year, courteous Prince Vladimir made
again a great and honourable feast. When all had
well drunken, they began to make brags. Dunaï
Ivanovich bragged also. "In all Kief town,"
quoth he, "is no such youth as quiet Duanï.
From the Lithuanian land he drew forth two white
swans; he married himself, and gave another also
in marriage."

Princess Nastasya answered him: "Is not thy
boast empty, Dunaiushka? Not long have I dwelt
in this town, yet much have I learned. Fair is
Churilo Plenkovich, daring Alyosha Popovich, and
courteous young Dobrynya Nikitich;" and so she
praised the different heroes, yet spake no word of
praise for Dunaï, who had praised himself.

"Neither in deeds of knightly exercise are the
heroes lacking," quoth the Princess, "and even I
can shoot somewhat. Let us now take a stout bow,
and let us set a sharp dagger in the open plain, a
full verst[9] away, and before it, a silver ring. Let
us shoot through the silver ring at the sharp dagger
in such wise that the arrow may fall into two equal
parts against the dagger, into two parts alike to
the eye and of equal weight."

Quiet Dunaï was both ashamed and wroth at
this, and said: "Good, Nastasiushka! let us go
to the plain, and shoot our fiery darts."

So they went forth. Nastasya sent a burning
arrow; it passed through the ring, and falling
upon the sharp blade, was parted in twain; and
both the parts were exactly equal.

Then Dunaiushka shot; the first arrow he sent

too far, the second fell short, the third flew wide of
the mark and was never found again.

Quiet Dunaï waxed very wroth thereat, and
aimed a burning arrow smeared with serpent's fat
at Nastasya's white breast. Then she besought
him:

"Aï, fair Dunaï Ivanovich! forgive my foolish
woman's words. Better will it be for thee to
punish me. Let this be thy first reprimand: take
thy silken whip, dip it in burning pitch, and chastise
my body. And for the second reprimand:
bind me by my woman's hair to thy stirrups, and
send thy horse at speed over the wide plain.—Bury
me to the breast in the damp earth,—beat me with
oaken rods,—torture me with hunger,—feed me
with oats, and so keep me three full months.—
But grant me only to bear thy son, and leave a
posterity behind me in the world. For such a
child there is not in all the town. His little legs
are silver to the knee, his arms to the elbow are of
pure gold; upon his brow gloweth the fair red sun,
upon his crown shine countless stars, and at the
back of his head the bright moon beameth."

Dunaï heeded not her speech, but sent his burning
arrow into her white breast, and took out her
heart with his dagger. And his son was as she
had said.

Then Dunaï's heroic heart burned within him
for grief and remorse. "Where the white swan
fell," he cried, "there also shall fall the falcon
bright." Then he placed the hilt of his dagger on
the damp earth, and fell upon its sharp point with
his white breast. And from that spot flowed forth
straightway two swift streams; the greater was
the river Don, the lesser the Dnyepr, Nastasya's
river. Nastasya's river flowed to the Kingdom of
Lithuania, and thence to the Golden Horde. The

Don, twenty fathoms deep and forty wide, ran past
Kief town. Where they met, two cypress trees
sprang up, and twined together, and on their leaves
was written: "This marvel came to pass for the
wonder of all young people, and the solace of the
old."

Thus the Song of quiet Dunaï for ever shall be
sung, for the peace of the blue sea and the hearing
of all good people.

Stavr Godinovich the Boyar (Noble)

COURTEOUS Prince Vladimir made a great
feast in royal Kief town, and summoned
thereto all his princes, boyars, mighty heroes
and bold polyanitzas:[1] likewise many merchants
and strangers.

Among these last was young Stavr Godinovich
from Chernigof. Softly he mounted the steps, and
lightly paced through the antechambers, as he
crossed himself and bowed low on all sides, and to
Prince Vladimir and his daughter in particular.

The red sun inclined to even, and all the youths
were merry with drink, so that they waxed boastful.
The heroes vaunted their good steeds, heroic
strength or golden treasure, the merchants their
Siberian fox pelts and black sables. But Stavr
sat alone, eating and drinking nothing, and making
no brag. As Prince Vladimir paced the banquet
hall, he espied Stavr sitting thus; and he poured
out a cup of green wine and brought it to him,
inquiring wherefore he neither ate nor drank.

"Thou tastest not my white swan," he said,
"neither makest thou any brag. Hast thou, then,
no towns with their suburbs, villages with their
hamlets, nor even so much as a good mother or a
praiseworthy young wife, of whom thou mayest
boast?"

"Stavr hath enough whereof to boast, Prince
Vladimir of royal Kief," quoth Stavr. "What
petty outpost is this Kief of royal Vladimir, forsooth?
Stavr's spacious court is no worse than
the whole of Kief town. His palace covers seven
versts, his halls and chambers of white oak are
hung with gray beaver skins, the ceilings with black
sables. His floors are of silver only—his hasps
and hinges of steel. Thirty youths also hath Stavr,
master shoemakers all;—they sew shoes, pausing
not. Stavr weareth a pair a day, and yet another
day, perchance: then are they taken to the
market place, and sold to princes and nobles for
their full worth. And yet more hath Stavr whereof
to boast:—thirty young tailors, masters of their
trade, who make ever new kaftans, so that Stavr
weareth his garments but a day, or at the most,
two days, and then selleth them in the market to
princes and nobles at a great price.—But Stavr
will not brag.—And yet more hath Stavr—a
golden-coated mare, whose cost was five hundred
roubles. On the best of her foals Stavr rideth, and
the worst he selleth at great prices to princes and
boyars. Hence Stavr's golden treasure is never
exhausted. Yet one thing hath Stavr whereof he
will boast, a young wife, Vasilisa Mikulichna:[2]
she could buy and sell all Kief town, deceive all
these princes and nobles, and drive even Fair Sun
Vladimir from his senses."

Then all at the feast fell silent at this word.
Prince Vladimir liked not the discourteous speech,
and his nobles cried:

"Fair Sun Vladimir, Prince of royal Kief! Let
us now thrust this churl into a cold dungeon, and
let his young wife deceive us all, princes and nobles,

drive thee, Prince Vladimir, from thy wits, and
deliver Stavr from his prison."

So Vladimir gave command that iron fetters
should be placed on Stavr's hands and feet, and
that he should be led to a dungeon forty fathoms
deep, with iron doors and locks of steel, where his
food should be oats and water.

But Stavr's serving-man mounted his master's
good steed and rode in haste to Chernigof, to Stavr's
palace of white stone, and his young wife.

Now Vasilisa Mikulichna had made a great
banquet for the wives of the merchants and rulers
of the town, and so the man found them feasting.

When her husband's man told her all that had
befallen in Kief, the young wife rose from her
bench of oak, and said:

"Time is it, my welcome guests, to betake yourselves
to your own homes and dwellings."

Then she seated herself in her folding chair, and
for the space of three full hours she meditated how
she might release her husband.

"Untold treasure of gold will not ransom Stavr,"
she said, "nor may he be released by mighty heroic
strength. Stavr must be saved by woman's wiles."

Then she wrote a letter to show that she was
an ominous ambassador from the Island of Kodol,
in the land of Ledenetz, come on an honourable
mission to Fair Sun Prince Vladimir, to sue for the
hand of his fair daughter Beauty.[3] After that
she hastened to her heroic chamber, and summoned
her tiring-women: "Aï, my trusty maids, make
haste and cut off my ruddy braid, fetch me an
ambassador's apparel, and saddle me a heroic
steed."

In very great haste they sheared off her ruddy
locks in fashion like a man's, dressed her in black

velvet breeches and the garments of an ambassador,
and led forth her horse.

Then she summoned a body-guard of forty good
youths, and they mounted and rode with her.

When they had traversed half the way, a stern
messenger came riding towards them from Kief
town, and as they came together they saluted,
palm kissing palm. Then the messenger began
to inquire of Vasilisa whence this bold and goodly
youth was come and whither he was going.

She told him that she was sent by the stern King
Yetmanuila Yetmanuilovich, to collect tribute for
twelve years,—three thousand roubles for each
year.

In turn the messenger told her, that he was on
his way to seal up Stavr's palace, and to fetch his
young wife to Kief. Then spoke the good youths
of Vasilisa's guard:

"We have been at Stavr's palace, and there is
no one therein: for his young wife hath departed
to the distant land, to the Golden Horde."

So the messenger turned back to Kief, and outriding
them, told Prince Vladimir privately that a
threatening ambassador,[4] Vasily Mikulich, was on
his way to Kief from a far-off land.

Prince Vladimir was sore troubled thereat, and
the people made haste to sweep the streets, and to
lay pine-trees in the muddy ways, so that they might
be passable. Then they waited outside the gates,
for the coming of the ambassador from the stern
King Yetmanuila Yetmanuilovich from the far-off
land of Ledenetz.

But when Vasily Mikulich came, he passed not
the gates:—he leaped the city walls, passed the
corner towers, and came to the spacious princely
court. There he sprang from his good steed,

thrust the butt-end of his far-reaching spear into
the earth, flung his silken bridle over the golden
spike at its point, and entered straightway the fair,
royal halls, asking leave of none, but flinging wide
the doors.

There Vasilisa bowed on all sides, and to Prince
Vladimir in particular, laid her letter on the oaken
table, and demanded the hand of his daughter[5] in
marriage.

Prince Vladimir rose to his nimble feet, took the
letter in his white hands, broke the seal and scanned
each word narrowly, then spake:

"'Tis well, Vasily Mikulich. I will give thee
Beauty to wife. I go now to take counsel with
my daughter."

But when he came to his well-loved daughter,
Beauty said: "What art thou minded to do, dear
father? wilt thou give a maiden in marriage to a
woman? For I have marked this Vasily Mikulich.
No threatening ambassador is he—but a woman,
by all the signs. When he walketh in the courtyard,
'tis like a duck swimming; his speech is a
woman's pipe, his gait in the royal halls is mincing;
when he sitteth upon the wall-bench, he presseth
his feet close one to the other; his little hands are
white, his fingers delicate, and upon them the
marks of rings still linger."

"That we shall see," quoth Vladimir: "for I
will now prove this ambassador. I will have the
steam bath prepared for him after his journey. If
he be in truth a mighty hero, then will he come
to the bath with me: but if he be a woman, he
will not come."

So the bath was heated, and Vladimir went to
invite Vasily Mikulich.

"Wilt thou steam thyself with me, after the
road, good youth?" he said. And Vasily replied:

"My soul burneth to do that. Pleasing will it
be after my journey."

Now, Prince Vladimir was royally apparelled,
and while he was busy with putting off his garments,
Vasilisa hastened to the bath, wet her head, and
came forth as Vladimir entered.

"With great speed hast thou steamed thyself,
Ambassador Vasily Mikulich! Why didst thou
not await my coming?

"Thou art at home and at leisure, Prince Vladimir,
but I am a traveller; my business brooketh
no long delay in the bath. I am come to woo.
Give me thy young daughter to wife."

"I will take counsel with the maiden," quoth
Vladimir, and went to his daughter.

But Beauty said: "Wilt thou make thyself a
laughing-stock for all Russia, my father, and wed
thy daughter to a woman? For, by all signs, she
is no man."

"I will prove her yet once more, my dear
daughter," quoth Vladimir, and went to Vasily.

"Is it pleasing to thee to shoot a match with
my young men, Vasiliushka Mikulich?"

"My soul longeth for that," she answered.
Then they went forth upon the open plain, and
began to shoot at a damp oak, a full verst distant.
The arrow of one good youth flew past, another
good youth shot short, a third shot wide of the
mark. Some shot fair, but all the fiery arrows
which were lodged in that tree by heroic hands did
but make the damp oak quiver, as in stress of
weather.

Then Vasily Mikulich spoke:

"Ho there, Prince Vladimir! I will have none
of these heroic bows. I have by me a little travelling

bow, with which I adventure out upon the
open plain." Then came bold and goodly youths
from the white pavilion without the walls, where
she had left her body-guard. Five men bore the
first end, and as many more the last, and thirty
stout youths dragged along the quiver of burning
arrows. Then she took an arrow in her small left
hand, an arrow of steel, drew the great bow to
her ear, and took aim at the damp oak. The cord
of the stout bow sang, Vladimir crept about, and
all his heroes stood as though stifled with stove
gas. The firm dart screamed, lodged in the damp,
ringbarked oak, and shivered it into splinters.
Thereupon Prince Vladimir spat to one side, and
said as he went away: "I will prove this ambassador
yet once again. If he be a woman, he will
refuse a wrestling match."

So he assembled thirty good youths and bold,
in his spacious court, and spoke this word:

"Aï, Vasily Mikulich! doth thy soul burn to
wrestle with my men?"

"In sooth, Fair Prince Vladimir, are there any
with whom I may wrestle?" the ambassador made
answer. "Since my childhood have I run the
streets, and many a bout have I wrestled with the
children in sport." Then Vasily stepped forth into
the court, grasped two heroes in one hand, three
in the other, and knocked their skulls together,
so that there was no soul left in them. Vladimir
began to entreat her:

"Curb thy heroic heart, young Vasily Mikulich,
I pray: spare at least a remnant of our people."

Vasily answered: "I came on an honourable
mission—to woo thy beloved daughter. If thou
wilt now give her with honour, with honour will I
take her; but if not, I will take her without honour,
and I will beat in thy sides."

Then Prince Vladimir went no more to ask his
daughter Beauty's pleasure in this matter, but
betrothed her forthwith to the stern ambassador,
and ordered a noble banquet and wedding feast.

On the third day of the feast, when the time
drew near for them to fare to God's church and be
married, Vasily grew sad and exceeding sorrowful.
Then Prince Vladimir began to inquire of him why
he was not merry.

Vasily made answer: "I know not why my soul
is heavy. My father hath died, perchance, or my
dear mother. Hast thou then no good youths, no
players upon the gusly[6] of maple-wood, who may
solace us?"

But when the harp-players were summoned, and
played and sang songs of the olden days and of the
present, and of all times, Vasily was still sad, and
said:

"Where is now Stavr Godinovich from our land?
He is a master player upon the harp of maple-wood,
and none but he can cheer my spirit."

Then Prince Vladimir said to himself: "If I
summon not Stavr, I shall anger the ambassador;
but if I summon him, he will be carried away."

Nevertheless he dared not offend Vasily, and sent
for Stavr, to the princely banquet-hall.

Stavr strung his harp, and began to pluck the
strings. One string he strung from Kief, and one
from Tzargrad,[7] the third from far Jerusalem. He
played great dances, and sang songs from over the
blue sea.

Then Vasiliushka, the stern ambassador, began
to sleep and dream,[8] and to say: "Aï, Fair Sun

Prince Vladimir; let Stavr go to my white pavilion,
and view there my body-guard, and walk in the
open fields." This Vladimir would fain have refused,
yet dared not anger the man; and so
allowed it.

When they were come to the open plain and
the pavilion, Vasilisa said: "Dost thou not
know me, Stavr?" And he answered: "After
that dungeon, I cannot recall far distant
years."

"Aï, thou stupid Stavr! Knowest thou not thy
young wife Vasilisa Mikulichna?"

"Yea, her I should know after thirteen
years."

"Foolish Stavr! thou hast not known me after
scant three months."

Then she went into the pavilion, put off her
manly garb, and donned her own raiment; and
coming forth she took Stavr by his white hands,
kissed his sugar mouth, called him her beloved
husband. Then he knew his young wife, and said:
"What will Fair Sun Vladimir do to us now? Let
us mount and ride swiftly hence!"

But Vasilisa said: "Not so: we must not steal
away in this fashion from royal Kief. Let us
rather go to Prince Vladimir."

When they came to the royal palace, Stavr said:
"Aï, thou Fair Sun Prince Vladimir! I have made
good my boast; for thou hast betrothed thy
daughter to my young wife."

Then was Prince Vladimir shamed, and spoke
this word: "With reason did Stavr boast of his
young wife, Vasilisa Mikulichna! May God forgive
thee thy former offence! But boast no more
of thy young wife, and trade evermore in our good
city of Kief without tax."

But Stavr and Vasilisa mounted their good

steeds, and rode to the glorious town of Chernigof,
to their lordly villages and palace of white stone.
No more did Stavr frequent lordly banquets, and
never more bragged he of his young wife, but dwelt
thenceforth and took his ease in Chernigof.

Ilya of Murom and Nightingale
the Robber

YOUNG Ilya of Murom, Ivan's son, went to
matins on Easter morn. And as he
stood there in church, he vowed a great
vow: "To sing at high mass that same Easter
day in Kief town, and to go thither by the straight
way." And yet another vow he took: "As he
fared to that royal town by the straight way, not
to stain his hand with blood, nor yet his sharp
sword with the blood of the accursed Tatars."
His third vow he swore upon his mace of steel:
"That though he should go the straight way, he
would not shoot his fiery darts."

Then he departed from the cathedral church,
entered the spacious courtyard and began to saddle
good Cloudfall, his shaggy bay steed, to arm himself
and prepare for his journey to the famous town
of Kief, to the worshipful feast, and the Fair Sun
Prince Vladimir of royal Kief. Good Cloudfall's
mane was three ells in length, his tail three fathoms,
and his hair of three colours. Ilya put on him first
the plaited bridle, next twelve saddlecloths, twelve
felts, and upon them a metal-bound Cherkessian
saddle. The silken girths were twelve in number
—not for youthful vanity but for heroic strength;
the stirrups were of damascened steel from beyond
the seas, the buckles of bronze which rusteth not,

weareth not, the silk from Samarcand, which
chafeth not, teareth not.

They saw the good youth as he mounted,—as
he rode they saw him not; so swift was his flight,
there seemed but a smoke-wreath on the open
plain, as when wild winds of winter whirl about the
snow. Good Cloudfall skimmed over the grass,
and above the waters; high over the standing trees
he soared, the primeval oaks, yet lower than the
drifting clouds. From mountain to mountain he
sprang, from hill to hill he galloped; little rivers
and lakes dropped between his feet; where his
hoofs fell, founts of water gushed forth; in the
open plain smoke eddied, and rose aloft in a pillar.
At each leap Cloudfall compassed a verst and a half.

In the open steppe, young Ilya hewed down a
forest and raised a godly cross, and wrote thereon:

"Ilya of Murom, the Old Kazák, rideth to
royal Kief town, on his first heroic quest."

When he drew near to Chernigof, there stood
a great host of Tatars,—three Tzareviches, each
with forty thousand men. The cloud of steam
from the horses was so great, that the fair red sun
was not seen by day, nor the bright moon by night.
The gray hare could not course, nor the clear falcon
fly, about that host, so vast was it.

When Ilya saw that, he dismounted, and falling
down before good Cloudfall's right foot, he entreated
him:

"Help me, my shaggy bay!" So Cloudfall
soared like a falcon clear, and Ilya plucked up a
damp, ringbarked oak from the damp earth, from
amid the stones and roots, and bound it to his left
stirrup, grasped another in his right hand, and
began to brandish it. "Every man may take a
vow," quoth he, "but not every man can fulfil it."

Where he waved the damp oak, a street appeared;

where he drew it back, a lane. Great
as was the number that he slew, yet twice that
number did his good steed trample under foot:
not one was spared to continue their race.

The gates of Chernigof were strongly barred,
a great watch was kept, and the stout and mighty
heroes stood in council. Therefore Ilya flew on
his good steed over the city wall (the height of the
wall was twelve fathoms), and entered the church
where all the people were assembled, praying God,
repenting and receiving the sacrament against sure
approaching death. Ilya crossed himself as prescribed,
did reverence as enjoined, and cried:

"Hail, ye merchants of Chernigof, warrior-maidens
and mighty heroes all! Why repent ye
now, and receive the sacrament? Why do ye bid
farewell thus to the white world?"

Then they told him how they were besieged by
accursed Tatars, and Ilya said: "Go ye upon the
famous wall of your city, and look toward the open
plain."

They did as he commanded, and lo! where had
stood the many, very many foreign standards, like
a dark, dry forest, the accursed Tatars were now
cut down and heaped up, like a field of grain which
hath been reaped.

Then the men of Chernigof did lowly reverence
to the good youth, and besought him that he would
reveal his name, and abide in Chernigof to serve
them as their Tzar, King, Voevoda,[1] —what he
would; and that he would likewise accept at their
hands a bowl of pure red gold, a bowl of fair
silver, and one of fine seed-pearls.

"These I will not take," Ilya made answer,
"though I have earned them, neither will I dwell
with you either as Tzar or peasant. Live ye as of

old, my brothers, and show me the straight road to
Kief town."

Then they told him: "By the straight road it is
five hundred versts, and by the way about, a thousand.
Yet take not the straight road, for therein
lie three great barriers: the gray wolf trotteth not
that way, the black raven flieth not overhead.
The first barrier is the lofty mountains; the second
is the Smorodina river, six versts in width, and the
Black Morass; and beside that river, the third
barrier is Nightingale the Robber.

"He hath built his nest on seven oaks, that
magic bird. When he whistleth like a nightingale,
the dark forest boweth to the earth, the green
leaves wither, horse and rider fall as dead. For
that cause the road is lost, and no man hath
travelled it these thirty years."

When Ilya the Old Kazák heard that, he
mounted his good steed, and rode forthwith that
straight way. When he came to the lofty mountains,
his good steed rose from the damp earth, and
soared like a bright falcon over them and the tall
dreaming forests. When he came to the Black
Morass, he plucked great oaks with one hand, and
flung them across the shaking bog for thirty versts,
while he led good Cloudfall with the other. When
he came to Mother Smorodina, he beat his steed's fat
sides, so that the horse cleared the river at a bound.

There sat Nightingale the Robber (surnamed
the Magic Bird), and thrust his turbulent head out
from his nest upon the seven oaks; sparks and
flame poured from his mouth and nostrils. Then
he began to pipe like a nightingale, to roar like
an aurochs, and to hiss like a dragon. Thereat
good Cloudfall, that heroic steed, fell upon his
knees, and Ilya began to beat him upon his flanks
and between his ears.

"Thou wolf's food!" cried Ilya, "thou grass-bag!
Hast never been in the gloomy forest, nor
heard the song of nightingale, the roar of wild
beast, nor serpent's hiss?"

Then Ilya brake a twig from a willow that grew
near by, that he might keep his vow not to stain
his weapons with blood, fitted it to his stout bow,
and conjured it: "Fly, little dart! Enter the
Nightingale's left eye, come forth at his right
ear!"

The good heroic steed rose to his feet, and the
Robber Nightingale fell to the damp earth like a
rick of grain.

Then the Old Kazák raised up that mighty
robber, bound him to his stirrup by his yellow
curls, and went his way. Ere long they came to
the Nightingale's house, built upon seven pillars
over seven versts of ground. About the courtyard
was an iron paling, upon each stake thereof
a spike, and on each spike the head of a hero.
In the centre was the strangers' court; and there
stood three towers with golden crests, spire joined
to spire, beam merged in beam, roof wedded to
roof. Green gardens were planted round about,
all blossoming and blooming with azure flowers,
and a fair orchard encircled all.

When the Magic Bird's children looked from
the latticed casements, and beheld a hero riding
with one at his stirrup, they cried: "Aï, lady
mother! Our father cometh, and leadeth a man
at his stirrup for us to eat."

But Elena, the one-eyed, Nightingale's witch
daughter, looked forth and said: "Nay, it is the
Old Kazák Ilya of Murom who rideth, and leadeth
our father in bonds."

Then spoke Nightingale's nine sons: "We
will transform ourselves into ravens, and rend that

peasant with our iron beaks, and scatter his white
body over the plain." But their father shouted to
them that they should not harm the hero.

Nevertheless, Elena the witch ran into the wide
courtyard, tore a steel beam of a hundred and
fifty poods weight from the threshold, and hurled
it at Ilya. The good youth wavered in his saddle,
yet being nimble, he escaped the full force of the
blow. Then he leaped from his horse, and took
the witch on his foot: higher flew the witch then
than God's temple, higher than the life-giving
cross thereon, and fell against the rear wall of the
court, where her skin burst.

"Foolish are ye, my children!" cried the Nightingale.
"Fetch from the vaults a cart-load of
fair gold, another of pure silver and a third of fine
seed-pearls, and give to the Old Kazák, Ilya of
Murom, that he may set me free."

Quoth Ilya: "If I should plant my sharp spear
in the earth, and if thou shouldst heap treasure
about it until it was covered, yet would I not
release thee, Nightingale, lest thou shouldst resume
thy thieving. But follow me now to glorious Kief
town, that thou mayest receive forgiveness there."

Then his good Cloudfall began to prance, and
the Magic Bird at his stirrup to dance, and in this
wise came the good youth, the Old Kazák, to
Kief, to glorious Prince Vladimir.

Now, fair Prince Vladimir of royal Kief was not
at home; he had gone to God's temple. Therefore
Ilya entered the court without leave or announcement,
bound his horse to the golden ring
in the carven pillar, and laid his commands upon
that good heroic steed: "Guard thou the Nightingale,
my charger, that he depart not from my
stirrup of steel."

And to Nightingale he said: "Look to it,

Nightingale, that thou depart not from my good
steed; for there is no place in all the white world
where thou mayest securely hide thyself from me!"

Then he betook himself to the Easter mass.
There he crossed himself and did reverence as
prescribed, on all four sides, and to the Fair Sun
Prince Vladimir in particular. And after the mass
was over, Prince Vladimir sent to bid the strange
hero to the feast, and there inquired of him from
what horde and land he came, and what was his
parentage. So Ilya told him that he was the only
son of honourable parents. "I stood at my home
in Murom, at matins," quoth he, "and mass was
but just ended when I came hither by the straight
way."

When the heroes that sat at the prince's table
heard that, they looked askance at him.

"Nay, good youth, liest thou not? boastest thou
not?" said Fair Sun Vladimir. "That way hath
been lost these thirty years, for there stand great
barriers therein; accursed Tatars in the fields,
black morasses; and beside the famed Smorodina,
amid the bending birches, is the nest of the Nightingale
on seven oaks; and that Magic Bird hath
nine sons and eight daughters, and one is a witch.
He hath permitted neither horse nor man to pass
him these many years."

"Nay, thou Fair Sun Prince Vladimir," Ilya
answered; "I did come the straight way, and the
Nightingale Robber now sitteth bound within thy
court."

Then all left the tables of white oak, and each
outran the other to view the Nightingale, as he
sat bound to the steel stirrup, with one eye fixed
on Kief town and the other on Chernigof from
force of habit. And Princess Apraxia came forth
upon the railed balcony to look.

Prince Vladimir spoke: "Whistle, thou Nightingale,
roar like an aurochs, hiss like a dragon."

But the Nightingale replied: "Not thy captive
am I, Vladimir. 'Tis not thy bread I eat. But
give me wine."

"Give him a cup of green wine," spake Ilya,
"a cup of a bucket and a half, in weight a pood
and a half, and a cake of fine wheat flour, for his
mouth is now filled with blood from my dart."

Vladimir fetched a cup of green wine, and one
of the liquor of drunkenness, and yet a third of
sweet mead; and the Nightingale drained each at
a draught. Then the Old Kazák commanded the
Magic Bird to whistle, roar and hiss, but under his
breath, lest harm might come to any.

But the Nightingale, out of malice, did all with
his full strength. And at that cry, all the ancient
palaces in Kief fell in ruins, the new castles rocked,
the roofs through all the city fell to the ground,
damp mother earth quivered, the heroic steeds fled
from the court, the young damsels hid themselves,
the good youths dispersed through the streets, and
as many as remained to listen died. Ilya caught up
Prince Vladimir under one arm and his Princess
under the other, to shield them; yet was Vladimir
as though dead for the space of three hours.

"For this deed of thine thou shalt die," spake
Ilya in his wrath, and Vladimir prayed that at
least a remnant of his people might be spared.

The Nightingale began to entreat forgiveness,
and that he might be allowed to build a great
monastery with his ill-gotten gold. "Nay," said
Ilya, "this kind buildeth never, but destroyeth
alway."

With that he took Nightingale the Robber by his
white hands, led him far out upon the open plain,
fitted a burning arrow to his stout bow, and shot it

into the black breast of that Magic Bird. Then
he struck off his turbulent head, and scattered his
bones to the winds,[2] and mounting his good Cloudfall,
came again to Prince Vladimir.

Again they sat at the oaken board, eating savoury
viands and white swans, and quaffing sweet mead.
Great gifts and much worship did Ilya receive, and
Vladimir gave command that he should be called
evermore Ilya of Murom the Old Kazák, after his
native town.

Bold Alyosha the Pope's Son

From famous Rostof, that fair town, rode
forth two mighty heroes, like two bright
falcons soaring. Alyosha[1] Popovich (the
pope's dear child) and Akim[2] Ivanovich were they
hight. Shoulder to shoulder rode the warriors,
heroic stirrup pressed to stirrup.

And as they roamed the open plain, they saw
nothing,—no birds flying overhead, nor beast fleet
coursing over the plain. They found but three
broad roads lying upon the steppe, and where
these ways met, a burning stone and a writing
thereon.

Then said young Alyosha: "Thou, brother
Akim Ivanovich, art learned in the lore of schools.
Look now upon this writing on this stone, and
interpret to me its meaning."

So Akim leaped from his good steed, and looked
upon the writing, and found the three broad ways
depicted therein.

The first way lay to Murom, the second to
Chernigof, the third to Kief town and courteous
Prince Vladimir.

Said Akim: "Ho there, brother, young Alyosha
Popovich! Which way doth it please thee to
ride?"

