Read small epics. Russian epics - heroes and characters. Senior and junior heroes
Epics for junior grades (retold by A. N. Nechaev)
Epic "Ilya Muromets"
Illness and healing of Ilya Muromets
Near the city of Murom, in the suburban village of Karacharovo, the peasant Ivan Timofeevich and his wife Efrosinya Polikarpovna had a long-awaited son. The middle-aged parents are delighted. They gathered guests from all the volosts for the christening, pulled apart the tables and started a meal - a feast of honors. They named their son Ilya. Ilya, son Ivanovich. Ilya is growing by leaps and bounds, like dough rising on a piece of dough. Elderly parents look at their son, rejoice, and do not feel troubles or adversity. And trouble came to them unexpectedly. Ilya’s quick legs lost their strength, and the strong guy stopped walking. Sydney sits in the hut. The parents are grieving, sad, looking at their wretched son and shedding tears. What are you going to do? Neither sorcerers or healers can cure the disease. So a year passed and another passed. Time passes quickly, like a river flows. For thirty years and three more years Ilya sat motionless in the hut.
In the spring, the parents left early to burn fire, uproot stumps and roots, prepare the land for new arable land, and Ilya sits on an oak bench, guarding the house, as before.
Suddenly: a knock. What's happened? I looked out into the yard, and there were three old men standing there, walking, tapping on the wall with their sticks:
“We were tired on the road, and thirst tormented us, and people said, you have cold, foamy mash in your cellar.” Bring us, Ileyushka, some of that mash to quench our thirst and drink it yourself to your health!
“We have mash in the cellar, but there’s no one to go.” I am sick, immovable. My frisky legs don’t listen to me, and I’ve been sitting here for thirty-three years,” Ilya answers.
“Get up, Ilya, don’t hesitate,” the Kaliki say.
Carefully, Ilya rose to his feet and was amazed: his legs obeyed him. One step took a step and another took a step... And then he grabbed the end of the half-bucket and quickly poured some mash in the cellar. He took the valley out onto the porch and didn’t believe himself: “Have I, like all people, begun to control my legs?”
The people walking from that valley took a sip and said:
- Now, Ileyushka, drink it yourself!
Ilya drank the mash and felt the strength pouring into him.
“Drink again, good fellow,” the wanderers tell him.
Ilya kissed the valley another time. Passers-by ask:
- Do you feel, Ilya, a change in yourself?
“I sense countless strength within me,” answers Ilya. “Do I now have such strength and might that, if there were a pillar firmly driven in, I would grab onto this pillar and turn over Mother Earth?” This is how strong I have become!
The Kaliki looked at each other and said:
- Drink, Ileyushka, a third time!
Ilya drank the third sip of mash. The wanderers ask:
- Do you feel any change in yourself?
“I feel like my strength has decreased by half!” - answered Ilya Ivanovich.
“If your strength had not diminished,” the wanderers tell him, “the mother earth would not have been able to carry you, just as she cannot carry Svyatogor the hero.” And the strength that you have will be enough for you. You will become the most powerful hero in Rus', and death is not written in your hands in battle. Buy from the first person you meet at the market tomorrow a shaggy, indifferent foal, and you will have a faithful heroic horse. Provide heroic equipment according to your strength and serve the Russian people with faith and truth.
The Kaliki passers-by said goodbye to Ilya and disappeared from view as if they had never been there.
And Ilya hurries to please his parents. From stories I knew where they worked. The old people burned and got tired and lay down to rest. The son did not wake up or disturb his father and mother. He turned up all the stumps and roots himself and dragged them to the side, loosened the earth, even now plow and this one. Ivan and Euphrosyne woke up and couldn’t believe their eyes. “Overnight, ours fell from the roots, was cleared of the stumps, became smooth, even, like rolling an egg. And we could have enough work for a week!” And they were even more surprised when they saw their son Ilya: standing in front of them was a good fellow, smiling. Stately, portly, bright and joyful. Mother and father laugh and cry.
- This is joy for us, consolation! Our falcon Ileyushka has recovered! Now there is someone to look after our old age!
Ilya Ivanovich told about the healing, bowed low to his parents and said:
- Bless me, father and mother, to perform heroic service! I will go to the capital Kyiv-grad, and then to the outpost of our heroic land to defend.
The old people heard such a speech, they were saddened, they became sad. And then Ivan Timofeevich said:
“It’s not fate, apparently, for us to look at you and rejoice, since you chose the part of a warrior for yourself, and not the peasant’s.” It’s not easy for us to part with you, but there’s nothing to do. For good deeds, for faithful service to the people, my mother and I give you a blessing, so that you serve without bending your heart!
The next morning, very early, Ilya bought a foal, a shaggy fledgling, and began to nurse it. I stocked up all the heroic armor, did all the hard work around the house.
And the lazy, shaggy foal then grew up and became a mighty heroic horse.
Ilya saddled a good horse, dressed himself in heroic armor, said goodbye to his father and mother and left his native village of Karacharov.
Ilya Muromets and the Nightingale the Robber
Ilya left Murom early and early, and he wanted to get to the capital Kyiv-grad by lunchtime. His fast horse gallops a little lower than the walking cloud, higher than the standing forest. And quickly the hero arrived to the city of Chernigov. And near Chernigov there is a countless enemy force. There is no pedestrian or horse access. Enemy hordes are approaching the fortress walls, planning to overwhelm and ruin Chernigov. Ilya rode up to the countless army and began to beat the rapist invaders like mowing grass. And with a sword, and a spear, and a heavy club, and a heroic horse tramples enemies. And he soon nailed and trampled that great enemy force.
The gates in the fortress wall opened, the Chernigovites came out, bowed low to the hero and called him the governor of Chernigov-grad.
“Thank you for the honor, men of Chernigov, but I don’t want to sit as a governor in Chernigov,” answered Ilya Muromets. — I’m in a hurry to the capital Kyiv-grad. Show me the straight path!
“You are our deliverer, glorious Russian hero, the direct road to Kyiv-grad is overgrown and walled up.” The roundabout route is now used on foot and on horseback. Near Black Mud, near the Smorodinka River, Nightingale the Robber, Odikhmantiev’s son, settled. The robber sits on twelve oak trees. The villain whistles like a nightingale, screams like an animal, and from the whistling of the nightingale and from the cry of the animal, all the ant-grass has withered, the azure flowers are crumbling, the dark forests are bending to the ground, and people are lying dead! Don't go that way, glorious hero!
Ilya did not listen to the Chernigov residents and went straight ahead. He approaches the Smorodinka River and the Black Mud.
The Nightingale the Robber noticed him and began to whistle like a nightingale, screamed like an animal, and the villain hissed like a snake. The grass withered, the flowers fell off, the trees bent to the ground, and the horse under Ilya began to stumble.
The hero got angry and swung a silk whip at the horse.
- Why are you, you wolfish sack of grass, starting to stumble? Apparently you haven’t heard the whistle of a nightingale, the thorn of a snake or the cry of an animal?
He himself grabbed a tight, explosive bow and shot at the Nightingale the Robber, wounding the monster’s right eye and right hand, and the villain fell to the ground. The hero tied the robber to the saddle pommel and drove the Nightingale across an open field past the nightingale’s lair. The sons and daughters saw how they were carrying their father, tied to the saddle bow, grabbed swords and spears, and ran to rescue the Nightingale the Robber. And Ilya scattered them, scattered them and without hesitation began to continue his path.
Ilya arrived in the capital Kyiv-grad, to the wide princely courtyard. And the glorious Prince Vladimir Krasno Solnyshko with the princes of the generation, with the honorable boyars and with the mighty heroes, had just sat down at the dinner table.
Ilya parked his horse in the middle of the yard and entered the dining room himself. He laid down the cross in the written way, bowed on four sides in a learned manner, and bowed to the Grand Duke himself in particular.
Prince Vladimir began to ask:
- Where are you from, good fellow, what is your name, what is your patronymic?
— I am from the city of Murom, from the suburban village of Karacharova, Ilya Muromets.
- How long ago, good fellow, did you leave Murom?
“I left Murom early in the morning,” answered Ilya, “I wanted to be in time for mass in Kyiv-grad, but on the way, I was late on the way.” And I was driving straight along the road past the city of Chernigov, past the Smorodinka River and Black Mud.
The prince frowned, frowned, and looked unkindly:
“You, peasant hillbilly, are mocking us to our face!” There is an enemy army near Chernigov - a countless force, and there is no passage or passage for either foot or horse. And from Chernigov to Kyiv the straight road has long been overgrown and walled up. Near the river Smorodinka and Black Mud, the robber Nightingale, Odikhmantiev’s son, sits on twelve oak trees, and does not allow anyone on foot or on horseback to pass. Not even a falcon bird can fly there!
Ilya Muromets responds to those words:
“Near Chernigov, the enemy’s army lies beaten and fought, and Nightingale the Robber is in your yard, wounded and tied to a saddle.”
Prince Vladimir jumped out from the table, threw a marten fur coat over one shoulder, a sable hat over one ear, and ran out onto the red porch.
I saw the Nightingale the Robber tied to the saddle pommel:
- Whistle, Nightingale, like a nightingale, scream, dog, like an animal, hiss, robber, like a snake!
“It was not you, prince, who captivated me and defeated me.” Ilya Muromets won and captivated me. And I won’t listen to anyone but him.
“Command, Ilya Muromets,” says Prince Vladimir, “to whistle, shout, hiss for the Nightingale!”
Ilya Muromets ordered:
- Whistle, Nightingale, half the whistle of a nightingale, scream half the cry of an animal, hiss half the thorn of a snake!
“From the bloody wound,” the Nightingale says, “my mouth is dry.” You ordered me to pour a glass of green wine, not a small glass - one and a half buckets, and then I will amuse Prince Vladimir.
They brought the Nightingale the Robber a glass of green wine. The villain took the charm with one hand and drank the charm as one spirit.
After that, he whistled with a full whistle like a nightingale, screamed with a full cry like an animal, and hissed with a full thorn like a snake. Here the tops of the towers became crooked, and the stones in the towers crumbled, all the people who were in the yard lay dead. Vladimir-Prince of Stolnokiev covers himself with a marten fur coat and crawls.
Ilya Muromets got angry. He mounted his good horse and took the Nightingale the Robber out into the open field:
“You’re full of ruining people, villain!” - And he cut off the head of the Nightingale.
This is how long the Nightingale the Robber lived in the world. That's where the story about him ended.
Ilya Muromets and the filthy Idol
Once Ilya Muromets left far from Kyiv into an open field, into a wide expanse. I shot geese, swans and gray ducks there. On the way, he met Elder Ivanishche, a walking Kalika. Ilya asks:
— How long have you been from Kyiv?
— Recently I was in Kyiv. Prince Vladimir and Apraxia are in trouble there. There were no heroes in the city, and the filthy Idolishche arrived. He is as tall as a haystack, with eyes like cups, with slanting fathoms in his shoulders. He sits in the princely chambers, treats himself, and shouts at the prince and princess: “Give me this and bring this!” And there is no one to defend them.
“Oh, you, elder Ivanishche,” says Ilya Muromets, “you’re sturdier and stronger than me, but you don’t have the courage or the acumen!” Take off your Kalich dress, we’ll change clothes for a while.
Ilya dressed up in a Kalich dress, came to Kyiv to the prince’s court and cried out in a loud voice:
- Give, prince, alms to the walker!
- Why are you bawling, you poor woman?! Go to the dining room. I want to have a word with you! - the filthy Idolishche shouted out the window.
The hero entered the upper room and stood at the lintel. The prince and princess did not recognize him. And Idolishche, lounging, sits at the table, grinning:
- Have you, Kalika, seen the hero Ilyushka Muromets? What is his height and stature? Does he eat and drink a lot?
- Ilya Muromets is just like me in height and portliness. He eats a little bit of bread a day. Green wine, he drinks a glass of standing beer a day, and that’s how he feels full.
- What kind of hero is he? - Idolishche laughed and grinned. “Here I am, a hero - I eat a three-year-old roasted bull at a time, and drink a barrel of green wine. I’ll meet Ileika, the Russian hero, I’ll put him in the palm of my hand, I’ll slam him with the other, and all that’s left is dirt and water!
The passerby Kalika responds to that boast:
“Our priest also had a gluttonous pig.” She ate and drank a lot until she was torn.
The Idol did not like those speeches. He threw a yard-long damask knife, but Ilya Muromets was evasive and dodged the knife.
The knife stuck into the door frame, the door frame flew out into the canopy with a crash. Then Ilya Muromets, wearing bast shoes and a caliche dress, grabbed the filthy Idol, lifted him above his head and threw the braggart rapist on the brick floor.
Idolishche was alive for so long. And the glory of the mighty Russian hero is sung century after century.
Ilya Muromets and Kalin the Tsar
Prince Vladimir started a feast of honors and did not invite Ilya of Muromets. The hero was offended by the prince; He went out into the street, pulled his bow tight, began shooting at the silver domes of the church, at the gilded crosses, and shouted to the Kyiv peasants:
- Collect gilded crosses and silver church domes, take them to the circle - to the drinking house. Let's start our own feast for all the men of Kyiv!
Prince Vladimir of Stolno-Kiev became angry and ordered Ilya of Muromets to be imprisoned in a deep cellar for three years.
And Vladimir’s daughter ordered the keys to the cellar to be made and, secretly from the prince, she ordered the glorious hero to be fed and watered, and sent him soft feather beds and down pillows.
How much time has passed, a messenger from Tsar Kalin galloped to Kyiv. He swung the doors wide open, ran into the prince’s tower without asking, and threw a messenger letter to Vladimir. And in the letter it is written: “I command you, Prince Vladimir, to quickly clear the streets of the Streltsy and the large courtyards of the princes and supply all the streets and alleys with foamy beer, standing mead and green wine, so that my army will have something to treat themselves to in Kyiv. If you don’t follow the order, you have yourself to blame. I will destroy Rus' with fire, I will destroy the city of Kyiv, and I will put you and the princess to death. I give three days.”
Prince Vladimir read the letter, sighed, and became sad.
He walks around the room, sheds burning tears, wipes himself with a silk handkerchief:
- Oh, why did I put Ilya Muromets in a deep cellar and ordered that cellar to be filled with yellow sand! Guess what, our defender is no longer alive? And there are no other heroes in Kyiv now. And there is no one to stand up for the faith, for the Russian land, no one to stand up for the capital city, to defend me with the princess and my daughter!
“Father Prince of Stolno-Kiev, don’t order me to be executed, let me say a word,” said Vladimir’s daughter. — Our Ilya Muromets is alive and well. I secretly gave him water, fed him, and looked after him. Forgive me, my unauthorized daughter!
“You’re smart, smart,” Prince Vladimir praised his daughter.
He grabbed the key to the cellar and ran after Ilya Muromets. He brought him to the white stone chambers, hugged and kissed the hero, treated him to sugar dishes, gave him sweet overseas wines, and said these words:
- Don’t be angry, Ilya Muromets! Let what happened between us grow into reality. Misfortune has befallen us. The dog Tsar Kalin approached the capital city of Kyiv and brought countless hordes. They threaten to ruin Rus', to destroy it with fire, to destroy the city of Kiev, to overwhelm all the people of Kiev, but today there are no heroes. Everyone is standing at the outposts and gone on the road. I have all my hope in you alone, glorious hero Ilya Muromets!
Ilya Muromets has no time to chill out and treat himself at the princely table. He quickly went to his yard. First of all, I checked on my prophetic horse. The horse, well-fed, sleek, well-groomed, neighed joyfully when it saw its owner.
Ilya Muromets said to his friend:
- Thank you for taking care of the horse!
And he began to saddle the horse. First, he put on a sweatshirt, and on the sweatshirt he put felt, and on the felt, an incontinent Cherkassy saddle. He pulled up twelve silk girths with damask pins, with red gold buckles, not for beauty, for pleasure, for the sake of heroic strength: silk girths stretch and do not tear, damask steel bends and does not break, and red gold buckles do not rust. Ilya himself also equipped himself with heroic battle armor. He had a damask club with him, a long spear, he belted a combat sword, grabbed a traveling shawl and rode out into the open field. He sees that there are many infidel forces near Kiev. From the cry of men and from the neighing of horses, the human heart becomes sad. Wherever you look, you can’t see the end of the enemy hordes of power.
Ilya Muromets rode out, climbed a high hill, looked towards the east and saw white linen tents far, far away in an open field. He directed there, urged the horse, and said: “Apparently, our Russian heroes are standing there, they don’t know about the misfortune.”
And soon he drove up to the white linen tents and entered the tent of the greatest* hero Samson Samoilovich, his godfather. And the heroes were having lunch at that time.
Ilya Muromets said:
- Bread and salt, holy Russian heroes!
Samson Samoilovich answered:
- Come on, perhaps, our glorious hero Ilya Muromets! Sit down to dine with us, taste some bread and salt!
Here the heroes stood up on their brisk feet, greeted Ilya Muromets, hugged him, kissed him three times, and invited him to the table.
- Thank you, brothers of the cross. “I didn’t come for dinner, but brought gloomy, sad news,” said Ilya Muromets. - There is an army of countless forces near Kiev. The dog Kalin the Tsar is threatening to take and burn our capital city, to cut down all the Kyiv peasants, to drive away the wives and daughters, to destroy the churches, to put Prince Vladimir and Princess Apraxia to an evil death. And I came to invite you to fight with your enemies!
The heroes responded to those speeches:
“We, Ilya Muromets, will not saddle our horses, we will not go and fight for Prince Vladimir and Princess Apraxia.” They have many close princes and boyars. The Grand Duke of Stolno-Kiev waters and feeds them and favors them, but we have nothing from Vladimir and Apraxia Korolevichna. Don't persuade us, Ilya Muromets!
Ilya Muromets did not like those speeches. He mounted his good horse and rode up to the enemy hordes. He began to trample the enemy's strength with his horse, stab him with a spear, chop it with a sword, and beat him with a road shawl. It hits and hits tirelessly. And the heroic horse under him spoke in human language:
- You cannot beat the enemy forces, Ilya Muromets. Tsar Kalin has mighty heroes and brave clearings, and deep trenches have been dug in the open fields. As soon as we sit in the tunnels, I’ll jump out of the first tunnel, and I’ll jump out of the other tunnel, and I’ll carry you out, Ilya, and even if I jump out of the third tunnel, I won’t be able to carry you out.
Ilya did not like those speeches. He picked up a silk whip, began to hit the horse’s steep hips, and said:
- Oh, you treacherous dog, wolf meat, grass bag! I feed you, sing you, take care of you, and you want to destroy me!
And then the horse with Ilya sank into the first tunnel. From there the faithful horse jumped out and carried the hero on his back. And again the hero began to beat the enemy’s force, like mowing grass. And another time the horse with Ilya sank into a deep tunnel. And from this tunnel a fast horse carried the hero.
The Basurman beats Ilya Muromets and says:
“Don’t go yourself and order your children and grandchildren to go and fight in Great Rus' forever and ever.”
At that time, he and his horse sank into the third deep tunnel. His faithful horse jumped out of the tunnel, but he could not bear Ilya Muromets. The enemies came running to catch the horse, but the faithful horse did not give in, it galloped far into an open field. Then dozens of heroes, hundreds of warriors attacked Ilya Muromets in a tunnel, tied him up, shackled his arms and legs and brought him to the tent of Tsar Kalin. Tsar Kalin greeted him kindly and affably and ordered him to untie and unchain the hero:
- Sit down, Ilya Muromets, with me, Tsar Kalin, at the same table, eat whatever your heart desires, drink my honey drinks. I will give you precious clothing, I will give you, as necessary, the golden treasury. Do not serve Prince Vladimir, but serve me, Tsar Kalin, and you will be my neighbor prince-boyar!
