University of Virginia Library

XXXIV.—ILYA OF MUROM AND NIGHTINGALE THE
ROBBER.

In the famous city of Murom, in the village of Karatcharof,
lived a peasant, Ivan Timofeewitch. He had an

only child, Ilya Murometz. He sat as children do for
thirty years, and when thirty years had passed, he began to
walk firmly on his feet, became conscious of vast strength,
made himself a warrior's equipment and a steel spear, and
saddled a good horse, worthy of a hero. He went to his
father and mother, and begged their blessing. `My
honoured father and mother, let me go to the famous city
of Kief to perform my devotions to God, and to kneel to the
Prince of Kief.' His father and mother gave him their
blessing, laid upon him serious injunctions, and spoke to
this effect: `Ride straight to the city of Kief, straight to the
city of Chernigof, and on your road do no injury, shed no
Christian blood causelessly.' Ivan Murometz received the
blessing of his father and mother, prayed to God, took
leave of his father and mother, and started on his journey.

He travelled far on into the gloomy forest, until he came
to a robbers' camp. The robbers espied Ilya Murometz,
and their robber hearts burned for his heroic horse, and
they began to talk together about taking his horse from him,
for they were not wont to see such horses anywhere, and
now an unknown man was riding on so good a horse.
And they arose to assail Ilya Murometz by tens and twenties.
Ilya Murometz halted his heroic horse, and took out of his
quiver an arrow of guelder-rosewood, and placed it on his
tough bow. He shot the arrow of guelder-rosewood along
the ground, and it penetrated to the distance of a fathom
slanting. Seeing this, the robbers were terrified, collected
into an orb, fell on their knees, and said: `You are our lord
and father, valiant and good youth! We are guilty before
you; take for such a fault as ours as much as you please of
coloured raiment and herds of horses.' Ilya smiled and
said: `I've nowhere to put it; but if you wish to live, don't
venture any further!' and rode on his way to the famous city
of Kief.

He rode on to the city of Chernigof, and under that city

of Chernigof were standing armies of heathen innumerable,
and they were besieging the city of Chernigof, and wanted
to destroy it and ravage the churches of God therein, and
to take into captivity the Prince and Duke of Chernigof
himself. Ilya Murometz was terrified at this great force;
nevertheless, he committed himself to the Lord God, his
Creator, and determined to risk his head for the Christian
faith. Ilya Murometz began to slaughter the heathen forces
with his steel spear, and defeated all the pagan power, and
took captive the heathen prince, and led him into the city
of Chernigof. The citizens came out of the city of
Chernigof to meet him with honour; the Prince and Duke
of Chernigof came himself. They received the good youth
with honour, and gave thanks to the Lord God, because the
Lord unexpectedly sent deliverance to the city, and caused
them not all to perish in vain at the hands of such a heathen
host. They received him into their houses, made him a
great entertainment, and let him proceed on his journey.

Ilya Murometz rode off towards the city of Kief by the
direct road from Chernigof, which had been beset for full
thirty years by Nightingale the robber, who allowed neither
horseman nor foot-traveller to pass, and slew them not by
any weapon, but by his robber whistling. Out rode Ilya
Murometz into the open country, and espied the tracks of
horses, and rode on upon them, and arrived at the Branskian
forest, at the muddy swamps, at the bridges of guelder-rosewood,
and at the river Smorodinka. Nightingale the
robber forboded his end and a great misfortune, and before
Ilya Murometz approached within twenty versts, began to
whistle vigorously with his robber whistling; but the hero's
heart was not terrified. Then, before he approached within
ten versts, he began to whistle still more violently, and from
this whistling Ilya Murometz's horse tottered under him.
Ilya Murometz rode up to the nest itself, which was constructed
upon twelve oaks. Nightingale the robber espied

the hero of Holy Russia, whistled with all his might, and
wanted to smite Ilya Murometz to death.