And young Alyosha answered: "Better will it
be for us to go to Kief town, to courteous Prince
Vladimir."

So they wheeled their good steeds about, and
rode to Kief town.

Ere they reached the Safat river, they halted
amid green meadows (for Akim must needs feed
the horses). There they pitched two pavilions,
for Alyosha desired greatly to sleep. And when
young Akim had hobbled the good steeds, and
loosed them in the green meadow, he lay down
likewise in his own pavilion to slumber.

The autumn night passed. Alyosha awoke right
early, rose, washed himself in the dews of dawn,
dried himself upon a white cloth, and prayed God
toward the East. Then young Akim went to the
good steeds, and led them to the Safat stream to
water them, for Alyosha had commanded him
to saddle them with speed; and when this was
done they mounted, and made ready to go to Kief
town.

As they rode, there met them in the way a wandering
psalm-singer. His foot-gear was woven of
the seven silks, soled with pure silver, and the faces
were studded with red gold. His long mantle was
of sable, his hat from Sorochinsky, from the
Grecian land; his travelling whip weighed thirty
poods, his cudgel moulded of heaviest lead weighed
fifty. He spoke this word:

"Hail, bold and goodly youths! I have seen
Tugarin the Dragon's Son. His stature is three
fathoms, and the breadth across his shoulders is a
full fathom; the space between his eyes is an
arrow's length. The horse beneath him is like a
wild beast; from his throat flames flash, from his
ears smoke riseth in a pillar."

Then bold Alyosha Popovich bade the psalm-singer

yield his pilgrim garb, and receive Alyosha's
heroic raiment in exchange. So the pilgrim refused
not, but gave his garments to Alyosha, and
put on the heroic raiment. And with speed did
Alyosha array himself, as a wandering Kalyeka,[3]
took the staff of fifty poods and a dagger of damascened
steel, lest he should have need of it, and
went to the Safat river. There he found Tugarin
Dragon's Son, roaring in a huge voice: the green
oaks trembled, and Alyosha could hardly walk
for that roaring.

When young Tugarin beheld the pilgrim, he
demanded of him, what he had seen or heard of
young Alyosha, Pope's Son, for he would fain
thrust him through with his lance, and burn him
with fire.

Pilgrim Alyosha answered: "Come nearer;
for I hear not what thou sayest." Then, when
Tugarin drew near, Alyosha set himself against
him, brandished his staff about his head, and smote
Tugarin's tempestuous head, and broke it. Tugarin
fell to the damp earth, and Alyosha sprang
upon his black breast: whereupon young Tugarin
besought him:

"Hail, thou wandering psalm-singer! Art thou
not young Alyosha Popovich? If thou be he in
very truth, let us now swear brotherhood."

But Alyosha trusted not his enemy. He smote
off his turbulent head, drew off his flowered garments
(their value was one hundred thousand
roubles), put them all on himself, mounted his good
steed, and set out for his white pavilion.

But when Akim and the pilgrim beheld him, they
were sore afraid; they mounted their good steeds,

and rode toward Rostof town. But young Alyosha
followed and outrode them. When Akim Ivanovich
saw that, he turned about, drew forth his
battle-mace of thirty poods, and flung it behind
him (for he thought from the garments it had been
young Tugarin Dragon's Son), and struck Alyosha's
white breast, thrusting him from his Cherkessian
saddle.

Alyosha fell to the damp earth. Then Akim
sprang down from his good steed, and would have
pierced his white breast, but perceived thereon a
wondrous cross of gold, and so said to the pilgrim:

"This thing hath come upon me for my sins—
that I should slay mine own brother!" Then
began they both to shake and rock Alyosha, and
gave him liquor from beyond the sea; and therewith
he became whole again, and they fell to
converse among themselves, and to changing of
raiment. The wandering psalm-singer put upon
him once more his pilgrim's habit, Alyosha took
again his heroic garments, and laid Tugarin the
Dragon's Son's flowered apparel in his saddle-bags.
Then they mounted their good steeds, and rode to
Kief town to courteous Prince Vladimir.

When they came to the princely court, they
lighted down from their good steeds, bound them
to the oaken pillars, and entered the fair hall.
There they prayed before the Saviour's picture,
touched their foreheads to the ground, doing
homage to Prince Vladimir, Princess Apraxia, and
on all four sides. Courteous Prince Vladimir
inquired their names and their country, and
Alyosha made answer:

"Lord, I am called Alyosha Popovich: I come
from Rostof, and am son to the aged pope of the
cathedral."

Then Vladimir rejoiced, and said: "Hail,

young Alyosha Popovich! According to thy lineage,
seat thyself in the great place, the fore corner; or
in the second, the heroic place, on the oaken bench
over against me; or in the third place, wheresoever
thou desirest."

Alyosha seated himself not in the great place,
but with his comrade on the beam of the oven-bench.
And after a little space, lo! twelve mighty
heroes bare in Tugarin the Dragon's Son on a great
sheet of pure gold,[4] and seated him in the great
place beside the Princess Apraxia. Then they
fetched sugar viands, honeyed drinks, and all
foreign liquors, and all began to eat, drink, and
make merry.

But Tugarin Dragon's Son ate not his bread
with honour; he thrust a whole loaf into his cheek
(and they were monastery loaves of vast size).
And not with honour did Tugarin drink: he gulped
a whole cup down at a swallow, and the measure
of that cup was a bucket and a half.

Then spoke up bold Alyosha Popovich: "Ho
there, courteous lord, Prince Vladimir! What lout
is this that is come to the court, what untutored
fool? For he sitteth not honourably at thy table,
but layeth his hand upon the Princess Apraxia,
kisseth her on her sugar mouth, and jeereth at
thee, Prince. My lord and father had an old dog,
that dragged himself with labour under the table,
and choked himself with a bone. My father took
him by the tail, and flung him out of the courtyard.
And I will do the same to Tugarin."

Tugarin blackened like a night in autumn, and
Alyosha was like the bright moon.

And again the cooks were cunning, and fetched

savoury viands and a white swan, which the Princess
essayed to carve; and so doing, she cut her left
hand. Then she wrapped it in her sleeve, let it
hang beneath the table, and said: "Ah, ye heroes
and nobles! Fain would I carve the white swan,
were it not that I am still more fain to gaze upon
this sweet youth, Tugarin Dragon's Son."

As she spoke, Tugarin seized the white swan,
and suddenly swallowed it whole, and therewith
yet another great round loaf. Alyosha said:

"Courteous Lord Vladimir! What boor and
unpolished dullard is this that sitteth here? He
thrusteth whole loaves into his cheek, and maketh
but a mouthful of a white swan. My lord and
father, Pope Feodor of Rostof, had a miserable old
cow. With pain she dragged herself to the courtyard,
and broke into the kitchen, where she drank
a keg of spiced small beer,—and burst. Pope
Feodor took her by the tail, and swung her upon
the hill. So also will I do to Tugarin the Dragon's
Son."

At this word, Tugarin turned black as an autumn
night, plucked out his steel dagger, and flung it
at Alyosha. But Alyosha was nimble, and Tugarin
could not touch him. Akim Ivanovich seized the
dagger, and said to Alyosha:

"Wilt thou cast it at him thyself, or dost thou
command me to hurl it?"

"I will neither cast it, nor command thee. Tomorrow
I will meet him, I will lay a great wager
with him—not of a hundred roubles, nor yet of a
thousand; but my tempestuous head shall be
my stake."

Then sprang all the princes and nobles to their
nimble feet, and backed Tugarin. The princes
staked a hundred roubles, the nobles fifty each, the
peasants five. And the trading guests who chanced

there, staked on Tugarin all their three vessels,
and all the foreign merchandise that stood on the
swift Dnyepr. Alyosha's only backer was the ruler
of Chernigof.

Then Tugarin rose in haste, went forth, mounted
his good steed, spread his paper wings, and flew
through the air.

The Princess Apraxia sprang to her nimble feet,
and began to upbraid Alyosha Popovich.

"Thou villager, thou rustic lout! thou wouldest
not let my sweet friend tarry!"

But Alyosha heeded not her words; he rose, and,
having called his comrade, hastened forth.

They mounted, and rode to the Safat river, and
pitched their white pavilions; preparing to rest,
they loosed their horses in the green meadow.
All that night Alyosha slept not, but besought God
with tears: "Fashion, O God, a threatening cloud,
send a cloud with rain and hail!"

Alyosha's prayers came to Christ the Lord. God
sent the cloud, and wet Tugarin's paper wings, so
that he fell like a dog upon the damp earth. Then
Akim came and told Alyosha that he had seen
Tugarin stretched upon the earth; and Alyosha
arrayed himself with speed, mounted his good
steed, took his sharp sword, and rode against
Tugarin the Dragon's Son.

When Tugarin beheld Alyosha, he roared in a
piercing voice: "Ho there, young Alyosha Popovich!
Shall I burn thee with fire, or trample upon
thee with my horse, or impale thee upon my lance?"

"Hail, young Tugarin Dragon's Son," Alyosha
answered, "thou didst lay a great wager with me,
to contend and fight in single combat; but now
there is neither strength nor daring left in thee
against me." Then, when Tugarin glanced behind
him, Alyosha sprang forward with speed, and

hewed off his head. As the head fell upon the
damp earth, it was like a beer-kettle.

Then Alyosha leaped from his good steed, uncoiled
the cord from his horse, pierced Tugarin's
ears, bound the head to his horse; and having
brought it to Kief in this fashion, he flung it into
the midst of the royal courtyard.

When Prince Vladimir beheld Alyosha, he
entered his fair hall, seated himself at his richly
decked table, and bade the banquet proceed for
Alyosha.

After it had continued for a space, Prince
Vladimir spoke: "Ho, young Alyosha Popovich!
In one moment thou hast given me solace. Dwell
henceforth in Kief town, I pray thee, and serve
me, Prince Vladimir, and I will reward thee with
love, and with all my heart."

This prayer bold young Alyosha Popovich disregarded
not, and began to serve Vladimir with
loyalty and truth.

But the Princess said: "Thou villager and
rustic lout! Thou hast parted me and my dear
friend, young Tugarin the Dragon's Son."

Thereto Alyosha made answer: "Little mother,
Princess Apraxia, I had almost called thee then
by the name which thou hast merited."

The One and Forty Pilgrims

ON the open plain many great and mighty
heroes assembled, forty bogatyrs and one;
and the one was young Kasyan Mikailovich,
their ataman.

They halted in a green meadow, dismounted
from their good steeds, and sat down in a circle to
hold counsel together; and began to tell exploits.

They told whither one bold and goodly youth
had journeyed, how a certain other had been in
many lands and hordes, which one had slain the
accursed Tatars, and which the infidels for ever
accursed.

When young Kasyan Mikailovich heard the discourse
of these mighty heroes, he addressed them
thus: "Greatly have ye sinned against God, ye
mighty warriors! For many turbulent heads have
ye slain without avail, and have shed hot blood.
Are ye therefore agreed to what I shall propose?
Better is it for us now, to disperse our great host,
and go to Jerusalem city to pray God in the holy
sanctuary, to kiss the grave of the Lord, and to
bathe in Jordan river, that our sins may be forgiven.
But it behoveth us to lay upon ourselves
a great vow, ye mighty heroes!—not to rob nor
steal, not to yield to woman's charms, nor stain our
knightly hands with blood.

"And if any shall offend against this vow, then

shall his nimble feet be hewn off at the knee, his
white hands at the elbow; his clear eyes shall be
plucked from his brow, and his tongue torn out
with pincers; and he shall be buried to the breast
in damp mother earth."

This in no wise terrified the heroes, and they all
agreed thereto. Then they loosed their good steeds
upon the silken grass, to roam the open plain, and
donned palmer's weeds. Over their heroic shoulders
they threw their beggar's pouches of black cut
velvet, embroidered in red gold, and strewn with
fair seed-pearls. On their heads they set caps
from the Grecian land, and in their white hands
they took staves of precious fishes' teeth.[1] Their
raiment was like the poppy in hue, and each bore
in his hand a precious antaventa stone. By day
they journeyed by the fair sun's light; by night
these stones, and the jewels woven into their
foot-gear of the seven silks, lighted them on their
way.

In this wise wandered the good youths from
horde to horde, and so drew near to glorious Kief
town. In the open plain they met the Fair Sun
Prince Vladimir, hunting the white swan, geese,
and small gray migratory ducks, foxes and hares,
martens and sables black.

When Prince Vladimir drew near, the pilgrims
shouted in piercing tones: "Vladimir, Prince of
royal Kief! give alms to the wandering psalm-singers.
We will not take a rouble, nor yet a rouble
and a half; but whole thousands must thou give,
yea, forty thousand well told!"

Then Prince Vladimir lighted down from his
good steed, and greeted them, beseeching them to

sing him the spiritual song of Elena, for he was
fain to hear it from them.

So the pilgrims thrust their staves into the damp
earth, and hung their pouches thereon, and standing
in a circle, as is the custom with wandering
psalm-singers, they sang the psalm of Elena in a
half voice.

—Mother earth trembled, the water in the lakes
surged, the gloomy forests shook, and on the
mountains the damp oaks bowed. Vladimir could
neither stand nor sit nor lie. "Enough of this
psalm of Elena, good youths!" he cried. So the
wandering psalm-singers took their velvet pouches,
and made ready to pursue their journey.

Said Prince Vladimir then: "I have with me
neither bread nor salt nor golden treasure. But
go ye to Kief, to my Princess Apraxia; she will
give you food and drink and lodging. Go, therefore,
to my princely palace, and say that the Fair
Sun Prince Vladimir sent you from the open plain."

So they journeyed a day, and yet another day,
and came to glorious Kief town: there they sought
the spacious courtyard of the palace, and besought
alms for Christ's sake. At their piercing cry, the
domes tumbled from the lofty castles, the crowns
from the trees; mother earth quaked, and the
liquors in the cellars grew thick.

The Princess Apraxia heard that great shout,
and thrust herself out of the lattice window to her
waist, quivering exceedingly with terror. Then
she sent the stewards and cupbearers to greet
young Kasyan Mikailovich and his companions,
and bid them enter.

When the pilgrims mounted the fair porch, step
bent to step, and the new antechamber sagged
beneath their tread. They crossed themselves as
enjoined, prayed before the Saviour's picture, did

reverence as prescribed to three sides and to four,
and in particular to the Princess Apraxia.

The Princess bade them welcome, and commanded
fair cloths to be laid on the oaken tables
with all speed, sugar viands to be brought, and
honeyed drinks. Then all sat down to meat: the
pilgrims, the Princess Apraxia, with her nurses
and duennas, and her fair handmaidens. Young
Kasyan Mikailovich sat in the great place of honour,
and from his youthful countenance as from the fair
red sun, rays streamed. The stewards and cupbearers
hastened to and fro, bearing fair meats and
drinks.

They feasted long, even until the fair sun sank
in the west. Then the pilgrims were led to chambers
where they might repose; but the Princess
Apraxia herself led young Kasyan to a fair chamber
apart, where stood a couch of smooth boards
with bed of down, heavy cushions, and a coverlet
of rich black sables.

And when all were asleep in the palace, save
young Kasyan who was praying God, the Princess
Apraxia came to him, and told him of her love.

But young Kasyan recounted to her the great
vow which he had taken, and bade her tempt him
not, but go thence.

Nevertheless she came again, and yet the third
time; then the good youth seized his stout cudgel
and brandished it, and bade her begone, or he
would smite her until she fell upon the brick floor.
At that she was troubled, and went thence; but
when Kasyan had fallen into a deep sleep, the
Princess crept down from the glazed oven, took
his pouch of rich velvet, ripped it open and placed
therein the silver bratina,[2] from which the Prince

was wont to drink, on his return from the field;
then she sewed up the velvet again so that it might
not be perceived.

The next morning very early, the one and forty
pilgrims arose, washed themselves very white, put
on their shoes, and prayed to God. The Princess
commanded the oaken tables to be served; and
when the pilgrims had eaten and drunk their fill,
they prayed God for the Fair Sun Prince Vladimir,
returned thanks to the Princess Apraxia, swung
their heroic pouches on their heroic shoulders,
bowing low, and set out for Jerusalem.

A little space after their departure, Fair Sun
Vladimir came from the open plain, and sat down
to eat and drink. Then the cupbearers began to
search for the royal bratina, through all the palace,
and Vladimir said:

"Which of you hath taken the royal cup?"

The Princess Apraxia made answer in their
stead: "Aï, Fair Sun Prince Vladimir! there came
hither from the open plain, sent by thee, forty
psalm-singers and one. Is it not they, perchance,
who have carried off the royal cup? For they
lodged here one night, and are but lately departed
hence. They have taken thy royal cup!"

Then Prince Vladimir gave command in haste,
that his mighty heroes should ride after the pilgrims.
But Ilya of Murom warned him:

"Aï, Fair Sun Vladimir! these be no wandering
psalm-singers, but one and forty heroes bold, and
whom have we to send against them?"

"Let us send bold Alyosha Popovich," quoth

Vladimir. So Alyosha was despatched, and bidden
to speak them fair.

But Alyosha was not courteous by nature, and
when he came up with them, and beheld them
sitting, eating bread and refreshing themselves, he
cried:

"Ho there! ye are not wandering psalm-singers,
but forty thieves and robbers! Yield now peaceably
the royal cup which ye have stolen!"

Then sprang young Kasyan Mikailovich to his
nimble feet, grasped his travelling cudgel, and
flourished it widely.

"Did we go to Kief town for your royal bratina?"
quoth he. "Nay, but I will give thee
the cup."

Alyosha beheld with great terror that there was
nothing to be done, and, wheeling his good steed
about in haste, returned again to Kief. To Prince
Vladimir he said that the brigands had set upon
him when he asked for the royal cup, and had
nearly unhorsed him, so that he had escaped with
difficulty.

Again spoke the old Kazák: "Heed not that
daring fool Alyosha, Prince Vladimir! for I know
well how he addressed them. There is none for
us to send but Dobrynya Nikitich: lo! he knoweth
how to petition with courtesy."

So Dobrynya gat to horse, and when he came
upon the forty and one sitting on the open plain,
eating and refreshing themselves, he cried:

"Hail, ye forty pilgrims and one! I beseech
your hospitality."

"Come hither, good youth," they answered, "sit
with us, eat our bread and salt."

"Aï, ye pilgrims," quoth Dobrynya: "how
shall I tell you, good youths? There is a great
tumult amongst us of Kief.—For the royal cup of

gold is lost; without it, the Prince will not taste his
mead. I pray you, therefore, good youths, search
your pouches, lest it may have strayed into them
through error."

Then each looked upon the other, and knew not
what to do. Said young Kasyan Mikailovich:

"Dear comrades, pious pilgrims! open your
pouches, and show them to this youth."

All the pilgrims rose to their nimble feet, took
their pouches, and showed to young Dobrynya:
but the royal cup was not in them. Last of all,
young Kasyan Mikailovich opened his pouch, and
lo! the princely cup was there. Then all were
exceeding wroth, and in great amaze, and said:

"What shall we do with thee now, young
Kasyan Mikailovich? lo, it was thyself who didst
impose that great vow."

"Beloved comrades," young Kasyan made
answer, "I did not steal the royal cup: this thing
hath the Princess Apraxia contrived because I
would not yield to her. Nevertheless, do ye now
the thing commanded, and break not your solemn
vows."

Then they all wept and began to take leave of
him; and though it was very grievous to them,
they fulfilled their vow. They hewed off his nimble
feet to the knee, his white arms to the elbow,
plucked his clear eyes from his brow and his
tongue from his mouth, and buried him to the
breast in damp mother earth. Then they bade
him farewell, as a dead man, and betook themselves
to Jerusalem.

Young Dobrynya Nikitich looked on at all their
deed, then rode thence with all speed, bearing the
royal cup, and came to Kief town, to Prince Vladimir's
spacious court, gave the cup to the Fair
Sun, and related the marvel he had seen; and how

they had not stolen the royal cup, which was found
upon them by mistake. But he told not what the
Princess Apraxia had done. From that hour the
Princess Apraxia fell ill with grief, and lay on
the great dungheap. But Prince Vladimir and
many of his heroes made ready to go and view that
great marvel.

But before them came Mikola[3] of Mozhaisk to
young Kasyan Mikailovich, and restored his nimble
feet, his white hands, his clear eyes, and his tongue:
he put breath also into Kasyan's white breast, set
him on his nimble feet, and spake this word: "Go
thy way, young Kasyan Mikailovich! thou shalt
find thy friends at their first halting-place. The
Lord hath sent me to thee, good youth, because
thou wert wrongfully slain, not having stolen the
royal cup. Go now to Jerusalem, pray God in the
sanctuary, kiss the Lord's grave, bathe in Jordan
river. And when thou art come again to this
our land, build a cathedral church to Mikola of
Mozhaisk; for I am he."

Then the hoary-headed old man vanished.
Young Kasyan went his way, and overtook his
companions late at night. He found them eating
bread, and marvelling that they had executed him.
But when they beheld him fairer than before, with
his long curls hanging to his waist, and knew that
the Lord and none other had been his help, they
rejoiced with great joy.

When Prince Vladimir and his heroes came to
the spot where Kasyan had been slain, and found
the deep pit wherein he had been sunk to the
breast, but found him not, they were in great
amaze, and returned to Kief town.

After the forty pilgrim-heroes and one had made
their pilgrimage to Jerusalem, they returned again

to where they had left their good steeds roaming,
and rode to Kief town, to Fair Sun Vladimir's
spacious court, where they asked alms in Christ's
name, that they might have the wherewithal to
dine.

Prince Vladimir heeded their mighty shout
which shook the palace, and bade them enter, and
eat his bread. But they answered:

"Nay, we will not enter thy palace, for the
Princess Apraxia is there, and she will again lay
the royal cup in our young Kasyan Mikailovich's
pouch."

So they told Vladimir what the Princess had
done when they had lodged there, and how the
good youth whom they had slain, had nevertheless
accompanied them to Jerusalem. Then
Prince Vladimir sent his stewards and cupbearers
to make obeisance to them and entreat them to
enter.

When they obeyed, Prince Vladimir saluted
young Kasyan courteously, and Kasyan inquired
how it fared with the Princess Apraxia;—if she
were well. Thereto Vladimir made reluctant
answer, "Let us not go to her for a week or two."
Young Kasyan heeded not his speech, but went
straightway with the Prince to her chamber; and
as they went the Prince held his nose, but Kasyan
cared not for the odour. They opened the doors of
the fair chamber, and flung wide the little lattice
casements. The Princess prayed to be forgiven;
thereupon young Kasyan breathed upon her with
his holy breath, laid his holy hand upon her and
pardoned her, and she was solaced; for she had
suffered much, lying in shame a full half-year.

Then young Kasyan returned with Prince Vladimir
to the banquet-hall, prayed before the Saviour's
picture, and sat down with his comrades at the

richly adorned tables. They ate and drank and
refreshed themselves; and when they would have
pursued their journey, courteous Prince Vladimir
besought them urgently to abide yet a day with him.

Young Princess Apraxia also came forth from
her retreat, arrayed herself with speed, and adorned
herself, and came to the table with her nurses,
ladies in waiting and fair handmaidens. Young
Kasyan she saluted without shame or confusion,
though her sin lay in her mind, and Kasyan waved
his small right hand over the sugar viands, hedging
them about with the sign of the cross, and a
blessing.

When all had feasted their fill, they saddled
their good steeds, and having taken leave of courteous
Prince Vladimir and of each other, they rode
each to his own country.

And none of these forty heroes and one ever
again roamed the open plain seeking adventures,
nor stained their white hands with blood.

When young Kasyan Mikailovich came to his
own land, he raised a cathedral church to Mikola
of Mozhaisk, and began to pray constantly to God,
and to repent of his sins.

Ilya in Disguise

ON a day, as Ilya rode in the open plain,
he communed thus with himself: "Lo, I
have been in many lands, but 'tis long
since I was in Kief town; I will ride thither, and
learn what is doing there."

When he came to the palace in the royal city,
Prince Vladimir was holding a merry feast. Ilya
entered straight the banquet hall, crossed himself
as prescribed, did reverence as enjoined, bowing on
all four sides, and to the Fair Sun Prince Vladimir
and the Princess Apraxia in particular. But
Vladimir knew him not.

"What is thy name and tribe?" he asked; "and
what thy patronymic?"

And Ilya made answer: "Bright Vladimir, Fair
little Sun! I am called Nikita from beyond the
Forest."

"Ho there, thou brave and free little fellow!
Sit down with us now, to eat bread and to feast:
there is yet a little place yonder at the lower end
of the table; the other places are filled. For
prince-nobles, rulers, rich merchants and bold warrior-maids
hold feast with me to-day, and sixty
great Russian heroes."

The Old Kazák liked not this speech,—that he
should break bread at the lower end of the table;
and he said this word: "And ho, thou Fair Sun

Prince Vladimir! Thou eatest, feastest with the
crows thyself, yet seatest me with the little crows?
Nay! but I will not eat bread with nursling
crows!"

This speech in turn pleased not the Fair Sun
Prince. He sprang to his nimble feet, clouding
over like the dusky night, and roared as he had
been a wild beast.

"Ho there, ye mighty Russian heroes! Will
ye hear yourselves called crows—yea, and little
crows?—Seize the fellow, ye heroes, three by each
arm; lead him into the spacious court, and there
strike off his turbulent head."

They led him forth; but Ilya waved one hand,
and three heroes lay dead; he waved the other
hand, and the other three fell dead likewise.

Then Prince Vladimir commanded that twelve
should seize him; and with them it fared the
same. Then twelve grasped him, with six more
behind; and these eighteen met their fate likewise,
for Ilya's heroic heart burned within him
when he was thus led out with ignominy.

He fitted an arrow to his stout bow. "Fly, my
shaft, about the princely windows," he conjured
it; "bear off all the golden spires, and the wonderworking
crosses on God's temples."

Then he gathered up all the spires and crosses,
went to the royal pot-house, sold the precious spires
for countless treasure, and began to drink up the
imperial roofs in green wine. He assembled also
all the hangers-on of the pot-house, sots, and all
who could drink green wine, led them into the
kabak, and bade them help him drink the princely
spires.

"What will the Prince do," said they, "when
he knoweth that we are drinking his royal spires?"

"Drink, boon companions! care ye not for

that. To-morrow I shall reign as Prince in Kief
town, and ye shall be my chiefs."

—Fair Sun Vladimir of royal Kief perceived
that a great misfortune was at hand, and knew not
who it might be that was come thus to town. But
young Dobrynya Nikitich spoke up: "I know all
the mighty heroes save one,—the Old Kazák Ilya
of Murom. Of him I have heard that his death
is not decreed in battle. This is no Nikita from
beyond the Forest. It is Ilya of Murom. Thou
hast not known, Vladimir, how to welcome thy
guest on his coming, nor honour him at his
going."

"Whom shall we send to bid him to an honourable
feast?" said Vladimir in amaze. "Bold
Alyosha Popovich will not know how to bid him,
and Churilo Plenkovich is good for nothing but
to strut among the maids and women. We must
send a clever man, who can read and write, one
whose discourse is reasonable. Go thou, therefore,
Dobrynya Nikitich; beat thy forehead against the
brick floor, against damp mother earth, before him,
and say: `Prince Vladimir hath sent me to thee,
thou Old Kazák, Ilya of Murom, to bid thee to a
worshipful feast. He knew thee not, good youth,
and for that cause alone did he place thee at the
lower end of the board to eat his bread. But now
he entreateth thee to him with heartiness and great
joy, and commands thee not to bear ill will for
what is past. For thy place, which was the worst
of all, shall now be the best, to wit, in the great
corner.' "

Then Dobrynya thought within himself: "Shall
I not go to sudden death at Ilya's hands? But
if I obey not Fair Sun Prince Vladimir, it will fare
ill with me."

So he betook himself to the imperial pot-house,

where sat Ilya of Murom drinking and carousing
with the brawlers."

"It is better that I should approach him from
behind!" thought Dobrynya. And so he did, and
seized Ilya by his mighty shoulders, and delivered
his message.

"Happy art thou, young Dobrynya Nikitich,"
quoth the Old Kazák, "in that thou camest upon
me from behind. Hadst thou approached me from
the front, thou shouldst have become ashes ere
now! Now go, and say these words to thy Fair
Sun Prince: `Let strict ukases be promulgated
throughout all the towns of Kief and Chernigof,
that all the pot-houses and drinking places of whatever
sort be opened freely for the space of three
days, that all the people may drink green wine
without price. And whoso drinketh no green
wine, let him quaff the beer of drunkenness; and
he who drinketh that not, sweet mead; that all
may know that the Old Kazák Ilya of Murom is
come to famous Kief town.' Let this be done, and
let an honourable banquet be made, or the Prince
shall reign no longer than until to-morrow's
morn!"

Then quickly, quickly, very, very quickly and
with speed ran Dobrynya to Prince Vladimir, and
quickly, very, very quickly were the stern ukases
issued, and a mighty banquet prepared.

And vast multitudes assembled in the pot-houses,
not to eat or drink, but to view the Old
Kazák.

When Ilya came to the princely palace, he did
reverence to all, and to the Prince and Princess in
particular. Then Vladimir rose to his nimble feet,
and spoke: "Ho there, thou Old Kazák Ilya of
Murom! Here is a place for thee beside me,
either on my right hand or my left, and yet a third

place—wherever it pleaseth thee to sit." Therewith
he took Ilya by his white hands, and kissed
him on his sugar mouth.