Ilya Muromets looked at Tsar Kalin, grinned unkindly and said:
“I won’t sit with you at the same table, I won’t eat your dishes, I won’t drink your honey drinks, I don’t need precious clothes, I don’t need countless golden treasuries.” I will not serve you - the dog Tsar Kalin! And from now on I will faithfully defend, defend Great Rus', stand for the capital Kyiv City, for my people and for Prince Vladimir. And I’ll also tell you: you’re stupid, dog Kalin the Tsar, if you think you’ll find traitorous defectors in Rus'!
He swung the carpet door wide open and jumped out of the tent. And there the guards, the royal guards, fell like clouds on Ilya
Muromets: some with shackles, some with ropes - they manage to tie up an unarmed person.
No such luck! The mighty hero strained himself, strained himself: he scattered and scattered the infidel and jumped through the enemy’s army into an open field, into a wide expanse.
He whistled with a heroic whistle, and out of nowhere, his faithful horse came running with armor and equipment.
Ilya Muromets rode out onto a high hill, pulled his bow tight and sent a red-hot arrow, he himself said: “You fly, red-hot arrow, into the white tent, fall, arrow, onto the white chest of my godfather, slip and make a small scratch. He will understand: it can be bad for me alone in battle.” An arrow hit Samson's tent. Samson the hero woke up, jumped up on quick feet and shouted in a loud voice:
- Arise, mighty Russian heroes! A red-hot arrow arrived from his godson - sad news: he needed help in a battle with the Saracens. He would not have sent the arrow in vain. Saddle up your good horses without delay, and we will go to fight not for the sake of Prince Vladimir, but for the sake of the Russian people, to the rescue of the glorious Ilya Muromets!
Soon twelve heroes came to the rescue, and Ilya Muromets was with them in the thirteenth. They attacked the enemy hordes, beat them down, trampled under their horses all their countless forces, captured Tsar Kalin himself, and brought him to the chambers of Prince Vladimir. And King Kalin said:
“Don’t execute me, Prince Vladimir of Stolno-Kiev, I will pay you tribute and will order my children, grandchildren and great-grandchildren not to go to Rus' with a sword for all eternity, but to live with you in peace.” We will sign the document.
This is where the old epic ended.
Three trips of Ilya Muromets
The old Cossack Ilya Muromets was riding across an open field, along a wide expanse, and came to a fork in three roads. At the fork there is a burning stone, and on the stone there is an inscription written: “If you go straight, you will be killed, if you go right, you will be married, and if you go left, you will become rich.” Ilya read the inscription and became thoughtful:
“For me, an old man, death is not written in battle.” Let me go where I will be killed.
No matter how long or how short he drove, thieves and robbers jumped out onto the road. Three hundred thats - plantains. They are bawling and waving their shawls:
- Let's kill the old man and rob him!
“Stupid people,” says Ilya Muromets, “if you don’t kill the bear, divide the skin!”
And he unleashed his faithful horse on them. He himself stabbed with a spear and struck with a sword, and dispersed all the murderous robbers.
He returned to the fork and erased the inscription: “If you go straight, you will be killed.” He stood near the stone and turned his horse to the right:
“There’s no need for me, old, to be married, but I’ll go and see how people get married.”
I drove for an hour or two and came across white stone chambers.
A beautiful girl-soul ran out to meet her. She took Ilya Muromets by the hands and led him into the dining room. She fed and watered the hero and cajoled him:
- After the bread and salt, go and rest. I probably got tired on the road! — She led me into a special room and pointed to a feather bed.
And Ilya, he was a savvy, dexterous person, noticed something was wrong. He threw the beautiful maiden onto the feather bed, and the bed turned, overturned, and the mistress fell into a deep dungeon. Ilya Muromets ran out of the chambers into the courtyard, found that deep dungeon, broke down the doors and released forty captives, unlucky suitors, into the world, and locked the owner, the beautiful maiden, in an underground prison tightly. After that I came to a fork and erased the other inscription. And he wrote a new inscription on the stone: “Two paths were cleared by the old Cossack Ilya Muromets.”
- I won’t go to the third direction. Why should I, old, lonely, be rich? Let someone young get the wealth.
The old Cossack Ilya Muromets turned his horse and rode to the capital city of Kiev to perform military service, fight with enemies, stand for Great Rus' and for the Russian people!
That’s where the tale of the glorious, mighty hero Ilya Muromets ended.
Epic "Dobrynya Nikitich"
Dobrynya
I’ll take a ringing harp, a spring harp, and tune the harp in the old fashioned way; I’ll start telling old stories about the deeds of the glorious Russian hero Dobrynya Nikitich. In a glorious city, in Ryazan, lived the honest husband Nikita Romanovich with his faithful wife Afimya Alexandrovna. And to the joy of his father and mother, their only son, young Dobrynya Nikitich, grew up.
Nikita Romanovich lived for ninety years, lived and lived, and died. Afimya Alexandrovna was widowed, Dobrynya, six years old, was left an orphan. And at the age of seven, Afimya Alexandrovna sent her son to learn to read and write.
And soon, reading and writing did him good: Dobrynya learned to read books quickly and to wield an eagle’s pen even more efficiently.
And at the age of twelve he played the harp. He played the harp and composed songs.
The honest widow Afimya Alexandrovna looks at her son and is not overjoyed. Dobrynya is broad in the shoulders, thin in the waist, black sable eyebrows, sharp-sighted falcon eyes, fair-haired curls curl in rings, scattered, his face is white and ruddy, the color is even poppy, and he has no equal in strength and agility, and he is affectionate and courteous.
Dobrynya and the Serpent
Dobrynya grew to full age. Heroic skills awakened in him. Dobrynya Nikitich began to ride on a good horse in an open field and trample kites with his fast horse.
His dear mother, the honest widow Afimya Alexandrovna, told him:
- My child, Dobrynyushka, you don’t need to swim in the Pochay River. The river is angry, it is angry, it is fierce. The first stream in the river cuts like fire, from the second stream sparks fall, and from the third stream smoke pours out in a column. And you don’t need to go to the distant Sorochinskaya Mountain and go into snake holes and caves there.
Young Dobrynya Nikitich did not listen to his mother. He went out of the white-stone chambers into a wide, spacious courtyard, went into a standing stable, took out the heroic horse and began to saddle it: first he put on a sweatshirt, and on the sweatshirt he put felt, and on the felt a Cherkassy saddle, silk, decorated with gold, and tightened twelve silk girths. The buckles of the girths are pure gold, and the pins of the buckles are damask, not for the sake of beauty, but for the sake of strength: after all, silk does not tear, damask steel does not bend, red gold does not rust, a hero sits on a horse and does not age.
Then he attached a quiver with arrows to the saddle, took a tight heroic bow, took a heavy club and a long spear. The boy called in a loud voice and ordered him to accompany him.
You could see how he mounted the horse, but you couldn’t see how he rolled out of the yard, only the dusty smoke curled up like a pillar behind the hero.
Dobrynya drove with a steamboat through an open field. They did not meet any geese, swans, or gray ducks.
Then the hero drove up to the Pochay River. The horse under Dobrynya was exhausted, and he himself became tired under the baking sun. The good fellow wanted to take a swim. He dismounted from his horse, took off his traveling clothes, ordered the horse's crew to take care of him and feed him silk grass, and he swam far from the shore in only a thin linen shirt.
He swims and completely forgot that mother was punishing him... And at that time, just from the eastern side, a dashing misfortune rolled in: the Serpent-Gorynishche flew in with three heads, twelve trunks, and eclipsed the sun with its filthy wings. He saw an unarmed man in the river, rushed down, grinned:
“You are now, Dobrynya, in my hands.” If I want, I’ll burn you with fire, if I want, I’ll take you alive, I’ll take you to the Sorochinsky mountains, into deep snake holes!
It throws sparks, scorches with fire, and tries to grab the good fellow with its trunks.
But Dobrynya is agile, evasive, dodged the snake’s trunks, dived deep into the depths, and emerged right next to the shore. He jumped out onto the yellow sand, and the Serpent flew at his heels. The young man is looking for heroic armor with which to fight the Serpent-monster, and he has not found a boat, a horse, or combat equipment. The little boy of Serpent-Mountain was frightened, he ran away and drove away his horse with armor. Dobrynya sees: things are wrong, and he has no time to think and guess... He noticed a hat on the sand - a cap of the Greek land and quickly filled the hat with yellow sand and threw that three-pound cap at his opponent. The Serpent fell on the damp ground. The hero jumped up to the Serpent on his white chest and wanted to kill him. Here the filthy monster begged:
- Young Dobrynyushka Nikitich! Don't beat me, don't execute me, let me go alive and unharmed. You and I will write notes among ourselves: do not fight forever, do not fight. I won’t fly to Rus', destroy villages and villages, I won’t take a crowd of people. And you, my elder brother, do not go to the Sorochinsky mountains, do not trample little snakes with a frisky horse.
Young Dobrynya, he is gullible: he listened to flattering speeches, let the Snake go free, to all fours, and he himself quickly found a boat with his horse and equipment. After that he returned home and bowed deeply to his mother:
- Empress Mother! Bless me for heroic military service.
His mother blessed him, and Dobrynya went to the capital Kyiv City. He arrived at the prince's court, tied the horse to a chiseled post, or to a gilded ring, he himself entered the white-stone chambers, laid the cross in the written way, and bowed in a learned way: he bowed low on all four sides, and gave the prince and princess special treatment. . Prince Vladimir greeted the guest cordially and asked:
- You are a smart, burly, kind fellow, whose family, from what cities? And what should I call you by name, by your ancestral name?
- I am from the glorious city of Ryazan, the son of Nikita Romanovich and Afimya Alexandrovna - Dobrynya, the son of Nikitich. I came to you, prince, for military service.
And at that time, Prince Vladimir’s tables were pulled apart, princes, boyars and mighty Russian heroes were feasting. Prince Vladimir seated Dobrynya Nikitich at the table in a place of honor between Ilya Muromets and Danube Ivanovich, and brought him a glass of green wine, not a small glass - one and a half buckets. Dobrynya accepted the charm with one hand, and drank the charm as one spirit.
Meanwhile, Prince Vladimir paced around the dining room, the sovereign reprimanded word for word:
- Oh, you goy, mighty Russian heroes, today I do not live in joy, in sadness. My beloved niece, young Zabava Putyatichna, is lost. She was walking with her mothers and nannies in the green garden, and at that time the Serpent-Gorynische flew over Kiev, he grabbed Zabava Putyatichna, soared higher than the standing forest and carried him to the Sorochinsky mountains, into the deep serpentine caves. If only one of you, boys, could be found: you, the kneeling princes, you, the boyars of your neighbors, and you, the mighty Russian heroes, who would go to the Sorochinsky mountains, help out from the full of snakes, rescue the beautiful Zabavushka Putyatichna and thereby comfort me and the princess Apraxia?!
All the princes and boyars remain silent.
The larger one is buried for the middle one, the middle one for the smaller one, but there is no answer from the smaller one.
Here it came to Dobrynya Nikitich’s mind: “But the Serpent violated the commandment: not to fly to Rus', not to take people into captivity - if he carried it away, he captivated Zabava Putyatichna.” He left the table, bowed to Prince Vladimir and said these words:
“Sunny Vladimir, Prince of Stolno-Kiev, throw this service on me.” After all, Zmey Gorynych recognized me as his brother and swore to never fly to the Russian land and not take him as a captive, but he broke that oath-commandment. I should go to the Sorochinskie Mountains and help out Zabava Putyatichna.
The prince's face brightened and said:
- You consoled us, good fellow!
And Dobrynya bowed low to all four sides, and to the prince and princess in particular, then he went out into the wide courtyard, mounted a horse and rode to Ryazan-city. There he asked his mother for his blessing to go to the Sorochinsky Mountains and rescue Russian prisoners from the snake-like world.
Mother Afimya Alexandrovna said:
- Go, dear child, and my blessing will be with you!
Then she handed over a whip of seven silks, handed over an embroidered scarf of white linen, and spoke these words to her son:
- When you fight with the Serpent, your right hand will get tired, become dull, the white light in your eyes will be lost, you wipe yourself with a handkerchief and dry your horse, it will take away all the fatigue as if by hand, and the strength of you and your horse will triple, and swing a seven-silk whip over the Serpent - he will bow to the damp earth. Here you tear and chop all the trunks of the snake - all the power of the snake will be exhausted.
Dobrynya bowed low to his mother, the honest widow Afimya Alexandrovna, then mounted his good horse and rode to the Sorochinsky mountains.
And the filthy Zmeinishche-Gorynishche smelled Dobrynya half a field away, swooped in, began to shoot with fire and fight and fight. They fight for an hour and another. The greyhound horse became exhausted, began to stumble, and Dobrynya’s right hand waved, the light in her eyes faded. Then the hero remembered his mother’s order. He wiped himself with an embroidered white linen handkerchief and wiped his horse. His faithful horse began to gallop three times faster than before. And Dobrynya’s fatigue disappeared, his strength tripled. He took the time, waved a seven-silk whip over the Serpent, and the Serpent’s strength was exhausted: he crouched and fell to the damp earth.
Dobrynya tore and chopped the snake trunks, and in the end he cut off all three heads of the filthy monster, chopped it with a sword, trampled all the baby snakes with his horse and went into the deep snake holes, cut and broke the strong locks, released a lot of people from the crowd, let everyone go free .
He brought Zabava Putyatichna into the world, put him on a horse and brought him to the capital Kyiv-grad.
He brought him to the princely chambers, there he bowed in a written way: to all four sides, and to the prince and princess in particular, he began to speak in a learned way:
“According to your command, prince, I went to the Sorochinsky mountains, destroyed and fought a snake den.” He killed the Serpent-Gorynishcha himself and all the little serpents, released darkness upon the people, and rescued your beloved niece, young Zabava Putyatichna.
Prince Vladimir was delighted, he hugged Dobrynya Nikitich tightly, kissed him on the sugary lips, and seated him in his place of honor.
To rejoice, the prince of honors started a feast for all the prince-boyars, for all the mighty famous heroes.
And everyone at that feast got drunk and ate, glorified the heroism and prowess of the hero Dobrynya Nikitich.
Dobrynya, ambassador of Prince Vladimir
The prince's dining and feasting is going on half-heartedly, the guests are sitting half-drunk. Only Prince Vladimir of Stolno-Kiev is sad and joyless. He walks around the dining room, word-for-word the sovereign pronounces: “I have forgotten the care and sadness of my beloved niece Zabava Putyatichna and now another misfortune has happened: Khan Bakhtiyar Bakhtiyarovich demands a great tribute for twelve years, in which letters and records were written between us.” The khan threatens to go to war if he doesn’t give tribute. So it is necessary to send ambassadors to Bakhtiyar Bakhtiyarovich, to bring back the tribute: twelve swans, twelve gyrfalcons, and a confession letter, and the tribute itself. So I’m thinking, who should I send as ambassadors?
Here all the guests at the tables fell silent. The big one is buried behind the middle one, the middle one is buried behind the smaller one, but from the smaller one there is no answer. Then the nearby boyar stood up:
- Allow me, prince, to say a word.
“Speak, boyar, we will listen,” Prince Vladimir answered him.
And the boyar began to say:
“Going to the khan’s land is a considerable service, and there is no one better to send than Dobrynya Nikitich and Vasily Kazimirovich, and to send Ivan Dubrovich as an assistant.” They know how to act as ambassadors, and they know how to conduct a conversation with the khan.
And then Vladimir the Prince of Stolno-Kiev poured three spells of green wine, not small charms - into one and a half buckets, diluted the wine with standing honey.
He presented the first chara to Dobrynya Nikitich, the second chara to Vasily Kazimirovich, and the third chara to Ivan Dubrovich. All three heroes stood up on their brisk feet, took the charm with one hand, drank to one spirit, bowed low to the prince, and all three said:
“We will do your service, prince, we will go to the khan’s land, we will give your confession letter, twelve swans as a gift, twelve gyrfalcons and tribute for twelve years to Bakhtiyar Bakhtiyarovich.”
Prince Vladimir gave the ambassadors a letter of confession and ordered that twelve swans and twelve gyrfalcons be presented to Bakhtiyar Bakhtiyarovich, and then he poured a box of pure silver, another box of red gold, a third box of sting pearls: tribute to the khan for twelve years.
With that, the ambassadors mounted good horses and rode off to the Khan’s land. During the day they travel along the red sun, at night they travel along the bright moon. Day after day, like rain, week after week, like a river, and good fellows move forward.
And so they came to the khan’s land, to the wide courtyard of Bakhtiyar Bakhtiyarovich.
They got off their good horses. Young Dobrynya Nikitich waved the door on the heel, and they entered the white stone chambers of the khan. There they laid the cross in the written way, and bowed in a learned way, bowing low to all four sides, especially to the khan himself.
Khan began to ask the good fellows:
- Where are you from, stout, good fellows? What cities are you from, what family are you from and what is your name and dignification?
The good fellows answered:
- We came from the city from Kyiv, from the glorious prince from Vladimir. They brought you tributes from twelve years.
Here the khan was given a letter of guilt, twelve swans and twelve gyrfalcons were given as a gift. Then they brought a box of pure silver, another box of red gold and a third box of stingray pearls. After this, Bakhtiyar Bakhtiyarovich seated the ambassadors at an oak table, fed, treated, watered and began to ask:
- Do you have anyone in holy Rus', near the glorious prince Vladimir, who plays chess, expensive gilded tavlei? Does anyone play checkers or chess?
Dobrynya Nikitich said in response:
“I can play checkers and chess with you, Khan, and expensive gilded tavlei.”
They brought chessboards, and Dobrynya and the khan began to step from square to square. Dobrynya stepped once and stepped again, and on the third the khan closed the move.
Bakhtiyar Bakhtiyarovich says:
- Ay, you, good fellow, are so good at playing checkers and tavlei. I played with no one before you, I beat everyone. I put a deposit under another game: two boxes of pure silver, two boxes of red gold and two boxes of stingray pearls.
Dobrynya Nikitich answered him:
“My business is precious, I have no countless gold treasury with me, no pure silver, no red gold, and no stinging pearls.” Unless I put my wild head as a mortgage.
So the khan stepped once - he didn’t reach it, another time he stepped - he overstepped, and the third time Dobrynya closed his move, he won Bakhtiyarov’s pledge: two boxes of pure silver, two boxes of red gold and two boxes of stingray pearls.
The Khan got excited, got excited, he set a great pledge: to pay tribute to Prince Vladimir for twelve years and a half. And for the third time Dobrynya won the pledge. The loss was great, the khan lost and was offended. He says these words:
- Glorious heroes, ambassadors of Vladimir! How many of you are good at shooting from a bow in order to pass a hardened arrow along the tip of a knife blade, so that the arrow splits in half and the arrow hits the silver ring and both halves of the arrow have equal weight?
And twelve stalwart heroes brought the Khan’s best bow.
Young Dobrynya Nikitich takes that tight, brittle bow, begins to lay a red-hot arrow, Dobrynya begins to pull the string, the string breaks like a rotten thread, and the bow breaks and crumbles. Young Dobrynyushka said:
- Oh, you, Bakhtiyar Bakhtiyarovich, that crappy ray of goodness, worthless!
And he said to Ivan Dubrovich:
- Go, my brother of the cross, to the wide courtyard, bring my traveling bow, which is attached to the right stirrup.
Ivan Dubrovich unfastened the bow from the right stirrup and carried that bow into the white-stone chamber. And the ringing caterpillars were attached to the bow - not for beauty, but for the sake of valiant amusement. And now Ivanushka is carrying a bow and playing the caterpillars. All the Basurmans listened, they didn’t have such a diva of eyelids...
Dobrynya takes his tight bow, stands opposite the silver ring, and three times he shoots at the edge of the knife, doubles the red-hot arrow in two and hits the silver ring three times.
