University of Virginia Library

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.