And as they sat on the four-square stools about
the oaken tables laden with sweet viands, Ilya took
not the highest place, but a lesser, and put the sots
from the imperial pot-house about him. And they
began to eat and drink and make merry.

Thus was Ilya reconciled to courteous Prince
Vladimir.

Dobrynya the Dragon-Slayer,
and Marina

FROM far, very far in the open plain, and
farther yet in the valley, fled the herd of
beasts, of wild beasts and serpents: at their
head ran the Skiper-beast, with woolly hide, crumpled
horns, and little hoofs of steel. The Skiper-beast
fled to the Dnyepr river, and all the Dnyepr's waters
were troubled. Its fair steep banks quaked, the
delicate tree-tops fell to the earth in concert,
brothers, when they heard of that birth.—For in
Holy Russia the Rich, young Dobrynya[1] Nikitich
was born that day.

When Dobrynya grew to man's estate, three
years he feasted, three years he served as steward,
three more he stood as keeper at the gate. Yet
no fair word did he win of Vladimir, or soft bread,
but only a good steed.

In the tenth year, courteous Prince Vladimir
made a great feast in royal Kief town, whereat
many heroes and bold warrior-maidens were assembled,
eating and drinking merrily. Young
Dobrynya Nikitich sat at the end of the oaken
board, and spoke:

"Fair Sun Vladimir of royal Kief! I have
served thee long in thy princely court: grant me
leave now to wander about Kief, through its narrow
lanes."

"Fly not forth, young sparrow," answered
Prince Vladimir, "young Dobrynya, gallop not
away."

But all the mighty Russian heroes said: "Go
crave permission of the honourable widow, Afimya
Alexandrevna, thy mother, to prowl about the
narrow lanes of Kief."

This Dobrynya did, and his mother counselled
him: "Walk through all the streets of Kief town,
roam the little alleys at thy will; only, go not to
the vile Princess Marina Ignatievna, who dwelleth
in a certain little lane. She is a witch, she hath
murdered Prince on Prince, many Kings and Crown
Princes, nine Russian heroes, clear falcons all, and
common folk without number. If thou goest to
that Marina, thou wilt lose thy life, Dobrynya."

The next day Dobrynya rose right early, washed
himself very white in spring water, took his stout
bow, his quiver of fiery arrows, and set out. As he
wandered through the streets and many narrow
lanes, he shot small sparrows on the halls, blue
doves upon the chambers, and so wandering, came
at length to Marina's lane. Her palace was richly
adorned. In her window sat a dark-blue dove and
his mate cooing, yellow bill to bill, and mouth to
mouth, with wing enfolding wing; and it pleased
not Dobrynya that they should sit thus. He
strung a silken cord to his bow, and fitted thereto
a flaming arrow, and shot at the dove and his
mate. The cord sang on the stout bow, but his
left foot slipped, his right hand trembled—the
arrow struck not the dove and mate, but flew
straight to the lofty palace, through the lattice
window to Marinushka the Vile, and slew Tugarin
Dragon's Son her dear friend who was with her
there.

Dobrynya reflected:—"If I enter that palace

I shall lose my head; if I enter not—my arrow."
Then he sent his trusty servant, his page, for the
arrow. "Thou miscreant, Marina! give back our
burning arrow," quoth the page. But Marina
said: "Nay, let him who shot the arrow come
himself." Thereupon Dobrynya entered with haste
the spacious court, and with courtesy the new
halls: fairly came he into the new chamber, and
took his fiery arrow.

Marina lay upon a couch; in her right hand
was a fiery dragon; on her left, two little serpents.
She took Dobrynya by his white hand, by his silver
ring, kissed his sugar mouth, and said:

"Ah, sweet Dobrynya Nikitich, give me thy
love!" Dobrynya made answer: "Sweet Marinushka
Ignatievna, I will not! Thou hast slain
nine mighty Russian heroes, and art minded to
slay me likewise." Then he turned from the new
chamber, and went forth into the spacious court,
and so home to his mother.

Up sprang Marinushka then, seized her dagger,
and hacked Dobrynya's footsteps, flung them into
the oven painted with many devices, and conjured
them with a powerful incantation: "Burn, ye footsteps
of Dobrynya, burn, in this oven of many
hues; and may his spirit likewise burn within him
for me! As I cut these footsteps, may Dobrynya's
dear little heart cut for me!"[2]

Then worse than a sharp knife cut Dobrynya's
heroic heart. That evening he ate nothing, at
midnight he slumbered not, and waited only for
the white dawn.

Early rang the matin bells, and very early he
arose, girt on his sharp sword, and went to the

cathedral to the service; and thence to Marina's
dwelling.

When he came to the Princess, he bowed low
before her; but she rose not, sat in discourteous
wise, and returned not his salutation.

"Ah, sweet Marinushka, give me thy love!" he
said.

"What need is there for thee, young Dobrynya,
to jest and make merry over me? Long since I
sought thy love, and thou lovedst me not:—and
now thou cravest it of me! Now thou art in my
hands! If I will, I can turn thee into a magpie,
a raven, a pig, or an aurochs with golden horns,
silver hoofs and velvet hide, or into a frog of the
under world;—and from that last estate there is
no return for ever."

Then she transformed him into a brown aurochs,
and sent him forth into the open plain, to drink
swamp water and to eat marsh grass, to be chief
over the nine brown aurochs who roamed there—
the mighty heroes her bridegrooms.

And as Dobrynya roamed there, a golden-horned
aurochs, he espied a flock of geese, which belonged
to Avdotya Ivanovna, his beloved aunt. All these
did he trample under foot to the last gosling, not
one did he leave. Then the goose-herds came and
made complaint.

"Aï, young Avdotya Ivanovna! an aurochs with
golden horns hath trampled under foot all our
geese; not one hath he left us." After them
followed the keepers of the swans, the shepherds
and herdsmen, with the same complaint. Not a
living creature of all their flocks and herds had
the golden aurochs spared. Then Avdotya Ivanovna
spoke:

"That aurochs of the golden horns is my well-beloved
nephew, young Dobrynya, whom Marina

the Vile hath transformed." But when the guardians
of the horses came and told how the aurochs
had dispersed their charge over all the plain, sparing
none, Avdotya rose in wrath. She turned herself
into a magpie, and flew to Marina the Vile,
perched in her little lattice window, and began to
scold, and say: "Vile Princess Marinushka! why
hast thou transformed Dobrynya into a golden-horned
aurochs, and loosed him to roam the open
plain? Turn back Dobrynya from his aurochs
form, else will I turn thee into a long-tailed dog,
and the children shall pursue thee;—into a magpie,
and thou shalt hover evermore above the open
plain in semblance of a pie."

Then Marina perceived that there was no help,
and so transformed herself into a gray swallow,
flew to the open plain, and alighting upon the
aurochs' golden horns chattered and said: "Swear
to me, Dobrynya Nikitich—for thou hast roamed
the field and art weary, the bubbling marshes and
art tired—swear now a great oath to take the
golden crown with me, with Marinushka, and I
will turn thee back from a golden-horned aurochs
to thine own shape again."

"Ah, sweet Marinushka!" Dobrynya answered,
"only turn me from this form, and I will take that
great oath. I will wed thee, Marina, and will even
give thee the little lessons wherewith a husband
instructeth his wife."

Then Marina believed him, and turned him into
a goodly youth as of old.

"Now I must wed thee about a bush, Marinushka,"
he said, "about a willow bush in the
open plain." So three times about the willow bush
they paced, and Dobrynya called Marina his wife,[3]
and set out with her for royal Kief town.

When they were come to Marina's lofty palace,
Dobrynya commanded the servant:

"Aï, my trusty servant! prithee a cup of green
wine; yet give me first a sharp sword."

Then Marina turned him into a little ermine,
and began to frighten him; but the ermine escaped
her snares. Then she turned him into a falcon,
and began to alarm and to tease the falcon, which
waved his wings, and besought the Princess Marina:

"I cannot fly as a falcon should, I can only
wave my wings; grant me to drain a cup of green
wine."

The young Princess thereupon transformed him
into a goodly youth, and Dobrynya shouted:

"Ho there, my trusty servant! a cup of green
wine!"

But the trusty servant gave him very quickly
a sharp sword. The cup of wine he quaffed not,
but brandished his sword, and cut off Marina's
turbulent head for her ungentle deeds.

In the morning he went to his warm steam
bath, and thither came princes and nobles.

"Hail, Dobrynya Nikitich, with thy bride!"
they said.

"Hail, ye princes and nobles and all the Court
of Vladimir! Last night I was wedded, brothers,
and no longer alone, but now I am single and no
longer wedded. I have cut off Marina's turbulent
head for her ruthless deeds; for she had slain
many Russian people, Princes and their heirs,
Kings and Crown Princes, nine mighty Russian
heroes, and of common folk an innumerable host!"

Ivan Godinovich

IN Kief town dwelt a great and mighty hero,
Ivan Godinovich,[1] nephew to Prince Vladimir.
Long he roamed through many infidel
lands; many great hosts did he assemble, frightened
Tzars and slew warriors.

Upon a certain day, courteous Prince Vladimir
made a great supper, whereat sat many honourable
widows. Ivan Godinovich sat with eyes fixed upon
the floor, eating nothing, drinking nothing, tasting
not the white swan.

"Ho there, Ivanushka!" spoke Prince Vladimir.
"Wherefore art thou sad? Is not thy seat to thy
liking? Have I passed thee by with the cup of
drunkenness? Hath the fool scoffed at thee, hath
a black raven cawed at thee, or have the dogs
barked?"

"None of these things have come to pass, Fair
Sun Prince Vladimir," Ivanushka replied. "But
all in Kief town are wedded: I only sit alone."

"Why then dost thou not wed likewise, Ivan
Godinovich?"

"Fain would I wed, lord, but that may not be.
Where I would take, there I am refused: and
where they would give, I will not take."

Then spoke courteous Prince Vladimir: "Ho
there, Ivan! Sit thou on this folding-chair, and
write a letter."

So Ivan sat upon the folding-chair, and wrote a
letter of wooing to Dmitry the rich merchant in
Chernigof town; and Vladimir the Prince set his
hand to it. "'Tis not thou, Ivan Godinovich,
who now goest a-wooing:—'tis I, Prince Vladimir,
who woo."

Then quickly did Ivan array himself, and quickly,
very, very quickly and with speed did he ride to
Chernigof town, one hundred and eighty versts by
measurement: that space Ivan compassed in two
hours. When he came to the courtyard of Dmitry
the Merchant, he leaped from his good steed and
bound him to the oaken pillar. Then he entered
the fair hall, prayed before the Saviour's picture,
did reverence to Merchant Dmitry, and laid the
letter upon the round table.

Guest[2] Dmitry broke the seal, looked upon it
and read it.

"Foolish Ivan! Senseless Ivan!" quoth he.
"Thou art not the first, Ivanushka! My Avdotya
is now betrothed to Tzar Koschei of a distant land.
If I give her to a Tzar, she will be a Tzaritza, and
all the nobles will bow before her in homage; but
if I give her to thee, she will be a serf, and must
sweep the cottage and clean the stable. But I
have a dog in my courtyard; her will I give to
thee."

Then was Ivan grieved: he seized the letter and
ran forth, mounted his good steed, and hastened
with what speed he might, to Kief, and told Prince
Vladimir all that had passed.

When Prince Vladimir heard how Ivan had been

scorned, he was grieved for Ivanushka's sake, tore
the black curls[3] from his head, and cast them upon
the brick floor. "Take her not, Ivan," he said.

Then was Ivan wroth, and departed from the
oaken tables, from the cloths richly patterned with
drawn-work; leave took he of none, but opened
the doors very wide and shut them very hard,
thrusting the door-posts aside.

"Ho there, Ivan Godinovich!" cried courteous
Prince Vladimir then, "Take a hundred of my
men, and a second hundred of the princely nobles,
and yet a third hundred of thine own. Go in
honour to woo, and if they give not the maid
willingly, then take her by force."

In haste did the youths assemble, and prepare
for their journey. They had but passed the swift
Dnyepr when a powdering of white snow fell, and
upon this light, pure snow they beheld traces of
three beasts. The first trace was of a brown
aurochs, the second of a fierce lion, the third of a
wild boar. Then Ivan began to tell off the youths
in companies. He sent a hundred men after the
brown aurochs, commanding them to take him
with care and without bloody wounds; another
hundred sent he in pursuit of the fierce lion, and
a third hundred after the wild boar,—these likewise
must be taken heedfully and without disfiguring
wounds, and borne to royal Kief, to great
Prince Vladimir.

But Ivan himself went on alone to Chernigof
town, rode into the midst of Guest Dmitry's
spacious court, and bound his good steed to the
oaken pillar. Then he entered the fair chamber,
and prayed before the Saviour's picture, but did
no reverence to Dmitry the rich merchant. With

Dmitry were sitting then divers of the Tatar bodyguard,[4]
who had brought a garment, in value one
hundred thousand roubles, from the Tzar Koschei
to his love Avdotya Dmitrievna.—The Tzar himself
was but three versts from Chernigof, and with
him was a host of three thousand men.

"Give me thy daughter," spoke Ivan Godinovich.

"Thou shalt have the dog in my courtyard,"
Dmitry made answer as before.

"I shall neither ask thee much nor long dispute,"
said Ivan; and thereupon he rose from the
hewn wall bench, pushed aside the silken hangings,
and so came into the new hall where sat the White
Swan weaving linen. "Hail, Avdotya the White
Swan!" he said in greeting. Upon Avdotya's
head were white swans, on her left shoulder black
sables; on her right shoulder sat bright falcons;
on the frame of her loom perched dark blue doves,
and on her loom-bench, black ravens: and her
face was like the first fair snows of autumn.

"And hail to thee, fair Ivan Godinovich," she
answered; then left her delicate linen, took Ivan
by his white hands, kissed his sugar lips, and
fondled him.

Then Ivan delayed no longer, but led Avdotya
forth to the fair hall. There she began to weep
and to say: "Thou hast known, my father, how to
feed me and give me drink, to cherish me until
I had attained my growth: but one thing, my
father, thou hast not known—how to give me in
marriage without great bloodshed!"

To this the Chernigovian made reply: "Wilt
thou not eat bread and salt with me, Ivanushka
Godinovich?"[5]

"Thou hast not refreshed the guest at his coming,"
quoth Ivan, "and at his going it shall not be
permitted to thee."

Said Dmitry: "I have written a letter to
Koschei the Deathless, and have thereto set my
hand, and he shall cut off thy turbulent head."

"When Koschei cutteth off my head," quoth
Ivan, "then will be the fitting hour to boast, both
for him and for thee."

Then he set Avdotya on his good steed, and rode
forth upon the open plain. After they had forded
many streams, night overtook them on the plain;
and Ivan pitched a pavilion of white damask linen
for himself and his Avdotya.

Now when the news came to Koschei, he went
forth to the stable-yard, took a foal with nine
chains, put on him heroic trappings, girded on his
broad sword, took his sharp spear and his battle-mace,
seized on the way his steel dagger, and rode
forth over the plain until he came to Chernigof.
There he learned that Ivan Godinovich had in
truth carried off Avdotya the White Swan, and he
rode in pursuit.

When he espied the pavilion of white damask,
he shouted in a piercing voice: "Dwelleth there
any in this pavilion of fine damask? Let him who
is alive therein, come forth!"

Ivan heard this, and roused himself, good youth,
from sleep, came forth, and washed himself with
fresh spring water, dried himself upon a towel
of fine damask, crossed himself as prescribed, did
reverence as enjoined, and prayed to the most
wondrous Saviour. Then he mounted his good
steed, took his arms, and rode at Koschei. The
adversaries went apart about the space of three
versts, and when they came together they greeted
each other, and smote each other with their Tatar

spears, but yet pierced one another not. Again
they rode aside about three versts, came at each
other, saluted courteously and brandished their
battle-maces.

Ivan's mace fell upon Koschei's head, and
Koschei flew from his good steed. Ivanushka was
cunning: he leaped over his good steed's mane
to the earth, hurled himself upon Koschei's black
breast, undid the silken loops, unfastened the
buttons of pure gold, and would have pierced his
black breast, and taken out his restive heart with
his liver. But he had forgotten his dagger of
damascened steel, and shouted with a great voice:
"Ho there, my White Swan Avdotya! Throw
my steel dagger from the white pavilion: I must
needs prick Koschei's black breast, and draw forth
his restive heart."

Avdotya obeyed his behest, and fetched the
dagger. But when Koschei espied her, he spoke
this word:

"Bethink thee, Avdotya the White Swan! If
thou livest with Ivan thou wilt be a servant, and
must bow in lowly reverence before all men: but
I will make thee a Tzaritza. Many lands shall do
homage to thee, and all nobles shall do reverence
to thee. Do thou therefore seize Ivan by his
ruddy curls, and drag him from my breast."

And Avdotya listened to his counsel. She flung
the dagger far out upon the plain, seized Ivan by
his ruddy curls, and dragged him aside; and so
Koschei got the upper hand. As he sat upon
Ivan's white breast he opened his garments, and
would have taken out his restive heart, and his
liver, with his dagger which he snatched from its
sheath.

But Avdotya had compassion on Ivanushka, and
said:

"Pierce not Ivan's white breast, Koschei, pluck
not his restive heart therefrom. Let us rather bind
him with this three-stranded cord to yon damp,
ringbarked oak." And they did so.

As Koschei came forth from the white pavilion,
very early the next morning, two dark blue doves
alighted upon the damp oak; and he told Avdotya.

"Shoot me those dark blue doves," quoth the
White Swan, "for I would fain eat of them."

Koschei hearkened to her, fitted a sharp burning
arrow to his bow, and conjured it:

"Fall not, my arrow, in the water or upon the
damp earth; but fall, my shaft, upon the damp
oak tree, and into the right eye of the blue dove
thereon."

But Ivan conjured in his turn: "O stout bow,
clear burning mother arrow! fall not to earth,
strike not the dove; but bound back from this
damp oak, and pierce Koschei's black breast, drag
forth his royal heart, to the discontent of old
crones, and the cawing of black crows."

So the arrow did, and attained Koschei's impetuous
heart; and thus died Koschei the Deathless.[6]

Then Avdotya bethought herself once more and
wept. "Long is woman's hair," she said, "but
short, in sooth, are her wits! I have deserted one
shore, yet attained not unto the other. I will slay
Ivan, and go back to Chernigof a maid."

Thereupon she took the sharp sword from where
it lay upon damp mother earth. But Ivanushka
began to entreat her: "Aï, Avdotya, my White
Swan! unbind me now from the damp oak!"

"Wilt thou take me for thy wife, young Ivan
Godinovich? If thou wilt swear it, I will sever
the silken bonds upon thy white hands. But if
thou wilt not swear it, I will give thee over to
speedy death."

Then Ivan spoke firmly as he lay upon the
damp earth:

"Release me, and I will neither beat thee, nor
impute to thee great blame. I will but read thee
three lessons meet for a wife."

Yet Avdotya was afraid, and would still have
cut off Ivan's turbulent head, with her sharp sword.
But her white hands trembled; and the sword fell
not upon Ivan's white throat, but upon the silken
cords, and severed them.

Then the good youth rose up at liberty, placed
Avdotya upon his good steed, and rode over the
open plain.

"Alight now at the ford, Avdotya my White
Swan," he said: "pull off my morocco boot and
fetch me fresh water therein, for I would fain
drink at this spot."

Avdotya answered him: "Thou carest not to
drink, Ivanushka Godinovich, but only to slay
me!"

This seemed to Ivanushka a grief and a great
evil; so he hewed off Avdotya's arms to the elbow,
for her first wifely lesson: "I need not these,"
quoth he; "they have embraced Koschei." For
his second lesson he cut off her lips, saying:
"These I need not: they have kissed Koschei."
And for the third lesson, he smote off her feet to
the knee: "Of these I have no need," quoth he:
"they bore thee from my white pavilion to drag
Ivan by his ruddy curls."

Last of all, he cut off her turbulent head.

Then he washed his sword in the Dnyepr river,

and rode to Kief town, where all the mighty heroes
came forth to meet him.

Alyosha Popovich laughed in his face:

"Hail, Ivanushka!" said he. "Thou art
wedded? But thou hast no companion with
whom to dwell."

And Ivan Godinovich replied:

"I have wedded my sharp sword!"

Dobrynya and the Adventure of the
Pavilion

AS young Dobrynya Nikitich roamed the open
plain on a day, he came to a damp oak,
whereon sat a black raven. Dobrynya
drew his bow from its case, fitted to the cord a
flaming arrow, and made ready to shoot the raven.
But the bird addressed him in human language:

"Now aï, Dobrynya Nikitich! Slay me not,
and I will reveal all things to thee. The children
in the streets have a proverb: `In killing a graybeard
there is no salvation, and none shall receive
profit from shooting a raven.' With the blue
plumes of a raven may no man solace himself,
and my flesh thou canst not eat."

Half the raven's wings were white; and he said:

"Aï, Dobrynya Nikitich! Go thou to the lofty
mountain; for there be three wondrous marvels,
three marvellous damsels. The first is a wonder
of white whiteness, the second is redly beautiful,
the third a black marvel of darkness."

Dobrynya reflected then in haste, and replied
to the raven: "What thou hast said of the old
man and the raven is true." Then he put aside
his dart, and thought: "Better is it that I should
go to the lofty mountain, to yon steep hill, and
view those three wondrous marvels, those three
marvellous damsels."

So he turned his good steed in haste, quickly,
quickly, very, very quickly, and with speed, and
rode to that lofty mountain. And as he gazed
about him, lo! there stood a pavilion of white
linen. On the pavilion was a lock of damascened
steel, and upon the lock this writing: "Whoso
entereth this pavilion, shall not issue thence
alive."

Dobrynya's heroic heart burned within him
when he read that, and he smote the lock with
his fist, so that the lock fell upon the damp earth.
Within the pavilion, he beheld tables set and
viands thereon, and he entered. Much as the
youth ate and drank, even more did he fling upon
the ground, pour out and trample under foot.

Then the youth lay down to sleep, and as he
slept and took his ease, he wist not of the peril
hanging over him.

From afar in the open plain came Alyosha
Popovich riding, and gazed upon that sight. More
had been cast down, poured out and trampled
under foot, than had been eaten. Then was
Alyosha very wroth, and his heroic heart burned
within him. He grasped his sharp-pointed spear,
and would have pierced Dobrynya's white breast;
but he reflected:

"No honour shall I win, nor youthful praise, if
I slay a sleeping man, who is no better than a
dead one. Rather will I mount Dobrynya's good
steed, and fight and contend with this Dobrynya
on his own good steed."

So Alyosha mounted, and smote Dobrynya with
the butt end of his spear. Thereupon the hero
awakened from his sleep, and sprang quickly forth
in his fine white shirt without a girdle, and without
his shoes, grasped his heroic mace, and they two
began to fight. Dobrynya leaped about on foot,

but Alyosha rode Dobrynya's good steed. All day
they contended eating nothing, all day they fought
drinking nothing. Two more days and nights they
fought.

Then came a clap of thunder, and mother earth
began to quiver. When Ilya of Murom the Old
Kazák heard that, he pondered: "'Tis Russian
heroes in battle. Where contend they now, and
fight?"

In haste he saddled his good steed, Cloudfall,
with girth upon girth, saddlecloth on saddlecloth,
felt on felt, and over all his little Cherkessian
saddle, with its girth of silk, saying to himself:
"Not for dainty beauty is this, brothers, but for
heroic strength."—They saw the good youth as he
mounted, as he rode they saw him not nor knew
whither his course was directed.

When Ilya came to the lofty mountain, he
beheld young Dobrynya and bold Alyosha in
combat. Then he seized Dobrynya in his right
hand, bold Alyosha in his left, and shouted at the
top of his voice: "Why contend ye, mighty
Russian heroes?"

Alyosha answered: "Ah, thou Old Kazák,
Ilya of Murom! How could I refrain from fighting?
The tables were all laid in my pavilion, and
viands set thereon; and this Dobrynya Nikitich
cast to the earth and trampled under foot as much
as he ate and drank, so that I was ashamed for
the youth."

"I thank thee, Alyosha," spoke Ilya, "for
defending thine own." And to Dobrynya he said:

"And thou, Dobrynya Nikitich, my cross-brother
in arms, why contendest thou?"

"Ilya of Murom, my brother in arms, Old
Kazák! How was it possible not to fight? For
this dog and robber had a lying inscription written:

`Whoso entereth this pavilion shall not issue
thence alive,' and I desired to remain alive."

"I thank thee, Dobrynya," quoth the Old
Kazák, "for that thou hast entered boldly into
the dwelling of a stranger."

And yet more said little Ilya:

"Calm now your heroic hearts, and call each
other brother in arms, and swear brotherhood, with
exchanging of crosses." Then he flattered and persuaded
them, and they began not again to fight
and contend, but swore brotherhood on the cross:
Dobrynya called himself the elder brother, and
Alyosha called himself the younger. And so they
parted and came to Kief town.

Churilo Plenkovich, the Fop

IN royal Kief town, courteous Prince Vladimir
held a great feast. The day declined, the
feast waxed merry, and Prince Vladimir
solaced himself greatly. Then strange people
thrust themselves into his presence,—one hundred
young men, and a second hundred and yet a third
of bold youths. All were beaten and wounded,
their turbulent heads all bruised with cudgels and
bound about with their girdles. They touched
their foreheads to the earth, and made complaint:

"Our light, our lord, Prince Vladimir! As we
rode upon the plain, beside Soroga river, across the
royal fens, we found no living thing: neither fierce
roving beast nor flying bird. We found but three
hundred youths; their steeds were Latinsky,[1] their
kaftans of damask, their surcoats of scarlet, their
caps had golden crowns. They set snares of silk
in thy pine forests for the black sables and the
martens, drove the foxes and the white foreign
hares from their burrows: they shot the aurochs
and stag, and us they beat and wounded. And
thou, lord, hast no booty and we no guerdon,
and our wives and children are deprived of their
protectors;—for we must wander through the
world, for lack of food."

Vladimir, prince of royal Kief town, ate, drank,
and made merry, and heeded not their petition.
And this host had not departed from the court
when another host arrived, three hundred youths,
five hundred youths, all fishermen, all beaten and
wounded sore, their tempestuous heads bound with
girdles, for the cudgel blows. They also did lowly
reverence to bright Prince Vladimir, and made
complaint, in like fashion to the first. They had
traversed the lakes and rivers and royal ponds,
and had taken nothing, but had espied five hundred
youths catching white-fish, pikes, carps, and lesser
fishes, so that the Prince could get nothing. They,
receiving therefore no payment save a cudgelling
from those bold youths, would be forced to roam
the world for a livelihood.

To this complaint Vladimir paid no more heed
than to the first, but continued to eat, drink, and
make merry. This company had not quitted the
courtyard when two more appeared, the royal
falconers and hawkers, with their turbulent heads
all broken and bound up. These made complaint
that in all the open plains, royal fens and pleasure
isles, they could espy neither hawk nor falcon, nor
aught but a thousand men, who rode hither and
thither, catching bright sparrow-hawks and white
noble falcons. And these men, who had assaulted
and wounded the royal falconers, were called
Churilo's[2] body-guard.

While the falconers still stood in the royal
presence, came merchants and gardeners, and told
how Churilo's wild guards had plucked up all their
garlic and onions, broken all their white cabbages,
and insulted all the young damsels and the young
men of Kief.

This word touched Prince Vladimir, and he

inquired of them: "Who is this Churilo?" Old
Bermyag Vasilievich stepped forth.

"Lord, I have known Churilo this long while;
he dwelleth not in Kief, but in Little Kief.[3] His
palace covereth seven versts; about it standeth an
iron fence; upon each paling thereof is a knob,
and that knob is a pure, round pearl. In the
midst of the courtyard stand halls, chambers of
white oak, hung with gray beaver skins; and the
ceilings thereof are hung with black sables, and
the centre beam is covered with leather. The
floor of his own bower, the space about the oven,
is of pure silver, the hooks and hasps of damascened
steel. His first gates are of carven oak, the second
all crystal, the third of tin. All his thresholds are
of precious fishes' teeth, and all his ovens of tiles."

When Vladimir heard that, he arrayed himself
in haste, and commanded a journey. With him
he took his Princess, his nobles and mighty heroes,
Dobrynya Nikitich, and old Bermyag Vasilievich,
summoned five hundred men, and set out for
Churilo Plenkovich's court.

Old Plenko came to meet them. For the Prince
and Princess he opened his gates of carved work,
for the princes and nobles those of crystal, for the
common folk the tin. Then old Plenko the silk-merchant
led Vladimir and the Princess Apraxia
to a richly patterned chamber, to another of
crystal, and a third of lattice work, and so to the
golden-domed tower where all was heavenly with
sun and moon, stars innumerable and white dawns.

In the fair hall he seated them at tables richly
decked, and assigned fitting places to the princes
and nobles. Then the cunning cooks fetched
sweet viands and mead, and all sorts of liquors

from beyond the sea, to give mirth to the princes.
Joyful was their converse, and cheerful the
day.

Prince Vladimir pulled aside the little lattice
window by which he sat with his Princess; and as
they gazed forth upon the open plain, they saw a
hundred good youths come riding from afar, from
mother Soroga river.