Bakhtiyar Bakhtiyarovich started shooting here. The first time he shot, he missed, the second time he shot, he overshot, and the third time he shot, but didn’t hit the ring.
This Khan did not fall in love, he did not fall in love. And he planned something bad: to kill and kill the Kyiv ambassadors, all three heroes. And he spoke kindly:
“Wouldn’t any of you, glorious heroes, ambassadors of Vladimirov, want to compete and have fun with our fighters, to taste your strength?”
Before Vasily Kazimirovich and Ivan Dubrovich had time to utter a word, young Dobrynyushka took off his cape, straightened his powerful shoulders and went out into the wide yard. There the hero-fighter met him. The hero is fearsome in height, his shoulders are slanting fathoms, his head is like a beer kettle, and behind that hero there are many many fighters. They began to walk around the yard and began to push young Dobrynyushka. And Dobrynya pushed them away, kicked them and threw them away from him. Then the terrible hero grabbed Dobrynya by the white hands, but they did not fight for long, they measured their strength - Dobrynya was strong, grasping... He threw and threw the hero on the damp ground, only a roar began, the earth trembled. At first the fighters were horrified, they hurried, and then they attacked Dobrynya en masse, and the fun-fighting was replaced by a fight-fight. They attacked Dobrynya with a shout and with weapons.
But Dobrynya was unarmed, scattered the first hundred, crucified them, and then a whole thousand after them.
He grabbed the cart axle and began to treat his enemies with that axle. Ivan Dubrovich jumped out of the chambers to help him, and the two of them began to beat and beat their enemies. Where the heroes pass is a street, and where they turn to the side there is an alley.
Enemies lie down and don’t cry.
The khan’s arms and legs began to shake when he saw this massacre. Somehow he crawled out into the wide courtyard and begged, began to beg:
- Glorious Russian heroes! Leave my fighters, don’t destroy them! And I will give Prince Vladimir a letter of confession, I will order my grandchildren and great-grandchildren not to fight with the Russians, not to fight, and I will pay tribute forever and ever!
He invited the heroic ambassadors into the white stone chambers and treated them there to sugar dishes and honey drinks. After that, Bakhtiyar Bakhtiyarovich wrote a letter of guilt to Prince Vladimir: for all eternity do not go to war in Rus', do not fight with the Russians, do not fight and pay tribute forever and ever. Then he poured a cartload of pure silver, another cartload of red gold, and a third cartload of stinging pearls and sent twelve swans and twelve gyrfalcons as a gift to Vladimir and sent off the ambassadors with great honor. He himself went out into the wide courtyard and bowed low to the heroes.
And the mighty Russian heroes Dobrynya Nikitich, Vasily Kazimirovich and Ivan Dubrovich mounted good horses and rode away from the court of Bakhtiyar Bakhtiyarovich, and after them they drove three carts with countless treasury and gifts for Prince Vladimir.
Day after day, like rain, week after week, like a river flows, and the heroic ambassadors move forward. They travel from morning until evening, from the red sun until sunset. When the frisky horses become emaciated and the good fellows themselves become tired and tired, they set up white linen tents, feed the horses, rest, eat and drink, and again while away the journey. They travel through wide fields, cross fast rivers - and then they arrive in the capital Kyiv-grad.
They drove into the prince’s spacious courtyard and dismounted from their good horses, then Dobrynya Nikitich, Vasily Kazimirovich and Ivanushka Dubrovich entered the princely chambers, they laid the cross in a learned way, bowed in a written way: they bowed low on all four sides, and to Prince Vladimir with princess in particular, and these words were spoken:
- Oh, you goy, Prince Vladimir of Stolno-Kiev! We visited the Khan's Horde and performed your service there. Khan Bakhtiyar ordered to bow to you. “And then they gave Prince Vladimir the Khan’s letter of guilt.
Prince Vladimir sat on an oak bench and read that letter. Then he jumped up on his brisk legs, began to walk around the ward, began to stroke his blond curls, began to wave his right hand and said with light joy:
- Oh, glorious Russian heroes! After all, in the Khan’s charter, Bakhtiyar Bakhtiyarovich asks for peace forever, and it is also written there: he will pay tribute to us forever and ever. That's how wonderfully you celebrated my embassy there!
Here Dobrynya Nikitich, Vasily Kazimirovich and Ivan Dubrovich presented Prince Bakhtiyarov with a gift: twelve swans, twelve gyrfalcons and a great tribute - a cartload of pure silver, a cartload of red gold and a cartload of stingray pearls.
And Prince Vladimir, in the joy of honors, started a feast in honor of Dobrynya Nikitich, Vasily Kazimirovich and Ivan Dubrovich.
And on that Dobrynya they sing glory to Nikitich.
Epic "Alyosha Popovich"
Alyosha
In the glorious city of Rostov, near the cathedral priest Father Levontius, one child grew up in consolation and to the joy of his parents - his beloved son Alyoshenka.
The guy grew up, maturing by leaps and bounds, as if the dough on a sponge was rising, filling with strength and strength.
He started running outside and playing games with the guys. In all the childish pranks, the ringleader-ataman was: brave, cheerful, desperate - a wild, daring little head!
Sometimes the neighbors complained: “He doesn’t know how to stop me from playing pranks! Stop it, take it easy on your son!”
But the parents doted on their son and in response they said: “You can’t do anything with daring and severity, but he will grow up, mature, and all the pranks and pranks will disappear as if by hand!”
This is how Alyosha Popovich Jr. grew up. And he grew older. He rode a fast horse and learned to wield a sword. And then he came to his parent, bowed at his father’s feet and began to ask for forgiveness and blessing:
- Bless me, parent-father, to go to the capital Kyiv City, to serve Prince Vladimir, to stand at heroic outposts, to defend our land from enemies.
“My mother and I didn’t expect that you would leave us, that there would be no one to rest us in our old age, but apparently it’s written in our family: you should work in military affairs.” That is a good deed, but for good deeds accept our parental blessing, for bad deeds we do not bless you!
Then Alyosha went to the wide yard, entered the standing stable, brought out the heroic horse and began to saddle the horse. First, he put on sweatshirts, put felt on the sweatshirts, and a Cherkassy saddle on the felts, tightened the silk girths tightly, fastened the gold buckles, and the buckles had damask pins. Everything is not for the sake of beauty, but for the sake of heroic strength: as silk does not tear, damask steel does not bend, red gold does not rust, the hero sits on a horse and does not age.
He put on chain mail armor and fastened pearl buttons. Moreover, he put on a damask breastplate and took on all the heroic armor. The archer had a tight, explosive bow and twelve red-hot arrows, he also took a heroic club and a long spear, he girded himself with a treasury sword, and did not forget to take a sharp knife-dagger. The little boy shouted to Evdokimushka in a loud voice:
- Don't lag behind, follow me!
And as soon as they saw the brave young man get on his horse, they didn’t see him ride out of the yard. Only a dusty smoke rose.
Whether the journey lasted long or short, whether the road lasted long or short, and Alyosha Popovich arrived with his little steamer, Evdokimushka, to the capital city of Kiev. They did not enter by road, not by gate, but by the policemen galloping over the walls, past the corner tower into the wide prince’s courtyard. Then Alyosha jumped off his good horse, he entered the princely chambers, laid the cross in the written way, and bowed in a learned way: he bowed low on all four sides, and especially to Prince Vladimir and Princess Apraksin.
At that time, Prince Vladimir was having a feast of honor, and he ordered his youths, the faithful servants, to seat Alyosha at the baking post.
Alyosha Popovich and Tugarin
There were no glorious Russian heroes in Kyiv at that time. The princes and boyars came together for the feast, and everyone sat gloomily, joyless, the violent ones hung their heads, drowned their eyes in the oak floor...
At that time, at that time, with a loud noise, the door was swung on its heel and Tugarin the dog-catcher entered the dining room. Tugarin is of terrible height, his head is like a beer kettle, his eyes are like bowls, and his shoulders are slanting fathoms. Tugarin did not pray to images, did not greet princes or boyars. And Prince Vladimir and Apraxia bowed low to him, took him by the arms, and sat him down at the table in a large corner on an oak bench, gilded, covered with an expensive fluffy carpet. Tugarin is seated and lounging in a place of honor, sitting, grinning with his wide mouth, mocking the princes and boyars, mocking Vladimir the Prince. Endovami drinks green wine, washes it down with standing honey.
They brought swan geese and gray ducks, baked, boiled, and fried, to the tables. Tugarin put a loaf of bread on his cheek, and swallowed a white swan at a time...
Alyosha looked from behind the bakery post at Tugarin the impudent man and said:
“My parent, a Rostov priest, had a gluttonous cow: she drank a whole tub of swill until the gluttonous cow tore to pieces!”
Tugarin did not like those speeches; they seemed offensive. He threw a sharp knife-dagger at Alyosha. But Alyosha - he was evasive - on the fly he grabbed a sharp knife-dagger with his hand, and he himself sat unharmed. And he spoke these words:
- We will go, Tugarin, with you into an open field and try our heroic strength.
And so they mounted good horses and rode off into an open field, into a wide expanse. They fought there, hacking until the evening, the red sun until sunset, and neither of them hurt anyone. Tugarin had a horse on wings of fire. Tugarin soared, rose on a winged horse under the shells and managed to seize the time to hit Alyosha with a gyrfalcon from above and fall. Alyosha began to beg and say:
- Rise up, roll over, dark cloud! You, cloud, pour out frequent rain, pour out, extinguish Tugarin’s horse’s wings of fire!
And out of nowhere a dark cloud appeared. The cloud poured down with frequent rain, flooded and extinguished its wings of fire, and Tugarin descended on a horse from the sky onto the damp earth.
Then Alyoshenka Popovich Jr. shouted in a loud voice, like playing a trumpet:
- Look back, you bastard! There are Russian mighty heroes standing there. They came to help me!
Tugarin looked around, and at that time, at that time, Alyoshenka jumped up to him - he was quick-witted and dexterous - waved his heroic sword and cut off Tugarin’s violent head. That’s where the duel with Tugarin ended.
Battle with the Basurman army near Kyiv
Alyosha turned his prophetic horse and rode to Kievgrad. He overtakes and catches up with a small squad - Russian leaders. The warriors ask:
“Where are you heading, stout, kind fellow, and what is your name, what is your ancestral name?”
The hero answers the warriors:
- I am Alyosha Popovich. I fought and fought in an open field with the boastful Tugarin, cut off his violent head, and now I’m going to the capital Kyiv-grad.
Alyosha is riding with his warriors, and they see: near the city of Kyiv itself there is an infidel army-force.
They were surrounded and walled by policemen on all four sides. And so much of that unfaithful force has been driven up that from the scream of the infidel, from the neighing of a horse and from the creaking of a cart, the noise is as if thunder is rumbling, and the human heart is saddened. Near the army, an infidel horseman-hero rides across an open field, shouting in a loud voice and boasting:
“We will wipe out the city of Kiev from the face of the earth, we will burn all the houses and God’s churches with fire, we will roll them with a brand, we will kill all the townspeople, we will take the boyars and Prince Vladimir in full and force us in the Horde to go as shepherds and milk mares!”
When they saw the innumerable power of the Basurman and heard the boastful speeches of Alyosha’s praising rider, fellow travelers-combatants, they held back their zealous horses, turned dark, and hesitated.
And Alyosha Popovich was hot and assertive. Where it was impossible to take by force, he took it in a swoop. He shouted in a loud voice:
- You are a goy, good squad! Two deaths cannot happen, but one cannot be avoided. It would be better for us to lay down our heads in battle than for the glorious city of Kyiv to endure the shame! We will attack the innumerable army, we will liberate the great Kiev city from the scourge, and our merit will not be forgotten, it will pass, loud fame will spread about us: the old Cossack Ilya Muromets, son Ivanovich, will also hear about us. For our courage he will bow to us - either not honor, not glory!
Alyosha Popovich Jr. and his brave squad attacked the enemy hordes. They beat the infidels like they cut down grass: sometimes with a sword, sometimes with a spear, sometimes with a heavy war club. Alyosha Popovich took out the most important hero and boaster with a sharp sword and cut him and broke him in two. Then horror and fear attacked the enemies. The opponents could not resist and ran away in all directions. And the road to the capital city of Kyiv was cleared.
Prince Vladimir learned about the victory and, out of joy, started a feast, but did not invite Alyosha Popovich to the feast. Alyosha was offended by Prince Vladimir, turned his faithful horse and rode to Rostov-Gorod, to his parent, the cathedral priest of Rostov Levontius.
Alyosha Popovich, Ilya Muromets and Dobrynya Nikitich
Alyosha is visiting his parent, the cathedral priest Levontius of Rostov. At that time, fame and rumor flowed like a river flooding. They know in Kiev and Chernigov, the rumor is spreading in Lithuania, they say in the Horde that they are blowing a trumpet in Novgorod, how Alyosha Popovich Jr. defeated and fought the infidel army-force, and saved the capital Kiev-grad from trouble and adversity, cleared a straight road .
Glory flew to the heroic outpost. The old Cossack Ilya Muromets also heard about this and said this:
“You can see a falcon by its flight, but the goodness of a fellow can be seen by its journey.” Today Alyosha Popovich the Young has been born among us, and there will be no shortage of heroes in Rus' for centuries!
Then Ilya mounted his good horse, his shaggy little brownie, and rode the straight road to the capital Kyiv-grad.
At the princely court, the hero dismounted from his horse and entered the white stone chambers. Here he bowed in a learned way: he bowed to the waist on all four sides, and to the prince and princess in particular:
- Good luck, Prince Vladimir, for many years to come with your princess and Apraxia! Congratulations on your great victory. Although there were no heroes in Kyiv at that time, they defeated the infidel army, a countless force, fought, rescued the capital city from misfortune, paved the way to Kyiv and cleared Rus' of enemies. And this is the whole merit of Alyosha Popovich - he was young for years, but he took courage and skill, but you, Prince Vladimir, did not notice, did not honor him, did not invite the princes to your chambers, and thereby offended not only Alyosha Popovich, but all the Russians heroes. Listen to me, the old one: start a feast - a feast of honor for all the glorious mighty Russian heroes, invite young Alyosha Popovich to the feast, and in front of all of us, give the good young man honors for his services to Kiev, so that he will not be offended by you and will continue to bear military service.
Prince Vladimir Krasno Solnyshko answers:
“I’ll start a feast, and I’ll invite Alyosha to the feast, and I’ll give him honor.” Who will you send as an ambassador and invite him to the feast? Maybe send us Dobrynya Nikitich. He has been an ambassador and served as an ambassador, he is learned and courteous, he knows how to behave, he knows what to say and how to say it.
Dobrynya came to Rostov-city. He bowed low to Alyosha Popovich and himself said these words:
“Let’s go, brave good fellow, to the capital Kyiv-grad to the kind Prince Vladimir, eat bread and salt, drink beer with honey, there the prince will favor you.”
Alyosha Popovich Jr. answers:
— I was recently in Kyiv, they didn’t invite me to visit me, they didn’t treat me, and there’s no need for me to go there again.
Dobrynya bowed low for the second time:
“Don’t keep a wormhole of resentment within yourself, but get on your horse and let’s go to a feast of honors, where Prince Vladimir will honor you and reward you with expensive gifts.” The glorious Russian heroes also bowed to you and invited you to a feast: the old Cossack Ilya Muromets was the first to call you, and Vasily Kazimirovich also called you, Danube Ivanovich called you, Potanyushka Khromenky called you, and I, Dobrynya, called you honor by honor. Don’t be angry with the prince and Vladimir, but let’s go to a cheerful conversation, to a feast of honors.
“If Prince Vladimir had called, I wouldn’t have gotten up and wouldn’t have gone, but as Ilya Muromets himself and the glorious mighty heroes call, then it’s an honor for me,” said Alyosha Popovich, the young one, who sat on a good horse with his brave squad, They went to the capital Kyiv-grad. They did not enter by road, not by gate, but by the policemen galloping over the walls to either the prince’s court. In the middle of the yard they jumped off their zealous horses.
The old Cossack Ilya Muromets with Prince Vladimir and Princess Apraxia went out onto the red porch, greeted the guest with honor and honor, led him arm in arm into the dining room, into a large place, and seated Alyosha Popovich in the red corner, next to Ilya Muromets and Dobrynya Nikitich.
And Vladimir the Prince paces around the dining room and orders:
- Youths, faithful servants, pour a chara of green wine and dilute it with standing honey, not a small chara - one and a half buckets, offer a chara to Alyosha Popovich, bring a chara to your friend Ilya Muromets, and give the third chara to Dobrynyushka Nikitich.
The heroes rose to their feet, drank charms for a single spirit, and fraternized among themselves: they called Ilya Muromets the elder brother, Dobrynya Nikitich the middle brother, and Alyosha Popovich the younger brother.
They hugged three times and kissed three times.
Here Prince Vladimir and Princess Apraxia began to honor and reward Alyoshenka: they wrote him off, granted him a city with suburbs, awarded him a large village with outskirts... “Keep the treasury in gold as needed, we give you precious clothes!”
Young Alyosha rose to his feet and said:
“I was not the only one who fought against the infidel army, a countless force. The vigilantes fought and fought with me. So reward and favor them, but I don’t need a city with suburbs, I don’t need a big village with outskirts, and I don’t need precious clothes. I thank you for the bread and salt and the honors. And you, Prince Vladimir of Stolno-Kiev, allow me and the crusade brothers Ilya Muromets and Dobrynya Nikitich to take a duty-free walk and have fun in Kiev, so that the ringing and ringing can be heard in Rostov and Chernigov, and then we will go to the heroic outpost to stand Let's defend the Russian land from enemies!
Kyiv-city stands on high hills.
In the old days, it was surrounded by an earthen rampart and surrounded by ditches.
You could see far from the green hills of Kyiv. Suburbs and populous villages, rich arable lands, the blue ribbon of the Dnieper, golden sands on the left bank, pine groves were visible...
Plowmen plowed the land near Kyiv. Skilled shipbuilders built light boats along the banks of the river and hollowed out oak canoes. In the meadows and along the creeks, shepherds grazed their cattle.
Behind the suburbs and villages there were dense forests. Hunters wandered through them, hunting bears, wolves, aurochs - horned bulls, and small animals, apparently and invisibly.
And behind the forests stretched steppes without end and edge. A lot of grief came from these steppes to Rus': nomads flew from them into Russian villages - they burned and robbed, and carried away Russian people in full.
To protect the Russian land from them, heroic outposts and small fortresses were scattered along the edge of the steppe. They protected the path to Kyiv, protected from enemies, from strangers.
And the heroes tirelessly rode across the steppes on powerful horses, vigilantly peering into the distance to see if they could see enemy fires or hear the tramp of other people’s horses.
For days and months, years, decades, Ilya Muromets protected his native land, he neither built a house for himself nor started a family. And Dobrynya, and Alyosha, and Danube Ivanovich - all performed military service in the steppe and in the open field. From time to time they gathered at Prince Vladimir's courtyard to relax, feast, listen to the guslars, and learn about each other.
If times are troubling, warrior-bogatyrs are needed, Prince Vladimir and Princess Apraxia greet them with honor. For them, the stoves are heated, in the gridna - the living room - for them the tables are bursting with pies, rolls, fried swans, wine, mash, sweet honey. For them, leopard skins lie on the benches, bear skins are hung on the walls.
But Prince Vladimir has deep cellars, iron locks, and stone cages. Almost for him, the prince will not remember his military exploits, will not look at his heroic honor...
But in the black huts throughout Rus', the common people love, glorify and honor the heroes. She shares rye bread with him, plants him in a red corner and sings songs about glorious exploits - about how the heroes protect and defend their native Rus'!
Glory, glory in our days to the heroes-defenders of the Motherland!
High is the height of heaven,
Deep is the depth of the ocean-sea,
There is wide expanse throughout the entire earth.