Ilya Murometz took down his tough bow, placed on it an
arrow of guelder-rosewood, shot it at Nightingale's nest,
struck his right eye and knocked it out. Nightingale the
robber tumbled down like a sack of oats. Ilya Murometz
took Nightingale the robber, bound him fast to his steel
stirrup, and rode on towards the famous city of Kief. On
the way stood a mansion belonging to Nightingale the
robber, and when Ilya Murometz came opposite the
robber's mansion, the windows thereof were open, and at
these windows the robber's three daughters were looking
out. The youngest daughter saw him, and cried to her
sisters: `There's our father outside coming with booty, and
leading to us a man bound to his steel stirrup.' But the
eldest daughter looked, and began to weep bitterly. `That
isn't our father coming: it's an unknown man coming,
and leading our father.' They began to scream to their
husbands: `Our dear husbands! ride and meet the man,
and take our father from him; do not let our family be put
to such contempt.' Their husbands, strong heroes, rode
against the hero of Holy Russia; their horses were good,
their spears were sharp, and they were about to receive Ilya
on their spears. Nightingale the robber espied this, and
said to them: `My dear sons-in-law, do not cause yourselves
to be put to shame, and do not provoke so mighty a hero;
rather with humility entreat him to drink a cup of green
wine in my house.' At the request of the sons-in-law, Ilya
turned into the house, not knowing their villainy. The
eldest daughter raised on chains an iron slab, which was
placed over the door, in order to crush him. But Ilya
observed her at the door, struck her with his spear, and
smote her to death.

When Ilya Murometz arrived at Kief city, he rode straight
to the prince's palace, and entered the house, which was of

white stone, prayed to God, and knelt to the prince. The
Prince of Kief asked him: `Tell me, good youth, how men
name you, and of what city you are a native?' Ilya
Murometz made reply: `My lord, men call me Little Ilya,
but by my father's family I am an Ivanof; a native of the
city of Murom, of the village of Karatcharof.' The prince
inquired: `By what road did you ride from Murom?' `By
that of Chernigof, and under the walls of Chernigof I
defeated an innumerable heathen host, and delivered the
city of Chernigof. Thence I proceeded by the direct road,
and took captive the mighty hero, Nightingale the robber,
and led him hither with me bound to my steel stirrup.'
The prince, becoming angry, said: `What a lie you are
telling!' When the heroes, Alesha Popovitch and Dobrynya
Nikititch, heard this, they flew to look, and assured the
prince that it really was so. The prince ordered a cup of
green wine to be brought to the good youth. The prince
had a wish to listen to the robber's whistling. Ilya enveloped
the prince and princess in a sable mantle, placed
them beneath his arms, summoned Nightingale, and commanded
him to give the Nightingale whistle with half
strength. But Nightingale the robber whistled with his full
robber whistle, and deafened the heroes, so that they fell on
the floor. For this Ilya Murometz slew him.

Ilya Murometz made a brotherhood with Dobrynya Nikititch.
They saddled their good steeds, and rode into the
open country to seek adventures; and they rode full three
months without finding any adversary. But they rode on in
the open country; there came a wandering beggar: the
ragged dress upon his back weighed fifty poods, his hat
nine poods, his staff was ten fathoms long. Ilya Murometz
began to urge his horse toward him, and was about to
match his heroic strength with him. The wandering beggar
recognised Ilya Murometz, and said: `Oh! you are Ilya
Murometz. If you remember, we learnt to read and write

together at one school, and now you are urging your horse
against a poor cripple like me, as against an enemy. But
this you don't know, that in the famous city of Kief a great
misfortune has happened. An infidel, a mighty hero, the
unclean Idolishtcha, has arrived. His head is as big as a
beer caldron, his shoulders are a fathom broad, the distance
between his eyebrows is a span, that between his ears is an
arrow of guelder-rosewood; he eats an ox at a time, and
drinks a caldron at a draught; and the Prince of Kief is
very grieved about you, because you have left him in such
perplexity.' Clothing himself in the beggar's dress, Ilya
Murometz went straight to the prince's court, and cried with
heroic voice: `Oh, is it you, Prince of Kief? Send me an
alms, wandering beggar that I am.' The prince saw him,
and spake as follows: `Come into the palace to me, beggar;
I will give you your fill of food and drink, and gold for your
journey.' And the beggar entered the palace and stood by
the stove; he looked on at what was occurring. Idolishtcha
asked for something to eat. They brought him a whole
ox roasted, and he ate it up, bones and all. Idolishtcha
asked for something to drink. They brought him a caldron
of beer, carried by twenty men; he took it up by the
handles, and drank it all up. Ilya Murometz said: `My
father had a greedy mare; she over-ate herself and died.'
Idolishtcha didn't stand that, and said: `Oh, it's you,
wandering beggar! Why do you insult me? It's nothing
to me to take you up in my hands. Nay, what are you?
If such an one as Ilya Murometz was among you, I'd make
a fight of it even with him.' `Then here's such an one as
he,' said Ilya Murometz, and, taking off his hat, struck him
gently on the head with it.—But he broke through the wall
of the house, took the corpse of Idolishtcha, and threw it
out by the rent. For this the prince honoured Ilya
Murometz with great commendations, and placed him on
the list of mighty heroes.