The youths' good steeds were all of one matched
colour, their bits alike of bronze, their kaftans all
of scarlet cloth with streaming girdles. The shoes
upon their feet were of green morocco, the tips
awl-like, the heels sharp; under the heels small
sparrows might hop and flutter, over the insteps,
an egg might roll.

Then Prince Vladimir inquired of Plenko
whether it were his son thus riding, and the old
silk-merchant made answer, smiling:

"Nay, these be Churilo's cooks, who make his
green wine."

When that throng had entered the court,
another of five hundred came riding from the
plain, all mounted alike and apparelled.

Again Vladimir inquired of Plenko whether this
might be Churilo and his guard; and old Plenko
made answer that these were but Churilo's stewards
who served his table. When this troop had
entered, a third a thousand strong came from afar,
and in their midst a goodly youth, fairer than they
all. His locks were like a field of gold with silvery
sheen, his neck like the white snows; his cheeks
outdid the poppy in hue; like the clear falcon's
gleamed his eyes, his brows were like black sables,
his little feet were wondrous small:—their traces
on fresh fallen snow could not be told from those
of the white ermine or the hare. Beneath his
mantle of rich sables, he was clad in green samite,

with carven buttons of red gold, in fashion like to
apples of Siberia.

Lightly rode that host; beneath them the soft
grass bent not, the azure flowerets broke not.

From horse to horse sprang that fair youth,
from the third horse and past the fourth, hurling
high his spear to heaven, as it had been a swan's
feather, and catching it hand over hand: as he
leaped also, he snatched the good youths' caps
from their heads, and placed them upon others.

"A misfortune hath come upon me for my
sins!" cried Prince Vladimir. "Lo! I am far
from home, and there rideth hither to me a King
from the horde, or some threatening ambassador,
to sue for my fair niece Beauty.[4]

But old Plenko poured him a cup of wine, saying:
"Fear not, Prince Vladimir! 'Tis but my
son Churilo with his guard. When he shall stand
before thee, lord, this feast will be but half a
feast, this banquet will seem but poor."

Then all began again to eat and drink and
make merry, sitting without thought or care. In
the court the white day had drawn to even, the
fair red sun was sunk in the west, ere Churilo
arrived. Yet before him was borne a canopy, that
the sun might not scorch his white face.

Old Plenko went forth upon the railed balcony
behind the hall, and cried: "Aï, Churilo Plenkovich!
thou hast here in they hall a much-loved
guest, Fair Sun Vladimir of royal Kief. What
wilt thou now set before him, what gifts bestow
upon him?"

Now Churilo was quick-witted and crafty. He
took his golden keys, went to his iron-bound coffers,
and drew thence great treasure of black sables,
and a mantle of precious sables, soft and feathery

beneath rich samite from beyond the sea, for Prince
Vladimir, fine white damask, in value a hundred
thousand roubles, for the Princess Apraxia. To
each noble he gave little foxes of the cavern, to
every merchant, marten skins, and to the common
folk, much gold.

Vladimir accepted these gifts, and said:

"Though the complaints against Churilo were
many, yet are his offerings still greater. And now
I will not give judgment against him."

And to Churilo he said: "Young Churilo
Plenkovich, it is not fitting that thou shouldst
dwell in the country. Wilt thou not come to
Kief, and serve me as a seneschal and cupbearer?"

Though some buy off misfortune, Churilo purchased
ill-luck at great cost. Yet he rebelled not,
but ordered them to saddle his steed in haste, and
all rode back to Kief, so that all maids and wives
gazed and marvelled as they passed through the
streets.

Then that bright lord, Prince Vladimir, made a
great feast for his new steward. Churilo laid the
oaken tables, and as he shook back his golden
curls, they fell apart as fair round pearls do that roll
asunder; and as young Princess Apraxia was
carving the swan, she cut her right hand, and
said:

"Marvel not at this, ye gentlewomen, for I gaze
upon Churilo's beauty, upon his yellow curls, his
golden ring, and my clear eyes are troubled! Fair
my lord, Prince Vladimir, make Churilo thy groom
of the chambers. Let him spread the downy
feather-bed, place the high cushion, and sit by
thy pillow to play upon his gusly of maple-wood,
and solace thee."

Then Vladimir told Churilo that thus it must
be; for some buy off misfortune, but Churilo

purchased his. So he performed the varied service
of groom of the chambers, to the great solace of
Prince Vladimir and his Princess, young Apraxia.

When Vladimir made a feast, he sent young
Churilo to bid the princes and nobles, and from
each guest he commanded him to take ten roubles
for himself. And as the goodly youth passed
through the streets upon his errand, shaking back
his yellow curls like fair round pearls, nuns turned
in their cells to gaze upon his beauty, young maids
tore off their kokoshniks[5] in admiration.

Then the Princess Apraxia spoke to courteous
Prince Vladimir: "Fair lord, this service befitteth
Churilo not."

Vladimir perceived that misfortune was come
upon him, and spoke this word then to Churilo:

"Dwell thou in a cell, Churilo Plenkovich, or
depart now to thine own house, for in my palace
I have no longer need of thee."

Then Churilo bowed low in reverence, and went
forth from the palace, from Kief town, and came
to the Puchai river, where he began again to dwell
in mirth and pleasure.

Ilya and the Boon Companions

FROM the city of Galich to Kief town ran a
broad road of forty fathoms: along that
road fared a pilgrim, and the road bent
beneath his weight. His smock was tattered with
use, and a rag was his girdle. His cap weighed
forty poods, his foot-gear was of bast, his crutch
was nine fathoms, and he leaned upon a hooked
staff.

The old man's beard was sprinkled with gray, his
head was all white. That aged pilgrim entered
Kief town, and craved refreshment after his long
journey, desiring to drink green wine in the royal
pot-house.

He entered very softly, trod very lightly, said a
prayer, crossing himself as enjoined and bowing
on all sides as prescribed.

"Hail, ye vintner's men," quoth he. "Pour
me a pail and a half of wine, to refresh me, a
wandering pilgrim."

But the vintners made answer: "Nay, thou old
dog, thou gray hound, we will not trust thee. We
will not give thee the green wine without thy
money."

But the pilgrim took from his neck an ancient
and wondrous cross, six poods and a half in weight,
of purest antique gold. "Take this cross as
surety," he said; but they dared not.

But the poor boon companions of the pot-house,
the peasants and villagers gave each a kopek, and
bought therewith a bucket and a half of green
wine for the pilgrim. The old man grasped it with
one hand, swallowed it in one breath, and said:

"I thank ye, boon companions, and peasants of
the village! Ye have given the old man wine to
drunkenness; but now it is late. Come ye therefore
to me to-morrow right early, and I will give
you all wine even to drunkenness, in return."

Then the aged man climbed upon the brick
oven, and slept. Very early on the morrow, as
the warm red sun arose, he descended to the
cellars, burst open the doors with his foot, took a
cask of forty under one arm, another of the same
under the other, and rolled a third before him with
his foot, into the green meadow, and so to the
market place. Then he shouted with all his heroic
might, in a piercing, thunderous voice:

"Ho, ye boon companions and ye peasants of
the village! Come to the old man's feast! I
will give ye all green wine even to drunkenness,
without price."

When the vintners heard that, they assembled,
eighty men in number, to take the green wine
from the aged pilgrim, but could do nothing, and
so went to petition Prince Vladimir against him.
They had told all their griefs, and Vladimir said:

"I will view this pilgrim, vintners, and I myself
will requite you."

All the boon companions and village peasants
had drunk their fill, when the old man said:

"Go now to your own homes, to your young
wives and little children; but I will return to the
royal pot-house, and sleep upon the oven of bricks."

This he did, and early on the morrow came
trusty servants from the Prince, who said:

"Come to Prince Vladimir, thou wandering
pilgrim."

But the old man answered: "In vain do ye
disquiet me, brothers! Let the old man sleep."
Then he descended from the oven, and went
through Kief, past the princely palace, and cried
in a mighty voice:

"Hey, Prince Vladimir of royal Kief! Receive
here thy money for the green wine from the Kazák
of the Don, from Ilya of Murom. I go now to
the open plain, to the heroic barriers, to the damp
oak." And therewith he departed.

Diuk Stepanovich

BEYOND the sea, the blue sea, from glorious
Volhynia town, from Galicia the Fair,
from Korela the Perverse, from India the
Rich, came young Lord Diuk[1] Stepanovich. Like
a white gerfalcon fluttering, like a small white
ermine coursing, like a small, clear goshawk flying,
rode Lord Diuk forth. Like the bright falcon he
sat his dapple-bay; his bow-case and his quiver
beat his hips, and like a wild beast was his good
steed Shaggy beneath him.

The young lord's casque and armour were of
pure silver, in value three thousand roubles; his
shirt of mail was of fair red gold, in value forty
thousand. His good steed was worth five hundred
roubles;—for at rivers he required no fords, but
leaped a stream of five hundred versts, from shore
to shore, at a bound. His stout bow was prized
at three thousand; for its stem was of pure silver,
the tips of red gold, the cord of white silk of
Samarcand. Each burning arrow in his quiver
was valued at ten roubles.

Lord Diuk rode a-hunting, beside the broad
blue Ocean-sea, and peaceful bays, shooting foxes,
martens, blue-gray eagles, geese, white swans and
small gray, downy ducks. By day he shot, by

night gathered up his arrows. Where his arrows
flew, a flame seemed to burn; where they fell and
lay, rays streamed as from the bright, clear moon.
Three hundred arrows he shot and three: the three
hundred he found again, but not the three; and
he marvelled thereat.

"I know the value of the three hundred, but of
the three which are lost, I know not the value—
for they are priceless. They were made of the
reed tree, smoothed upon twelve sides and gilded,
the shafts set with precious jacinth stones, so that
they darted rays like the fair red sun. They were
feathered with the plumes of the blue-gray eagle,
fast set with sturgeon glue:—not the plumes of
the eagle which flieth over the meadows, but of
that eagle which hovereth over the blue sea, and
reareth his young thereon, and alighteth upon the
white Alatyr[2] stone. When he ruffleth his feathers
the sea is tossed, the cocks crow in the hamlets;
and as he plumeth himself, he droppeth his feathers.
Ships came on a day with sailor guests, and gathered
up three feathers, the eagle plumes, more precious
than satin or cut velvet, and brought them as gifts
to kings and princes and Diuk Stepanovich."

Then young Diuk mounted his good steed, and
rode towards home. On the broad highway he
met one and thirty wandering psalm-singers, and
shouted in piercing tones: "Are ye thieves, highwaymen,
midnight prowlers or church robbers?"

The psalm-singers made answer: "Young Lord
Diuk! we are no robbers; we go as pilgrims from
Kief the famous to Volhynia town in broad
India."

"Tell me, ye pilgrims, is the way long from
Kief to Volhynia; to India the Rich?"

"Great is the way, Lord Diuk, from India to

Kief town. A whole year mayest thou journey
on foot, and three months must thou ride."

Then said Diuk: "I thank you, pilgrims;" and
so rode back to Volhynia.

It was the solemn Easter Even, and young Diuk
went to vespers. 'Twas not the silken plume-grass
waving, nor the white birch bending low, but the
goodly youth, Diuk Stepanovich, bowing there
before his mother, the most honourable widow
Amalfya Timofeevna.

"Fair my lady mother! Must I live long thus
at home, roaming the wide streets and solacing
myself with childishness? 'Tis time for me to ride
far, far across the open plain, to throw back my
heroic shoulders, urge on Shaggy, my dapple-bay,
and prove my youthful prowess and daring; to
see people and to show myself. Many fair towns
have I seen, but never have I been in Kief the
glorious, nor beheld Prince Vladimir and his fair
Princess Apraxia. Give me thy leave and blessing
now, my lady-mother, to journey to Kief town, to
view it and them."

Amalfya Timofeevna made answer: "Aï, my
dear child! Thou hast never been on the open
plain, nor heard the roar of wild beast, the shriek
and yell of Tatar; thou hast essayed no heroic
quests. Thou wilt not be able to bring back thy
head in safety from the plain.—And go not to
Kief, my fair child, thou lordly young scion, Diuk
Stepanovich! There dwell evil people, who will
squeeze thee as though thou wert a fine, juicy
apple. I will not give thee my blessing to go
to Kief, to courteous Prince Vladimir. Moreover,
there stand three great barriers on the straight
road. The first is the clashing mountains. Each
second time they clash,—each second time they
part: thou mayest not pass these, Diuk, and

remain alive. The second barrier is the pecking
birds: they will tear thee from thy good steed,
Diuk, and them thou mayest not escape. And the
third barrier is the Dragon of the Mountain with
twelve tails. He will devour thee:—thou canst
not escape."

But young Lord Diuk heeded not his mother's
words. He went to the stall and curried his good
steed with a fine comb of fishes' teeth. Winged
Shaggy's mane swept the damp earth, on the left
side; his flowing tail wiped out traces of hoofs as
he passed over. On him Diuk put his braided bit,
his metal-bound Cherkessian saddle, with felt on
felt, saddlecloth on saddlecloth beneath; and one
of these was striped of red gold, pure silver, and
bronze of Kazan, more precious than either of the
first. These he made fast with twelve stout girths,
and a thirteenth—not for beauty or for youthful
vanity, but for heroic strength, that the heroic
steed might not leap from under the saddle, and
overturn the good youth in the open plain. The
girths were all of the silk of Samarcand which
teareth not, weareth not; the buckles of fair gold,
the tongues thereof of silver, which corrodeth not;
the stirrups of damascened steel from beyond the
sea, which cannot be destroyed.

When Diuk had caparisoned his heroic steed,
and plaited fair jewels in his mane, he went off a
little from him and gazed upon him. "Art thou
a horse, my good steed, or a wild beast? For
under the trappings the good horse cannot be seen."

Then the horse answered him with human voice:
"Tear not my sides with thy spurs, Diuk Stepanovich;
lash me not with thy silken whip, tighten
not my plaited bridle: but cling thou to my sacred
mane; bind handfuls of damp mother earth under
thy two arms, that thou mayest not fear to ride

with me; for I shall leap from mountain to mountain,
lakes and rivers I shall clear at a bound; and
so shall I serve thee well."

Then Diuk took off his armour, and put on
garments fitting for a journey, took his stout bow
and a quiver full of burning arrows on his hip,
and touched the earth with his brow in reverence
before his mother.

His mother instructed him: "Aï, my dear
child! when thou shalt come to famous Kief
town and to Prince Vladimir the Fair Sun, and
he shall make a banquet and an honourable feast
for thee, then boast not of thy orphan possessions,
of thy wealth, or of me, thy mother." Therewith
she gave him her leave and blessing, and kissed
him. And he mounted and rode.

They saw the good youth as he mounted, but
saw him not as he rode—'twas but a pillar of
dust afar in the plain, a little darkening of the
heavens, and he was gone.

And as he rode, he came to the first barrier, the
clashing rocks; but his good dapple-bay sprang
between, and they crushed him not. And at the
second barrier likewise, his good steed leaped past
ere the pecking birds of prey could spread their
wings; and past the third barrier, the dragon of
the mountain, ere he could uncoil his tails, faithful
Shaggy bore him.

So the good youth came forth in safety, and rode
farther over the open plain until he came to a
damp, ringbarked oak, whereon sat a black raven
cawing, and spoke this word: "Aï, thou cawing
raven, thou bird of omen! I will bend my stout
bow, I will lay a fiery arrow to the silken cord, I
will scatter thy feathers over the open plain; I
will spill thy blood on the damp oak, and give
thee over to vain death."

Then spoke the raven with human tongue:
"Shed not my hot blood, young Lord Diuk, but
ride onward over the open plain, and thou shalt
find an adversary, one befitting thy stature."

Diuk rejoiced greatly that he should prove his
heroic might, and so rode on, and came upon the
traces of a horse. A hero had passed that way,
and damp mother earth was furrowed with horse's
hoof-marks like to a mighty grating. After that
the bold youth came to where the hero had pitched
a pavilion of white linen; and beside it stood a
white, heroic steed, before whom was spread fine
white Turkish wheat.

The bold youth reflected, and began to weep.
"Now may I not pursue my way," he said, "and
to enter that pavilion the courage faileth me. The
hero will kill me in that white pavilion, and my
head will fall.—But I will place my good steed
beside this steed at the white wheat; if the horses
eat the wheat in peace together, then will I enter
the tent, and the hero shall not touch me. But
if the horses begin to fight, I will go my way, for
so I may."

When he beheld the good steeds feed in peace,
side by side, he entered the linen pavilion, crossed
himself as enjoined, did reverence as prescribed;
and behold! in one corner, slumbered a hero and
snored until the threshold rang. Then he saw by
the heroic inscription that this was the Old Kazák
of the Don, Ilya of Murom the Son of Ivan. He
essayed to wake the hero, shouting with all his
might:

"Rouse thee, Old Kazák, Ilya of Murom! 'Tis
time to fare to glorious Kief town, to royal Prince
Vladimir, to matins on Easter morn." But the
hero slept on, and woke not. At Diuk's third shout,
the warrior woke from his deep sleep, and spoke:

"Aï, good youth! tell me thy land and horde,
and how thou art called." And Diuk told him all
this.

"And why hast thou wakened me from my deep
heroic sleep? Wilt thou fight the accursed Tatars
in the plain? Or wilt thou come with me thyself,
good youth, to the plain, and prove thy youthful
might and valour—which of us shall bear away his
head, and which joyful news?"

Then Diuk wept and humbled himself before
him. "Why should I go to the open plain with
thee, Ilya of Murom, thou Old Kazák? For thy
death is not decreed in battle. Nay, there is but
one sun in heaven, and one moon—and but one
Kazák of the Don in Holy Russia, Ilya of Murom,
son of Ivan."

This speech pleased Ilya: he sprang to his
nimble feet, caught Diuk by his white hands, his
golden ring, kissed him on his sugar mouth, and
swore brotherhood with him, exchanging crosses.
Then they sat down to eat, drink, and make merry.
And when they had had their fill, Ilya said: "Go
now, young Lord Diuk, to royal Kief town, and if
any there shall offend thee, send me word of it,
and I will defend thee. But make no boasts."

So Diuk rode forth; and when he was come to
Kief, he leaped the walls, passed the three-cornered
towers, and came to the royal palace of white stone.
In the spacious court he sprang from his good steed,
struck the butt of his far-reaching lance into the
earth, and flung his good steed's bridle over the
point.

The Princess Apraxia was there, looking out.
"Lo! the washerwoman," quoth Diuk, and bowed.
"And where is courteous Prince Vladimir, the
Fair Sun?"

Then was Princess Apraxia very wroth, and the

serving-men made answer: "Royal Vladimir is at
the Easter mass."

So Diuk, that good youth, vaulted quickly into
his saddle, and rode to the cathedral church.
There he dismounted, and left Shaggy, his little
dapple-bay, unbound and without orders. In the
cathedral, he took his stand in the place of the
ambassadors, the left porch. While the mass
was sung, he prayed not so much as gazed about:
—he gazed at the church and gulped, at Prince
Vladimir and shook his head, at the Princess
Apraxia and dropped his hand.

When the Easter mass was at an end, Prince
Vladimir sent to bid the strange and goodly youth
to his honourable feast. "Eh, brothers!" Diuk
made answer to the messengers: "Ye have had
spring weather. I have ridden far over swamps
and mosses, and my flowered garments are bemired."
Nevertheless he followed them, and bowed
before Prince Vladimir until his yellow curls swept
the damp earth.

As they came from the cathedral, they found
a great throng of people gathered about Diuk's
Shaggy, marvelling much at the good steed's rich
trappings. Diuk followed Prince Vladimir to his
princely dwelling, and the good steed came after
his master.

Now great rains had fallen on the black earth
with which the way was covered, and the road was
heavy with mud to the knee. Diuk looked upon
his little shoes of green morocco, and then upon
Prince Vladimir, and shook his head. But Prince
Vladimir heeded not, and began to inquire of him
his name and country. This Diuk told him, and
how he was come to view royal Kief of which he
had heard great marvels, to greet the Fair Sun
Vladimir, and to pray to God in his temples.

Then Vladimir took him by his white hands,
kissed him on his sweet mouth, and led him to the
palace. When Diuk beheld the palace, he shook
his head, and said to his good steed: "They will
starve thee here, good Shaggy; they will give thee
frozen oats to eat; and at home thou wouldst not
touch the finest of white wheat."

And when Diuk beheld the banquet hall, with
its tables of oak, and cloths patterned with drawn-work,
he shook his head yet more.—As they sat
about the board, Vladimir inquired of Diuk if it
were far from India to Kief town.

"I set out after vespers on Holy Saturday,"
Diuk made answer, "and lo! I was in Kief at
early mass on Easter Day!"

"And are such steeds as thine dear in thy
country?"

"We have them for a rouble, and for two
roubles, and for six roubles; but my good steed is
priceless."

Then spoke up Vladimir's heroes and nobles:

"Nay, lord, that may not be! For by the
straight road it is a three-months journey, and by
the way about six months, and that when a man
hath relays, and springeth from horse to horse,
from saddle to saddle, tarrying not."

But Vladimir said nothing.

Then all began to make great brags, some of
one thing and some of another; and Diuk alone
sat sad and silent, eating not nor drinking nor
carving the white swan. And courteous Prince
Vladimir spoke:

"Aï, thou bold and goodly youth! is the feast
not to thy liking? Or art thou poor, perchance,
with nothing whereof thou mayest vaunt thyself?"

"Fair Sun Vladimir, Prince of royal Kief," said
Diuk, "I have far greater possessions than thou.

My father left me a little lad and rich, and I am
not used to eat black bread." Yet courteous
Prince Vladimir was not affronted by his speech.

Then green wine was brought, and liquors, and
kalachi[3] of fine wheaten flour. Diuk drank but
the half of his wine—the other half he poured
under the table. The top crust of the cakes he
laid upon the table, the middle he ate, and cast
the under crust to the dogs beneath the board.

Seeing this, Vladimir's princes and nobles sprang
to their nimble feet, and cried: "What discourteous
churl is this? He is not Lord Diuk
Stepanovich; never before this day hath he
quaffed noble liquors, or tasted wheaten cakes;
he knoweth not royal courtesy. He is a herdsman,
the fugitive serf of some noble, who hath
murdered his master or a merchant, stolen his
flowered garments, and driven off his good steed!
He is come hither that thou mightest make an
honourable feast for him, royal Vladimir, and give
him golden treasure, as is thy usage. He mocketh
thee, Prince Vladimir; he is not noble, for he
looked upon his shoes as he walked; and his
mantle of sables he never earned."

"I want not thy treasure," quoth Diuk. "I
possess inexhaustible store of golden treasure,
and bread and salt in abundance. I heard great
marvels of glorious Kief town, and so came hither.
But things are not with you as they are with us
in India."

"Why didst thou gaze about thee at mass,
noble Diuk," said Prince Vladimir then, "in place
of praying God?"

"I gazed, royal Vladimir," Diuk made reply,
"because thy churches here are not the tenth part
of the churches with us. Thy raiment is like the

raiment of the very poorest among us, and the
Princess Apraxia, likewise, is apparelled like our
poorer women. Thy churches are of wood with
domes of aspen wood: ours are of stone with
roofs of purest gold. Our meanest huts exceed
thy fairest palace of white stone. Thy streets are
foul: ours are cleaned, tawny-yellow sand is strewn
upon them, with rugs spread thereon. The steps
of thy palace are of black stone, with railings of
turned wood fastened with wooden pegs which
catch the garments: our steps are of ivory spread
with silken rugs, and the railings are carved of
pure gold. The floor of thy banquet hall is of pine
planks, and uneven, the walls and ceiling are unpainted,
the tables of oak, the cloths patterned
with drawn threads. But the floors of our halls
are of ash, the walls and ceilings all painted, the
tables of gold and ivory; our cloths are of silk,
and at their corners hang tassels of gold. Over
my mother's gate are seventy ikóns,[4] and you have
not even ten. From our churches to the palace,
pavements of arrow-wood are laid, spread with fine
crimson cloth."

"Why dost thou throw away my wine and
cakes?" asked courteous Prince Vladimir. And
Diuk replied:

"I cannot eat thy wheaten cakes. The upper
crust tasteth of pine, and the lower crust of
clay. For your ovens here are of brick, your
oven-brooms of pine. But my mother's ovens in
India the Rich are of glazed tiles, and her oven-brooms
are of silk dipped in honey-dew. He who
hath eaten one of my lady mother's cakes longeth
for another; when he hath eaten that, his soul
burneth for a third; and having devoured the
third, the fourth will not depart from his mind.—

Thy wines and sweet liquors I cannot drink, for
they are musty and ill-flavoured. But in India
the Rich, my mother's sweet mead and old liquors
are kept in silver casks of forty buckets hooped
with gold, and hung by brazen chains in caverns
forty fathoms deep. From these vaulted caverns,
pipes run to the fresh air of the open plain; and
when tempestuous breezes blow, they enter the
caverns, and the silver casks rock in their chains,
and murmur like swans at play upon the bosom
of quiet bays. Our fair liquors never grow musty.
Having drunk one cup, the soul burneth evermore
for another, and the merit of those liquors no
words can equal. The store of my lady mother's
flowered garments is never exhausted; for the
sewing-women are ever at work,—when one throng
quitteth the court, another throng arriveth. My
mother's under-garments are of precious stones,
the upper of gold brocade; her cap is of fair round
pearls, with jewels of great price in the front; and
I wear a different dress each day. Our horses are
fed only on fine Turkish wheat, and sport upon
the plain. And we have twelve deep vaults strewn
full of gold and silver and fair pearls. One vault
alone would purchase royal Kief, and even Chernigof
beside."

Then spake royal Vladimir in displeasure:

"I would that Churilo Plenkovich the Fop were
here; for he would know how to answer thee as
thou deservest."

Thereupon the oaken doors of the banquet hall
were opened wide, and Churilo entered, clad in a
fine white blouse without a girdle; he crossed himself,
and bowed to all save to Diuk Stepanovich.

Then said Diuk: "The fame of Churilo's beauty
was not false,—for his neck is like the driven
snow, his face red as the poppy. But the fame of

Churilo's courtesy was false,—he knoweth not how
to do homage nor to salute."

Quoth Churilo: "Dost thou boast, thou nobleman's
serf, of thy wealth and possessions? Lay
a wager, now, with me, a great wager of thirty
thousand roubles. For three years we shall go
about Kief; each day we shall wear fresh apparel;
—each day ride a horse of different colour. And
he that hath the fairest shall be adjudged the
victor."

"Thou dwellest here in Kief, Churilo Fop," said
Diuk; "and thy presses are full to overflowing
with raiment, while I have but my travelling garb;
and it is well worn."

Nevertheless, Diuk made that great wager, for
three years and three days. Then he sat down at
the oaken table, in a folding-chair, wrote in haste
a scroll to his mother, and went forth with it to
the court, where stood his dapple-bay. He laid
the scroll in the saddle-bags beneath the rich
Cherkessian saddle, and spoke: "Speed home, my
Shaggy, to India the Rich; and when thou comest
to my lady mother's palace, neigh loudly."

So the good bay flew swiftly to India the Rich.
And when the honourable widow Amalfya Timofeevna
beheld the empty saddle, she wept sore;
for she thought her dear child had laid down his
bold head upon the open plain, in Holy Mother
Russia. But when the grooms unsaddled good
Shaggy, they found the scroll, and gave it to
Diuk's lady mother, who rejoiced greatly that her
son still lived.

"Alas! the foolish child hath boasted," she
said, when she had read the scroll: "yet I must
save his honour and his head."

Then she took her golden keys, and packed up
changes of raiment for three years and three days,

—three changes for each day,—and bound them
on the good steed's back. Over all she put an
old and much-worn garment.

"Spring forth, good steed, to thy young lord!"
she cried: "and apprise him of thy coming with
a neigh."

—Then Churilo Fop and young Lord Diuk
began to ride about Kief town with new garments
and horses every day. Churilo had great herds
of horses driven in from Chernigof; but Diuk
anointed his Shaggy each morning with dew, and
so changed the colour of his hair. Three years
they rode thus through Kief. The last day was
Easter, and they went to mass, and stood in the
porch on either hand.

The raiment of Churilo Fop was rayed with gold
and silver; his clasps were figures of stately youths,
his loops in semblance of fair maidens. Beneath
the high heels of his slippers of green morocco,
nightingales might fly—from their awl-sharp tips
curving to the instep, eggs might roll. His black
murman[5] cap drooped soft and downy, so that
his clear eyes might not be seen in front nor his
white neck behind. His mantle was of black
sables from over the sea.

But young Lord Diuk went all unadorned
through Kief town that day;—save that the points
of his foot-gear, woven of the seven silks, and the
insteps thereof, were studded thick with precious
stones, in value above all that city save only the
settings of the Virgin and the Saints.—For over
all, concealing utterly his egg-shell raiment, he had
put that worn garment sent by his lady mother.

Churilo took his stand upon Vladimir's right,

and fingered his carven clasps:—when he touched
the clasps, the fair maids poured green wine and
gave to the comely youths; when he pulled the
loops, the good youths plucked their little guslys
solacing the maidens fair.

Then spake Prince Vladimir: "In sooth the
young Lord Diuk hath forfeited his wager! For
such devices, Diuk, thou surely canst not show to
us, how fair soever thy garb may be."

"I care not for the thirty thousand of coin,"
quoth Diuk, "but for my own good fame I have
a care. The gold I now bestow upon thy town
of Kief." And therewith he cast aside his mean
garment, and his apparel beneath gleamed fair, so
that all the people fell to the earth in wonder at
its beauty. In the front of his cap sat the fair
red sun; on its back, the radiant moon; on his
crest a flame seemed ever burning.