The Dnieper pools are deep,
The Sorochinsky Mountains are high,
The Bryansk forests are dark,
The mud of Smolensk is black,
Russian rivers are swift and bright.
And strong, mighty heroes in glorious Rus'!
Volga Vseslavevich
The red sun set behind the high mountains, frequent stars scattered across the sky, and at that time a young hero, Volga Vseslavevich, was born in Mother Rus'. His mother swaddled him in red swaddling clothes, tied him with gold belts, put him in a carved cradle, and began to sing songs over him.
Volga only slept for an hour, woke up, stretched - the golden belts burst, the red diapers tore, the bottom of the carved cradle fell out. And Volga stood up and said to his mother:
“Madame mother, don’t swaddle me, don’t twist me, but dress me in strong armor, a gilded helmet, and give me a club in my right hand, so that the club weighs a hundred pounds.”
The mother was frightened, but Volga was growing by leaps and bounds.
Volga has grown up to five years old. Other kids at such years only play games, but Volga has already learned to read and write - to write and count and read books. When he turned six years old, he went for a walk on the earth. His steps made the ground shake. The animals and birds heard his heroic tread, got scared, and hid. The aurochs-deer ran into the mountains, the sable-martens lay down in holes, small animals hid in the thicket, fish hid in deep places.
Volga Vseslavyevich began to learn all sorts of tricks.
He learned to fly in the sky like a falcon, learned to turn into a gray wolf, and gallop through the mountains like a deer.
Volga turned fifteen years old. He began to gather his comrades. He recruited a squad of twenty-nine people - Volga himself was the thirtieth in the squad. All the guys are fifteen years old, all mighty heroes. Their horses are fast, their arrows are accurate, their swords are sharp.
Volga gathered his squad and went with it to an open field, to the wide steppe. Carts with luggage do not creak behind them, neither down beds nor fur blankets are carried behind them, servants, stewards, cooks do not run after them...
For them, a feather bed is dry earth, a pillow is a Cherkassy saddle, there is plenty of food in the steppe, in the forests - there would be a supply of arrows and flint and steel.
So the fellows set up a camp in the steppe, lit fires, and fed the horses. Volga sends younger warriors into the dense forests:
- Take silk nets, place them in the dark forest along the ground and catch martens, foxes, black sables, we will stock up fur coats for the squad.
The vigilantes scattered through the forests. Volga waits for them for a day, waits for another, and the third day is approaching evening. Then the warriors arrived sadly: they knocked down their legs on the roots, tore off their clothes on the thorns, and returned to the camp empty-handed. Not a single animal caught them in the net.
Volga laughed:
- Oh, you hunters! Return to the forest, stand near the nets and keep your eyes peeled, well done.
Volga hit the ground, turned into a gray wolf, and ran into the forests. He drove the animals out of holes, hollows, and dead wood; he drove foxes, martens, and sables into nets. He didn’t disdain small animals; he caught gray hares for dinner.
The warriors returned with rich booty.
Volga fed and watered the squad, and also put on shoes and clothes. The warriors wear expensive sable fur coats, and for recess they also have leopard fur coats. They can’t praise Volga enough, they can’t stop looking at her.
As time goes on and on, Volga sends out the middle vigilantes:
- Set a snare in the forest on tall oak trees, catch geese, swans, gray ducks.
The heroes scattered throughout the forest, set a snare, thought to come home with rich booty, but they didn’t even catch a gray sparrow.
They returned to the camp gloomily, hanging their violent heads below their shoulders. They hide their eyes from Volga and turn away. And Volga laughs at them:
- Why did you return without prey, hunters? Well, okay, you'll have something to feast on. Go to the snares and watch carefully.
Volga hit the ground, took off like a white falcon, rose high to the very clouds, and fell down on every bird in the sky. He hits geese, swans, gray ducks, only the fluff flies from them, as if covering the ground with snow. Whoever he didn’t beat himself, he drove into a snare.
The heroes returned to the camp with rich booty. They lit fires, baked game, washed down the game with spring water, and praised Volga.
How much or how much time has passed, Volga sends his warriors again:
- Build oak boats, make silk nets, take maple floats, go out into the blue sea, catch salmon, beluga, stellate sturgeon.
The vigilantes caught it for ten days, but they didn’t catch even a small brush. Volga turned into a toothy pike, dived into the sea, drove the fish out of deep holes, and drove them into silk nets. The fellows brought boatloads of salmon, beluga, and barbel catfish.
The warriors are walking around the open field, playing heroic games. throwing arrows, galloping on horses, testing their heroic strength...
Suddenly Volga heard that the Turkish Tsar Saltan Beketovich was going to war in Rus'.
His brave heart flared up, he called the warriors and said:
“You’ve had enough of lying around, you’ve had enough of exercising your strength, the time has come to serve your native land, to protect Rus' from Saltan Beketovich.” Which of you will make your way into the Turkish camp and recognize Salta’s thoughts?
The fellows are silent, hiding behind each other: the older one behind the middle one. The middle one spoke for the younger one, and the younger one closed his mouth.
Volga got angry:
- Apparently, I need to go myself!
He turned around - golden horns. The first time he galloped, he jumped a mile, the second time he galloped, they only saw him.
Volga galloped to the Turkish kingdom, turned into a gray sparrow, sat on the window of Tsar Saltan and listened. And Saltan walks around the room, clicks his patterned whip and says to his wife Azvyakovna:
- I decided to go to war against Rus'. I will conquer nine cities, I will sit as a prince in Kyiv, I will distribute nine cities to nine sons, I will give you a sable shushun.
And Tsarina Azvyakovna looks sadly:
- Oh, Tsar Saltan, today I had a bad dream: it was as if a black raven was fighting in a field with a white falcon. The white falcon clawed the black raven and released its feathers into the wind. The white falcon is the Russian hero Volga Vseslavyevich, the black raven is you, Saltan Beketovich. Don't go to Rus'. You won’t take nine cities, you won’t reign in Kyiv.
Tsar Saltan got angry and hit the queen with a whip:
- I am not afraid of Russian heroes, I will reign in Kyiv. Then Volga flew down like a sparrow and turned into an ermine. His body is narrow and his teeth are sharp.
The ermine ran through the royal courtyard and made its way into the deep royal cellars. There he bit off the strings of tight bows, chewed the shafts of arrows, chipped sabers, and bent clubs into an arc.
The stoat crawled out of the basement, turned into a gray wolf, ran to the royal stables - he killed and strangled all the Turkish horses.
Volga got out of the royal court, turned into a clear falcon, flew into an open field to his squad, and woke up the heroes:
- Hey, my brave squad, now is not the time to sleep, it’s time to get up! Get ready for a campaign to the Golden Horde, to Saltan Beketovich!
They approached the Golden Horde, and around the Horde there was a high stone wall. The gates in the wall are iron, the hooks and bolts are copper, there are sleepless guards at the gates - you can’t fly over, you can’t cross, you can’t break down the gate.
The heroes became sad and thought: “How can we overcome the high wall and iron gate?”
Young Volga guessed: he turned into a small midge, covered all the fellows with goosebumps, and goosebumps crawled under the gate. And on the other side they became warriors.
They struck Saltanov's force like thunder from heaven. But the Turkish army’s sabers are dull and their swords are chipped. Here the Turkish army began to run away.
The Russian heroes marched through the Golden Horde, ending all of Saltanov’s strength.
Saltan Beketovich himself fled to his palace, closed the iron doors, and pushed the copper bolts.
When Volga kicked the door, all the locking bolts flew out. the iron doors burst.
Volga entered the room and grabbed Saltan by the hands:
- You, Saltan, should not be in Rus', do not burn, do not scorch Russian cities, do not sit as a prince in Kyiv.
Volga hit him on the stone floor and crushed Saltan to death.
- Don't boast. Horde, with your strength, do not go to war against Mother Rus'!
Mikula Selyaninovich
Early in the morning, in the early sun, Volga gathered to take these taxes from the trading cities of Gurchevets and Orekhovets.
The squad mounted good horses, brown stallions, and set off. The fellows drove out into an open field, into a wide expanse, and heard a plowman in the field. The plowman plows, whistles, the plowshares scratch the stones. It’s as if a plowman is leading a plow somewhere nearby.
The good fellows go to the plowman, ride all day until evening, but cannot get to him. You can hear the plowman whistling, you can hear the bipod creaking, you can hear the plowshares scratching, but you can’t even see the plowman himself.
The good fellows travel the next day until the evening, and the plowman is still whistling, the pine tree is creaking, the plowshares are scratching, but the plowman is gone.
The third day is approaching evening, and only the good fellows have reached the plowman. The plowman plows, urges, and hoots at his filly. He lays furrows like deep ditches, pulls oak trees out of the ground, throws stones and boulders to the side. Only the plowman’s curls sway and fall like silk over his shoulders.
But the plowman’s filly is not wise, and his plow is made of maple, and his tugs are silk. Volga marveled at him and bowed politely:
- Hello, good man, there are laborers in the field!
- Be healthy, Volga Vseslavevich! Where are you heading?
“I’m going to the cities of Gurchevets and Orekhovets to collect tribute from trading people.
- Eh, Volga Vseslavyevich, all the robbers live in those cities, they skin the poor plowman, and collect tolls for traveling on the roads. I went there to buy salt, bought three bags of salt, each bag a hundred pounds, put it on a gray filly and headed home to my place. Trade people surrounded me and began to take travel money from me. The more I give, the more they want. I got angry, angry, and paid them with a silk whip. Well, the one who stood sits, and the one who sat lies down.
Volga was surprised and bowed to the plowman:
- Oh, you, glorious plowman, mighty hero, come with me for a comrade.
- Well, I’ll go, Volga Vseslavyevich, I need to give them an order - not to offend other men.
The plowman took the silk tugs off the plow, unharnessed the gray filly, sat astride her and set off.
The fellows galloped halfway. The plowman says to Volga Vseslavyevich:
- Oh, we did something wrong, we left a plow in the furrow. You sent some fine warriors to pull the bipod out of the furrow, shake out the earth from it, and put the plow under the broom bush.
Volga sent three warriors.
They turn the bipod this way and that, but cannot lift the bipod off the ground.
Volga sent ten knights. They twirl the bipod with twenty hands, but can’t get it off the ground.
Volga and his entire squad went there. Thirty people without a single one stuck around the bipod on all sides, strained, went knee-deep into the ground, but didn’t move the bipod even a hair’s breadth away.
The plowman himself got off the filly and grabbed the bipod with one hand. He pulled it out of the ground and shook the earth out of the plowshares. I cleaned the plowshares with grass.
They arrived near Gurchevets and Orekhovets. And there the cunning trading people saw the plowman and cut down oak logs on the bridge over the Orekhovets River.
As soon as the squad climbed onto the bridge, the oak logs broke, the fellows began to drown in the river, the brave squad began to die, the horses began to sink, people began to go to the bottom.
Volga and Mikula got angry, got angry, whipped their good horses, and jumped over the river in one gallop. They jumped onto that bank and began to honor the villains.
The plowman beats with a whip and says:
- Oh, you greedy trading people! The men of the city feed them bread and drink honey, but you spare them salt!
Volga bestows her club on behalf of her warriors and her heroic horses. The Gurchevet people began to repent:
- You will forgive us for our villainy, for our cunning. Take tribute from us, and let the plowmen go for salt, no one will demand a penny from them.
Volga took tribute from them for twelve years, and the heroes went home.
Volga Vseslavevich asks the plowman:
- Tell me, Russian hero, what is your name, do you call yourself by your patronymic?
- Come to me, Volga Vseslavyevich, to my peasant yard, so you will find out how people honor me.
The heroes approached the field. The plowman pulled out a pine tree, plowed up a wide pole, sowed it with golden grain... The dawn was still burning, and the plowman’s field was rustling. The dark night is coming - the plowman is reaping bread. I threshed it in the morning, winnowed it by noon, ground flour by lunchtime, and started making pies. In the evening he called the people to a feast of honors.
People began to eat pies, drink mash and praise the plowman:
Oh thank you, Mikula Selyaninovich!
Svyatogor the hero
The Holy Mountains are high in Rus', their gorges are deep, their abysses are terrible; Neither birch, nor oak, nor pine, nor green grass grow there. Even a wolf won’t run there, an eagle won’t fly by - even an ant has nothing to profit from on the bare rocks.
Only the hero Svyatogor rides between the cliffs on his mighty horse. The horse leaps over chasms, jumps over gorges, and steps from mountain to mountain.
An old man rides through the Holy Mountains.
Here the mother of cheese earth sways,
Stones crumble in the abyss,
The streams flow quickly.
The hero Svyatogor is taller than a dark forest, he props up the clouds with his head, he gallops through the mountains - the mountains shake under him, he drives into the river - all the water from the river splashes out. He rides for a day, two, three - he stops, pitches his tent, lies down, gets some sleep, and again his horse wanders through the mountains.
Svyatogor the hero is bored, sadly old: in the mountains there is no one to say a word with, no one to measure his strength with.
He would like to go to Rus', walk with other heroes, fight with enemies, shake his strength, but the trouble is: the earth does not support him, only the stone cliffs of Svyatogorsk do not crumble under his weight, do not fall, only their ridges do not crack under his hooves heroic horse.
It’s hard for Svyatogor because of his strength, he carries it like a heavy burden. I would be glad to give half my strength, but there is no one. I would be glad to do the hardest work, but there is no work I can handle. Whatever you touch with your hand, everything will crumble into crumbs, flatten into a pancake.
He would begin to uproot forests, but for him forests are like meadow grass. He would begin to move mountains, but no one needs that...
So he travels alone through the Holy Mountains, his head weighed down with melancholy...
- Eh, if only I could find earthly traction, I would drive a ring into the sky, tie an iron chain to the ring; I would pull the sky to the earth, turn the earth upside down, mix the sky with the earth - I would spend a little power!
But where can you find it - cravings!
One day Svyatogor is riding along a valley between the cliffs, and suddenly a living person walks ahead!
A nondescript little man walks, stamping his bast shoes, carrying a saddlebag on his shoulder.
Svyatogor was delighted: he would have someone to exchange a word with, and began to catch up with the peasant.
He walks on his own, in no hurry, but Svyatogorov’s horse gallops at full speed, but cannot catch up with the man. A man is walking, not in a hurry, throwing his handbag from shoulder to shoulder. Svyatogor gallops at full speed - all the passers-by are ahead! He's walking at a pace - he can't catch up with everything!
Svyatogor shouted to him:
- Hey, good passerby, wait for me! The man stopped and put his purse on the ground. Svyatogor galloped up, greeted him and asked:
- What kind of burden do you have in this bag?
“And you take my purse, throw it over your shoulder and run across the field with it.”
Svyatogor laughed so hard that the mountains shook; I wanted to pry the purse with a whip, but the purse did not move, I began to push with a spear - it did not budge, I tried to lift it with my finger, but it did not rise...
Svyatogor got off his horse, took his handbag with his right hand, but did not move it by a hair. The hero grabbed the purse with both hands and pulled with all his might, only lifting it up to his knees. Lo and behold, he’s sunk knee-deep into the ground, not sweat is running down his face, but blood is flowing, his heart is frozen...
Svyatogor threw his handbag, fell to the ground, and a rumble went through the mountains and valleys.
The hero could barely catch his breath.
- Tell me what you have in your purse? Tell me, teach me, I have never heard of such a miracle. My strength is exorbitant, but I can’t lift such a grain of sand!
“Why not say it, I’ll say it: in my little bag all the earthly cravings lie.”
Spiatogor lowered his head:
- This is what earthly craving means. Who are you and what is your name, passer-by?
- I’m a plowman, Mikula Selyaninovich.
“I see, good man, the mother of the earth loves you!” Maybe you can tell me about my fate? It’s hard for me to ride through the mountains alone, I can’t live like this in the world anymore.
- Go, hero, to the Northern Mountains. There is an iron forge near those mountains. In that forge, the blacksmith forges everyone’s destiny, and from him you will learn about your destiny.
Mikula Selyaninovich threw his purse over his shoulder and walked away. And Svyatogor jumped on his horse and galloped towards the Northern Mountains. Svyatogor rode and rode for three days, three nights, did not go to sleep for three days - he reached the Northern Mountains. Here the cliffs are even bare, the abysses are even blacker, the rivers are deep and raging...
Under the very cloud, on a bare rock, Svyatogor saw an iron forge. There is a bright fire burning in the forge, black smoke is pouring out of the forge, and there is a ringing and knocking sound throughout the area.
Svyatogor entered the forge and saw: a gray-haired old man standing at the anvil, blowing the bellows with one hand, hitting the anvil with a hammer with the other, but nothing was visible on the anvil.
- Blacksmith, blacksmith, what are you forging, father?
- Come closer, bend down lower! Svyatogor bent down, looked and was surprised: a blacksmith was forging two thin hairs.
- What do you have, blacksmith?
“Here are two hairs of an owl, a hair with a hair of an owl - two people get married.”
- Who does fate tell me to marry?
- Your bride lives on the edge of the mountains in a dilapidated hut.
Svyatogor went to the edge of the mountains and found a dilapidated hut. The hero entered it and put a gift - a bag of gold - on the table. Svyatogor looked around and saw: a girl was lying motionless on a bench, covered with bark and scabs, and did not open her eyes.
Svyatogor felt sorry for her. Why is he lying there and suffering? And death does not come, and there is no life.
Svyatogor pulled out his sharp sword and wanted to hit the girl, but his hand did not rise. The sword fell on the oak floor.
Svyatogor jumped out of the hut, mounted his horse and galloped off to the Holy Mountains.
Meanwhile, the girl opened her eyes and saw: a heroic sword was lying on the floor, a bag of gold was on the table, and all the bark had fallen off her, and her body was clean, and her strength had returned.
She got up, walked along the little hill, walked out the threshold, bent over the lake and gasped: a beautiful girl was looking at her from the lake - stately, and white, and rosy-cheeked, and with clear eyes, and fair-haired braids!
She took the gold that was lying on the table, built ships, loaded them with goods and set off across the blue sea to trade and seek happiness.
Wherever she comes, all the people run to buy goods and admire the beauty. Her fame spreads throughout Rus':
So she reached the Holy Mountains, and rumors about her reached Svyatogor. He also wanted to look at the beauty. He looked at her, and he fell in love with the girl.
“This is the bride for me, I’ll marry this one!” The girl also fell in love with Svyatogor.
They got married, and Svyatogor’s wife began to tell him about her former life, how she lay covered in bark for thirty years, how she was cured, how she found money on the table.
Svyatogor was surprised, but didn’t say anything to his wife.
The girl gave up trading, sailing the seas, and began to live with Svyatogor on the Holy Mountains.
Alyosha Popovich and Tugarin Zmeevich
In the glorious city of Rostov, the Rostov cathedral priest had one and only son. His name was Alyosha, nicknamed Popovich after his father.
Alyosha Popovich did not learn to read and write, did not sit down to read books, but learned from an early age to wield a spear, shoot a bow, and tame heroic horses. Silon Alyosha is not a great hero, but he prevailed with his audacity and cunning. Alyosha Popovich grew up to sixteen years old, and he became bored in his father’s house.
He began to ask his father to let him go into an open field, into a wide expanse, to travel freely throughout Rus', to reach the blue sea, to hunt in the forests. His father let him go and gave him a heroic horse, a saber, a sharp spear and a bow with arrows. Alyosha began to saddle his horse and began to say:
- Serve me faithfully, heroic horse. Do not leave me either dead or wounded to be torn to pieces by gray wolves, to black crows to be pecked, or to enemies to be mocked! Wherever we are, bring us home!
He dressed his horse like a prince. The saddle is from Cherkasy, the girth is silk, the bridle is gilded.
Alyosha called his beloved friend Ekim Ivanovich with him and on Saturday morning he left home to seek heroic glory for himself.