Then he touched his clasps in semblance of
small singing birds—they straightway hopped and
twittered. He pulled his loops—dragons and
fierce lion-beasts were they, that crawled and
leaped, and hissed and roared. Then all the folk
were terrified, and fell to the damp earth, and
with them Churilo the Fop. Lord Diuk alone
stood firm.

"Thou hast won, good youth," spake Vladimir;
and besought him: "Spare me at least a remnant
of my people. Call back thy beasts and
birds."

This Diuk did, and all Kief gave him thanks for
having outshone Churilo in foppery. And with
the thirty thousand, Churilo's wager, he bought
green wine, and gave to all the people freely.

But Churilo Plenkovich was out of measure
wroth, and said: "Aï, young Lord Diuk Stepanovich!
let us make yet another great wager. Let

us prove now whose horse shall leap the Dnyepr
river (for Mother Dnyepr is three versts in breadth),
and our turbulent heads shall be the stakes. He
whose horse leapeth not over shall yield his turbulent
head to be hewn off by the other."

"I have but my poor travelling nag," young
Diuk made answer. Yet did he accept the challenge;
and going forth to his good steed in the
stall, he wept.

"Aï, my Shaggy, my good dapple-bay!
Knowest thou not of my great misfortune? If
thou leap not fairly over Mother Dnyepr river,
they will cut off my tempestuous head:—and the
breadth of Mother Dnyepr is three versts. But if
thou canst not leap the Dnyepr flood, then will I
go seek my cross-brother, Ilya of Murom, the Old
Kazák. He will aid us."

Good Shaggy replied in human speech: "Weep
not, pathetic master mine! Not over Mother
Dnyepr's flood alone will I leap, but yet three
versts upon the further shore will I bear thee on
my outstretched pinions. If I yield not to my
elder brothers, much less will I give way before
the younger. For my eldest brother is with Ilya
of Murom, my second with Dobrynya Nikitich: I
am the third, and Churilo's steed is but the fourth
of us."

Then Diuk saddled his good steed with his own
hands, and rode far out over the open plain, with
Churilo Fop to Mother Dnyepr river. Many
mighty heroes, princes, nobles, and of the common
folk of Kief not a few, went also to view that
contest.

"Do thou leap first," said Churilo Fop.

"Nay," quoth Diuk; "leap thou the first. And
when we leap together in India, then will I take
the lead."

So Churilo made ready to leap. His good steed
reared upon his hind legs on the bank, and essayed
the flight, but floundered in mid-stream.

Then Diuk essayed. His good steed bore him
in safety past the flood, and turning leaped back
whence he came. As he flew, Diuk grasped
Churilo by his yellow curls, and dragged him to
the shore, and so to Prince Vladimir's presence,
where he would have cut off his turbulent head.

But all the old women, young wives, and lovely
maids of Kief began to beseech Diuk urgently that
he would spare the life of Churilo the handsome
Fop; and royal Vladimir spoke also in his behalf.

Then Diuk gave Churilo a mighty kick: "Go,
Fop, bewept of women, since Prince Vladimir
entreateth; go sit among the women, and dally
with the maids. But come thou never more into
the company of heroes, weak dangler after women,
and beloved of ancient crones!"

But Churilo spoke with malice: "Fair lord,
Prince Vladimir, if this child boasteth with reason,
let us send talesmen to the splendid Indian land,
to take lists of all his cattle and possessions."

"Whom shall we send?" said courteous Prince
Vladimir.

"Let Alyosha Popovich go."

"Nay! Alyosha shall not go to my India,"
quoth Diuk: "for he hath pope's eyes, greedy eyes,
and pope's pilfering hands. He will never return."

Then he sat down in a folding-chair at the
oaken table, and wrote a billet with haste. And,
having fastened it to an arrow, he shot it, bidding
it fly forth to Old Kazák Ilya in the open plain,
and crave his aid.

Then Ilya sent Dobrynya to inquire what aid
Lord Diuk required; and if Dobrynya might not
render it, then would he come himself.

"Ho, Dobrynya Nikitich! Thou shalt go to
my India," said Diuk then; "but not Alyosha with
his greedy pope's eyes and thieving fingers."

So Vladimir appointed Dobrynya and two more
to make the lists. If Diuk had the greater possessions,
then should Vladimir become his vassal: and
contrariwise, if Diuk's brags were not established,
then should he serve Vladimir loyally so long as
he lived.

"Take paper for three years and for three days,"
quoth Diuk, "for six scribes may not write the
tale of my possessions in twenty years. And of a
surety, ye shall do homage to my serving-maids,
mistaking them for my lady mother."

Then the talesmen set out, and with them went
three great carts of paper. When, after long
wanderings, they came to India the Rich, they
climbed a lofty mountain, and beheld the land
glowing before them. And one said: "Of a
surety, Lord Diuk hath sent warning to his native
land, that they should set on fire great India the
Rich, for lo! it burneth!"

But when they drew near they saw that it was
but the golden roofs of the dwellings flaming, and
the temples' precious domes which glowed, and the
ways strewn with tawny-yellow sand and spread
with fair cloth of scarlet. Diuk's palace of white
stone had three and thirty towers which flowed
together at one point; their domes all were sheathed
with green copper, more precious than red gold.
About the palace lay a garden of seventy versts,
set with all manner of pleasant fruit-trees and of
shrubs, walled about with a lofty railing of carven
pillars of gold, surmounted by knobs of copper,
and the gates were of fair brass. In the court,
maids richly apparelled walked with the serving-men,
or played at chess.

Within, the palace was reared upon three hundred
pillars of silver, four hundred of gold, and
others innumerable of precious copper and of iron.
In all Kief was nothing like it, and all Kief town
would not suffice to purchase that palace alone;
and through the town flowed a river of gold.

The talesmen feared to enter; but when at
length they did so, and came to the first tower,
they found an aged woman of motherly aspect:
her garments were of pure silver, with but small
admixture of silk, and they bowed to the earth
before her.

"Hail, most honourable widow, Amalfya Timofeevna,
mother to Lord Diuk Stepanovich!" they
said.

"I am not the Lord Diuk's mother," said the
woman. "I am his cowherd."

Then the talesmen were sore vexed and shamed,
that they should have done reverence to Diuk's
cowherd because of her rich array, and inquired
no further that day, but went and pitched a tent
without the town, and there abode that night.

The next day they came again to the lordly
palace, and essayed the second tower. There they
found an aged woman of reverend mien, clad in
silver and gold; and to her they did homage. But
she refused it, saying, "I am the Lord Diuk's
washerwoman."

And in like manner, to their exceeding shame
and great amaze, they bowed before Diuk's cook,
his chamber-women, his baker of cakes, his nurse,
and others,—all women of stately mien and venerable
aspect, and more richly arrayed than the
Princess Apraxia on festal days.

At length the nurse told them that the honourable
widow was gone to the long mass, and that
they might know her as she came thence by these

signs: Before her would come a host with shovels,
and then a host of sweepers, to make all clean, and
sprinkle orange-tawny sand, and others still spreading
cloth of scarlet. Then would follow the most
honourable widow, Amalfya Timofeevna, supported
on either hand by scores of maidens.

"Ye must not salute all the women in rich
raiment like this of mine, whom you shall meet,"
spoke the nurse; "for of such there are very many
in this town, and ye would never make an end."

So they went forth to meet the honourable lady,
and when she came, attended as had been described
to them, they were dazzled, and bowed to the
earth. The red sun glowed upon her brow, the
bright moon and thick-clustering stars gleamed fair
behind, and her attire was rich beyond compare.

The lady returned their greeting courteously,
and inquired why they were come thither.

"Lord Diuk sent us," they made answer, "to
take rate of his cattle and goods."

"That ye cannot do," quoth she; "yet come
first and eat bread and salt with me, and feast:
then will I show you what ye list."

—At that feast were white swans, and great
abundance of all choice viands, green wine and
sweet liquors, and cakes of fine wheaten flour, such
as Diuk had spoken of in Kief, for which their
souls burned. After they had eaten and drunken
all they would, the honourable widow showed them
first, Diuk's horses; and they would have counted
them—but could not. Then she showed them
Diuk's foot-gear; this also they would have reckoned—and
could not. After that, she led them
to the deep vaults with vents to the open plain,
where swung the gold-hooped casks of silver in
their chains of brass, and murmured like white
swans in sweet converse on the bosom of tranquil

bays; and to the treasury of trappings for the
horses. Three years they sat and reckoned what
might be the value of the Lord Diuk's saddle of
state, incrusted with jewels, and of exceeding rich
workmanship—and could not so much as begin to
compute it.

Then they sent word to Kief, to royal Vladimir:
"Sell Kief for paper, and Chernigof for ink, and
then, mayhap, we may make a beginning of reckoning
Diuk's great possessions."

When courteous Prince Vladimir heard that, he
spoke: "I pray thee, Lord Diuk, be my guest in
the lofty palace, taste of my bread and salt, and
carve the white swan; and trade thou evermore
in Kief without tax."

"Nay, Prince Vladimir," young Diuk made
answer; "the Fair Sun gave forth no warmth in
the morning, and at eventide he will give no heat.
No courtesy hast thou used with the youth when
he came, and thou shalt have no profit of him
now."

A little space thereafter, went Prince Vladimir
and Churilo Fop, and all the princes, nobles, and
scribes, to Volhynia town in India the Rich, to
view and compute Diuk's possessions. When they
came to Diuk's dwelling, they marvelled greatly,
for such a palace even royal Vladimir himself had
never yet beheld,—and they feared to enter.

So young Lord Diuk took the Fair Sun by the
hand, and led him in. One half the floor was of
crystal; beneath flowed limpid water, and in the
water swam fishes of many hues, and sported.
When they lashed the water with their tails, the
crystal floor resounded. Prince Vladimir held back,
fearing to tread thereon, but Diuk led him still
forward, for so they must needs go; and at the
golden tables they feasted on viands such as they

had never so much as heard of, and drank liquors
which they had never seen, no whit worse than
Lord Diuk had bragged.

Then Prince Vladimir inquired for his talesmen,
and they were led to him; and lo! they were all
withered up like shavings, for grief that they could
not compute the value of so much as one saddle.

But Vladimir looked on the saddle, and said:
"Of a truth, he who wrought that may alone
compute its worth."

So Prince Vladimir acknowledged himself vassal
to Lord Diuk, as they had agreed; but Diuk said:

"I need thy service not. Go home, and look to
it that henceforth the unknown man and stranger
suffer no offence in thy house."

Vasily the Drunkard and Tzar Batyg

FROM beneath the cross Levanidof,[1] from beneath
the birch so white, issued forth two
aurochs, and three aurochs, and roamed
past Kief town.

By Kief they beheld a wondrous marvel, a
marvellous wonder: a damsel came forth, weeping
bitterly, and bearing in her hands the book of
the Holy Gospel. And as she read, she wept in
twofold measure.

Then the aurochs went to their mother: "Hail,
mother aurochs!" said they; "we have been to
Kief town, and beheld a marvel:" and they told
her of the damsel.

"Foolish aurochs are ye, little children!" quoth
mother aurochs. "That was no damsel weeping
sore, but the city wall lamenting, for she hath
foreseen ill fortune for Kief. Tzar Batyg[2] is come
with his son, his son-in-law, and with his learned
scribe. His son's host numbereth forty thousand;
the host of his son-in-law, forty thousand; and the
learned scribe's no less."

—Batyg marched to Kief town, pitched his
white pavilions, and demanded of Prince Vladimir
an adversary in single combat.

Now, it chanced by evil fortune, that the best of
the heroes were not in Kief town. Ilya had been

despatched to the Latinsky land to buy heroic
steeds, Dobrynya to the Cherkessian country for
saddles, and Alyosha to the Sorochinsky land for
wheat.

But there dwelt in Kief in those days a hero
and good youth, Vasily Ignatievich by name,
who abode in the imperial pot-house. He had
squandered in drink his wife's dowry and all his
possessions.

"Ho there, ye princes and nobles!" quoth
Prince Vladimir; "summon Vasily Ignatievich
hither to me."

Then the nobles went to the royal pot-house,
and sought out Vasily, and addressed to him these
words:

"Ho there, little Vasily the Drunkard! Why
dost thou lie there naked on the oven, without a
thread? Nothing knowest thou, nor carest. Tzar
Batyg hath come upon us, and is now before Kief.
The dog hath written to our Prince, and maketh
boast: `I will burn and rase Kief town, I will
dissolve God's churches in smoke, I will take
captive the Prince and his Princess.' And us, the
princes and nobles, he will seethe in a kettle."

Then Vasily slipped down from the oven, barred
up the pot-house, making all very fast, tore from
the princes and nobles all their fair apparel,
wrenched out a door-post, and belaboured the
men upon their naked ribs, pursuing them even
to the royal court.

When Vladimir looked on them he smiled, and
said: "Ho, my princes and nobles; have ye drunk
or gamed?"

"Little father! Prince Vladimir," they made
answer, "we have neither drunk nor gamed, but
Vasily the Drunkard hath done us this dishonour."

"Ah, ye stupid nobles and senseless!" quoth

Vladimir, "ye have not appeased the youth, but
irritated him."

Then Vladimir went himself to the royal pot-house,
prayed before the Wonder-working holy
picture, saluted on all four sides, with a special
reverence to Vasily, and spoke to him in the words
of the princes and nobles.

"Fetch me a little cup of drunkenness, little
father, Prince Vladimir!" quoth Vasily, "the cup
from which drinketh Ilya of Murom."

—Now Ilya's cup held six buckets and a half;
but he drained it dry.

"Fetch yet another cup for health, little father;
the one from which drinketh Dobrynya Nikitich."

And that cup, of four buckets and a half, Vasily
drained also; and yet a third, the cup of Alyosha,
of two buckets and a half.

Then Vasily said: "Now I may sit my horse,
and wield my sword of ninety poods."

Thereupon he went forth upon the city wall, and
from the angle tower thereon he shot an arrow
which slew three of Batyg's best heads—his son,
his son-in-law, and his cunning scribe.

Tzar Batyg had fleet horses and good, and he
sent swift messengers to Kief town, demanding
that the offender be delivered up to him forthwith.
But Kief town is not small; a falcon may not fly
about it in a summer's day, nor a little bird soar
across—and the guilty man could not be found.

Vasily mounted his good steed, and clad in warlike
array, with his Tatar spear, his sword of ninety
poods, his stout bow, and gilded arrows, sallied
forth before the face of Batyg.

"Hail, Tzar Batyg!" he said. "Wilt thou
receive me as thy comrade? We will take Kief
together, we will burn and destroy it, and God's
temples we will turn to dust."

Tzar Batyg was beguiled with his speech; and
when Vasily asked for forty thousand men to take
Kief, he gave them gladly. Then Vasily rode
forth into the open plain with this host, made a
turn to the right, unsheathed his sword of ninety
poods, and cut down and slew them to the last
man.

Then he returned again to the face of Batyg.

"Forgive this my first fault," he said; "I have
lost that host of forty thousand. But I have spied
out Kief town and viewed it, where the gates are
open and unbarred."

So Tzar Batyg gave him another band of forty
thousand, and forty forties of black sables, besides
gold and silver without measure.

Again Vasily rode to the open plain; and having
cut down and slain his host, he returned to Batyg
craving pardon and yet another troop.

Tzar Batyg gave them, and rich presents likewise;
but when Vasily had slain these men also,
Batyg took a spyglass and viewed the glorious
open plain, and beheld the evil deed.

Then he assembled his good steeds, and returned
to his own country, and swore an oath never more
to lay siege to Kief town, for in Kief was no lack
of heroes.

And from that day forth they began to sing the
Song of Vasily, which shall be sung for evermore.

Ilya and Idol

MIGHTY Ivaniusho arrayed himself and set
out for Jerusalem, to pray to the Lord, to
bathe in Jordan, to kiss the cypress tree,
and to visit the grave of the Lord.

Mighty Ivaniusho's foot-gear was of the seven
silks, his hooked staff weighed forty poods; into
his foot-gear precious stones were woven. On
summer days his course was lighted by the fair
red sun; in winter, by a precious jewel.

As he returned from Jerusalem he passed Tzargrad,
and found that the accursed Idol was come
thither, that the holy ikóns had been shattered
and trodden in the mire, and horses were fed in
the temple of God. Then mighty Ivaniusho
caught a Tatar by the breast, dragged him forth
into the open plain, and began to inquire of him:

"Tell me now, thou faithless Tatar! Conceal
nothing: what manner of man is yon accursed
Idol? Is he great of stature?"

Said the Tatar: "Our Idol is three fathoms,
well measured, in height, and three in breadth; his
head is like a beer-kettle, his eyes like drinking-cups.
His nose is an ell long from its root, and he
cheweth the cud like an aurochs."

Ivaniusho caught the accursed Tatar by the
hand, and hurled him upon the open plain; and
the bones of the Tatar flew asunder. Then Ivaniusho

pursued his journey, and met Ilya of Murom
in the way.

"Hail, Ilya of Murom, thou Old Kazák!" said
Ivaniusho; and they greeted each other there.

"Whence wanderest thou, mighty Ivaniusho?"
inquired Ilya. "Whither lieth thy road?"

Then Ivaniusho told him how he had been to
Jerusalem, and had passed Tzargrad; and Ilya
began to inquire of him:

"Is all in Tzargrad as of old? Is all as it was
wont to be?"

"Nay," said Ivaniusho; and he told Ilya of the
conquest, and how God's temples were defiled.

"A fool thou art, stout and mighty Ivaniusho!"
cried the Old Kazák. "Thy strength is as twice
my strength, but thy boldness and daring are not
as the half of mine. For thy first speech I could
have pitied thee, but for this last I could have
chastised thee upon thy naked body! Why hast
thou not delivered Tzar Constantine?[1] But now,
undo quickly thy foot-gear of the seven silks from
thy feet, and put on my morocco shoes, for I will
go sadly as a wandering psalm-singer."—And it
grieved him to give his good horse to the pilgrim.—
"Ride softly as water floweth," he said; "remain
in some place of easy access, and wait for me, for
I shall soon return. And give hither thy staff of
forty poods."

Then Ilya strode on quickly, and each stride was
a verst and a half in length:—and when he came
to Tzargrad, he shouted with full might:

"Ho there, Tzar Constantine! Give gold, give
saving alms to a wandering psalm-singer."

Tzar Constantine rejoiced, and at the singer's
shout, the forty towers rocked, the liquor on the
tables splashed over, damp mother earth quivered,
and the palace of white stone heaved from corner
to corner. At the third shout the accursed Idol was
greatly terrified, and spoke to Tzar Constantine.

"Your Russian psalm-singers are loud-voiced
fellows," quoth Idol. "Receive this pilgrim, feed
him, give him drink and gold at thy pleasure."

Constantine went forth upon the railed balcony,
and bade the pilgrim enter. And when the pilgrim
had eaten and drunk, the Idol took him to himself
to question:

"Tell me truly, thou Russian pilgrim, and conceal
nothing. What manner of heroes have ye
in Russia? And your Old Kazák, Ilya of Murom,
—is he great of stature? Can he devour much
bread, drink much green wine?"

And that Russian pilgrim made answer: "Yea,
thou accursed Idol. We have Ilya of Murom in
Kief, and his stature differeth not from mine by so
much as a hair's breadth. We have been brothers
in arms. His beard is gray but handsome. Of
bread he eateth three consecrated loaves, and his
drink is two cups of green wine."

"A fine hero, in sooth, for Kief!" quoth Idol.
"If I had but that hero in this place, I would
set him on the palm of one hand, and with the
other I would press him until he became a pancake.
And I would blow him away into the open plain!
For lo! I am Idol, three fathoms in height, and
my breadth is three fathoms well told. I can put
a loaf in one cheek, and the same in the other, and
a white swan is but a mouthful for me. I eat
seven poods of bread and three oxen at a meal,

with wine in due proportion,—a cask of forty
buckets."

"The pope of Rostof had a greedy cow," said
Ilya. "She ate and ate, and drank until she
burst."

This speech pleased not Idol the Accursed. He
seized his poniard from the oaken table, and hurled
it at Ilya of Murom, that wandering psalm-singer.
But Ilya was nimble of foot, and leaped quickly
aside upon the oven, and turning, caught the
weapon in its flight, upon his staff. The poniard
glanced off, struck the white oak door; the door
flew from its fastenings; the poniard bounded into
the ante-room, slew twelve Tatars, and wounded
yet another twelve. Ilya snatched his little cap
of nine poods from his head, and flung it at Idol
the Accursed, and Idol flew through the wall into
the open plain. Then Ilya sprang into the great
courtyard, waved his staff, slew all the accursed
Tatars, cleared the city of Tzargrad, and delivered
Tzar Constantine.

Dobrynya and the Dragon

YOUNG Dobrynya took his stout, death-dealing
bow, his fiery little arrows, and went
a-hunting, and came to the Blue Sea.

At the first bay he found no geese, swans, nor
small gray ducks; neither did he find them at the
second bay, nor at the third. Then Dobrynya's
restive heart grew hot within him; he turned about
quickly and went to his home, to his mother, sat
down upon the square hewn bench, and dropped
his eyes upon the oaken floor. Therewith came
his mother to him, and said:

"Aï, young Dobrynushka Nikitich! Thou art
returned in no merry mood."

"Aï, my mother!" quoth Dobrynya; "give me
thy leave and blessing to go to the Puchai river."

"Young Dobrynya," his mother made answer,
"I will give neither leave nor blessing. None who
hath gone to the Puchai stream hath ever returned
thence."

"Aï, little mother," said Dobrynya, "if thou
give thy leave I will go; and if thou give it not,—I
will go."

So his mother consented. He threw off his
flowered raiment, and put on garments meet for a
journey, and on his head a wide-brimmed hat from
the Grecian land. Then he saddled and bridled a
good steed which no man had ever ridden, took

his stout bow, his fiery arrows, his sharp sword
and far-reaching spear, and his battle-mace.

And as he rode forth, accompanied by his little
page, his mother laid her commands upon him.

"If thou wilt go to the Puchai river, young Dobrynya,
immeasurable heats shall overcome thee:
yet bathe thou not in Mother Puchai flood; for
she is fierce and angry. From her first stream fire
flasheth; from her second, sparks shower; from
her third, smoke poureth in a pillar."

—They saw the good youth mounting, they saw
him not as he rode,—there seemed but a wreath
of mist far out on the open plain.

When he was come to Mother Puchai river,
intolerable heat overpowered him, and he heeded
not his mother's behest. He took from his head
his cap from the Grecian land, put off his travelling
garb, his shirt, his foot-gear of the seven silks, and
began to bathe in the Puchai.

"My mother said this was a wild and angry
stream," quoth he; "but 'tis gentle—peaceful as
a pool of rain-water." He dived like a duck
beneath the first stream, and through the second
likewise.—And lo! there was no wind, but the
clouds sailed on; there were no clouds, yet the rain
dropped down; no rain was there, yet the lightning
flashed; no lightning, yet sparks showered
fast. No thick darkness was it that obscured the
sky, nor gloomy clouds descending, but a fierce
Dragon flying down upon Dobrynya, the savage
Dragon of the Cavern, with her twelve tails.

"Aha! young Dobrynya Nikitich!" quoth the
Dragon. "Now will I devour Dobrynushka whole!
I will take dear little Dobrynya in my tail, and bear
him into captivity."

"Ho, thou accursed Dragon!" said Dobrynya.
"When thou shalt have captured Dobrynya, then

will be the fitting time to boast; but thou hast
not yet Dobrynya in thy claws!" Then he dived
swiftly beneath the first stream, and out through
the second. But his young page had been overhasty,
and had driven away Dobrynya's good steed;
he had carried off the stout bow, the sharp sword,
far-reaching spear, and war-mace. The cap alone
was left, the wide-brimmed cap from the Grecian
land.

Dobrynya seized his cap, filled it with sand from
the river-bank, and with it smote the cursed worm,
and hewed off three of her tails—the best of all.

Then the Dragon of the Cavern besought
Dobrynya:

"Aï, thou young Dobrynya Nikitich! Give me
not over to fruitless death, shed not my innocent
blood! I will not fly in Holy Russia, I will imprison
no more heroes, nor strangle young maidens,
nor orphan little children. I will be to thee a submissive
Dragon; and thou, Dobrynya, shalt be my
elder brother, and I will be thy younger sister."

Dobrynya was taken with her wiles, and loosed
her at will, and returned to his home, to his mother,
to the banquet hall, where he sat himself down upon
the four-square bench.

But the wily Dragon raised herself upon her
wings over royal Kief town, caught up Beauty,
niece to Prince Vladimir, and bore her off to a
cavern in the hills.

At that time Royal Vladimir made an honourable
feast for many princes, nobles, bold warrior-maidens,
mighty heroes, and wandering good youths. And
Dobrynya prayed his mother's leave and blessing
to go to that honourable feast.

"Nay," she made answer: "abide thou in thine
own dwelling, Dobrynya, with thy mother; drink
green wine until thou art full drunken, and lavish

golden treasure at thy will. But go not to this
feast." But when her son would have gone in
any case, she gave both leave and blessing, and
Dobrynya arrayed himself as was meet.

On his little feet he put shoes of green morocco,
with lofty heels and pointed toes. About their
sharp peaks an egg might roll, under the heels
might sparrows fly. His garments were of flowered
stuffs, his mantle of black sables from beyond the sea.

He saddled his good steed, and rode forth to the
spacious court. When he was come thither he
bound his steed in the centre, to the ring of gold
in the carven pillar, and entered the banquet hall.
There he crossed his eyes as it is written, he did
reverence as prescribed, to two, to three, to four
sides, and to the Prince and Princess in particular.
Then they led him to the great place of honour at
the oaken board, with its savoury viands and
honeyed drinks, and poured him a cup of green
wine, a second of beer, a third of sweet mead:—
the measure of that cup was a bucket and a half,
and the weight thereof, a pood and a half. This
Dobrynya took in one hand, and drained at one
draught.

Royal Vladimir, as he paced the banquet hall,
stroking his curls, looked on the heroes, and spoke
this word: "Aï, ye stout and mighty heroes! I
will lay upon you a great service. Ye must go to
the Tugy mountains, to the fierce Dragon that hath
carried off our royal niece, Beauty the Fair."

Then the great hid behind the lesser, and they,
in turn, behind the small, and from the least in
rank, no answer came. From the middle table
spoke Semyon, lord of Karamychetzka: "Little
father! Vladimir of royal Kief! But yesterday
in the open plain, I beheld Dobrynya beside the
Puchai river in conflict with that Dragon. And

the Dragon beguiled him,—calling him her elder
brother, herself his younger sister. Send Dobrynya,
therefore, to the Tugy mountains, for the
Princess Beauty."

So Vladimir laid his commands on Dobrynya,
and Dobrynya mourned and was sad. He sprang
to his nimble feet, in his place within the granite
palace, and stamped upon the oaken floor. The
tables rocked, the liquor quivered in the glasses,
and the heroes were thrown from their seats with
the shock. Dobrynya rushed forth into the courtyard,
loosed his good steed from the golden ring,
mounted and rode to his own dwelling. When he
had spread fine Turkish wheat before the horse, in
the midst of his own courtyard, he entered his
mother's dwelling, sat on the wall-bench, and hung
his turbulent head.

"Why art thou sad, Dobrynya?" his mother
inquired of him. "Was thy seat at meat not to
thy liking, or unbefitting thy rank? Did the cup
pass thee by? Did some drunken boor spit in
thine eye, or did the fair damsels scoff at thee?"

"Mine was the place of honour at meat,"
Dobrynya answered, "the greatest place, not the
least; no fool offended, no damsel scoffed. But
Prince Vladimir hath laid upon me a great service.
I must go to the Tugy mountains, and free his
niece from the fierce Dragon of the Cave."

"Grieve not, Dobrynya," spoke his mother, the
honourable widow, Afimya Alexandrevna. "Lie
down to sleep early this evening; to-morrow will
be wise, for the morning is wiser than the evening."
Her son heeded her; and the next morning, rising
early, he washed himself very white, and arrayed
himself for the journey.

"Be not sad," spoke his mother: "thy father
went to the glorious Tugy mountains and slew an

accursed serpent, and now thou must needs go
thither likewise. Take not thy swift, stout bow,
nor thy war-club, thy far-reaching spear, nor yet
thy sharp sword. I will give thee a little whip of
the seven silks, which thou must brandish; and I
will give thee a magic kerchief. Thy right hand
will droop, the light will fade from thine eyes, and
the Dragon will begin to drag thee away, and to
hurl thee down, and the little dragons to bite thy
horse's fetlocks as he trampleth on them. But
take thy magic kerchief, lift it to thy white face
and wipe thy clear eyes, and thou shalt be stronger
than before.—Then draw this whip, braided of the
seven silks, from thy pocket, and beat thy good
steed between the ears and on his hind legs. With
that thy brown will begin to prance, and will shake
off the Dragon's brood from his feet, and crush
them to the last one. And brandish this silken
whip; so shalt thou bend the Dragon to earth and
subdue it like a Christian beast; and thou shalt
sever its twelve tails, and give it over to speedy
death."