Here are faithful friends riding shoulder to shoulder, stirrup to stirrup, looking around. There is no one in sight in the steppe - no hero with whom to measure strength, no beast to hunt. The Russian steppe stretches out under the sun without end, without edge, and you can’t hear a rustle in it, you can’t see a bird in the sky. Suddenly Alyosha sees a stone lying on the mound, and something is written on the stone. Alyosha says to Ekim Ivanovich:
- Come on, Ekimushka, read what is written on the stone. You are well-literate, but I am not trained to read and write and cannot read.
Ekim jumped off his horse and began to make out the inscription on the stone.
“Here, Alyoshenka, is what is written on the stone: the right road leads to Chernigov, the left road to Kyiv, to Prince Vladimir, and the straight road leads to the blue sea, to quiet backwaters.”
- Where should we go, Ekim?
“It’s a long way to go to the blue sea; there’s no need to go to Chernigov: there are good kalachniks there.” Eat one kalach and you’ll want another; eat another and you’ll collapse on the feather bed; we won’t find heroic glory there. We’ll go to Prince Vladimir, maybe he’ll take us into his squad.
- Well, then, Ekim, let’s take the left path.
The fellows wrapped up their horses and rode along the road to Kyiv.
They reached the bank of the Safat River and set up a white tent. Alyosha jumped off his horse, entered the tent, lay down on the green grass and fell into a deep sleep. And Ekim unsaddled the horses, watered them, walked them, hobbled them and let them go into the meadows, only then did he go to rest.
Alyosha woke up in the morning, washed his face with dew, dried himself with a white towel, and began to comb his curls.
And Ekim jumped up, went to fetch the horses, gave them water, fed them oats, and saddled both his and Alyosha’s.
Once again the fellows hit the road.
They drive and drive, and suddenly they see an old man walking in the middle of the steppe. A beggar wanderer is a wanderer. He is wearing bast shoes made of seven silks, he is wearing a sable fur coat, a Greek hat, and in his hands is a traveling club.
He saw the fellows and blocked their path:
- Oh, you brave fellows, you don’t go beyond the Safat River. The evil enemy Tugarin, son of the Snake, became there. He is as tall as a tall oak tree, between his shoulders is an oblique fathom, you can put an arrow between your eyes. His winged horse is like a fierce beast: flames are blazing from his nostrils, smoke is pouring out of his ears. Don't go there, well done!
Ekimushka glances at Alyosha, and Alyosha became incensed and angry:
- So that I give way to all evil spirits! I can’t take him by force, I’ll take him by cunning. My brother, road wanderer, give me your dress for a while, take my heroic armor, help me cope with Tugarin.
- Okay, take it, and make sure there is no trouble: he can swallow you in one gulp.
- It’s okay, we’ll manage somehow!
Alyosha put on a colored dress and went on foot to the Safat River. It's coming. leaning on a baton, limping...
Tugarin Zmeevich saw him, screamed so that the earth trembled, tall oaks bent, water splashed out of the river, Alyosha was barely standing alive, his legs were giving way.
“Hey,” shouts Tugarin, “hey, wanderer, have you seen Alyosha Popovich?” I would like to find him, stab him with a spear, and burn him with fire.
And Alyosha pulled his Greek hat over his face, grunted, groaned and answered in an old man’s voice:
- Oh-oh-oh, don’t be angry with me, Tugarin Zmeevich! I'm deaf from old age, I can't hear anything you order me. Come closer to me, to the wretched one.
Tugarin rode up to Alyosha, leaned down from the saddle, wanted to bark in his ear, and Alyosha was dexterous and evasive - as soon as a club struck him between the eyes, Tugarin fell unconscious to the ground.
Alyosha took off his expensive dress, embroidered with gems, not a cheap dress, worth a hundred thousand, and put it on himself. He strapped Tugarin himself to the saddle and rode back to his friends.
And so Ekim Ivanovich is not himself, he is eager to help Alyosha, but it is impossible to interfere in the hero’s business, to interfere with Alyosha’s glory.
Suddenly he sees Ekim - a horse is galloping like a fierce beast, Tugarin is sitting on it in an expensive dress.
Ekim got angry and threw his thirty-pound club straight into Alyosha Popovich’s chest. Alyosha fell down dead.
And Ekim pulled out the dagger, rushed to the fallen man, wants to finish off Tugarin... And suddenly he sees Alyosha lying in front of him...
Ekim Ivanovich fell to the ground and burst into tears:
“I killed, I killed my named brother, dear Alyosha Popovich!”
They began to shake and rock Alyosha with a calico, poured foreign drink into his mouth, and rubbed him with medicinal herbs. Alyosha opened his eyes, got to his feet, stood and wobbled.
Ekim Ivanovich is not himself with joy.
He took off Tugarin's dress from Alyosha, dressed him in heroic armor, and gave the Kalika his goods. He put Alyosha on his horse and walked alongside him: he supported Alyosha.
Only in Kyiv itself did Alyosha come into force.
They arrived in Kyiv on Sunday, around lunchtime. We drove into the prince's courtyard, jumped off our horses, tied them to oak posts and entered the upper room.
Prince Vladimir greets them kindly.
- Hello, dear guests, where did you come to see me from? What is your name, what is your patronymic?
— I am from the city of Rostov, the son of the cathedral priest Leonty. And my name is Alyosha Popovich. We drove through the pure steppe, met Tugarin Zmeevich, he is now hanging in my toroki.
Prince Vladimir was delighted:
- What a hero you are, Alyoshenka! Wherever you want, sit at the table: if you want, next to me, if you want, opposite me, if you want, next to the princess.
Alyosha Popovich did not hesitate; he sat down next to the princess. And Ekim Ivanovich stood by the stove.
Prince Vladimir shouted to the servants:
- Untie Tugarin Zmeevich, bring him here to the room! As soon as Alyosha took hold of the bread and salt, the doors of the hotel opened, twelve grooms were brought in on Tugarin’s golden plaque, and they were seated next to Prince Vladimir.
The steward came running, brought fried geese, swans, and brought ladles of sweet honey.
But Tugarin behaves discourteously, impolitely. He grabbed the swan and ate it with the bones, stuffing it whole into his cheek. He grabbed the rich pies and threw them into his mouth; for one breath he pours ten ladles of honey down his throat.
Before the guests had time to take a piece, there were only bones on the table.
Alyosha Popovich frowned and said:
“My father priest Leonty had an old and greedy dog. She grabbed a large bone and choked. I grabbed her by the tail and threw her down the hill - the same will happen to Tugarin from me.
Tugarin darkened like an autumn night, pulled out a sharp dagger and threw it at Alyosha Popovich.
The end would have come for Alyosha, but Ekim Ivanovich jumped up and intercepted the dagger in flight.
- My brother, Alyosha Popovich, will you throw the knife at him yourself or will you allow me?
“And I won’t leave you, and I won’t allow you: it’s discourteous to start a quarrel with a prince in the upper room.” And I’ll talk to him tomorrow in an open field, and Tugarin won’t be alive tomorrow evening.
The guests began to make noise, began to argue, began to take a bet, they bet everything for Tugarin - ships, goods, and money.
Only Princess Apraxia and Ekim Ivanovich are considered for Alyosha.
Alyosha got up from the table and went with Ekim to his tent on the Safat River. Alyosha doesn’t sleep all night, looking at the sky, calling on a thundercloud to wet Tugarin’s wings with rain. Early in the morning Tugarin arrived, hovering over the tent, wanting to strike from above. It was not for nothing that Alyosha did not sleep: a thunder cloud flew in, rained down, and wetted Tugarin’s horse’s mighty wings. The horse rushed to the ground and galloped along the ground.
Alyosha sits firmly in the saddle, waving a sharp saber.
Tugarin roared so loudly that leaves fell from the trees:
“This is the end for you, Alyoshka: if I want, I’ll burn with fire, if I want, I’ll trample on my horse, if I want, I’ll stab with a spear!”
Alyosha drove up closer to him and said:
- Why are you, Tugarin, deceiving?! You and I bet that we would measure our strength one on one, but now you have an untold strength behind you!
Tugarin looked back, wanted to see what power was behind him, and that’s all Alyosha needed. He swung his sharp saber and cut off his head!
The head rolled to the ground like a beer cauldron, and Mother Earth began to hum! Alyosha jumped off and wanted to take the head, but he couldn’t lift it an inch from the ground. Alyosha Popovich shouted in a loud voice:
- Hey, you, faithful comrades, help raise Tugarin’s head from the ground!
Ekim Ivanovich rode up with his comrades and helped Alyosha Popovich put Tugarin’s head on the hero’s horse.
When they arrived in Kyiv, they drove into the princely courtyard and threw a monster in the middle of the courtyard.
Prince Vladimir came out with the princess, invited Alyosha to the princely table, and spoke kind words to Alyosha:
- Live, Alyosha, in Kyiv, serve me, Prince Vladimir. I'll welcome you, Alyosha.
Alyosha remained in Kyiv as a warrior.
This is how they sing about young Alyosha from old times, so that good people will listen:
Our Alyosha is of the priestly family,
He is brave and smart, but has a grumpy disposition.
He is not as strong as he pretended to be.
About Dobrynya Nikitich and Zmey Gorynych
Once upon a time there lived a widow, Mamelfa Timofeevna, near Kiev. She had a beloved son - the hero Dobrynyushka. Throughout Kyiv, fame spread about Dobrynya: he was stately, and tall, and learned to read and write, and was brave in battle, and cheerful at the feast. He will compose a song, play the harp, and say a clever word. And Dobrynya’s disposition is calm and affectionate. He will not scold anyone, he will not offend anyone in vain. No wonder they nicknamed him “quiet Dobrynyushka.”
Once on a hot summer day, Dobrynya wanted to swim in the river. He went to his mother Mamelfa Timofeevna:
“Let me go, mother, to go to the Puchai River and swim in the cold water,” the summer heat has exhausted me.
Mamelfa Timofeevna got excited and began to dissuade Dobrynya:
- My dear son Dobrynyushka, don’t go to the Puchai River. The river is furious and angry. From the first stream the fire shoots out, from the second stream sparks fall, from the third stream smoke pours out in a column.
“Okay, mother, at least let me go along the shore and get some fresh air.”
Mamelfa Timofeevna released Dobrynya.
Dobrynya put on a traveling dress, covered himself with a tall Greek hat, took with him a spear and a bow with arrows, a sharp saber and a whip.
He mounted a good horse, called a young servant with him and set off. Dobrynya drives for an hour or two; The summer sun is scorching hot, burning Dobrynya’s head. Dobrynya forgot what his mother was punishing him and turned his horse towards the Puchai River.
The Puchai River brings coolness.
Dobrynya jumped off his horse and threw the reins to the young servant:
- You stay here, watch the horse.
He took off the Greek hat from his head, took off his traveling clothes, put all his weapons on his horse and rushed into the river.
Dobrynya floats along the Puchai River and is surprised:
- What did my mother tell me about the Puchai River? The Pooh-river is not fierce, The Pooh-river is quiet, like a rain puddle.
Before Dobrynya had time to speak, the sky suddenly darkened, but there were no clouds in the sky, and there was no rain, but thunder rumbled, and there was no thunderstorm, but the fire was shining...
Dobrynya raised his head and saw that the Serpent Gorynych was flying towards him, a terrible serpent with three heads and seven claws, flames blazing from his nostrils, smoke pouring out of his ears, copper claws on his paws shining.
The Serpent saw Dobrynya and thundered:
- Eh, the old people prophesied that Dobrynya Nikitich would kill me, but Dobrynya himself came into my clutches. Now if I want, I’ll eat you alive, if I want, I’ll take you to my lair, I’ll take you prisoner. I have a lot of Russian people in captivity, only Dobrynya was missing.
- Oh, you damned snake, first take Dobrynya, then show off, but for now Dobrynya is not in your hands.
Dobrynya knew how to swim well; he dived to the bottom, swam under the water, surfaced near a steep shore, jumped out onto the shore and rushed to his horse. And there was no trace of the horse: the young servant was frightened by the snake’s roar, jumped on the horse and was off. And he took all the weapons to Dobrynina.
Dobrynya has nothing to fight with the Serpent Gorynych.
And the Serpent again flies to Dobrynya, showers with flammable sparks, and burns Dobrynya’s white body.
The heroic heart trembled.
Dobrynya looked at the shore - there was nothing to take into his hands: there was no club, no pebble, only yellow sand on the steep bank, and his Greek hat was lying around.
Dobrynya grabbed a Greek hat, poured no more or less yellow sand into it - five pounds and how he would hit the Snake Gorynych with his hat - and knocked off his head.
He threw the Snake down to the ground, crushed his chest with his knees, and wanted to knock off two more heads...
How the Serpent Gorynych prayed here:
- Oh, Dobrynyushka, oh, hero, don’t kill me, let me fly around the world, I will always obey you! I will give you a great vow: not to fly to you in wide Rus', not to take Russian people prisoner. Just have mercy on me, Dobrynyushka, and don’t touch my little snakes.
Dobrynya succumbed to the crafty speech, believed the Serpent Gorynych, and let him go, damned.
As soon as the Serpent rose under the clouds, it immediately turned towards Kyiv and flew to the garden of Prince Vladimir. And at that time, young Zabava Putyatishna, Prince Vladimir’s niece, was walking in the garden.
The Serpent saw the princess, was delighted, rushed at her from under the cloud, grabbed her in his copper claws and carried her to the Sorochinsky mountains.
At this time, Dobrynya found a servant and began to put on his traveling dress - suddenly the sky darkened and thunder roared. Dobrynya raised his head and saw: the Serpent Gorynych was flying from Kyiv, carrying Zzbava Putyatishna in his claws!
Then Dobrynya became sad - he became sad, he became depressed, he came home unhappy, sat down on a bench, and didn’t say a word. His mother began to ask:
- Why are you sitting sadly, Dobrynyushka? What are you talking about, my light. Are you sad?
“I’m not worried about anything, I’m not sad about anything, but it’s not fun for me to sit at home.” I’ll go to Kyiv to see Prince Vladimir, he’s having a fun feast today.
- Don’t go, Dobrynyushka, to the prince, my heart senses evil. We'll have a feast at home too.
Dobrynya did not listen to his mother and went to Kyiv to see Prince Vladimir.
Dobrynya arrived in Kyiv and went to the prince’s upper room. At the feast, the tables are full of food, there are barrels of sweet honey, but the guests do not eat, do not drink, they sit with their heads down.
The prince walks around the upper room and does not treat guests. The princess covered herself with a veil and did not look at the guests.
Here Vladimir the Prince says:
- Eh, my beloved guests, we are having a sad feast! And the princess is bitter, and I am sad. The damned Serpent Gorynych took away our beloved niece, young Zabava Putyatishna. Which of you will go to Mount Sorochinskaya, find the princess, and free her?
Where there! The guests hide behind each other: the big ones behind the middle ones, the middle ones behind the smaller ones, and the smaller ones cover their mouths.
Suddenly the young hero Alyosha Popovich comes out from behind the table.
- That's what, Prince Red Sun, yesterday I was in an open field, I saw Dobrynyushka by the Puchai River. He fraternized with the Serpent Gorynych, called him a smaller brother. You went to the Serpent Dobrynyushka. He will ask your beloved niece from your sworn brother without a fight.
Prince Vladimir got angry:
- If so, get on your horse, Dobrynya, ride to Mount Sorochinskaya, get me my beloved niece. But not. If you get Putyatishna’s Fun, I’ll order your head to be cut off!
Dobrynya lowered his violent head, did not answer a word, got up from the table, mounted his horse and rode home.
Mother came out to meet him and saw that Dobrynya had no face.
- What’s wrong with you, Dobrynyushka, what’s wrong with you, son, what happened at the feast? Did they offend you, or put you under a spell, or put you in a bad place?
“They didn’t offend me or put a spell around me, and I had a place according to my rank, according to my rank.”
- Why did you hang your head, Dobrynya?
- Prince Vladimir ordered me to perform a great service: to go to Mount Sorochinskaya, to find and get Zabava Putyatishna. And the Serpent Gorynych took away Zabava Putyatishna.
Mamelfa Timofeevna was horrified, but did not cry and be sad, but began to think about the matter.
- Go to bed, Dobrynyushka, go to sleep quickly, get some strength. The morning is wiser than the evening, tomorrow we will keep the advice.
Dobrynya went to bed. He sleeps, snores that the stream is noisy. And Mamelfa Timofeevna does not go to bed, sits on a bench and spends the whole night weaving a seven-tailed whip from seven silks.
In the morning, Dobrynya Nikitich’s mother woke up:
- Get up, son, get dressed, get dressed, go to the old stable. In the third stall the door does not open; the oak door was beyond our strength. Push up, Dobrynyushka, open the door, there you will see your grandfather’s horse Burushka. Burka has been standing in a stall for fifteen years, uncared for. Clean him, feed him, give him something to drink, bring him to the porch.
Dobrynya went to the stable, tore the door off its hinges, brought Burushka out into the world, cleaned him, bathed him, and brought him to the porch. He began to saddle Burushka. He put a sweatshirt on it, felt on top of the sweatshirt, then a Cherkassy saddle, embroidered with valuable stitches and decorated with gold, tightened twelve girths, and bridled it with a golden bridle. Mamelfa Timofeevna came out and handed him a seven-tailed whip:
When you arrive, Dobrynya, at Mount Sorochinskaya, the Snake Gorynya will not be at home. Run your horse into the den and start trampling the baby snakes. The little snakes will wrap around Burka’s legs, and you will whip Burka between the ears with a whip. Burka will jump up, shake the baby snakes off his feet and trample every single one of them.
A branch broke off from the apple tree, an apple rolled away from the apple tree, a son was leaving his mother for a difficult, bloody battle.
Day after day passes like rain, but week after week it flows like a river. Dobrynya is riding in the red sun, Dobrynya is riding in the bright moon, he went to Mount Sorochinskaya.
And on the mountain near the snake’s lair there are teeming with baby snakes. They began to wrap Burushka’s legs around her and began to undermine her hooves. Burushka cannot jump and falls to her knees.
Dobrynya then remembered his mother’s order, grabbed the whip of seven silks, began to beat Burushka between the ears, and said:
- Jump, Burushka, jump, shake the baby snakes away from your feet.
Burushka gained strength from the whip, he began to jump high, throw stones a mile away, and began to shake baby snakes away from his feet. He beats them with his hoof and tears them with his teeth and tramples every single one of them.
Dobrynya got off his horse, took a sharp saber in his right hand, a heroic club in his left hand, and went to the snake caves.
As soon as I took a step, the sky darkened, thunder roared, and the Serpent Gorynych flies, holding a dead body in his claws. Fire shoots from the mouth, smoke pours from the ears, copper claws burn like heat...
The Serpent saw Dobrynyushka, threw the dead body to the ground, and growled in a loud voice:
- Why, Dobrynya, did you break our vow and trample my cubs?
- Oh, you damned snake! Did I break our word, did I break our vow? Why did you fly, Snake, to Kyiv, why did you take away Zabava Putyatishna?! Give me the princess without a fight, so I will forgive you.
“I won’t give up Zabava Putyatishna, I’ll devour her, and I’ll devour you, and I’ll take all the Russian people!”
Dobrynya got angry and rushed at the Snake.
And then fierce fighting began.
The Sorochinsky Mountains crumbled, the oak trees were uprooted, the grass went a yard deep into the ground...
They fight for three days and three nights; The Snake began to overcome Dobrynya, began to throw him up, began to throw him up... Then Dobrynya remembered about the whip, grabbed it and started lashing the Snake between the ears. The serpent Gorynych fell to his knees, and Dobrynya pressed him to the ground with his left hand, and with his right hand he was lashing him with a whip. He beat and beat him with a silk whip, tamed him like a beast and cut off all his heads.
Black blood gushed from the Serpent, spread to the east and west, and flooded Dobrynya to the waist.
For three days Dobrynya stands in black blood, his legs are cold, the cold reaches his heart. The Russian land does not want to accept snake blood.
Dobrynya sees that the end has come for him, took out a whip of seven silks, began to whip the ground, saying:
- Make way, mother earth, and devour the blood of the snake. The damp earth opened up and devoured the snake's blood. Dobrynya Nikitich rested, washed, cleaned his heroic armor and went to the snake caves. All the caves are closed with copper doors, locked with iron bolts, and hung with golden locks.
Dobrynya broke the copper doors, tore off the locks and bolts, and entered the first cave. And there he sees a countless number of people from forty lands, from forty countries, it’s impossible to count in two days. Dobrynyushka tells them:
- Hey, you foreign people and foreign warriors! Go out into the free world, go to your places and remember the Russian hero. Without it, you would sit in snake captivity for a century.
They began to go free and bow to Dobrynya’s land:
- We will remember you forever, Russian hero!
So Dobrynya went through eleven caves, and in the twelfth he found Zabava Putyatishna: the princess was hanging on a damp wall, chained by her hands with golden chains. Dobrynyushka tore off the chains, took the princess off the wall, took her in his arms, and carried her out of the cave into the open world.
And she stands on her feet, staggers, closes her eyes from the light, and doesn’t look at Dobrynya. Dobrynya laid her down on the green grass, fed her, gave her something to drink, covered her with a cloak, and lay down to rest.
The sun set in the evening, Dobrynya woke up, saddled Burushka and woke up the princess. Dobrynya mounted his horse, placed Zabava in front of him and set off. And there are no number of people around, everyone bows to Dobrynya, thanks for her salvation, and rushes to their lands.
Dobrynya rode out into the yellow steppe, spurred his horse and took Zabava Putyatishna to Kyiv.
How Ilya from Murom became a hero
In ancient times, Ivan Timofeevich and his wife Efrosinya Yakovlevna lived near the city of Murom, in the village of Karacharovo.
They had one son, Ilya.
His father and mother loved him, but they only cried, looking at him: for thirty years Ilya had been lying on the stove, not moving his arm or leg. And the hero Ilya is tall, and bright in mind, and sharp-eyed, but his legs do not move, as if they were lying on logs, they do not move.
Lying on the stove, Ilya hears his mother crying, his father sighing, the Russian people complaining: enemies are attacking Rus', fields are being trampled, people are being killed, children are being orphaned. Robbers prowl along the roads, they do not allow people either passage or passage. The Serpent Gorynych flies into Rus' and drags the girls into his lair.
Gorky Ilya, hearing about all this, complains about his fate:
- Oh, my weak legs, oh, my weak hands! If I were healthy, I would not give my native Rus' offense to enemies and robbers!
So the days went by, the months rolled by...
One day, father and mother went into the forest to uproot stumps, pull out roots, and prepare the field for plowing. And Ilya lies alone on the stove, looking out the window.
Suddenly he sees three beggar wanderers approaching his hut. They stood at the gate, knocked with an iron ring and said:
- Get up, Ilya, open the gate.
- Evil jokes. You wanderers are joking: I’ve been sitting on the stove for thirty years, I can’t get up.
- Stand up, Ilyushenka.
Ilya rushed and jumped off the stove, stood on the floor and couldn’t believe his luck.
- Come on, take a walk, Ilya.
Ilya stepped once, stepped again - his legs held him tightly, his legs carried him easily.
Ilya was overjoyed; he couldn’t say a word with joy. And the Kaliki passers-by say to him:
- Bring me some cold water, Ilyusha. Ilya brought a bucket of cold water. The wanderer poured water into the ladle.
- Drink, Ilya. This bucket contains the water of all the rivers, all the lakes of Mother Rus'.
Ilya drank and sensed heroic strength within himself. And the Kaliki ask him:
— Do you sense a lot of strength in yourself?
- A lot, wanderers. If only I had a shovel, I could plow all the land.
- Drink, Ilya, the rest. In that remnant of the whole earth there is dew, from green meadows, from high forests, from grain fields. Drink. Ilya drank the rest.
- Do you have a lot of strength in you now?
“Oh, you walking Kaliki, I have so much strength that if there were a ring in the sky, I would grab onto it and turn the whole earth over.”
“You have too much strength, you need to reduce it, otherwise the earth won’t carry you.” Bring some more water.
Ilya walked through the water, but the earth really couldn’t carry him: his foot was stuck in the ground, in the swamp, he grabbed an oak tree - the oak tree was uprooted, the chain from the well, like a thread, tore into pieces.
Ilya steps quietly, and the floorboards break under him. Ilya speaks in a whisper, and the doors are ripped off their hinges.
Ilya brought water, and the wanderers poured another ladle.
- Drink, Ilya!
Ilya drank well water.
- How much power do you have now?
“I’m half strong.”
- Well, that will be yours, well done. You, Ilya, will be a great hero, fight and fight with the enemies of your native land, with robbers and monsters. Protect widows, orphans, little children. Just never, Ilya, argue with Svyatogor, the land carries him through force. Don't quarrel with Mikula Selyaninovich, mother earth loves him. Don’t go against Volga Vseslavyevich yet, he won’t take him by force, but by cunning and wisdom. And now goodbye, Ilya.
Ilya bowed to the passers-by, and they left for the outskirts.
And Ilya took an ax and went to his father and mother to reap the harvest. He sees that the small place has been cleared of stumps and roots, and the father and mother, tired from hard work, fall into a deep sleep: the people are old, and the work is hard.
Ilya began to clear the forest - only chips flew. Old oaks are felled with one blow, young oaks are torn from the ground by their roots.
In three hours he cleared as much field as the entire village could not clear in three days. He destroyed a great field, lowered the trees into a deep river, stuck an ax into an oak stump, grabbed a shovel and a rake and dug up and leveled the wide field - just know, sow it with grain!
Father and mother woke up, were surprised, rejoiced, and remembered the old wanderers with kind words.
And Ilya went to look for a horse.
He went outside the outskirts and saw a man leading a red, shaggy, mangy foal. The entire price of the foal is a penny, and the man demands exorbitant money for him: fifty rubles and a half.
Ilya bought a foal, brought it home, put it in the stable, fattened it with white wheat, fed it with spring water, cleaned it, groomed it, and added fresh straw.
Three months later, Ilya Burushka began to take Burushka out to the meadows at dawn. The foal rolled around in the dawn dew and became a heroic horse.
Ilya led him to a high tyn. The horse began to play, dance, turn its head, shake its mane. He began to jump over the tine back and forth. He jumped over ten times and didn’t hit me with his hoof! Ilya laid his heroic hand on Burushka, but the horse did not waver, did not move.
“Good horse,” says Ilya. - He will be my faithful comrade.
Ilya began looking for his sword in his hand. As soon as he clenches the hilt of a sword in his fist, the hilt will break and crumble. There is no sword in Ilya's hand. Ilya threw the swords to the women to pinch the splinters. He himself went to the forge, forged three arrows for himself, each arrow weighing a whole pound. He made himself a tight bow, took a long spear and also a damask club.
Ilya got ready and went to his father and mother:
- Let me go, father and mother, and capital Kyiv-grad to Prince Vladimir. I will serve Rus' dearly; “‘with faith and truth, to protect the Russian land from enemy enemies.
Old Ivan Timofeevich says:
“I bless you for good deeds, but I don’t bless you for bad deeds.” Defend our Russian land not for gold, not for self-interest, but for honor, for heroic glory. Don’t shed human blood in vain, don’t shed mothers’ tears, and don’t forget that you come from a black, peasant family.
Ilya bowed to his father and mother to the damp ground and went to saddle Burushka-Kosmatushka. He put felt on the horse, and on the felt - sweatshirts, and then a Cherkassy saddle with twelve silk girths, and an iron girth on the thirteenth, not for beauty, but for strength.
Ilya wanted to try his strength.
He drove up to the Oka River, rested his shoulder on a high mountain that was on the shore, and dumped it into the Oka River. The mountain blocked the riverbed and the river began to flow in a new way.
Ilya took a crust of rye bread, dropped it into the Oka River, and the Oke River himself said:
- And thank you, Mother Oka River, for giving water and feeding Ilya Muromets.
As a farewell, he took a small handful of his native land with him, sat on his horse, waved his whip...
People saw Ilya jump on his horse, but they didn’t see where he rode. Only dust rose across the field in a column.
The first fight of Ilya Muromets
As soon as Ilya grabbed the horse with his whip, Burushka-Kosmatushka took off and jumped a mile and a half. Where the horses' hooves struck, there flowed a spring of living water. Ilyusha cut down a damp oak tree near the key, placed a frame over the key, and wrote the following words on the frame:
“The Russian hero, the peasant son Ilya Ivanovich, was riding here.” A living fontanel still flows there, the oak frame still stands, and in the night a bear beast goes to the icy spring to drink water and gain heroic strength. And Ilya went to Kyiv.
He drove along a straight road past the city of Chernigov. As he approached Chernigov, he heard noise and din under the walls: thousands of Tatars besieged the city. From the dust, from the steam of the horse, there is a darkness over the ground, and the red sun is not visible in the sky. The gray bunny cannot slip between the Tatars, and the clear falcon cannot fly over the army. And in Chernigov there is crying and groaning, funeral bells are ringing. The Chernigovites locked themselves in a stone cathedral, crying, praying, waiting for death: three princes approached Chernigov, each with forty thousand forces.
Ilya’s heart burned. He besieged Burushka, tore out a green oak tree with stones and roots from the ground, grabbed it by the top and rushed at the Tatars. He began to wave the oak tree, and began to trample his enemies with his horse. Where he waves, there will be a street, and where he waves, there will be an alley. Ilya galloped up to the three princes, grabbed them by their yellow curls and spoke to them these words:
- Oh, you Tatar princes! Should I take you captive, brothers, or remove your violent heads? To take you captive - so I have nowhere to put you, I’m on the road, I’m not sitting at home, I only have a few grains of bread, for myself, not for parasites. Removing your heads is not enough honor for the hero Ilya Muromets. Go to your places, to your hordes, and spread the news that your native Rus' is not empty, there are mighty heroes in Rus', let your enemies think about it.
Then Ilya went to Chernigov-grad. He entered the stone cathedral, and there people were crying, saying goodbye to the white light.
- Hello, peasants of Chernigov, why are you peasants crying, hugging, saying goodbye to the white light?
- How can we not cry: three princes surrounded Chernigov, with forty thousand forces each, and here death is coming to us.
- You go to the fortress wall, look into the open field, at the enemy’s army.
The Chernigovites walked to the fortress wall, looked into the open field, and there the enemies were beaten and felled, as if a field had been cut by hail. The people of Chernigov beat Ilya with their foreheads, bring him bread and salt, silver, gold, expensive fabrics embroidered with stones.
- Good fellow, Russian hero, what kind of tribe are you? Which father, which mother? What's your name? You come to us in Chernigov as a governor, we will all obey you, give you honor, feed and water you, you will live in wealth and honor. Ilya Muromets shook his head:
- Good peasants of Chernigov, I am from near the city, from near Murom, from the village of Karacharova, a simple Russian hero, a peasant son. I didn’t save you out of selfishness, and I don’t need either silver or gold. I saved Russian people, red girls, small children, old mothers. I will not come to you as a commander to live in wealth. My wealth is heroic strength, my business is to serve Rus' and defend it from enemies.
The people of Chernigov began to ask Ilya to stay with them for at least a day, to feast at a merry feast, but Ilya refuses even this:
- I have no time, good people. In Rus' there is a groan from enemies, I need to quickly get to the prince and get down to business. Give me bread and spring water for the road and show me the direct road to Kyiv.
The Chernigov residents thought and became sad:
- Eh, Ilya Muromets, the direct road to Kyiv is overgrown with grass, no one has driven along it for thirty years...
- What's happened?
— The Nightingale the Robber, son Rakhmanovich, sang there near the Smorodina River. He sits on three oak trees, on nine branches. As he whistles like a nightingale, roars like an animal - all the forests bend to the ground, flowers crumble, grass dries, and people and horses fall dead. Go, Ilya, dear devious one. True, it’s three hundred miles straight to Kyiv, and a whole thousand along the roundabout road.
Ilya Muromets paused for a moment, and then shook his head:
It is no honor, no praise for me, a fine fellow, to take a roundabout road, to allow the Nightingale the Robber to prevent people from following their path to Kyiv. I will go straight and untrodden!
Ilya jumped on his horse, whipped Burushka with a whip, and he was like that, only the Chernigovites saw him!
Ilya Muromets and the Nightingale the Robber
Ilya Muromets gallops at full speed. Burushka-Kosmatushka jumps from mountain to mountain, jumps over rivers and lakes, flies over hills.
Ilya jumped off his horse. With his left hand he supports Burushka, and with his right hand he uproots oak trees and lays oak floorings across the swamp. Ilya laid out a road for thirty miles, and good people still travel along it.
So Ilya reached the Smorodina River.
The river flows wide, turbulent, and rolls from stone to stone.
Burushka neighed, soared higher than the dark forest and jumped over the river in one leap.
The Nightingale the Robber sits across the river on three oak trees and nine branches. Not a falcon will fly past those oak trees, not a beast will run, not a reptile will crawl past them. Everyone is afraid of the Nightingale the Robber, no one wants to die. Nightingale heard the gallop of a horse, stood up on the oak trees, and shouted in a terrible voice:
“What kind of ignoramus is passing here, past my protected oak trees?” Doesn't let the Robber Nightingale sleep!
Yes, as he whistled like a nightingale, roared like an animal, hissed like a snake, the whole earth trembled, the hundred-year-old oaks swayed, the flowers fell off, the grass lay down. Burushka-Kosmatushka fell to his knees.
And Ilya sits in the saddle, does not move, the light brown curls on his head do not tremble. He took the Silk whip and hit the horse on the steep sides:
- You are a bag of grass, not a heroic horse! Have you not heard the squeak of a bird, the barb of a viper?! Get on your feet, take me closer to the Nightingale’s Nest, or I’ll throw you to the wolves!
Then Burushka jumped to his feet and galloped towards the Nightingale’s nest. The Nightingale the Robber was surprised and leaned out of the nest. And Ilya, without hesitating for a moment, pulled his tight bow and released a red-hot arrow, a small arrow, weighing a whole pound. The bowstring howled, the arrow flew, hit the Nightingale in the right eye, and flew out through the left ear. The Nightingale rolled out of the nest like a sheaf of oats. Ilya picked him up in his arms, tied him tightly with rawhide straps, and tied him to the left stirrup.
The Nightingale looks at Ilya, afraid to say a word.
- Why are you looking at me, robber, or have you never seen Russian heroes?
- Oh, I fell into strong hands, apparently I will never be free again.
Ilya galloped further along the straight road and galloped to the farmstead of the Nightingale the Robber. He has a courtyard on seven miles, on seven pillars, he has an iron wall around him, on the top of each stamen is the head of a slain hero. And in the courtyard there are white stone chambers, gilded porches burning like heat.
Nightingale’s daughter saw the heroic horse and shouted to the whole yard:
- Our father Solovey Rakhmanovich is riding, riding, carrying a peasant peasant at his stirrup!
The wife of the Nightingale the Robber looked out the window and clasped her hands:
- What are you saying, unreasonable! This is a country man riding and carrying your father, Nightingale Rakhmanovich, at the stirrup!
Nightingale’s eldest daughter, Pelka, ran out into the yard, grabbed an iron board weighing ninety pounds and threw it at Ilya Muromets. But Ilya was dexterous and evasive, he waved the board away with his heroic hand, the board flew back, hit Pelka, killing her to death.
Nightingale’s wife threw herself at Ilya’s feet:
- Take from us, hero, silver, gold, priceless pearls, as much as your heroic horse can take away, just let our father, Solovy Rakhmanovich go!
Ilya says to her in response:
“I don’t need unjust gifts.” They were obtained with the tears of children, they were watered with Russian blood, acquired by peasant need! Like a robber in your hands - he is always your friend, but if you let him go, you will cry with him again. I’ll take Nightingale to Kyiv-grad, where I’ll drink kvass and make kalachi!
Ilya turned his horse and galloped towards Kyiv. The Nightingale fell silent and did not move.
Ilya is driving around Kyiv, approaching the princely chambers. He tied the horse to a sharpened post, left Nightingale the Robber with the horse, and he himself went to the bright room.
There, Prince Vladimir is having a feast, Russian heroes are sitting at the tables. Ilya entered, bowed, and stood at the threshold:
- Hello, Prince Vladimir and Princess Apraxia, are you receiving a visiting young man?
Vladimir Red Sun asks him:
- Where are you from, good fellow, what is your name? What kind of tribe?
- My name is Ilya. I'm from near Murom. A peasant son from the village of Karacharova. I was traveling from Chernigov by direct road. Then Alyosha Popovich jumps up from the table:
“Prince Vladimir, our gentle sunshine, the man is mocking you in your eyes and lying to you.” You can’t take the road straight from Chernigov. The Nightingale the Robber has been sitting there for thirty years, not allowing anyone on horseback or foot to pass. Drive the impudent hillbilly out of the palace, prince!
Ilya did not look at Alyosha Popovich, but bowed to Prince Vladimir:
- I brought it for you, prince. The nightingale the robber, he is in your yard, tied to my horse. Wouldn't you like to take a look at him?
The prince and princess and all the heroes jumped up from their seats and hurried after Ilya to the prince’s court. They ran up to Burushka-Kosmatushka.
And the robber hangs by the stirrup, hanging with a grass bag, his hands and feet tied with straps. With his left eye he looks at Kyiv and Prince Vladimir.
Prince Vladimir tells him:
- Come on, whistle like a nightingale, roar like an animal. The Nightingale the Thief does not look at him, does not listen:
“It wasn’t you who took me in battle, it’s not you who ordered me.” Then Prince Vladimir asks Ilya Muromets:
- Order him, Ilya Ivanovich.
“Okay, but don’t be angry with me, prince, but I’ll cover you and the princess with the skirts of my peasant caftan, otherwise there won’t be any trouble!” And you. Nightingale Rakhmanovich, do as you are ordered!
“I can’t whistle, my mouth is caked.”
- Give Nightingale Chara a bucket and a half of sweet wine, and another of bitter beer, and a third of intoxicating honey, give him a grainy roll to snack on, then he will whistle and amuse us...
They gave the Nightingale something to drink and feed; The Nightingale prepared to whistle.
Look. Nightingale,” says Ilya, “don’t you dare whistle at the top of your voice, but whistle half-whistle, growl half-roar, otherwise it will be bad for you.”
Nightingale did not listen to the order of Ilya Muromets, he wanted to ruin Kyiv-grad, he wanted to kill the prince and princess, all the Russian heroes. He whistled like a nightingale, roared like a nightingale, and hissed like a snake.
What happened here!
The domes on the towers became crooked, the porches fell off the walls, the glass in the upper rooms burst, the horses ran away from the stables, all the heroes fell to the ground and crawled around the yard on all fours. Prince Vladimir himself is barely alive, staggering, hiding under Ilya’s caftan.
Ilya got angry with the robber:
I told you to amuse the prince and princess, but you did so much trouble! Well, now I’ll pay you for everything! You've had enough of tearing down your fathers and mothers, you've had enough of widowing young women, you've had enough of orphaning children, you've had enough of robberies!
Ilya took a sharp saber and cut off the Nightingale’s head. This is where the end of the Nightingale came.
“Thank you, Ilya Muromets,” says Prince Vladimir. “Stay in my squad, you will be a senior hero, a leader over other heroes.” And live with us in Kyiv, live forever, from now until death.
And they went to have a feast.
Prince Vladimir seated Ilya next to him, next to him opposite the princess. Alyosha Popovich felt offended; Alyosha grabbed a damask knife from the table and threw it at Ilya Muromets. On the fly, Ilya caught a sharp knife and stuck it into the oak table. He didn’t even glance at Alyosha.