So Dobrynya mounted his good steed, and rode
to the Tugy mountains and the Dragon's cavern.
Twelve days he rode, and ate nothing but a wheaten
roll. On the thirteenth day he came to the glorious
hills, but the Dragon was not in her cave, and
the Prince's royal niece he could not see. Then
he began to trample on the little dragons, and they
coiled about his horse's fetlocks so that the good
brown could no longer leap. He drew from his
pocket the little whip of the silks of Samarcand,
and beat the good steed between the ears and on
his hind legs; the good brown began to prance
thereat, shook off all the dragon brood, and crushed
them to the very last.

Dobrynya gazed out over the open plain, and

lo! the accursed serpent came flying towards him.
When she espied him, she let fall from her claws
upon the damp earth, the soft, thick grass, the dead
body of a hero, and flew straight at Dobrynya.

"Aï, little Dobrynya Nikitich! Why hast thou
broken thine oath, and crushed all my little
dragons?"

"And aï, thou accursed Dragon!" quoth Dobrynya,
"what devils bore thee over Kief, that
thou shouldest seize young Beauty Putyatichna?
Yield her now without battle or bloodshed."

"Without battle and bloodshed I will not yield
the Prince's niece."

So they waged mighty battle all that day until
the evening; and the snake began greatly to prevail.
Yet Dobrynya, recalling his mother's counsel,
wiped his clear eyes and his white face upon the
kerchief, and his strength was greater than before.
The next day they contended until the evening,
and again the third day, so that Dobrynya would
have fled before the serpent. But a voice from
heaven warned him that if he would fight yet three
hours longer, he should overcome the beast.

He fought on, but might not endure the Dragon's
blood, so great was the flood thereof. Then he
would have left the Dragon, but the voice spoke
yet again from heaven: "Tarry yet three hours
by the serpent, Dobrynya. Take thy far-reaching
spear, smite upon the damp earth, and conjure
thy spear: `Yawn, damp mother earth, in all four
quarters, yawn! Suck up the Dragon's blood!' "

When he had done this, and had fought the
three hours, he overcame the beast. Recalling his
mother's behest, he drew forth his whip of the
silks of Samarcand, hewed off the twelve tails, cut
the sinuous body into small pieces, and strewed
them over the open plain.

After that, he entered the Dragon's deep den,
and released the Russian prisoners,—Tzars, Kings
and Princes by forties, and of lesser folk many
thousands,—and bade them go where they would.
But young Beauty, the Princess, he could not find,
until he came to the farthest den. There she lay
chained with hands outstretched. He released her
straight, and led her forth to the white world.
Then he mounted his good steed, and setting
Beauty upon his right hip, rode out over the
plain.

Said Beauty: "For thy great service I would
fain now call thee little father, but that I may not
do; for thy great deed, I would call thee my own
brother, yet now I may not; gladly would I call
thee friend and lover, but that thou lovest me not,
Dobrynushka."

To her Dobrynya made answer: "Aï, Beauty
Putyatichna! Thou art of princely birth, and I
am but of peasant stock:[1] it is not possible for
thee to call me friend and lover."

As they thus rode over the plain, they came
upon the traces of a horse, great clods of earth
cast up, so that one might sink in the hollows,
even to the knee. Dobrynya followed and found
Alyosha Popovich in the way.

"Ho there, Alyosha Popovich!" cried he;
"take the Princess Beauty, and bear her in honour
to Vladimir, our Fair Sun Prince in royal Kief, and
thy head shall answer to me for her." And this
Alyosha performed.

When he had thus sent away Beauty, Dobrynya
followed again after the tracks, and came upon a
hero in the open plain, riding, in woman's garb,
upon a fair and goodly horse.

"Eh!" quoth Dobrynya; "this is no hero, but

a bold damsel-errant, some maid or wife, forsooth!"
Therewith he rode after the warrior-maiden,
and smote her upon her turbulent head
with his mace of damascened steel. But the warlike
virgin sat her good steed firmly, wavering not nor
glancing back. Dobrynya sat his good steed in
terror, and departed from that bold polyanitza:
"Plainly," quoth he, "Dobrynya's valour is as of
yore, but his strength is not the strength of other
days."

Now there stood, near by in the plain, a damp
oak, six fathoms in girth. This Dobrynya smote
with his mace, and shivered into atoms; and he
marvelled greatly.

"Of a truth," he said, "Dobrynya's might is as
of old, but his courage is not the courage of earlier
days!"

Then he again rode in pursuit of the bold warrior-maid,
and smote her honourably upon her
tempestuous head.—She wavered not, glanced not
behind. But Dobrynya was sore amazed, and
tested his might upon a damp oak of twelve
fathoms,—and shivered it in splinters. Thereupon,
Dobrynya waxed wroth, as he sat his good
steed, and rode after the bold virgin-warrior a third
time, and smote her with his mace.

Thereat she turned and spoke: "Methought the
Russian gnats were biting, but lo! 'tis the Russian
hero tapping!"

Then she seized Dobrynya by his yellow curls,
twisted him from his good horse, and dropped him
into her deep leather pouch, and rode her way over
the open plain.

At length her good steed spoke: "Aï, thou
young Nastasya, Mikula's[2] daughter, thou bold

warrior-maid! Two heroes I cannot carry. In
might that knight is thine equal, and the courage
of that knight is as twice thine."

Quoth young Nastasya Mikulichna: "If the
hero be very aged, I will cut off his head; if he be
young and well pleasing in my sight, I will call
him friend and lover; if he please me not, I will
set him on one of my palms, and press him with
the other, and make a pancake of him."

Then she drew him forth from the leather
pouch, and liked him well. "Hail, dearest Dobrynya
Nikitich!" quoth she.

"How knowest thou me, bold virgin knight?
for thee I know not."

"I have been in Kief town, and have seen thee,
Dobrynushka; but thou couldst by no means know
me. I am daughter to the Polish King, young
Nastasya Mikulichna, and I roam the open plain,
seeking an adversary. If thou wilt take me for
thy wife, Dobrynya, I will grant thee thy life.
And thou must take a great oath; if thou swear
it not, I will make of thee an oat-cake."

"Leave me but my life, young Nastasya, and I
will take that great oath, and I will take also the
golden crown with thee."

So they took the oath, and set out for Kief
town, to courteous Prince Vladimir. Dobrynya's
mother came to meet them, inquiring: "Whom
hast thou there, Dobrynya Nikitich?"

"Ah, Afimya Alexandrevna, thou honourable
widow my mother! I bring my enemy, young
Nastasya Mikulichna; I am to take the golden
crown with her."

Then they went to Prince Vladimir, and entered
his banquet hall, where Dobrynya did reverence to
all, and in especial, to the Prince and Princess.

"Hail, Fair Sun Vladimir of royal Kief!"

"Hail, Dobrynya Nikitich! Whom hast thou
there?"

Thereupon Dobrynya told him all; Nastasya
was received into the Christian faith, and they took
the golden crowns. Courteous Vladimir made them
a great feast for three days; and thereafter they
lived happily for a space.

Ivan the Merchant's Son and his
Horse

IN royal Kief town, glorious Prince Vladimir
held a mighty feast, for his princely nobles,
stout Russian heroes, and rich merchants.
The day was half spent, the feast half over, and
all were making brags. Prince Vladimir waxed
merry, and paced the banquet hall.

"Ho, all ye princely nobles, and Russian heroes
all," he cried at length: "I too can boast. I have
three hundred stallions, and three of exceeding
merit: one is an iron-gray, the second's mane
hangeth all to one side, the third is coal-black.
Him Ilya of Murom captured from the Dragon's
Son, Tugarin. He can gallop from Kief to Chernigof,
between mass and matins, and the distance
is three hundred versts and thereto thirty versts
and three. Is there in all Kief town a man
whose horse can do the like?" All hid, and made
no answer. Then Ivan Merchant's Son stepped
forth, and cried in piercing tones:

"Lord, courteous Prince Vladimir, such a horse
have I. And I will lay a great wager;—not a
hundred roubles, nor yet a thousand,—but my
turbulent head shall be the stake,—that he will
run against thy horse from Kief to Chernigof,
between mass and matins, as thou hast said."

"What devil wilt thou ride, then, Ivan?" quoth
Vladimir.

With that all the princely nobles and ship-merchants
staked a hundred thousand roubles for
the Prince; but none laid any stake for Ivan, save
only the ruler of Chernigof.

Then with speed did they write out the strong
contracts, and set their white hands thereto, that
they might be binding and effectual.

And, when Ivan Merchant's Son had quaffed a
cup of green wine, of a bucket and a half, he
saluted all and went forth.

When he came to the stall of white oak where
stood his shaggy brown steed of three years, he
fell down before the horse's left hoof, and wept in
floods. "Help me, good my steed," quoth he;
and told him of the great wager.

Thereto his shaggy brown made answer in
human Russian tongue: "Hey, courteous master
mine! Thou hast no cause to grieve. I fear not
that iron-gray. If I run for thy wager, I shall
outstrip him. But do thou water me for three
dawns with mead, and feed me with Sorochinsky
wheat. And when the three days are past, a stern
messenger shall come to thee from the Prince,
bidding thee ride against him. Then saddle me
not, Ivan, but take me by my silken bridle, and
lead me to the royal court. Don thy mantle of
sables,—thy mantle of three thousand roubles, with
its embossed clasps of five hundred roubles. When
thou leadest me to the court, I shall rear up and
paw thy mantle, and nip the black sables, and
prance in all directions. Then shall the Prince
and his nobles marvel. But care thou not, for it
shall go well with thee. I will redeem thy turbulent
head, and put courteous Prince Vladimir and
my elder brother to shame."

All came to pass as the shaggy brown had foretold.
When he began to pluck at Ivan's mantle,
and to trample on the black sables, all the princely
nobles and rich merchants assembled in the spacious
royal courtyard stood and marvelled.

"Foolish art thou, Ivan Merchant's Son!" they
cried. "Thy good steed will spoil thy mantle.
Prince Vladimir gave it thee, and he will pardon a
great wrong rather than this."

But sweet Ivan made answer: "The foolish are
ye. For if I live I shall win another mantle, and
if I die I shall have enjoyed this."

Then, as the shaggy brown danced about the
court, he began to roar like an aurochs, and to hiss
like a dragon. The three hundred stallions were
affrighted, and fled the royal court; the iron-gray
broke two legs, the long-maned steed his neck;
the captive black fled, neighing, with tail uplifted,
to the Golden Horde, leaping the Dnyepr stream
in his flight.

All who saw it were terrified, and Ivan cried:
"Is it not time, Prince Vladimir, for us to set out
for Chernigof town?"

Prince Vladimir called to his stable-men to
collect the three hundred stallions, and pick out
the choicest, the three. But the men made complaint
that all the three hundred lay dead, by reason
of that terrible cry of Ivan's steed, and there was
none left whereon the prince might ride.

Then said sweet Ivan Merchant's Son:

"Delay not, Prince Vladimir, but count out to
me that great wager of a hundred thousand roubles."

This Vladimir did with sorrow, and said: "Yield
me thy steed, Sweet Ivan Merchant's Son; for I
have none whereon to ride."

Quoth sweet Ivan: "My steed was bought in
the Great Horde, from under his mother, for five

hundred roubles, and before he came to me he cost
a thousand. Shall I give such a steed to Prince
Vladimir?"

Nevertheless, he yielded him; and Vladimir
commanded that the horse should be led to the
stable, and fed with fine wheat, and watered with
sweet mead.

But the stable-men came running in dire haste,
making great complaint, that the steed would
neither eat nor drink, but hissed and shrieked like
a dragon, and struck dead all the horses.

Then was Prince Vladimir very wroth: he
wrapped himself in his mantle of sable, and spoke
this word: "Ho there, thou Ivan Merchant's Son!
Lead that horse from my court forthwith. The
devil take thee and thy steed!"

Thus was the great race ridden.

Ilya of Murom and Falcon the Hunter

ON the road to Kief town of courteous Prince
Vladimir, stood a great barrier and strong—
a force of seven mighty heroes, bold warriors
all, and lesser knights.

The first was Ilya of Murom, our Old Kazák
of the Don; the second Dobrynya Nikitich, the
third Alyosha Popovich, the fourth Churilo Plenkovich,
the fifth Mikailo the Rover, the sixth and
seventh the Agrikanof brothers. They pitched
their pavilions, and slept until the white dawn.

The barrier was strong: no horseman galloped
past nor wayfarer journeyed by, no wild beast
crouched, no bird soared overhead; and if, by
chance, a bird flew by, it dropped its feathers there.

There, late at even, passed young Falcon the
Hunter.[1] He asked no leave at the barrier, but
leaped across, and roamed the open plain.

The next morning, right early, at dawn of day,
our Kazák of the Don went out to the white court
to refresh himself, and espied the traces of a horse's
hoofs, the marks of a heroic ride and a black steed.

Then Ilya entered again the white pavilion, and
spoke these words: "Comrades, brothers, ye heroes
stout and mighty! What sort of a barrier is this
of yours—what manner of stern fortress? But
now I beheld the traces of a horse's gallop, of a

heroic ride. Arm ye then, friends, for a foray into
the open plain to seek the rash intruder." Then
he began to hold a great council:

"It will not do, children, to send Vaska Long-skirt,
for he will get entangled in his skirts in the
encounter; nor Grishka the Noble, for men of
noble descent are boastful, and he will vaunt himself
in the combat. Nor may Alyosha go against
the unbidden visitor, for Alyosha is of popish
descent, and popes' eyes are covetous, popes' hands
pilferous; Alyosha will see the braggart's great
store of gold and silver, and will covet them. Dobrynya
Nikitich must go: if the knight be Russian,
then shall Dobrynya swear brotherhood with him,
but if he be an infidel knight, he shall challenge
him to single combat."

Dobrynya sprang to his nimble feet, saddled and
mounted his good steed, and rode forth to Father
Sakatar river, by the blue sea. As he looked along
the straight road, he beheld a knight riding before
him, with youthful valour. The horse under the
hero was like a wild beast; at each leap he compassed
a vcrst, and the tracks he left were as large
as a ram or a full-grown sheep. From that good
steed's mouth flames flashed, from his nostrils
sparks showered abroad, from his ears smoke
curled in rings.

The helmet on the hero's head glowed like fire,
and his horse's bridle darted rays; stars sprinkled
from his stirrups, on his saddle stood the dawn, the
morning dawn. At his left stirrup sprang a greyhound,
and a dragon of the hills was also chained
thereto. On his right stirrup perched a blue-gray
eaglet, who sang and whistled without ceasing,
caressing and diverting the hero. From shoulder
to shoulder hopped a falcon clear, plucking his
long locks from ear to ear.

The knight sat his good steed well, and diverted
himself in noble wise, hurling his steel mace to the
clouds, and catching it as it fell, in his white hands,
without permitting it to touch the damp earth.
As he thus played, he conjured his mace: "Lightly
as I now whirl this mace aloft, even so lightly will
I twirl Ilya of Murom."

Then Dobrynya shouted: "Ho, thou Falcon
the Hunter! Turnest thou not back before our
barrier?"

Cried Falcon, "'Tis not for thee to pursue me
in the open plain! high time is it that thou wert
in the village herding the swine."

At that heroic cry, the peaceful bays were
troubled, the waters grew choked with sand. Dobrynya's
charger sank to his knees, and Dobrynya
fell to the damp earth, where he lay as in a heavy
sleep for the space of about three hours. When he
awoke from that swoon, he mounted his good steed,
and, returning to the barrier, told Ilya of Murom all.

Said the old man: "There is none to take my
place, the place of this turbulent old head."

Then saddled he his good charger Cloudfall,
both quickly and stoutly, and sprang upon his back
without touching the stirrups. On his saddle-strap
hung his war-club, and its weight was ninety poods.
On his hip rested his sharp sword, in his hand he
held his silken whip. Thus armed he rode in pursuit
of the knight to the Sorochinsky mountains,
and looking through the circle of his young fist,
he descried a black spot in the plain, and rode
towards it.

"Thief! dog! braggart!" he shouted in
piercing tones. "Why hast thou passed our
barrier, doing no reverence to me, asking no leave?"
When the braggart hunter heard that, he turned
and rode at Ilya; and Ilya's heart died within

him.—'Twas not two threatening clouds which
clashed, nor yet two mountains moved together,
but two stout heroes who rode against each other.

First they fought with their maces, until these
snapped short at the hilt,—and wounded one
another not. Then they fought with their sharp
swords, until these brake,—and wounded one
another not; and so likewise with their sharp
spears: and when these were shattered they lighted
down from their good steeds, and fought hand to
hand. All day they fought till even, till midnight,
till the white dawn:—and so they did the second
day, and likewise the third, and sank to their knees
in the earth.

Then Ilya waved his right hand, and his left foot
slipped from under him.—'Twas not a gray duck
fluttering, but Ilya falling to the damp earth like a
stack of hay.

Falcon the Hunter planted himself upon Ilya's
white breast, snatched out his dagger of damascened
steel, and would have pierced that white
breast, closed Ilya's clear eyes, and struck off his
turbulent head, and plucked out his heart with his
liver; but his arm was stiffened from the shoulder
down, and he could not move it.

"O Lord!" said Ilya: "It is written on my
right hand that I shall not die in battle." And to
Falcon he said: "O brave, good youth! tell me,
from what land art thou, from what horde? Who
are thy father and mother?"

Then the hunter began to curse: "Full time is
it, thou old dog, that thou shouldst shave[2] thy
head, and go to a monastery!"

Ilya's heroic heart grew hot at that, and his
young blood boiled. He smote Falcon upon his
black breast, and hurled him higher than the standing
wood, yet lower than the flying clouds. When
Falcon descended again to the damp earth, Ilya
leaped to his nimble feet, and sat upon the hunter's
breast.

"Tell me now, good youth, thy land, thy horde,
thy father's name."

"Sat I on thy white breast," the hunter answered,
"so would I not inquire of thee thy name
and country. But I would pierce thy white breast,
and scan thy restive heart, and scatter thy white
body over the plain, to be torn of the gray wolf,
and picked by the black crows."

Then Ilya inquired no further of him, but drew
forth his dagger. The youth perceived that misfortune
was close at hand, and answered:

"I come from the blue sea, from the palaces of
gray stone, from mighty Zlatigorka; and my father
I do not know. When I rode forth upon the open
plain, my mother enjoined me to greet the Old
Kazák Ilya of Murom, if I should chance to
meet him, but without approaching; to dismount
from my good horse and do reverence to him,
touching my forehead to the ground."

Then the old man felt compassion; for he knew
now that this was his own Falcon, by that fierce
Zlatigorka whom he had overcome in single combat,
and to whom he had given his golden ring
with an inscription, and set with a rich jewel. He
took Falcon by his white hands, kissed his sugar
lips, and called him his son, weeping greatly as he
looked upon him. Then he blessed him with a
great blessing.

"Ride, my child, my dear son, whither thou wilt,
over the open plain, but shed no blood without

cause, waste no strength in vain. And go now to
the blue sea, to thy mother, and greet her lowly
from me, from the Old Kazák Ilya of Murom.
For shouldst thou fall into the hands of our Russian
heroes, thou shouldst hardly escape thence alive."

The secret of his birth overwhelmed the good
youth as a great misfortune, and he rode straightway
to the blue sea, to the palaces of gray stone,
to his mother.

When he came to the fair porch, he shouted
with a great voice: "Ho there, thou bold and
evil warrior-maid! Come forth to meet the good
youth!"

So Zlatigorka came forth to meet him, bowing
low, and saluting him. But Falcon met her with
his sharp sword, and greeted her so that she fell
there upon the fair porch. For he liked it not that
he should be the son of a peasant, and of dishonour.

"I go now," quoth he, "to give that old dog
over likewise to speedy death, for so dishonoured
I will not live."

Therewith he wheeled his good charger about,
and rode to the pavilion of white linen. There he
fitted a burning shaft to his stout bow, and sent it
at Ilya's breast as he lay buried in sleep. But it
glanced aside from the wondrous golden cross,
three poods in weight, which Ilya wore, and roused
him from his slumber. He leaped forth from the
tent all unclothed as he was, seized Falcon by his
yellow curls, flung him upon the damp earth, cut
out his little heart, and scattered his four quarters
over the plain.

So Falcon's praise is sung, and Ilya's glory is not
diminished; and for ever shall Ilya be celebrated
in song.

Sweet Mikailo Ivanovich the Rover

FAIR Sun Vladimir made a great and notable
feast to his nobles and heroes. And when
all had eaten and drunk their fill, Prince
Vladimir paced the banquet hall, waved his right
hand, and distributed service to his knights, to
Ilya of Murom, Dobrynya Nikitich, and sweet
Mikailo Ivanovich.[1] He poured out a cup of
green wine, and gave to each sweet mead, saying:

"Taste now a cup of green wine, and serve me,
your Prince, with perfect loyalty. Do thou, Old
Kazák, Ilya of Murom, the chiefest of our Russian
heroes, render a great service. Go thou to the
Golden Horde, slay all infidels, both great and
small, sparing none. Thou, young Dobrynya,
must go to the glorious blue sea, and conquer it,
and add territory to Holy Russia. Sweet Mikailo
the Rover shall be intrusted with a great mission—
he shall go to the black halls in Podolia the crafty,
and collect the gifts and tribute for the years that
are past, and for this year—for twelve years and
for half a year."

So these three heroes rode forth to the Levanidof
oak, and swore brotherhood. Ilya was the eldest
brother, Mikailo the next, and young Dobrynya the
youngest. Then they made a covenant, that he
who should first return should await the other two

at that oak. With that they parted, riding different
ways.

When Mikailo was come to the famous black
horde, he demanded the gifts and tribute due,—
twelve swans, twelve white falcons, and a writing
of submission.

But the men of Podolia assembled, and would
not surrender the gifts and tribute. Then Mikailo
the Rover waxed very wroth, threw back his heroic
shoulders, and began to kill and to destroy, so that
the men of Podolia yielded and fetched the tribute.

So Mikailo departed thence, and wandered by
the blue sea, past warm and peaceful bays, shooting
swans and geese. As he turned to leave the
precipitous shore, he gazed out upon the quiet bay,
and beheld a white swan floating there. Through
her feathers she was all gold, and her head was
covered with red gold, studded with fair round
pearls.

Then Mikailo drew from his bow-case his stout
bow, from his quiver a burning arrow, grasped his
bow in his left hand, the arrow in his right, and
laid the arrow to the silken cord. As he drew the
stout bow to his ear, with the burning arrow of
seven ells, the cord twanged, the horns of the great
bow creaked, and he would have let fly. But the
white swan besought him:

"Aï, Mikailo Ivanovich the Rover, shoot not the
white swan, else shalt thou have no luck for evermore!"

Then the swan rose over the blue sea upon her
white wings, flew to the shore, and turned into a
beauteous maiden. Mikailo went to her, took her
by her little white hands, by her golden ring, and
would fain have kissed her upon her sugar mouth.

But the fair maid said: "Kiss me not, Mikailo
Rover, for I am of infidel race, Marya, Princess of

Podolia, and unbaptized. If thou wilt take me to
glorious Holy Russia, to famous Kief town the
royal, I will go to mother church of God, and
receive the Christian faith. Then will we take
the golden crowns, and then also shalt thou kiss
me if thou wilt." So they set out.

Ilya of Murom was come first to the Levanidof
oak, and had brought with him gold in bulk like
to a rick of hay. Next came young Dobrynya, and
his gold was likewise like unto a hay-rick. The
last to come was sweet Mikailo the Rover, and
not one copper coin brought he, but only sweet
Marya, the White Swan of Podolia. Then spoke
his brothers in arms:

"Hast thou been led astray by woman's wiles,
Mikailo Rover, that thou bringest hither no treasure?
With what face wilt thou present thyself in
Kief?" But Mikailo answered them that he would
go straightway to Kief with his White Swan, and
without red gold.

When they were come to Kief town, Ilya and
Dobrynya flung down their vast heaps of treasure,
but Mikailo led sweet Marya by the hand.

"How may I reward thee for this thy service?"
quoth Vladimir of royal Kief. "Shall I give thee
villages with their hamlets, cities with their suburbs
or countless golden treasure?"

"None of these do I require," said Mikailo;
"for whatsoever thou mightest bestow upon me,
that should I squander in drink. Better will it be
to give me an ukase with thy royal red seal, that I
may go to all the pot-houses and drinking-houses,
and drink green wine without payment,—that
money be never required of me." Then Prince
Vladimir gave Mikailo that ukase with his fair seal
gladly, and said:

"I sent them forth to find brides, but these two

youths understood me not,—they coveted gold and
silver. In our Holy Russian land, a race of young
heroes is more precious than either silver or
gold."

Then spoke sweet Mikailo the Rover to Mariushka
the White Swan: "Let us wed."

"Nay, not so, Mikailo Rover," she replied, "but
under one condition. Let us take a great and
solemn oath that when either one of us shall die,
the other shall go, living, into the grave with the
dead, and there abide for the space of three
months."

This oath they took, and were married in God's
church. Then they began to live, and take their
pleasure; and sweet Mikailo went about from pot-house
to pot-house, drinking green wine,—here a
cup, there half a bucket, and again a bucket and
a half.

—Again spoke Prince Vladimir to Mikailo the
Rover: "Lo! Bukar, king of the land beyond
the sea, hath sent to demand tribute and gifts for
twelve years, and if I give them not, he will come
and destroy our royal Kief."

Quoth Mikailo: "Write thou a scroll to that
king beyond the sea: write that thou hast despatched
the gifts and tribute by Mikailo Ivanovich
the Rover. But I will go without tribute."

So he went to Tzar Bukar in the kingdom
beyond the sea, and saluted him. And Bukar
inquired:

"Whence comest thou, good youth, from what
land or horde?"

"From Kief town I come, young Mikailo Ivanovich
the Rover. I bring thee gifts and tribute for
twelve years from that Fair Sun, Prince Vladimir."

"Where are these gifts and tribute?"

"All were sent in copper coin, and the carts

broke down upon the road; the men are even now
mending them."

"How divert ye yourselves with such joy in
Russia?" asked Tzar Bukar.

"We play with ashen checkers upon boards of
oak."

"Let us play at ashen checkers," quoth Bukar.

So they began to play. Tzar Bukar staked the
gifts and tribute, and Mikailo Rover staked his
good steed and his turbulent head—and lost.
Then they played another bout, and again Tzar
Bukar staked the tribute, adding the good steed
and the turbulent head. Mikailo staked Marya
the White Swan and his own mother—and won.
Then Bukar waxed wroth, and staked the half of
his kingdom, and Mikailo staked the tribute. As
Mikailo won this game, the oaken doors were
opened wide, and Ilya of Murom the Old Kazák
strode in and spoke:

"My brother in arms, thou knowest not the evil
fortune that hath befallen thee. Thou sittest here
gaming and taking thy pleasure, while Marya the
White Swan, thy young wife, lieth dead in Kief
town."

When sweet Mikailo heard that, he sprang up,
and hurled the chess-board full at the oaken door,
so that the door and its framework flew outward.

"Take thou half the goods and kingdom of Tzar
Bukar in this land beyond the sea, my brother in
arms," said he, "and rule thou whilst I go home to
Kief." Then quickly, quickly, very, very quickly,
with speed, he rode to Kief town, to his palace of
white stone. There he hired craftsmen, and they
made him a spacious coffin of oak, wherein two
might stand, or sit, or lie.

When this was done, he made provision of food
and green wine for three months. And he fashioned

for himself three pair of pincers and three rods of
iron, and took his seat in the coffin with the dead
body.

"Why take ye the rods and pincers?" asked
Vladimir.

"That the dragons of the under-world may not
crawl into the coffin and gnaw my white body."

They drew the White Swan's body to the grave
on a sledge, with sweet Mikailo alive beside it.

Then they lowered the coffin into the deep
mound, and also his good steed with his rich trappings,
and covered them with ruddy yellow sand.
Three months did Mikailo the Rover sit therein.

After that, a Dragon of the under-world crawled
to the white oak coffin with her brood, pressed
upon it, and the hoops began to burst asunder.
Mikailo sprang to his nimble feet. A second and
yet a third time did the Dragon press, and thereupon
the coffin yawned widely.

When that beast espied sweet Mikailo, she
rejoiced that she should have a living man to
satisfy her hunger, as well as the dead body.

But Mikailo seized the Dragon with his iron
pincers, and began to smite her with the iron rods,
and to cry: "Aï, thou Dragon of the under-world!
Fetch me the waters of life and death[2] to revive
my young wife."

"Loose me, sweet Mikailo Rover," the Dragon
made answer, "and I will fly to the blue sea, and
fetch thee those waters, to revive thy Russian
beauty, in three years."

But he ceased not to belabour her stoutly, and
without mercy; and she promised to fetch the
waters in two years. Yet ceased he not until she
had sworn to fetch them within three hours.

Then said he: "Give me as hostage, one of thy
little Dragons." And when she gave it, he set his
heel upon the little serpent, and crushed it to dust.

"Why hast thou destroyed my child?" the
Dragon asked.

"Fetch me the waters," answered Mikailo, "and
I will revive thy child together with my young
wife."

Then she made haste and fetched the waters,
and sweet Mikailo essayed them first upon the
little dragon;—the first time he sprinkled it, the
dragon flew together, at the second sprinkling it
moved, at the third, it crawled forth from the
coffin.

Then he sprinkled his Russian beauty, Marya
the White Swan. First her blood played, then
she moved, and at last sat upright in the coffin,
and spoke: "Long have I slept, and suddenly
arisen."