Polite Dobrynyushka approached Ilya:
- Glorious hero, Ilya Ivanovich, you will be the eldest in our squad. Take me and Alyosha Popovich as your comrades. You will be our eldest, and I and Alyosha will be our youngest.
Here Alyosha became incensed and jumped to his feet:
“Are you sane, Dobrynyushka?” You yourself are from the boyar family, I am from the old priestly family, but no one knows him, no one knows, he brought it from God knows where, but he’s doing weird things here in Kyiv, bragging.
The glorious hero Samson Samoilovich was here. He approached Ilya and said to him:
“You, Ilya Ivanovich, don’t be angry with Alyosha, he’s like a priest’s boaster, he scolds better than anyone, he brags better than anyone else.” Then Alyosha shouted:
- Why is this being done? Who did the Russian heroes choose as their eldest? Unwashed forest villagers!
Here Samson Samoilovich said a word:
“You make a lot of noise, Alyoshenka, and talk foolishly, - Rus' feeds on the village people.” Yes, and glory does not come from family or tribe, but from heroic deeds and heroic deeds. For your deeds and glory to Ilyushenka!
And Alyosha, like a puppy, barks at the round:
- How much glory will he gain by drinking mead at merry feasts!
Ilya could not stand it and jumped to his feet:
“The priest’s son spoke the right word: it is not fit for a hero to sit at a feast and grow his belly.” Let me go, prince, into the wide steppes to see if the enemy is prowling around my native Rus', if there are robbers lying around.
And Ilya left the gridney.
Ilya delivers Constantinople from the Idol.
Ilya rides across an open field, sad about Svyatogor. Suddenly he sees a Kalika passerby, old man Ivanchishche, walking along the steppe. - Hello, old man Ivanchische, where are you coming from, where are you going?
- Hello, Ilyushenka, I’m coming, wandering from Constantinople. Yes, I wasn’t happy staying there, and I’m not happy when I go home.
- What’s wrong with Constantinople?
- Oh, Ilyushenka; everything in Constantinople is not the same, not good: people cry and don’t give alms. A giant, a terrible Idol, settled in the palace of the Prince of Constantinople, took possession of the entire palace, and does what he wants.
- Why didn’t you treat him with a stick?
- What will I do with him? He is more than two fathoms tall, he is as thick as a hundred-year-old oak, and his nose sticks out like his elbow. I was afraid of the filthy idol.
- Eh, Ivanchische, Ivanchische! You have twice the strength against me. but not even half the courage. Take off your dress, take off your bast shoes, give me your downy hat and your hunchbacked stick: I’ll dress up as a crosswalker, so that the filthy Idol won’t recognize me. Ilya Muromets.
Ivanchishche thought about it and became sad:
“I wouldn’t give my dress to anyone, Ilyushenka.” There are two expensive stones woven into my bast shoes. They light my way at night in the autumn. But I won’t give it up myself - will you take it by force?
“I’ll take it, and I’ll stuff the sides.”
Kalika took off his old man's clothes, took off his bast shoes, and gave Ilya both his down hat and his traveling stick. Ilya Muromets dressed himself as a Kalika and said:
- Dress in my heroic dress, sit on Burushka-Kosma-carcass and wait for me at the Smorodina River.
Ilya put the viburnum on his horse and tied it to the saddle with twelve girths.
“Otherwise my Burushka will shake you off in no time,” he told the viburnum to a passerby.
And Ilya went to Constantinople, no matter what step he took, Ilya died away a mile away; he quickly came to Constantinople, approached the prince’s mansion. Mother earth trembles under Ilya, and the servants of the evil Idol laugh at him:
- Oh, you little Russian beggar! Such an ignoramus came to Constantinople, Our Idol of two fathoms, and even then he will pass quietly along the hill, and you knock, rattle, and stomp.
Ilya didn’t say anything to them, he went up to the tower and sang in Kalichism:
- Give, prince, alms to the poor Kalika!
And the giant-Idol of his fist knocks on the table:
But Ilya doesn’t wait for the call, he goes straight to the mansion. I went up to the porch - the porch was loose, it was walking along the floor - the floorboards were bending. He entered the tower, bowed to the prince of Constantinople, but did not bow to the filthy Idol. Idolishche sits at the table, is rude, stuffs a piece of cake into his mouth, drinks a bucket of honey at once, throws crusts and scraps under the table for the Prince of Tsargrad, and he bends his back, is silent, and sheds tears.
He saw Idolishche Ilya, shouted, and became angry:
-Where did you come from so brave? Haven't you heard that I didn't tell the Russian Kalikas to give alms?
“I haven’t heard anything, Idolishche, I didn’t come to you, but to the owner - the Prince of Constantinople.”
- How dare you talk to me like that?
Idolishche pulled out a sharp knife and threw it at Ilya Muromets. But Ilya was not a mistake - he brushed off the knife with his Greek cap. A knife flew into the door, knocked the door off its hinges, flew out the door into the courtyard and killed twelve of Idolisha’s servants. The idol trembled, and Ilya said to him:
“My father always told me: pay your debts as quickly as possible, then they’ll give you more!”
He threw a Greek cap at the Idol, hit the Idol against the wall, broke the wall with his head, and Ilya ran up and began to caress him with his stick, saying:
- Don’t go to other people’s houses, don’t offend people, will there be people who are older than you?
And Ilya killed the Idol, cut off his head with the Svyatogorov sword and drove his servants out of the kingdom.
The people of Constantinople bowed low to Ilya:
- How can we thank you, Ilya Muromets, Russian hero, for saving us from the great captivity? Stay with us in Constantinople to live.
- No, friends, I was already too late with you; Maybe in my native Rus' my strength is needed.
The people of Constantinople brought him silver, gold, and pearls, but Ilya took only a small handful.
“This,” he says, “was earned by me, and the other, give it to the poor brethren.”
Ilya said goodbye and left Constantinople to go home to Rus'. Near the Smorodina River I saw Ilya Ivanchishcha. Burushka-Kosmatushka carries it, beats it on oak trees, rubs it on stones. All the clothes on Ivanchische are hanging in shreds, the viburnum is barely alive in the saddle, tied tightly with twelve girths.
Ilya untied him and gave him his caliche dress. Ivanchishche groans and groans, and Ilya says to him:
“Go ahead, teach you, Ivanchishche: your strength is twice as strong as mine, but you don’t have half the courage.” It is not right for a Russian hero to run away from adversity or leave his friends in trouble!
Ilya sat on Burushka and went to Kyiv.
And glory runs ahead of him. As Ilya arrived at the princely court, the prince and princess met him, the boyars and warriors met him, and received Ilya with honor and affection.
Alyosha Popovich approached him:
- Glory to you, Ilya Muromets. Forgive me, forget my stupid speeches, accept me as your youngest. Ilya Muromets hugged him:
- Whoever remembers the old is out of sight. Together we will stand with you and Dobrynya at the outpost, protecting our native Rus' from enemies! And they had a great feast. At that feast Ilya was glorified: honor and glory to Ilya Muromets!
At the Bogatyrskaya outpost
Near the city of Kiev, in the wide Tsitsarskaya steppe, there was a heroic outpost. The ataman at the outpost was old Ilya Muromets, the sub-ataman was Dobrynya Nikitich, and the captain was Alyosha Popovich. And their warriors are brave: Grishka is the boyar’s son, Vasily Dolgopoly, and everyone is good.
For three years the heroes have been standing at the outpost, not allowing anyone on foot or on horseback to enter Kyiv. Even an animal will not slip past them, and a bird will not fly past them. Once a stoat ran past the outpost, and he even left his fur coat. A falcon flew by and dropped its feather.
Once, at an unkind hour, the warrior warriors scattered: Alyosha rode off to Kyiv, Dobrynya went hunting, and Ilya Muromets fell asleep in his white tent...
Dobrynya is driving home from hunting and suddenly sees: in the field, behind the outpost, closer to Kyiv, a trace of a horse’s hoof, and not a small trace, but in half an oven. Dobrynya began to examine the trail:
- This is the trace of a heroic horse. A heroic horse, but not a Russian one: a mighty hero from the Kazar land rode past our outpost - in their opinion, the hooves were shod.
Dobrynya galloped to the outpost and gathered his comrades:
- What have we done? What kind of outpost do we have, since someone else’s hero drove past? How did we, brothers, not notice this? We must now go in pursuit of him so that he does not do anything in Rus'. The heroes began to judge and decide who should go after someone else’s hero. They thought about sending Vaska Dolgopoly, but Ilya Muromets does not order Vaska to be sent:
“Vaska’s floors are long, Vaska walks on the ground and gets tangled up, in battle he gets tangled up and dies in vain.”
They thought about sending Grishka the boyar. Ataman Ilya Muromets says:
- Something’s wrong, guys, they’ve made up their minds. Grishka is a boyar family, a boastful boyar family. He will begin to boast in battle and die in vain.
Well, they want to send Alyosha Popovich. And Ilya Muromets won’t let him in:
- No offense to him, Alyosha is of the priest’s family, the priest’s envious eyes, raking hands. Alyosha will see a lot of silver and gold on a foreign land, he will envy and die in vain. And we, brothers, would rather send Dobrynya Nikitich.
So they decided - to go to Dobrynyushka, beat the stranger, cut off his head and bring the brave one to the outpost.
Dobrynya did not shirk from work, saddled his horse, took a club, girded himself with a sharp saber, took a silk whip, and rode up Mount Sorochinskaya. Dobrynya looked into the silver tube and saw that something was turning black in the field. Dobrynya galloped straight towards the hero and shouted to him in a loud voice:
“Why are you passing through our outpost, not hitting Ataman Ilya Muromets with your forehead, and not paying esaul Alyosha a tax into the treasury?!”
The hero heard Dobrynya, turned his horse, and galloped towards him. From his gallop, the earth shook, water splashed out of rivers and lakes, and Dobrynin’s horse fell to his knees. Dobrynya got scared, turned his horse, and galloped back to the outpost. He arrives, neither alive nor dead, and tells everything to his comrades.
“It seems that I, the old one, will have to go to the open field myself, since even Dobrynya couldn’t cope,” says Ilya Muromets.
He got dressed, saddled Burushka and rode to Mount Sorochinskaya.
Ilya looked from the valiant fist and saw: a hero was driving around, amusing himself. He throws an iron club weighing ninety pounds into the sky, catches the club in flight with one hand, and twirls it like a feather.
Ilya was surprised and became thoughtful. He hugged Burushka-Kosmatushka:
“Oh, you, my shaggy little Burushka, serve me faithfully so that someone else’s head doesn’t cut off my head.”
Burushka neighed and galloped towards the boaster. Ilya drove up and shouted:
- Hey you, thief, boaster! Why are you bragging?! Why did you pass the outpost, didn’t impose taxes on our captain, and didn’t hit me, the ataman, with his forehead?!
The boaster heard him, turned his horse, and galloped towards Ilya Muromets. The ground beneath him shook, rivers and lakes splashed out.
Ilya Muromets was not afraid. Burushka stands rooted to the spot, Ilya does not move in the saddle.
The heroes came together, hit each other with clubs, the handles of the clubs fell off, but the heroes did not hurt each other. They hit each other with sabers; the damask sabers broke, but both were intact. They stabbed with sharp spears - they broke the spears up to the top!
- You know, we really have to fight hand-to-hand!
They got off their horses and grabbed chest to chest. They fight all day until the evening, they fight from the evening until midnight, they fight from midnight until the clear dawn - not a single one gains the upper hand.
Suddenly Ilya waved his right hand, slipped with his left foot and fell on the damp ground. The boaster ran up, sat on his chest, took out a sharp knife, and mocked:
“You’re an old man, why did you go to war?” Don't you have any heroes in Rus'? It's time for you to retire. You would build yourself a pine hut, collect alms, and thus live and live until your early death.
So the boaster mocks, and Ilya gains strength from the Russian land. Ilya's strength has doubled; he will jump up and throw up the boaster! He flew higher than a standing forest, higher than a walking cloud, fell and sank into the ground up to his waist.
Ilya tells him:
- Well, what a glorious hero you are! I will let you go on all four sides, but you leave Russia and don’t pass the outpost next time, hit the ataman with your forehead, pay the duties. Don’t wander around Rus' as a boaster.
And Ilya did not cut off his head.
Ilya returned to the outpost to the heroes.
“Well,” he says, “my dear brothers, I’ve been riding across the field for thirty years, fighting with heroes, testing my strength, but I’ve never seen such a hero!”
Three trips of Ilya Muromets
Ilya rode across an open field, defending Rus' from enemies from his youth to old age.
The good old horse was good, his Burushka-Kosmatushka. Burushka has a tail of three saplings, a mane up to the knees, and wool of three spans. He did not look for a ford, he did not wait for transportation, he jumped over the river with one bound. He saved old Ilya Muromets from death hundreds of times.
It is not the fog that rises from the sea, it is not the white snow in the field that turns white, it is Ilya Muromets who is riding across the Russian steppe. His head and his curly beard turned white, his clear gaze became clouded:
- Oh, you old age, you old age! You caught Ilya in an open field and swooped down like a black raven! Oh, youth, youthful youth! You flew away from me like a clear falcon!
Ilya drives up to three paths, at the intersection there is a stone, and on that stone it is written: “Whoever goes to the right will be killed, whoever goes to the left will become rich, and whoever goes straight will be married.”
Ilya Muromets thought:
“What do I, an old man, need wealth for?” I have no wife, no children, no one to wear a colored dress, no one to spend the treasury. Should I go, where should I be married? Why should I, an old man, marry? It’s not good for me to take a young woman, but to take an old woman and lie on the stove and slurp jelly. This old age is not for Ilya Muromets. I’ll go along the path where the dead man should be. I will die in an open field, like a glorious hero!
And he drove along the road where the dead man should be.
As soon as he had driven three miles, forty robbers attacked him. They want to pull him off his horse, they want to rob him, kill him to death. And Ilya shakes his head and says:
“Hey, you robber, you have nothing to kill me for and nothing to rob from me.” All I have is a marten coat worth five hundred rubles, a sable hat worth three hundred rubles, a bridle worth five hundred rubles, and a Cherkassy saddle worth two thousand. Well, another blanket of seven silks, embroidered with gold and large pearls. Yes, Burushka has a gemstone between her ears. On autumn nights it burns like the sun; three miles away it is light. Moreover, perhaps, there is a horse Burushka - so he has no price in the whole world. Is it worth cutting off an old man’s head for such a small thing?!
The chieftain of the robbers got angry:
“He’s the one making fun of us!” Oh, you old devil, gray wolf! You talk a lot! Hey guys, cut off his head!
Ilya jumped off Burushka-Kosmatushka, grabbed the hat from his gray head, and began waving his hat: where he waves, there will be a street, and where he waves, there will be a side street.
In one swing, ten robbers are down, in the second, not even twenty in the world!
The chieftain of the robbers prayed:
- Don't beat us all, old hero! Take from us gold, silver, colored clothes, herds of horses, just leave us alive! Ilya Muromets grinned:
“If I took the gold treasury from everyone, I would have full cellars.” If I took a colored dress, there would be high mountains behind me. If I took good horses, great herds would follow me.
The robbers tell him:
- One red sun in this world - there is only one such hero in Rus', Ilya Muromets! You come to us, hero, as a comrade, you will be our chieftain!
- Oh, brother robbers, I will not go to be your comrade, and you too will go to your places, to your homes, to your wives, to your children, you will stand by the roads, shedding innocent blood.
Ilya turned his horse and galloped away.
He returned to the white stone, erased the old inscription, and wrote a new one: “I drove in the right lane - I wasn’t killed!”
- Well, I’ll go now, where should a married man be!
Ilya drove three miles and came out into a forest clearing. There are golden-domed towers, silver gates are wide open, and roosters are crowing on the gates.
Ilya drove into a wide courtyard, twelve girls ran out to meet him, among them the beautiful princess.
- Welcome, Russian hero, come into my high tower, drink sweet wine, eat bread and salt, fried swan!
The princess took him by the hand, led him into the mansion, and sat him down at the oak table. They brought Ilya sweet honey, overseas wine, fried swans, grainy rolls... She gave the hero something to drink and feed, and began to persuade him:
- You are tired from the road, tired, lie down and rest on a plank bed, on a feather bed.
The princess took Ilya to the sleeping quarters, and Ilya walked and thought:
“It’s not for nothing that she’s kind to me: what’s a simple Cossack, an old grandfather, to a princess! It’s obvious she has something planned.”
Ilya sees that there is a chiseled gilded bed against the wall, painted with flowers, and he guesses that the bed is tricky.
Ilya grabbed the princess and threw her onto the bed against the plank wall. The bed turned and a stone cellar opened up, and the princess fell into it.
Ilya got angry:
“Hey, you nameless servants, bring me the keys to the cellar, otherwise I’ll cut off your heads!”
- Oh, unknown grandfather, we have never seen the keys, we will show you the passages to the cellars.
They took Ilya into deep dungeons; Ilya found the cellar doors; they were covered with sand and littered with thick oak trees. Ilya dug up the sands with his hands, pushed the oak trees with his feet, and opened the cellar doors. And there sit forty kings-princes, forty tsars-princes and forty Russian heroes.
That’s why the princess invited the golden-domed ones into her mansion!
Ilya says to the kings and heroes:
“You, kings, go through your lands, and you, heroes, go to your places and remember Ilya of Muromets.” If it weren't for me, you would have laid your heads in a deep cellar.
Ilya pulled the queen's daughter out into the world by her braids and cut off her wicked head.
And then Ilya returned to the white stone, erased the old inscription, wrote a new one: “I went straight - I was never married.”
- Well, now I’ll go to the path where the rich man can be.
As soon as he drove three miles, he saw a large stone of three hundred pounds. And on that stone it is written: “Whoever can roll a stone will be rich.”
Ilya strained himself, braced himself with his feet, went knee-deep into the ground, gave in with his mighty shoulder, and rolled the stone out of place.
A deep cellar opened under the stone - untold riches: silver, gold, large pearls, and yachts!
Ilya Burushka loaded her with expensive treasury and took her to Kyiv-grad. There he built three stone churches so that there would be a place to escape from enemies and to sit out from the fire. He distributed the rest of the silver, gold, and pearls to widows and orphans, and did not leave a single half for himself.
Then he sat down on Burushka, went to the white stone, erased the old inscription, wrote a new inscription: “I went to the left - I was never rich.”
Here Ilya’s glory and honor went forever, and our story reached its end.
How Ilya quarreled with Prince Vladimir
Ilya spent a lot of time traveling in open fields, he grew older and had a beard. The colored dress he was wearing was worn out, he had no gold treasury left, Ilya wanted to rest and live in Kyiv.
“I’ve been to all Lithuania, I’ve been to all the Hordes, I haven’t been to Kyiv alone for a long time.” I’ll go to Kyiv and see how people live in the capital city.
Ilya galloped to Kyiv and stopped at the princely court. Prince Vladimir is having a merry feast. Boyars, rich guests, mighty Russian heroes are sitting at the table.
Ilya entered the princely garden, stood at the door, bowed in a learned way, especially to Prince Sunny and the princess.
— Hello, Vladimir Stolno-Kyiv! Do you give water or food to visiting heroes?
- Where are you from, old man, what is your name?
- I'm Nikita Zaoleshanin.
- Well, sit down, Nikita, and eat bread with us. There is also a place at the far end of the table, you sit there on the edge of the bench. All other places are occupied. Today I have eminent guests, not for you, man, a couple - princes, boyars, Russian heroes.
The servants seated Ilya at the thin end of the table. Here Ilya thundered throughout the entire room:
“The hero is not famous by birth, but by his feat.” Business is not my place, honor is not my strength! You yourself, prince, sit with the crows, and you sit me with the stupid crows.