—It was on Sunday, when the nobles, princes,
and mighty heroes were coming from the mass.
Mikailo shouted with full strength of his head, so
that damp mother earth quaked, the waters were
troubled with sand, Prince Vladimir's lofty palace
rocked to and fro with the shout, and the nobles
and heroes spoke among themselves: "Is not this
a marvel, brothers, on land and sea?"

But Ilya of Murom made answer: "No marvel
is it, nor monster issuing from the waters, or from
some distant land. But the hero within the bosom
of the earth is wearied of the dead body. Take,
therefore, implements of iron, remove the yellow
sands, and reach the coffin of white oak."

So they delved, and sweet Mikailo the Rover
came forth leading his young wife by the sleeve.

Great fame of this heroic young woman went
abroad throughout all lands and hordes. Never

had such a beauty dwelt under the fair red sun.
At the fame of her beauty came forty Tzars, Kings
and Princes to the Sorochinsky mountains, and
wrote a cartel in haste: "If the Fair Sun Prince
Vladimir yield not that young heroic woman without
conflict or great battle, and in good will, then
will we destroy all Kief town."

Thereupon came Prince Vladimir to Mikailo:
"Sweet Mikailo Rover," he said, "destroy not my
whole kingdom, I pray thee, for the sake of one
woman. Deliver up thy young heroic wife, without
conflict or great battle."

"Nay, Fair Sun Prince Vladimir," sweet Mikailo
made answer. "Deliver up thine own fair Princess
Apraxia. But my wife I will not give with my
own good will."

Then he disguised himself in woman's apparel,
laid on his good steed his great battle-sword, his
sharp blade, and rode forth to the Sorochinsky
mountains. When he was come near to those
Tzars and Kings, he pitched a tent of fair linen,
shook down fine white Turkish wheat before his
good steed, and lay down to sleep.

The Tzars and Princes sent an ambassador to
inquire who had adventured so near them, and
Mikailo made answer:

"Marya the White Swan hath come to wed with
the forty Tzars, Kings and Princes."

Then all those royal suitors donned their richest
raiment, mounted their best steeds, and rode to the
pavilion of linen.

"Foolish are ye, ye forty Tzars, Kings and
Princes," quoth sweet Mikailo. "I cannot marry
all. Grant me therefore to shoot arrows, and he
who first returneth with one shall have me."

To this they all agreed, and Mikailo shot forty
arrows,—some into the brushwood, some into

the water:—and was it a light task to find
them?

When the first Tzar fetched an arrow, Mikailo
struck off his head, and hid it in the pavilion, and
so he did likewise with the second and the third,
until all were slain, and not one of the forty royal
suitors was left alive.

Then sweet Mikailo rode back to Kief town, and
his brothers in arms met him there, but not his
young heroic wife. Mikailo inquired of them
where she was, and they replied: "Tzar Vakramey
Vakrameevich came hither, and carried off thy
young wife to the Volhynian land."

Forthwith rode sweet Mikailo in pursuit, eating
not, drinking not, dismounting not from his good
steed. When he came to Volhynia town, Marya
espied him, and came forth to greet him with a
kovsh[3] of the liquor of forgetfulness.

"Aï, sweet Mikailo Rover," said she: "I can
neither eat nor drink nor live without thee. But
woman's hair is long, her wits are short. Whither
they lead us, there we must needs go, and Prince
Vladimir gave me against my will. But now drain
a bowl of the liquor of health, and thou shalt be
yet stronger than of yore, Rover." So Mikailo
drained that bowl of the wine of oblivion, and fell
unconscious there.

Then the White Swan went to Vakramey
Vakrameevich, and spoke this word: "Aï, Tzar
Vakramey, do what thou wilt with this man who
is as dead."

But he spat in her eye: "One tree doth not
make a dark forest, nor is one man a host on the
open plain!"

Nevertheless she was distrustful, and took
Mikailo by his yellow curls, dragged him forth
upon the open plain, swung him about her head,
and flung him over her shoulder.

"Where stood sweet Rover Mikailo, there henceforth
let a white stone stand," she said. "Let it
fly over the earth for the space of three years, and
after that let it sink through the damp earth!"
And sweet Mikailo was turned into a stone straightway.

His brothers in arms, remembering sweet Mikailo,
grew weary with longing for him, and said:
"Let us go, brothers, to the Volhynian land, to
inquire whether our brother be slain or captive
there." So they put on the weeds of wandering
psalm-singers, threw pouches over their shoulders,
took staves of forty poods, and set out.

As they journeyed to the Volhynian land, an
aged man came to meet them in the way, and said:

"Take me with you as your comrade." And
they did so, and came to the land of Volhynia, to
Tzar Vakramey.

There they beat upon the earth with their staves,
and begged alms. The White Swan looked forth
from the little lattice window, and perceived that
the psalm-singers were come from Kief town,
and that the third was a strange man, and said:
"Aï, Tzar Vakramey! summon these pilgrims
into thy palace, feed them well, and give them
wine until they are well drunken, and gold at
thy desire."

So Tzar Vakramey called them in; and the
Russian heroes inquired of Marya the White Swan,
where their brother in arms might be, sweet Rover
Mikailo.

"I grieve sore for sweet Mikailo the Rover," she
made answer; "but I know not where he is."

Then she gave them great alms, and much food
and drink, so that they were intoxicated, and lay
upon the floor. But the aged man ate not, drank
not; and when Marya the White Swan sent twelve
knights to kill the psalm-singers, that aged pilgrim
brandished his staff, and slew them all, leaving not
one alive.

When Tzar Vakramey saw that his whole kingdom
could not stand against that one pilgrim, he
pondered what might chance when the other two
should wake. So he went in haste to his deep
vaults, took gold, silver, and fair round pearls, and
gave to those psalm-singers; and the next morning
they set out for Kief town.

As they journeyed, they came to a stone; and
the aged pilgrim said: "I must leave you, brothers.
Let us divide our possessions on this stone." Then
he began to part the alms into four lots, whereat
Ilya could not restrain his restive heart, but spoke:
"For whom is that fourth lot, thou stranger
pilgrim?"

Said the wandering psalm-singer, the stranger:
"It shall belong to him who shall raise this stone,
and cast it over his shoulder, so that, falling upon
the damp earth, it shall burst asunder."

Ilya of Murom sprang forward, grasped the
stone, and raised it to his knees,—and sank to
his knees in the damp earth. "Is this the devil
or God's might, that is in this stone?" quoth
he.

Then Dobrynya essayed to lift it, and could not
so much as make a space for the air to pass beneath
it. But the aged psalm-singer put his little
hand beneath the stone, raised it to his shoulder,
and as he flung it, he conjured it: "Break, stone!
and let sweet Mikailo the Rover appear in thy
stead!"

Out sprang Mikailo, crying, "Fy, fee, brothers!
how long I have slept!"

Then spoke the aged pilgrim: "Mikailo, when
thou art come to Kief town, burn a candle to
Saint Mikola. And fare ye well now, ye mighty
Russian heroes! pray to Mikola of Mozhaisk, and
he will raise you from the blue sea!" Therewith
he vanished, leaving the money with them, and
they saw not whither he went.

Rover Mikailo took leave straightway of his
brothers in arms, and returned to the land of Volhynia,
and entered the spacious court of Tzar
Vakramey's palace, and shouted in a heroic voice.

White Swan Marya heard that cry, and spoke
to Tzar Vakramey: "My former husband is
come," then ran out to Mikailo with a bowl of
wine.

"Aï, sweet Mikailo Rover!" she said, "without
my hero I cannot live. It was not I, but Tzar
Vakramey, who imprisoned thee within that white
and burning stone. But take now this bowl of
wine in one hand, and empty it at a draught, and
we will go to Kief town to courteous Prince
Vladimir."

Now Mikailo was susceptible to wine and
woman's charms. He took the bowl, and quaffed
the liquor, and where he drank, there he fell down
in a stupor.

Then Marya the White Swan seized him by his
yellow curls, and dragged him to a deep dungeon,
and there made him fast to the wall with nails
through his hands and feet. Yet a fifth nail for
his heroic heart was lacking, and Marya ran to the
bazaar to buy one.

While she was gone, Anna the Fair, sister to
Tzar Vakramey, took a little serving-maid, and
went to view the Russian hero; and as she looked

she loved. Mikailo's stupor was already passed,
and he began to entreat her to set him free.

"Take me for thy wife," she made answer,
"and I will save thee from vain death."

And he swore to her, "If thou wilt but save me,
I will sever the turbulent head of Marya the White
Swan, and take the golden crown with thee."

Then she drew out the spikes with her fingernails,
took in haste a Tatar chosen for his stature,
hair and beauty, and fastened him to the wall in
Mikailo's stead, took sweet Mikailo under her cloak
of black sables, and led him across the spacious
court. Tzar Vakramey espied her, and inquired:

"What hast thou there beneath thy cloak?"

"I took a little maid with me," she answered,
"to view the Russian hero, and she is frightened.
I have her beneath my cloak, and am leading her
to mine own chamber, to comfort her."

Marya the Swan returned with her nail, and
perceived not that it was a Tatar in the dungeon,
and not her husband.

When fair Anna had brought sweet Mikailo to
her lofty tower, she dressed his bleeding wounds
with herbs for three months, and healed them,
then asked: "Hast thou thy strength as of yore?"

And sweet Mikailo made answer: "If I had
but my suit of chain mail, my great battle-sword,
and my good steed, I should not fear your Tzar
Vakramey."

"There was once a hero among us in past
years," quoth Anna the Fair, "and to this day
none in our kingdom can wear his armour, nor
wield his brand, nor guide his good steed."

Then Mikailo told her what she must do; and
she lay as though ailing, and sent word to Tzar
Vakramey that some one should be sent to heal
her. When the leech came she said:

"I slept, and dreamed that if I might but don a
coat of mail, and ride a heroic steed over the open
plain, it would be well with me once more."

So the good steed of that hero of past years was
led forth; and Rover Mikailo arrayed himself in
woman's garb, laid the coat of mail upon the horse,
grasped the bridle, and led him forth behind the
city wall. There he put on the coat of mail, armed
himself, and mounting, leaped the wall, and came
to Tzar Vakramey's palace.

When White Swan Marya saw him, she said to
Tzar Vakramey: "Lo! my former husband is
alive again: pour him a cup of green wine, and
mingle the herb of sleep therein."

This Vakramey did; and when Marya presented
it to Rover Mikailo, beseeching him to drink it,
and return with her to Kief, he would have done
her bidding. But Anna the Fair thrust herself
out of the lattice window to the girdle, and shrieked
in a piercing voice: "Drink not, sweet Rover
Mikailo! Remember thine oath. If thou drink
that wine, thou hast lost thyself for ever."

Thereupon he dashed aside the cup, drew his
sword of damascened steel, and cut off the head of
Marya the White Swan.

Vakramey also he would have slain, but that his
sister begged for his life. So he left Vakramey in
possession of his kingdom, took the Princess Anna
the Most Fair, and went to Kief town, to courteous
Prince Vladimir. There they were married, and
lived in happiness. And sweet Mikailo Ivanovich
the Rover built a church to Saint Mikola of
Mozhaisk.

Nightingale Budimirovich the Sailor
Hero

LOFTY are the heights of heaven, and deep
the Ocean-sea, broad are the steppes over
all the South, fathomless the Dnyepr's reefs.
Swamps and mosses lie over the sea, and frosts
afar in the North. Barren are the shores about
the White sea, and dark the forests that hem in
Smolensk. Lofty hills stand about Chigunsk;
wide stand the gates, and sarafans[1] are fair on the
Moshy river; round Opskof town spread the open
plains.

From beneath the oak, oak, the damp oak,
the willow-bush, from the white curling bush, the
crimson elm, and the jacinth stone, flowed Mother
Volga river: past Kazan, Ryazan, and Astrakhan
she flowed, and fell through her seventy mouths
into the blue sea, the Turkish sea!

'Twas not the storm-clouds gathering, nor blue
clouds rolling up, but thirty dark-red ships and
three, sailing from out the glorious sea. From
Kadol's Isle in the land of Ledenetz they ran, over
the many-bayed sea, with green curving lines of
shore, towards Mother Dnyepr river.

One ship, the fairest, sailed before, as flies the
falcon clear, and proudly she bore her head on
high. Like a dragon fierce her prow was fashioned,

her sides like the aurochs of Litva.[2] In place of
ears were two sharp spears,—little white ermines
hung thereon. Her brows were rare black sables
from Siberia, from Yakutsk, and her eyes fair
jacinth stones; rare gems, self-luminous, were
they, not for beauty, but for guidance in the dark
autumn nights. Her mane was two red foxes, her
tail, two white sea-bears. The sails and pennons on
that dark-red ship were of the silk of Samarcand;
the cables and cordage likewise of that silk, that
weareth not, teareth not; and the masts of gold,
and the anchors from Siberia, of damascened steel.
For oh! my brothers, our ship was fair adorned!

—Amid the ship stood a green tiled bower, its
ceiling hung with black cut velvet, its walls with
sables black. Its covering was foxes and martens,
long and downy, from Siberian caves.

In that green tiled bower, on carven seats of precious
fishes' teeth, sat Nightingale Budimirovich:[3]
on his right sat his lady mother, young Ulyana
Vasilievna, on his left his body-guard of three
hundred youths, none better. Shoes of green
morocco were on their feet, and golden buckles
with silver tongues; their garments were of fine
scarlet cloth; on their heads were Norman caps.

On his sounding gusly played Nightingale, and
solaced his lady mother. String after string he
touched, and blended his voice therewith in tones
from Novgorod and Jerusalem, in ditties from over
the sea blue and glorious, from Kadol's Isle and
the green-bayed shore.

Then quickly he went forth, and began to pace
the ship, to shake back his yellow curls, and speak
this word:

"Brothers, and brave guards of mine! Hearken
to your chief, and do the deed commanded: take

rods of iron, sound the reefs, scan the blue sea,
that we run not into the shallows, but sail securely
past."

So they sounded the depths, and ran in safety
past the perilous reefs. But Nightingale still
paced the deck, shook back his curls, and gave
further command to his good youths:

"Listen to your chieftain, and do the thing
commanded: climb now the mast, and from the
topmost yard look toward famous Kief town, and
see if it be far."

They answered from the yard:

"Aï, young Nightingale Budimirovich! Kief
town standeth close at hand."

Then he gave commandment that they should
run into the harbour, and cast out steel anchors
upon the steep shores, and throw out three landing
stages; one of red gold for Nightingale himself,
one of silver for his good body-guard, and one of
bronze for his lady mother, the honourable widow,
Ulyana Vasilievna.

Then young Nightingale took his golden keys,
and from his treasure-chests, iron bound, he drew
great store of treasure: forty forties of black
sables, fox and marten skins without number,
countless geese and swans, fine damask on which
the red gold corrodeth not, the fair silver breaketh
not. Not dear was the red gold, the pure silver
upon that damask fair; that which was beyond
price was the pattern from beyond the sea, of
Nightingale's own devising. All these things he
laid on a dish of gold, and went to Prince Vladimir's
palace of white stone, to the banquet hall.
There he crossed himself as prescribed, did reverence
as enjoined, to all, to two, to three, to four
sides, and to the royal Prince in particular, greeting
him and his Princess.

"Hail, thou bold and goodly youth!" spoke
Vladimir then. "I know neither thy name nor
country, whether thou be a Tzar or Tzarevich, a
King or Crown Prince, or a fierce Kazák from
the peaceful Don."

"None of these am I," quoth the youth; "but
young Nightingale Budimir's son, from the blue
sea, from the Isle of Kadol in the land of Ledenetz."
Then he offered his gifts to Vladimir and
his Princess. The Princess was greatly pleased
thereat, accepting and praising them all; and in
particular the damask, the like of which for richness,
and cunningness of device, was not in Kief
nor ever had been. And the Princess Apraxia
entreated Vladimir that he would give Nightingale
sweet viands, green wine, and sweet mead.

So Vladimir feasted him, and spake in pleasure:

"Aï, young Nightingale, what guerdon shall I
bestow upon thee in return for all these great
gifts? Wilt thou have cities with their villages,
or golden treasure?"

And Nightingale made answer, as he paced the
banquet hall: "None of these do I need, for I
have all these things at my desire. But grant me
now a little plat, whereon to build three golden-crowned
towers, within the green garden of fair
Love, where they bake pepper-cakes and little
tarts; where pancakes are sold, and children barter
wares."

"As thou knowest, so do," answered courteous
Prince Vladimir: "build where thou wilt, in my
green royal gardens."

"Thanks, royal Vladimir, for thy princely gift,"
quoth Nightingale, and went straightway to his
men.

"Brothers, my brave, stout guards, do now the
thing commanded: put off your kaftans of scarlet

cloth, and your fair green shoes; don raiment fit
for labour, of elkskin, and heavy foot-gear. Take
sharp steel axes, go to Love's garden, root up the
oaks and elms, hew oaken beams, and build me
there this night, three golden-crowned towers, with
roofs overlapping and rich halls, so that I may
dwell there at to-morrow's dawn."

Then late, right late at even, his good youths
laboured like woodpeckers tapping trees, and at
midnight the palace was complete. Three-towered
it stood, with golden domes which merged, three
latticed halls, and in the midst a guest-chamber.
Full richly were the towers adorned. In the
heavens stood a sun—and in the towers a sun; in
heaven a moon—a moon in the towers likewise;
stars and dawns in heaven and in the towers, and
all beauty under heaven.

—Early chimed the bells for matins, when Love
the Fair awoke from sleep, washed herself very
white, and gazed from her latticed casement upon
her garden green. And lo! a marvel presented
itself to her—three gold-domed towers stood in
her garden fair.

"Ho there, nurses and handmaidens mine!"
Love cried, "come hither and view this marvel.
But yestere'en that hillock was bare, and now 'tis
fully crowned."

"Prithee, dear Love," they answered, "look
thyself! For thy fate hath come to thy court."

Then Love put her shoes in haste upon her
naked feet, flung her robe upon one shoulder, and
ran out to walk in her garden fair. When she
came to the first, the grated tower, she heard a
clashing and a clinking, and listened there: 'twas
Nightingale's brave body-guard telling over his
countless treasures of gold. As she listened at
the second tower of glass, she caught a whispering

—the honourable young widow Ulyana Vasilievna
praying God for her dear son. And at the third
tower of red gold was again clashing and great
noise; for fair young Nightingale sat therein,
on a stool of precious fishes' teeth,[4] playing on
his harp and singing. String after string he
plucked, accompanying his voice in songs from
Novgorod and Jerusalem, and all the little ballads
from beyond the blue Turkish sea, and Kadol's
Isle, with its many bays and green incurving
shores.

The maiden rejoiced greatly, and was likewise
greatly terrified, and listened all that day until
the eventide. Then she entered the lofty tower,
prayed God, and bowed to Nightingale. Nightingale
returned her greeting, and she spoke:

"Young Nightingale Budimir's son! thou art
unwedded; take me, a fair maid, to wife."

To this Nightingale made answer: "Thou art
pleasing to me, maiden, in all things save this one;
—that I like not,—thou hast wooed a husband
for thyself. This should not be, fair damsel.
Better were it for thee to be at home, drawing
water, milking the cows, feeding the calves."

Upon that, with great shame she turned and ran
to her home.

Then young Nightingale Budimirovich donned
with speed his richest apparel, and went to Prince
Vladimir of royal Kief, in state, to woo, seated
himself in the great place, and spoke this word:

"Aï, thou Prince of royal Kief town! Thou
hast a much-loved niece, young Love. Give her
to me now for my wife."

So Prince Vladimir betrothed the fair maiden,
his niece, and the young people went to God's
church to take the golden crowns.

Then in haste did young Nightingale remove
from Love's garden his golden-crowned towers,
made all things as they were at the first, and
betook himself to his dark-red ship with his lady
mother, his good body-guard, and his fair young
wife, and sailed away to his own land. There he
dwelt henceforth, and his wife, in joy and peace.

Danilo the Huntsman and his Wife

In Kief town the Fair Sun Prince Vladimir
held a feast, great, honourable, and merry.
And when the throng of princely nobles and
mighty heroes had eaten half their fill, and were
half drunken with wine, they began to boast
among themselves. One vaunted his wealth,
another his foreign merchandise, another his style
of living or his estates, his prowess or his young
wife.

Then spoke our father Prince Vladimir:

"Aï, all ye my princely nobles, and heroes
mighty! ye are all married, while I alone go
unwed. Know ye not where I may find a bride
with whom to hold sweet converse, of whom I may
make boast in banquet hall and bower, to whom
ye may pay homage?"

Putyatin Putyatovich made answer: "Prince
Vladimir, little father! take to thyself the bride
of Danilo the Huntsman. For I have journeyed
much in foreign lands, have viewed many princesses,
and proved their understandings. One was
fair of face, but lacked wit; the wit of another
exceeded her beauty. Yet never found I so fair a
woman, and so fitting, as the bride of Danilo the
Huntsman, Vasilisa Mikulichna. She is fair of
face, and of good understanding: she knoweth
well how to read and write the Russian tongue,

and is learned likewise in the legends of saints and
in church-singing. None is more meet to be our
Princess and our mother."

This word displeased Vladimir greatly, and he
said: "Where was it ever seen or heard that a
woman should be taken from a living husband?"
And he commanded that Putyatin should be
executed.

But the man was crafty, and slipped aside:
"Ho, little father, Prince Vladimir," he cried;
"wait! hang me not in haste; command me to
speak yet a word." So Vladimir commanded
him.

"Let us send Danilo on some distant service,
from which there is no return, to the Island of
Buyan.[1] Command him to slay the fierce beast
with blue feathers and bristly hide, and to take
out its heart.—Let us send him afar on the open
plain, to the Levanidof meadow, to the thundering
spring: command him to take the white-throated
bird, and fetch it hither to thy royal banquet, to
slay the fierce lion, and bear him hither."

Prince Vladimir liked this counsel well; but
Ilya of Murom, the Old Kazák, spoke up, and
said: "Little father, Prince Vladimir! if thou
slay the bright falcon, yet shalt thou not capture
the white swan!"

But this speech angered Prince Vladimir, and
he set Ilya in a deep dungeon.

Then he called Danilo, and commanded him to
go upon this quest. And Danilo went forth from
the richly spread tables of oak, the sweet viands
and honeyed drinks, mounted his good steed in the
spacious court, and rode homeward.

His young wife Vasilisa in her lofty castle
watched him as he came, and saw that he went

not merrily: his turbulent head drooped low, his
clear eyes were bent upon damp mother earth.
When she had inquired of him whether Prince
Vladimir had duly honoured him with cup and seat
at the feast, he answered that he had had the
highest seat at the board, and the cup had come to
him first of all.

"But woman's intrigues have wrought my ruin,"
he said. "Fetch me now my little quiver with a
hundred and fifty darts." Nevertheless she gave
him the great quiver with full three hundred,
whereat he reproved her: "Thou art ill-taught.
Why art thou thus disobedient? Fearest thou me
not?"

But Vasilisa was not angry, and said: "My
hope, my heart's friend, young Danilo the Huntsman!
a spare dart may prove of service to thee."

So the good youth journeyed to the Isle of
Buyan. When he espied the fierce beast, he
grasped his stout bow firmly, fitted a gilded arrow
to the silken cord, slew the beast, and took out
his heart and liver. Then he sat down to eat
bread, and carve the white swan. And as he
looked toward Kief town, he beheld not white
snows gleaming nor black clouds gathering fast,
but a Russian host flashing black and white
against Danilo. Then shed he burning tears, and
said: "Of a truth, I am greatly out of favour with
Prince Vladimir! and my service he requireth
not."

With that Danilo seized his sharp sword, and
cut down the Russian host to a man. And after
a little space, he looked again towards Kief town:
—'twas not two fierce beasts coursing over the
open plain, nor yet two damp oaks quivering; but
two great heroes riding, Nikita, Danilo's own
brother, and Dobrynya, his brother in arms.

When Danilo saw that, he wept bitterly, and
spoke: "Of a truth, the Lord is wroth with me,
and Prince Vladimir greatly displeased: for when
was it ever heard or seen that brother should be
sent to contend against brother?"

Thereupon he caught up his sharp spear, thrust
the butt-end into the damp earth, and fell upon
the point; and as it pierced his white breast,
Danilo closed his clear eyes for ever.

When the heroes came to him, they wept sore,
and turned back, and told Prince Vladimir: "Bold
Danilo is dead."

Then Vladimir collected a great following,
seated himself in a golden chariot, and went to
Danilo's dwelling. When he was come thither,
he entered the lofty tower, and kissed Vasilisa's
sugar mouth.

But Vasilisa said: "Little father, Prince Vladimir,
kiss not my red mouth, without my friend
Danilo."

But Vladimir commanded her: "Don thy fairest
apparel, thy wedding robes."

This she did, then took a sharp knife, and said:

"Grant me now, Prince Vladimir, to look upon
my dear friend, and to take leave of his white
body."

So Vladimir permitted her, and sent with her
two heroes. And, when she went to look, lo!
they were making the coffin.

"Make it wide, ye master carpenters," quoth
Vasilisa, "that his heroic bones may have space
to turn!"

And to the two heroes she said:

"Go now, ye heroes, and say to Prince Vladimir,
that he must not leave my body upon the
open plain, but must lay it with the body of my
dear friend Danilo the Huntsman."

Upon that, she took her sharp knife, pierced her
white breast, and closed her clear eyes.

The two heroes wept, and returning, told all to
Prince Vladimir.

Then Vladimir released Ilya of Murom from the
dungeon, and kissed him on the temple. "Well
hast thou spoken, thou Old Kazák, Ilya of
Murom!" he said, and graciously bestowed upon
him a mantle of sables. But to Putyatin he gave
a kettle of pitch.[2]

Ilya and the Adventure of the
Three Roads

THE old man rode over the open plain.
From youth to old age he had ridden,
and he marvelled at himself. "Oh age,
old age!" he cried: "oh deep old age of three
hundred years! Thou hast overtaken the Kazák
in the open plain, thou hast caught me like a black
raven, thou hast alighted upon my turbulent head.
—And youth, thou youth, my early youth! Thou
hast flown away, youth, over the open plain, like
the falcon clear!"

In the open plain the light snows gleamed not
white, little clouds darkled not, the blades of the
steppe grass waved not.—But over the open plain
still rode the old Kazák of the Don, on his heroic
steed. The horse under him was fiery as a wild
beast, and Ilya as he sat was like the falcon bright.
No ferriage asked the Kazák, for good Cloudfall
leaped lake and river, wide morass, and floating
swamp.

As he rode, he came to a place where three
ways met; and there stood a burning white stone,
Alatyr,[1] whereon was written: "Whoso rideth to
the right shall gain great wealth, whoso goeth to the
left a wife, he that fareth straight on, his death."

The old Kazák halted, marvelled, and shook
his gray head in thought.

"Wherefore should I, an old man, crave wealth?
I have countless store of golden treasure. And
why should the old man win a wife? There is no
joy in an ugly wife, and a fair one is taken for the
envy of other men. A young wife is coveted of
others; an old wife would lie on the oven, and eat
kisel,[2] she would sit by the oven, and order the old
husband about. Nay; but I will ride that way
where I may win death."

Then the good youth, the Old Kazák, rode on.
Hardly had he passed Korela the Accursed, not
yet had he attained to India the Rich, when he
entered a gloomy forest. There stood a band of
forty thousand robbers, and they coveted Ilya's
good steed.

"In all our lives," said they, "we have beheld
no such horse. Halt then, good youth, halt, thou
Russian hero!" And they would have robbed
him; but Ilya said:

"Ho, ye robber horde! Ye may not kill the old
man, nor rob him. I have no treasure with me,
save five hundred roubles. The cross on my breast
is worth but five hundred, my cloak of sables three
thousand; my cap of forty poods, and my sandals
of the seven silks, five hundred each; my fine
kaftan of orange-tawny taffeta is valued at but
little, my braided bridle rimmed with precious
stones, but a thousand roubles. My Cherkessian
saddle bordered with eagle's feathers—that eagle
which flew not over lofty mountains, but over the
blue sea—is priceless. Between my Cloudfall's
eyes, and under his ears, are jewels fair, clear
jacinth stones,—not for youthful vanity, but because
of the autumn nights. Wheresoever my
good steed goeth, he can see thirty versts on all

sides, thirty versts well told; for they gleam like
the bright moon.—And my good steed Cloudfall
is worth nothing at all."

The robbers jeered as they answered: "Thou
art old and garrulous, Kazák! Since we have
roamed this white world, never saw we such a fool.
The aged fool hath told the truth as though we
had demanded it! Seize the old fellow, children!"
And they would have dragged the Old Kazák from
his horse.

But young Ilya of Murom drew a fiery dart
from his quiver, and sped it forth from his stout
bow, and struck the damp mother of oaks. The
ringbarked oak was shivered in fragments, and the
earth was ploughed up round about.

The robbers were greatly terrified thereat, and
lay senseless for the space of five hours. Then
they entreated him:

"Good youth, great Russian hero! Enter thou
into comradeship with us. Take what thou wilt
of golden treasure, flowered garments, horses and
herds."

Ilya laughed: "Eh, brothers, mine enemies,"
quoth he, "I have no wish to feed your sheep."

Then he turned back to the white and burning
stone Alatyr, erased the old inscription, and wrote
anew:

"I have ridden this road and have not been
slain." So ended the adventure of the first road.

Again Ilya of Murom the Old Kazák sallied
forth into the open plain. He rode three hundred
versts, and lo! before him in a green meadow,
stood a marvel of marvels, a wonder of wonders.
Too small was it to be called a city, too large
to be a village. It was, in truth, but a fair palace
of white stone, with golden roofs, lofty walls, and
three-cornered towers.

When Ilya came to that palace, there issued
forth from it forty damsels, and with them came
also the Princess Zenira the Most Fair. The
beautiful Princess took the old man by his white
hands, by his golden ring, kissed his sugar mouth,
and bade him enter the palace of white stone to
feast with her.

"Long have I journeyed in Holy Russia, but
such a marvel I have never yet beheld," said Ilya.
Then she led him in. The good youth crossed
himself as prescribed, made salutation as enjoined,
to all sides, and lowest of all to the fair Princess,
who placed him at the table of white oak, and
fetched him sugar viands and sweet mead.

"Eat not to satiety, good youth," said she, "and
drink not to drunkenness, for there is more to
come."

But Ilya said: "I have journeyed three hundred
versts, and my hunger is great," and ate and drank
his fill.

Then Zenira the Fair led him to a rich warm
chamber, to a bed of yew wood and ivory, with
soft cushions of down.

"Lie thou next yon brick wall, thou bold and
goodly youth," spake the Princess.

"Nay," said Ilya, "I will lie upon the outer
edge, for I often rise in the night to visit my good
steed."

Thereupon he seized her by her white breast,
and flung her upon the bed of yew wood, against
the wall.

Now that bed of yew was false; it turned, and
the fair Princess was hurled down into her
dungeons, forty fathoms deep.

Then the good old youth went forth into the
spacious courtyard, and spoke to the nurses, women
and faithful servitors: "Give me the golden keys

which undo the dungeon doors. Show me the way
to those deep vaults."

So they showed him; and he found the way
choked with yellow sand, and barred with vast
logs of wood.

He had no need of the golden keys; he tore the
locks asunder with his hands, forced the doors
back with his heels, until they flew from their
frames. Then from the dungeons forty Tzars and
Tzareviches, forty Kings and Princes, their heirs,
together with Dobrynya Nikitich, Alyosha Popovich,
and many more, an innumerable host, sprang
to their nimble feet, and came forth.

All bowed before the Old Kazák, and thanked
him for showing them once more the white world."

"Go hence, ye Tzars, to your empires," spake
Ilya, "ye Kings, to your kingdoms, to your wives,
and children, and pray God for the Old Kazák, for
Ilya of Murom."

But when the fair Princess came forth, Ilya took
her by her white hands, bound her to three untamed
horses, and drove them apart, so that they
scattered over the open plain, here a hand, there
a foot, and everywhere her white body. All her
estates and treasure he divided among those bold
and goodly youths, the strong and mighty heroes;
and her palace of white stone he gave over to the
flames.

Again the Old Kazák returned to the white
stone, crossed out the old inscription, and wrote
a new one:

"This legend is falsely written; I have ridden
that way, yet am I still unwed!"

"I will go now," quoth he, "where wealth is to
be won."

Then the old man rode over the plain; three
hours, three hundred versts he rode, and came at

length to a green meadow where deep pits were
dug, and to a gloomy forest where was a vault
filled with treasure, fair gold, pure silver, and fine
seed-pearls; and on the vault was an inscription:
"This treasure shall fall to Ilya of Murom."

Ilya reflected; and having hired wise and
cunning craftsmen, he built on that spot a monastery
and a cathedral church. And he instituted
there church singing, and the sound of bells.
"Let him whose that treasure was come for it
now," quoth Ilya of Murom, and returned to
famous Kief town, to courteous Prince Vladimir
the Fair Sun.

Vladimir inquired of him: "Where hast thou
tarried so long, thou bold and goodly youth, thou
Old Kazák, Ilya of Murom?"

And Ilya related his Adventure of the Three
Ways, and all that he had done, to Fair Sun
Prince Vladimir.

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

he paced the banquet hall, and he went forth upon
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

Murom, that bold and goodly youth, stepped forward,
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,

the mincing gait of Churilo Plenkovich, the beauty
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

from under the saddle and throw the good youth
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

the living. Then live a widow, or marry, at thy
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,

and betrothed her to bold Alyosha. After that,
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

fleet, nor snowy partridge fluttering, but a bold
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.

Ilya of Murom and Tzar Kalin

AT courteous Prince Vladimir's palace in
royal Kief town, an honourable feast was
assembled of many princes, all the nobles,
the mighty heroes and their bold body-guards, and
all the merchant-traders.

The Fair Sun made good cheer; to one he gave
cities, to another towns, to this man villages, to
that one hamlets. And to Ilya he gave a cloak
of marten skins, with a collar of sables. But the
cloak came not into honour with Ilya, nor into
praise. He bare that cloak of marten skins to
the kitchen, dragged it about the brick floor by
one sleeve, and began to say to it:

"I will drag about that serpent, Tzar Kalin, by
his yellow curls, as I drag this cloak of marten
skins. As I pour green wine upon this cloak, even
so will I pour out his hot heart, with its seething
blood."

But a black-visaged maid bore this saying to
the Fair Sun Prince Vladimir. "Ilya hath been
in my kitchen," she said; "he hath dragged his
mantle of marten about, and hath said that even
so he would also drag Vladimir by his yellow curls.
And he hath poured green wine upon the mantle,
and declared that even so he would pour out
Prince Vladimir's burning heart with his own white
hands."

Then was Prince Vladimir very wroth, and
shouted in his thundering voice:

"Ye mighty heroes! lead Ilya to our dungeon,
and set an iron grating there; pile trunks of oak
trees on all sides, and heap over all yellow
sand."

The heroes went and told Ilya all, and besought
him to help them in this strait, else would Prince
Vladimir overwhelm them with his displeasure.
So Ilya mounted his good steed, and rode willingly
with them to the dungeon. There he dismounted
from his good Cloudfall, took off the Cherkessian
saddle and plaited bridle, and let his brown horse
wander free at God's good will.

Then he descended into the dungeon, and
the heroes made all fast as Prince Vladimir had
commanded.

When the Princess Apraxia heard of that, she
dug a deep passage, and carried sugar viands and
mead to Ilya of Murom the old Kazák. There
Ilya sat for the space of three years. And it
came to the ears of the Dragon Tzar Kalin.

Then Kalin the Tzar assembled a great host
from the Golden Horde, to ride against Kief town,
to take the Princess Apraxia for his wife. Each
of the forty Tzars and Tzareviches, the forty
Kings and Princes, had a company of forty thousand
men. They stood along swift-flowing Mother
Dnyepr, and about Kief town on all sides, a
hundred versts well told.

That dog Tzar Kalin seated himself on his
folding chair and wrote in haste a cartel, with a
swan-quill pen, and pure gold in place of ink,
upon crimson velvet. Then he chose his best
and favourite runner, gave him the cartel, and
commanded him in these words:

"Go thou to Kief town; enter not by the white

oak gates, but leap the city wall; bind not thy
horse, but enter straight the palace of white stone;
open the door wide, but close it not again; do no
reverence to Vladimir, neither take thou thy cap
from thy head. But take thy stand over against
him, fling this cartel upon the golden table, and
say to Prince Vladimir: `Take this cartel, and
look what is written there. Clean all thine arrow-straight
streets, remove the wondrous crosses
from God's temples, and build horse-stalls in the
churches; for our good steeds shall be stabled
there. And clean out all thy palaces of white
stone, for our host is great. And brew sweet
intoxicating liquors; let cask stand upon cask in
close array. For Kalin the Tzar and his great
host shall stand in thy city of Kief; and he shall
wed the Princess Apraxia.' "

All this was done as Kalin had commanded;
and when Prince Vladimir had read the cartel he
wrote a submissive letter in reply: "Thou hound
and Tzar Kalin! Grant me a truce of three
months to clean the streets and palaces, and to
brew the sweet liquors."

And Kalin granted the truce.

Prince Vladimir began to pace to and fro with
bitterness; he dropped burning tears from his clear
eyes, and wiped them away with a silken kerchief,
and said:

"Ilya of Murom the Old Kazák is no more;
there is none to fight for our faith and fatherland,
for the church of God and the city of Kief; there
is none to defend Prince Vladimir."

Then spake the Princess: "Little father! command
thy trusty servants to go to the deep dungeon
and see whether Ilya be not yet alive."

"Thou foolish princess!" Vladimir made answer.
"If I take thy turbulent head from thy

shoulders, will it grow again? How can the bold
good youth be living after these three years?"

Nevertheless he went himself to the dungeon,
and found Ilya with sweet viands, cushions of
down, and warm coverlets, reading the Holy
Gospel. He bowed to the earth before Ilya, and
besought him to defend them all, not for his own
sake, but for pity of the widows and orphans.
Then he took the Old Kazák by his little white
hands, by his golden ring, led him to his own table,
and gave him to eat and drink of the best.

So Ilya saddled his good steed, and sallied forth.
They saw the good youth as he mounted, they saw
him not as he rode. There was but a smoke-wreath
on the open plain, and springs of water
burst forth where good Cloudfall's hoofs beat the
earth. He leaped to the crest of a lofty mountain,
and the Old Kazák gazed upon all sides, hoping to
descry the absent Russian heroes.

In the east he espied white pavilions, for
Alyosha Popovich was come to the oak Nevida,
to the cross Levanidof, to the white stone Alatyr.
He had pitched a snowy tent, shaken out fine
wheat for his good steed, planted a staff of twenty
fathoms, and on it hung a golden tassel,—not for
beauty and splendour, but as a heroic signal, that
the accursed Tatars might know that Alyosha
Popovich stood on guard in the open plain.

From afar, very far, came also Dobrynya Nikitich
to the oak, the cross, the stone, pitched his
pavilion, and displayed two tassels; and so the
other heroes did likewise. Then came Ilya, placed
three golden tassels on his staff, flung the silken
reins on his steed's neck that the good beast might
gather up a little of the wheat, and entered the
white pavilion, where twelve heroes of Holy Russia
were sitting at meat.

All rose and kissed, and bade him welcome
heartily. Then they sat down again to eat and
drink, and Ilya announced his errand.

But his godfather, Samson Samoilovich, made
answer: "Nay, my beloved godson! but we will
not saddle our horses to defend Kief town, Vladimir,
and his Princess. For lo! he hath many
princely nobles, to whom he giveth meat and
drink and guerdon, while we have nothing from
Prince Vladimir."

"It will be the worse for thee," quoth Ilya; and
so they wrangled.

Meanwhile Vladimir wrapped himself in his
mantle furred with marten, and paced to and fro
in Kief town. For the truce was nearly expired,
and the heroes were not come. As he thus walked
the streets, his nephew, young Yermak Timofeevich,[1]
sprang forth from the royal pot-house, and
entreated Vladimir that he might have a heroic
steed, a coat of chain mail of ninety poods, and a
mace of equal weight, so that he might ride against
the hostile host.

"Thou art but a braggart child," quoth Vladimir,
"and hast never taken a mace in thy hand."

"If thou grant not the horse, uncle, I will go
on foot."

So Vladimir yielded, and bade Yermak choose
what horse he would from the stable, where he
should also find what armour he required. Thither
went the youth in all haste; but the chain mail
was so rusty, that he flung it down upon the brick
floor, whereupon all the rust flew from it.

Then Yermak saddled a good horse, and rode
to the barrier by the Nevida oak, and found the
twelve heroes playing checkers upon a board of

gold, and Ilya asleep upon a couch of fishes' teeth,
beneath a coverlet of sables.

Yermak was vexed, and shouted with all his
strength: "Ho there, thou Old Kazák, Ilya
Murometz! Yonder in Kief there is bread to eat
in plenty, but no one to defend the town."

Then said the Old Kazák: "Climb into the
damp oak, oak, young Yermak, and reckon yon
host by the standards."

Yermak climbed the damp oak, viewed the vast
host, and saw that it was sallying forth: damp
mother earth trembled and bent under the weight
thereof.

—The gray wolf could not skirt that force in
a long spring day; the black raven could not fly
about it in the longest day of summer, nor would
the longest light of autumn suffice for the gray
bird to fly over it.

Then Yermak leaped quickly from the damp
oak, sprang upon his good steed, and rode straightway
against that host. The heroes sat on in the
white pavilion. Ilya slept three days and nights.
During that space, young Yermak contended alone
with the Tatars, pausing not to eat not to drink,
nor to let his good steed rest.

"Mount the damp oak, Dobrynya," spoke Ilya
when he awoke. "Perchance young Yermak hath
fallen thence."

From the tree-top Dobrynya beheld the vast
host, and something more: not the black raven
flying, not the bright falcon soaring, but that bold
and goodly youth Yermak galloping against those
infidels. This he told to Ilya.

"Rise, ye Russian heroes!" shouted the Old
Kazák then. "Mount your good steeds, and sally
forth against that host. And take iron grappling-hooks,
catch them in young Yermak's shoulders,

and persuade him: `Thou hast breakfasted to-day,
now let us dine.' For the young lad will perish,
and will never attain to herohood."

So Alyosha went forth with stout grappling-irons;
but thrice did young Yermak break away
from them, and Alyosha returned to the pavilion.
And so it fared also with Dobrynya. Then Ilya went
himself. He sat his charger like a century-old oak,
wavering not, and caught hold of Yermak. "Calm
thy heroic heart," he said, "we will labour now."

As the clear falcon swoopeth down upon the
geese and swans, and small gray migratory ducks,
so swooped the Holy Russian hero upon that Tatar
horde, and began to trample the host under his
horse's hoofs, and to lay them low, as a mower
cutteth down the grass.

Then Cloudfall conjured him with human
tongue: "Aï, thou mighty Russian hero! Boldly
hast thou attacked this vast host, but thou mayest
not overcome it. For that hound Tzar Kalin
hath many great heroes and bold warrior-maids;
and moreover, he hath dug three great trenches in
the open plain. If thou ride against that horde,
we shall fall into those trenches. Out of the first
I may leap and bear thee, and likewise out of the
second. But out of the third I may not bear thee,
and though I leap forth, thou wilt remain in the
ditch. For I watched them dig the trenches whilst
thou wert sleeping, and so watching had no time
to eat my wheat."

This discourse pleased not the Old Kazák. He
grasped his silken whip in his white hands, and
beat the horse upon his flanks. "Thou treacherous
hound!" quoth he. "I feed and water thee, and
yet thou wilt abandon me in the deep ditches of
the open plain!"

So he heeded not good Cloudfall's warning, but

rode on, destroying the host with his spear and his
horse's hoofs; and his strength was not diminished.

When he fell into the first trench, his good
steed bore him out in safety. Again he rode, and
came to the second ditch; and from that also he
escaped. From the third, heroic Cloudfall leaped
nimbly (but bore not Ilya with him), and fled far
afield.

Then the accursed Tatars fell upon the Old
Kazák, fettered his nimble feet, bound his white
hands, and led him to where Tzar Kalin sat in his
linen pavilion.

"Aï, thou Old Kazák, Ilya of Murom!" quoth
Tzar Kalin. "How should a young puppy prevail
alone against my great host?"

And to his guards he said:

"Unbind Ilya's white hands, unfetter his nimble
feet." And it was done.

"Now sit thou at one table with me, Ilya; eat
my sweet viands, drink my mead, put on my
flowered apparel. Marry my daughter, and serve
not Prince Vladimir, but be vassal to me, the Tzar
Kalin."

"Had I my sharp sword by me, thou dog,
Kalin the Tzar, it should woo thy neck!" Ilya
answered. "None of these things will I do. But
I will uphold the temples of God, the Princess
Apraxia and Prince Vladimir, and the city of Kief."

Then he heard a voice from heaven say, "Lift
up thy hands, Ilya." So he lifted them, and smote
off Tzar Kalin's turbulent head, and going forth
from the pavilion, he began to destroy the Tatars;
and none opposed him. But he perceived that the
task was not small, and so seized a Tatar by the
heels, and began to beat the Tatars with a Tatar.
"This Tatar is stout," quoth Ilya, "he breaketh
not; he is tough, and teareth not."

When he was come to the open plain, he flung
the Tatar far from him, and blew a heroic blast on
his aurochs horn; for his clear eyes were dimmed,
his hot heart burned, and he could distinguish
neither the white day nor the black night. His
heroic steed heard that ringing blast, and galloped
to his master from afar.

Then Ilya mounted him, and rode forthwith to
a lofty mountain, and gazed to the eastward, where
the heroic steeds stood beside the white pavilions.
He lighted down from off his horse, fitted a fiery
arrow to his stout bow, and conjured it: "Fly,
little dart aflame, to yonder white pavilion! Tear
off the roof, pierce the white breast of my brother
in arms, make a small scratch—not large. For
he sleepeth, and taketh his ease, while I stand
here alone, and can do but little."

The shaft sped straight to the white breast of
Samson Samoilovich, and roused that glorious hero
of Holy Russia from his heavy sleep. When he
opened his eyes, and beheld that the roof of his
tent was gone, and a little dart had flown into his
breast, he sprang quickly to his nimble feet.

"Ho there, my mighty heroes of Holy Russia!"
he shouted. "Saddle now your good steeds in
haste, and mount with speed. An unwelcome
messenger is come from my brother in arms,—a
little dart. Had it not been for the cross of six
poods upon my breast, my turbulent head had been
torn away."

Right quickly then did those Holy Russian
heroes saddle their chargers, and ride towards Kief
town, and Ilya went down from the lofty mountain
to meet the twelve. And all thirteen heroes rode
against the Tatar horde.

For five hours these good youths mowed down
young and old, leaving not so much as a single

soul to continue the race. And when they were
come together again in one place, they began to
boast, and to say: "If there were a ladder to
heaven, we would climb it, and destroy all the
heavenly host!" Then they began again to slay
the Tatars: when lo ! two, yea even three, rose
up in place of every man they killed.

Then those mighty Russian heroes began to turn
their arms against each other, to pierce and hew
each other, so that of all those Russian warriors
there was left alive only young Yermak Timofeevich.[2]

When Yermak returned to Kief town, courteous
Prince Vladimir inquired of him: "How shall I
reward thee now, beloved nephew mine? Wilt
thou have estates, or golden treasure?"

And young Yermak made answer: "Grant me
only, uncle, that I may drink beer and wine without
price in all the pot-houses." And so Vladimir
granted it.

But Ilya of Murom, the Old Kazák of the Don,
was caught away from those accursed Tatars, and
with his good heroic Cloudfall was turned to stone.
And the bones of the Old Kazák have become
holy relics.[3]

And so the race of Russian heroes came to an
end for ever.

Tzar Solomon and Tzaritza
Solomonida[1]

BEYOND the glorious blue sea, in Imperial
Tzargrad,[2] Tzar Vasily Okulovich made a
great and honourable feast to many princes,
nobles, errant-knights, stout and mighty heroes,
and all the bold warrior-maidens, Tatars, bodyguards,
and merchants from other lands.

The white day drew to even, the feast waxed
merry, the sovereign was well diverted, and paced
the banquet hall, shaking his yellow curls. He
spoke:

"Oh, ye my princes, boyars, mighty heroes,
damsels-errant, Tatars, and body-guard! All in
Tzargrad are wedded, every maid and widow is
given in marriage; and I, your prince, most fair
Tzar Vasily Okulovich, alone go unwed. Know
ye not, therefore, a spouse for me? Stately of
form must she be, of equal understanding; her
eyes like the falcon clear, her brows of the black
sable, the sable of Siberia; gracious her speech
must be, as of the white migratory swan, her face
white as the snow, her cheeks like the poppy in
hue, her gait like that of the golden-antlered stag,
and in all this world must none be found her
equal."

—All at the feast fell silent. The great hid
behind the lesser, and he, in turn, behind the
small, and from that little Tatar, the Tzar had no
reply. Then from a side table, from his seat of
precious fishes' teeth, rose Tarakashko, a guest
from over the sea, came very close to the Tzar,
did him lowly reverence, and spoke with all
softness:

"Bless, my liege, the word I shall utter! I
have journeyed afar, beyond the blue sea; in the
royal town of Jerusalem dwelleth the Tzaritza
Solomonida. Such another have I never beheld
upon this earth. She sitteth, lord, in a lofty castle;
the red sun burneth her not, the frequent, drizzling
rains wet her not, and good men scoff not at her."

Then answered Tzar Vasily: "Thou art foolish,
Guest Tarakashko from over the sea! How may
a wife be taken from a living husband?"

"I know, in sooth, how to take a wife with
cunning and wisdom. Build me now three scarlet
ships; fashion their prows like wild beasts, and
their sides in the semblance of dragons. In place
of eyes, set a whole fox of the cavern, in place of
black brows a whole Siberian sable. Set a tree
of cypress, and on it place birds of paradise that
they may sing imperial songs. Prepare a couch
of ivory, and at its head place, lord, a little gusly,
which will sing, hum, breathe forth delicate tones
of itself—all the airs of Tzargrad; that they may
be a solace to Jerusalem, and may sing reason and
understanding into the turbulent head—the turbulent
head of a human being. Roll on board
food, my liege lord, noble vodka,[3] and the drink
that bringeth oblivion of all things. Give me
skippers, lord, and work-people; so will I bring
thee Solomonida, my liege."

Then the Tzar did all as commanded, and Guest
Tarakashko made ready and sailed out upon the
blue sea, and drew near to the city of Jerusalem.

—Solomon went forth upon the open plain, and
came to bid farewell to the Tzaritza Solomonida.

"Most fair Solomonida, I go now to the open
plain," he said. And the Tzaritza made answer:

"Most wise Tzar Solomon Davidovich! Last
night I slept but little, and beheld many things in
my dreams. Methought, lord, that the golden ring
upon thy right hand did melt, and the Novgorod
setting rolled away, and was scattered about thee."

"Thou hast but slept, and had a dream," spoke
Solomon.

"Nay, lord," the Tzaritza said: "I slept but
little, and had many visions. Methought they bore
thy white swan far away from thy green garden."

This Solomon could interpret. "Most fair
Tzaritza Solomonida! yield not to manly charms."
Then took he leave of her, and went forth upon
the open plain to collect tribute for twelve years.

—Guest Tarakashko from beyond the sea
entered the harbour, and paid a tax; he cast
anchor, and paid dues, lowered his sails, and paid
yet more.

Then he took noble and precious gifts, and came
to the Tzaritza in her lofty castle, crossed himself
as enjoined, did reverence as commanded, and
spoke these words:

"Most fair Tzaritza Solomonida! Receive from
my hand these honourable gifts, and give me scribes
and surveyors, to write down the wares upon my
vessels, that thou mayest take due tribute, and
grant me leave to trade in Jerusalem."

So the Tzaritza appointed scribes and surveyors
according to his desire, and Tarakashko
led them to his first vessel, and gave them lordly

vodka; led them to the second, and brought them
the liquor of oblivion. The scribes all drank, and
lay about upon the ships.

Guest Tarakashko wept sore thereat, came to
the Tzaritza and made complaint. "Most fair
Tzaritza Solomonida! no scribes and surveyors
hast thou given me, but pot-house sots. Methinks
they cannot have tasted of green wine for an
age, for they lie like Christian beasts about my
decks."

Then the Tzaritza rose, and took a force of five
hundred men, and went to the first vessel to view
the matter. There Tarakashko brought lordly
vodka, and on the second treated her to the wine
of oblivion; and the Tzaritza drank too much.
For Guest Tarakashko was crafty, and had made
her, for his purpose, pass through these two first
vessels as he led her to the third where stood the
couch of ivory. The Tzaritza lay down upon the
fair couch, the little harp sounded softly, the birds
of heaven sang, and the Tzaritza fell asleep.

Guest Tarakashko beheld, and shouted in a
hissing voice:

"Ho there, my skippers and sailors all! Hoist
the linen sails, run far out upon the blue sea!"

When the Tzaritza wakened from her deep
slumber, and all the skippers were hastening to
and fro, hoisting the linen sails, and steering out
to sea, she roused herself, and said:

"Guest Tarakashko from over the sea! if thou
bearest me away for thyself, I will not go with
thee!"

But Tarakashko was cunning, and knew right
well how to shape his answer: "Not for myself
do I bear thee, lady, but for Tzar Vasily Okulovich.
And in sooth our faith is better than thine:
Wednesdays and Fridays are like all other days

with us, and we eat meat." And this faith seemed
good to the Tzaritza, and she resisted not.

Quickly they ran to Tzargrad, and cast anchor in
the ship harbour. Tzar Vasily came to meet them,
took Solomonida by her white hands, kissed her
sugar mouth, and led her to the cathedral where
they straightway took the golden crowns. Then
they began to live and pass the time in mirth.

—Solomon returning from the open plain found
not his Tzaritza. Then the most wise Tzar
gathered a force of forty thousand men, all clad
in chain mail, and marched around the blue sea
to Tzargrad. When he came to a green grove, he
halted, and left all his host beneath the trees, and
commanded them:

"All ye, my well-beloved host! I go now alone
to Tzargrad. If I be near to speedy death, I will
blow one blast upon my aurochs horn: then saddle
your good steeds in haste. If a second time I
sound, then mount your good steeds quickly. If
a third blast I blow, then ride, ride with what
speed ye may, to the oaken gallows, and defend
me from sudden death."

Then Solomon took leave of his men, and went
alone to Tzargrad, on foot, and so came over against
the royal palace, and shouted in a ringing voice:

"Most fair Tzaritza Solomonida! give alms to
a wandering psalm-singer!"

The little lattice window was opened wide: no
white swan it was which twittered, but the Tzaritza,
who spoke these words: "I look—lo! 'tis no
wandering psalm-singer I see—'tis Solomon the
most wise Tzar. Prithee, Solomon, enter my
lofty palace. That which I have done, lord, was
against my will."

So Solomon entered the lofty palace, crossed
himself as commanded, did reverence as enjoined,

bowing on all sides. Fair Solomonida seated him
at the white oak table, gave him all manner of
savoury viands and pleasant liquors, and showed
him great honour.

But then came Tzar Vasily from the open plain,
and knocked at the silver ring, and Solomon said:
"Solomonida most fair! is there not some place
where I may hide?"

"Creep into this iron-bound chest, Solomon."

She undid the double locks, and when Solomon
had entered she made them fast again, admitted
Tzar Vasily, and sitting upon the chest, spoke
thus: "Most fair Vasily Okulovich! Solomon is
reputed both wise and cunning. But of a truth,
there is none more foolish; for lo! a woman now
sitteth upon him!"

"Show me Solomon most wise, fairest Solomonida,"
quoth Vasily.

Then she undid the twofold locks, and besought
Vasily: "Give speedy death to Solomon, fair
Vasily! Cut off his turbulent head; for, of a
truth, Solomon is both wise and crafty."

Solomon sprang to his nimble feet, seized Vasily
by his white hands, and said: "With us 'tis not
the usage to cut off the heads of Tzars. Make now,
therefore, a lofty scaffold, and hang upon it three
great nooses; the first of rope, the second of bast,
the third of silk."

"Ho there, Tzar Vasily!" cried the Tzaritza
then, "full time is it for thee to execute judgment
upon Solomon, and sever his turbulent head, else
will he yet escape by his craft and wisdom."

Nevertheless the Tzar did all as Solomon had
commanded, and they all went forth to the gallows
of white oak—Solomon the most wise Tzar, Solomonida
the fairest Tzaritza, Tzar Vasily, and Guest
Tarakashko from over the sea.

When they were come to the gallows, Solomon
spoke this word: "Tzar Vasily Okulovich! the
horse draweth the forward wheels; why, then,
should the devil bear the hind wheels?" But no
one could read that riddle.

Then Solomon mounted the first step, and said:

"Most fair Tzar Vasily Okulovich! in my youth
and childhood I fed the peasant flock. Grant me
now, lord, to blow my aurochs horn once more."

"Blow, Solomon, as much as thou wilt," said
Vasily.

But Solomonida urged speedy death. "He is in
my hands now," quoth Vasily. Solomon blew the
first blast upon his horn, and all his force was
tossed about. Right quickly did they saddle their
good steeds, while Tzar Vasily feared and was
disquieted.

"What marvel is this that hath been wrought,
Solomon?" he asked. "On the open plain there
is stamping, and clinking of metal."

"Fear not, Tzar Vasily," Solomon made answer,
"and be not disquieted. My horses in Jerusalem
have fled from their stalls to the gloomy forest,
and would fain recall Solomon most wise."

Then he mounted the second step. With
Vasily's good leave, and against the will of Solomonida,
he blew a second blast upon his horn.
All his host was thrilled to motion, as his men
mounted their good steeds in haste. And Vasily
trembled thereat, and was afraid.

"What wonder hath been wrought in the plain,
Solomon? For there is a clanging and a beating
of hoofs."

"Fear thou nothing, Tzar Vasily! My bird in
Jerusalem hath flown from the garden to the
dusky grove, and beateth the grove with its wings,
recalling Solomon most wise."

Then he mounted the third step, and craved
leave to sound his horn for the last time. He
blew a battle call, and all his great host was
moved, as though clear falcons had flown overhead,
or gray wolves had sped swiftly past. With
all speed they rode to the oaken gallows, and took
Tzar Solomon most wise therefrom. Then they
sat Tzar Vasily in the silken noose, Tzaritza
Solomonida the Fair in the rope, and Guest Tarakashko
in the noose of bast. And having taken
captive all Tzargrad, they journeyed back around
the blue sea to Jerusalem, and began again to live
and to pass their days in pleasure.