Ilya wanted to sit more comfortably, broke the oak benches, bent the iron piles, pressed all the guests into a large corner... Prince Vladimir did not like this. The prince grew dark like an autumn night, screamed and roared like a fierce beast:
- Why, Nikita Zaoleshanin, did you mix up all the places of honor for me, bend the iron piles! It was not for nothing that I had strong piles laid between the heroic places. So that the heroes do not push each other at the feast and do not start quarrels! What kind of order have you brought here?! Hey, you Russian heroes, why do you put up with the forest man calling you crows? Take him by the arms and throw him out of the grid and onto the street!
Three heroes jumped out, began to push Ilya, tug, but he stood, did not stagger, the cap on his head did not move.
If you want to have fun, Prince Vladimir, give me three more heroes!
Three more heroes came out, six of them grabbed onto Ilya, but he did not move from his place.
- Not enough, prince, give me three more! And the nine heroes didn’t do anything to Ilya: he stands as old as a hundred-year-old oak tree and won’t budge. The hero became incensed:
- Well, now, prince, it’s my turn to have fun!
He began to push, kick, and knock the heroes off their feet. The heroes crawled around the upper room, not one of them could stand on their feet. The prince himself hid in the oven, covered himself with a marten fur coat and trembled trembling...
And Ilya came out of the grid, slammed the doors - the doors flew out, slammed the gates - the gates crumbled...
He went out into the wide courtyard, took out a tight bow and sharp arrows, and began to say to the arrows:
- You fly, arrows, to the high roofs, knock down the golden domes from the towers!
Here golden domes from the prince's tower began to fall. Ilya shouted at the top of his voice:
“Get together, you poor, naked people, pick up the golden domes, take them to the tavern, drink wine, eat your fill of kalachi!”
Beggars came running, picked up the poppies, and began to feast and walk with Ilya.
And Ilya treats them and says:
- Drink and eat, poor brothers, do not be afraid of Prince Vladimir; Maybe tomorrow I myself will reign in Kyiv, and I’ll make you my assistants! They reported everything to Vladimir:
“Nikita knocked down your crowns, prince, he gives water and food to the poor brethren, he boasts of becoming a prince in Kyiv.” The prince was frightened and thought about it. Dobrynya Nikitich stood up here:
- You are our prince, Vladimir the Red Sun! This is not Nikita Zaoleshanin, this is Ilya Muromets himself, we need to bring him back, repent to him, otherwise no matter how bad it will be.
They began to think about who to send for Ilya.
Send Alyosha Popovich - he won’t be able to call Ilya. Send Churila Plenkovich - he’s only smart about dressing up. They decided to send Dobrynya Nikitich, Ilya Muromets calls him brother.
Dobrynya walks along the street and thinks:
“Ilya Muromets is menacing in anger. Are you not following your death, Dobrynyushka?”
Dobrynya came, looked at how Ilya was drinking and walking, and began to think:
“Come in from the front, he’ll kill you right away, and then he’ll come to his senses. I’d rather approach him from behind.”
Dobrynya approached Ilya from behind and hugged his powerful shoulders:
- Hey, my brother, Ilya Ivanovich! You restrain your mighty hands, you restrain your angry heart, because ambassadors are not beaten or hanged. Prince Vladimir sent me to repent before you. He didn’t recognize you, Ilya Ivanovich, that’s why he put you in a place of no honor. And now he asks you to come back. He will receive you with honor, with glory.
Ilya turned around:
- Well, you’re happy, Dobrynyushka, that you came from behind! If you came in from the front, only your bones would be left. And now I won’t touch you, my brother. If you ask, I will go back to Prince Vladimir, but I will not go alone, but I will capture all my guests, so that Prince Vladimir will not be angry!
And Ilya called all his comrades, all the naked poor brethren, and went with them to the prince’s court.
Prince Vladimir met him, took him by the hands and kissed his sugar lips:
- Come on, you old Ilya Muromets, you sit higher than everyone else, in a place of honor!
Ilya did not sit in the place of honor, he sat down in the middle place and seated all the poor guests next to him.
“If it weren’t for Dobrynyushka, I would have killed you today, Prince Vladimir.” Well, this time I will forgive your guilt.
The servants brought refreshments to the guests, but not generously, but one glass at a time, one dry roll at a time.
Again Ilya became angry:
- So, prince, do you treat my guests? With small charms! Vladimir the Prince did not like this:
“I have sweet wine in the cellar, there’s a forty barrel for everyone.” If you don’t like what’s on the table, let them bring it from the cellars themselves, not the great boyars.
“Hey, Prince Vladimir, this is how you treat your guests, this is how you honor them, so that they themselves run for food and drink!” Apparently, I myself will have to be the owner!
Ilya jumped to his feet, ran into the cellars, took one barrel under one arm, another under the other arm, and rolled the third barrel with his foot. Rolled out to the prince's courtyard.
- Take some wine, guests, I’ll bring more!
And again Ilya went down into the deep cellars.
Prince Vladimir became angry and shouted in a loud voice:
- Go you, my servants, faithful servants! You run quickly, close the cellar doors, cover it with a cast-iron grate, cover it with yellow sand, and cover it with hundred-year-old oak trees. Let Ilya die there from starvation!
Servants and servants came running, locked Ilya, blocked the cellar doors, covered them with sand, covered them with bars, and destroyed the faithful, old, mighty Ilya of Muromets!..
And the naked beggars were driven out of the yard with whips.
The Russian heroes did not like this kind of thing.
They got up from the table without finishing their meal, left the prince’s mansion, mounted good horses and rode away.
- But we won’t live in Kyiv anymore! But let’s not serve Prince Vladimir!
So at that time Prince Vladimir had no heroes left in Kyiv.
Ilya Muromets and Kalin the Tsar
It’s quiet and boring in the prince’s upper room.
The prince has no one to advise him with, no one to feast with, no one to go hunting with...
Not a single hero visits Kyiv.
And Ilya sits in a deep cellar. The iron bars are locked with locks, the bars are filled with oak and rhizomes, and covered with yellow sand for strength. Not even a little gray mouse can get to Ilya.
Here the old man would have died, but the prince had a smart daughter. She knows that Ilya Muromets could protect Kyiv-grad from enemies, could stand up for the Russian people, save both mother and Prince Vladimir from grief.
So she was not afraid of the prince’s wrath, took the keys from her mother, ordered her faithful maids to dig secret tunnels to the cellar, and began to bring Ilya Muromets sweet food and honey.
Ilya sits in the cellar, alive and well, and Vladimir thinks that he has been gone for a long time.
Once the prince was sitting in the upper room, thinking bitter thoughts. Suddenly he hears someone galloping along the road, their hooves beating like thunder. The plank gates fell down, the whole room shook, the floorboards in the hallway jumped. The doors fell off their forged hinges, and a Tatar, an ambassador from the Tatar king Kalin himself, entered the room.
The messenger himself is as tall as an old oak tree, his head is like a beer cauldron.
The messenger gives the prince a letter, and in that letter it is written:
“I, Tsar Kalin, ruled the Tatars, the Tatars are not enough for me, I wanted Rus'. You surrender to me, Prince of Kiev, otherwise I will burn all of Rus' with fire, trample it with horses, harness men to carts, chop up children and old people, I will force you, Prince, to guard the horses, and make the princess bake cakes in the kitchen.”
Here Prince Vladimir burst into tears, burst into tears, and went to Princess Apraksin:
- What are we going to do, princess?! I angered all the heroes, and now there is no one to protect us. I killed the faithful Ilya of Muromets with a stupid death, by starvation. And now we have to flee from Kyiv.
His young daughter says to the prince:
- Let’s go, father, to look at Ilya, maybe he’s still alive in the cellar.
- Oh, you unreasonable fool! If you remove your head from your shoulders, will it grow back? Can Ilya sit without food for three years? His bones have long since crumbled to dust...
And she repeats one thing:
- Send the servants to look at Ilya.
The prince sent to dig out the deep cellars and open the cast-iron grates.
The servants opened the cellar, and there Ilya was sitting alive, with a candle burning in front of him. The servants saw him and rushed to the prince.
The prince and princess went down to the cellars. Prince Ilya bows to the damp ground:
- Help, Ilyushenka, the Tatar army has besieged Kyiv and its suburbs. Come out of the cellar, Ilya, stand for me.
“I spent three years in the cellars by your order, I don’t want to stand up for you!”
The princess bowed to him:
- Wait for me, Ilya Ivanovich!
“I won’t leave the cellar for you.”
What to do here? The prince begs, the princess cries, but Ilya does not want to look at them.
Here the young prince’s daughter came out and bowed to Ilya Muromets.
“Not for the prince, not for the princess, not for me, young man, but for the poor widows, for the little children, come out of the cellar, Ilya Ivanovich, stand for the Russian people, for your native Rus'!”
Ilya stood up here, straightened his heroic shoulders, left the cellar, sat on Burushka-Kosmatushka, and galloped off to the Tatar camp. I drove and drove and reached the Tatar army.
Ilya Muromets looked and shook his head: in an open field, the Tatar army is visible and invisible, a gray bird cannot fly around in a day, a fast horse cannot ride around in a week.
Among the Tatar army there is a golden tent. Tsar Kalin sits in that tent. The king himself is like a hundred-year-old oak, his legs are maple logs, his hands are spruce rakes, his head is like a copper cauldron, one mustache is golden, the other is silver.
Tsar Ilya of Muromets saw and began to laugh and shake his beard:
— The puppy ran into big dogs! Where can you cope with me? I’ll put you on the palm of my hand, I’ll slap you with the other, only a wet spot will remain! Where did you come from, that you are yapping at Tsar Kalin?
Ilya Muromets tells him:
“Before your time, Tsar Kalin, you are bragging!” I’m not a great hero, old Cossack Ilya Muromets, but perhaps I’m not afraid of you either!
Hearing this, Tsar Kalin jumped to his feet:
“The earth is full of rumors about you.” If you are that glorious hero Ilya Muromets, then sit down with me at the oak table and eat my dishes. sweet ones, drink my overseas wines, don’t just serve the Russian prince, serve me, the Tatar king.
Ilya Muromets got angry here:
— There were no traitors in Rus'! I didn’t come to feast with you, but to drive you away from Rus'!
The king began to persuade him again:
- Glorious Russian hero, Ilya Muromets, I have two daughters, they have braids like a raven’s wing, their eyes are like slits, their dress is sewn with yachts and pearls. I will give anyone in marriage to you, you will be my beloved son-in-law.
Ilya Muromets became even more angry:
- Oh, you, stuffed animal from overseas! I was afraid of the Russian spirit! Come out quickly to a mortal battle, I will take out my heroic sword, I will marry you on your neck.
Here Tsar Kalin became furious. He jumped to his maple legs, waved his curved sword, and shouted in a loud voice:
- I, hillbilly, will chop you with a sword, stab you with a spear, and cook a stew from your bones!
They had a great fight here. They cut with swords - only sparks splash from under the swords. They broke the swords and threw them away. They pierce with spears - only the wind makes noise and thunder thunders. They broke the spears and threw them away. They began to fight with their bare hands.
Tsar Kalin beats and oppresses Ilyushenka, breaks his white arms, bends his quick legs. The king threw Ilya onto the damp sand, sat on his chest, and took out a sharp knife.
“I will rip open your mighty chest, I will look into your Russian heart.”
Ilya Muromets tells him:
— In the Russian heart there is direct honor and love for Mother Rus'. Kalin the Tsar threatens with a knife and mocks:
“You really are not a big hero, Ilya Muromets, you probably eat little bread.”
“And I’ll eat the kalach, and that’s why I’m full.” The Tatar king laughed:
“And I eat three baked kalachs, and I eat a whole bull in cabbage soup.”
“Nothing,” says Ilyushenka. - My father had a cow - a glutton, she ate and drank a lot, and burst.
Ilya speaks, and he presses himself closer to the Russian soil. From the Russian land strength comes to him, rolls through Ilya’s veins, strengthens his heroic arms.
Tsar Kalin swung his knife at him, and as soon as Ilyushenka moved... Tsar Kalin flew off him like a feather.
“I,” Ilya shouts, “have received three times the strength from the Russian land!” Yes, when he grabbed Tsar Kalin by the maple legs, he began to wave the Tatar around, beat and destroy the Tatar army with him. Where he waves, there will be a street, and where he waves, there will be an alley! Ilya hits and smashes, saying:
- This is for your little kids! This is for peasant blood! For evil insults, for empty fields, for dashing robbery, for robberies, for the entire Russian land!
Then the Tatars started to run away. They run across the field, shouting in a loud voice:
- Oh, if we didn’t get to see Russian people, we wouldn’t meet any more Russian heroes!
Since then it’s time to go to Rus'!
Ilya Kalin the Tsar threw him like a worthless rag into the golden tent, went in, poured a glass of strong wine, not a small glass, into one and a half buckets. He drank the charm for a single spirit. He drank to Mother Rus', to her wide peasant fields, to her trading cities, to green forests, to blue seas, to swans in the creeks!
Glory, glory to our native Rus'! Don’t let the enemies gallop across our land, don’t trample the Russian land with their horses, don’t eclipse our red sun for them!
About the beautiful Vasilisa Mikulishna
Once there was a big feast at Prince Vladimir's, and everyone at that feast was cheerful, everyone at that feast was boasting, but one guest sat sadly, did not drink honey, did not eat fried swan - this is Staver Godinovich, a trade guest from the city of Chernigov.
The prince approached him:
Why, Staver Godinovich, don’t you eat, don’t drink, sit sadly and don’t boast about anything? True, you are not distinguished by birth, and you are not famous for military deeds - what can you brag about.
“Your word is right, Grand Duke: I have nothing to brag about.” I haven’t had my father and mother for a long time, otherwise I would have praised them... I don’t want to show off my gold treasury; I myself don’t know how much I have, I won’t have time to count it before I die.
There is no point in boasting about your dress: you all wear my dresses at this feast. I have thirty tailors who work for me day and night. I wear the caftan from morning to night, and then I’ll sell it to you.
You shouldn’t brag about your boots either: I put on new boots every hour, and I sell you the old ones.
All my horses are golden-haired, my sheep are all with golden fleece, and I sell even those to you.
Should I boast about my young wife Vasilisa Mikulishna, the eldest daughter of Mikula Selyaninovich. There is no other like it in the world!
The bright moon shines under her scythe, her eyebrows are blacker than sable, her eyes are clear like a falcon!
And there is no smarter person in Rus' than her! She will wrap her fingers around all of you, and, prince, she will drive you crazy.
Hearing such daring words, everyone at the feast was frightened and fell silent... Princess Apraxia was offended and began to cry. And Prince Vladimir became angry:
“Come on, my faithful servants, grab Stavr, drag him into a cold basement, chain him to the wall for his offensive speeches.” Give him spring water and feed him oatcakes. Let him sit there until he comes to his senses. Let's see how his wife will drive us all crazy and rescue Stavra from captivity!
Well, that’s what they did: they put Stavr in deep cellars. But this is not enough for Prince Vladimir: he ordered guards to be sent to Chernigov, to seal the wealth of Stavr Godinovich, and his wife in chains. Bring Kyiv - see what kind of clever girl she is!
While the ambassadors were getting ready and saddled their horses, news about everything flew to Chernigov to Vasilisa Mikulishna.
Vasilisa thought bitterly:
“How can I help my dear husband out? You can’t buy it back with money, you can’t take it by force! Well, I won’t take it by force, I’ll take it by cunning!”
Vasilisa came out into the hallway and shouted:
“Hey, you, my faithful maids, saddle me the best horse, bring me a Tatar man’s dress and cut off my blond braids!” I’m going to go help out my dear husband!
The girls cried bitterly while they cut Vasilisa’s blonde braids. Long braids covered the entire floor, and the bright moon fell on the braids.
Vasilisa put on a Tatar man's dress, took a bow and arrows and galloped off to Kyiv. No one will believe that this is a woman - a young hero is galloping across the field.
Halfway there she met ambassadors from Kyiv:
- Hey, hero, where are you going?
“I’m going to Prince Vladimir as an ambassador from the formidable Golden Horde to receive tribute for twelve years. And you guys, where are you headed?
- And we are going to Vasilisa Mikulishna, to take her to Kyiv, to transfer her wealth to the prince.
- You're late, brothers. I sent Vasilisa Mikulishna to the Horde, and my warriors took her wealth away.
- Well, if that’s the case, we have nothing to do in Chernigov. We'll ride back to Kyiv.
Kyiv messengers galloped to the prince and told him that an ambassador from the formidable Golden Horde was going to Kyiv.
The prince became sad: he could not collect tribute for twelve years, he had to appease the ambassador.
They began to set tables, throw fir trees into the yard, and placed sentinels on the road - they were waiting for a messenger from the Golden Horde.
And the ambassador, before reaching Kyiv, pitched a tent in an open field, left his soldiers there, and he himself went alone to Prince Vladimir.
The ambassador is handsome, and stately, and powerful, and not menacing in face, and a courteous ambassador.
He jumped off his horse, tied it to a gold ring, and went to the upper room. He bowed to all four sides, to the prince and princess separately. Zabava Putyatishna bowed lowest to everyone.
The prince says to the ambassador:
- Hello, formidable ambassador from the Golden Horde, sit down at the table. rest, eat and drink on the road.
“I have no time to sit around: the khan doesn’t favor us ambassadors for this.” Give me a quick tribute for twelve years and marry Zabava Putyatishna to me and I’ll ride to the Horde!
- Allow me, Ambassador, to consult with my niece. Prince Zabava took him out of the room and asked:
- Will you, niece, marry the Horde ambassador? And Fun says to him quietly:
- What are you talking about, uncle! What are you up to, prince? Don’t make people laugh all over Rus' - this is not a hero, but a woman.
The prince got angry:
“Your hair is long and your mind is short: this is the formidable ambassador from the Golden Horde, the young hero Vasily.”
- This is not a hero, but a woman! He walks through the upper room like a duck swimming, without clicking his heels; He sits on a bench, pressing his knees together. His voice is silver, his arms and legs are small, his fingers are thin, and traces of rings are visible on his fingers.
The prince thought:
- I need to test the ambassador!
He called the best Kyiv fighters - five Pritchenkov brothers and two Khapilovs, went to the ambassador and asked:
“Wouldn’t you like, guest, to have fun with the wrestlers, wrestle in the wide yard, and stretch your bones out of the way?”
“Why can’t I stretch my bones? I’ve loved wrestling since childhood.” They all went out into the wide courtyard, the young ambassador entered the circle, grabbed three wrestlers with one hand, three young men with the other, threw the seventh into the middle, and when his forehead hit them, all seven lay on the ground and could not get up.
Prince Vladimir spat and walked away:
- What stupid fun, unreasonable! She called such a hero a woman! We have never seen such ambassadors before! And the Fun stands on its own:
- This is a woman, not a hero!
She persuaded Prince Vladimir, he wanted to test the ambassador again.
^He brought out twelve archers.
“Don’t you want, ambassador, to have some fun with the archers?”
- From what! I've been archery since childhood!
Twelve archers came out and shot arrows at a tall oak tree. The oak tree began to shake, as if a whirlwind had passed through the forest.
Ambassador Vasily took a bow, pulled the string, the silk string sang, a red-hot arrow howled and went, the mighty heroes fell to the ground, Prince Vladimir could not stand on his feet.
An arrow hit the oak tree, the oak tree shattered into small chips.
“Oh, I feel sorry for the mighty oak tree,” says the ambassador, “but I’m even more sorry for the red-hot arrow, now you can’t find it in all of Rus'!”
Vladimir went to his niece, and she kept repeating her thoughts: a woman, a woman!
Well,” the prince thinks, “I’ll talk to him myself - women in Rus' don’t play overseas chess!”
He ordered the golden chess set to be brought and said to the ambassador:
“Would you like to have fun with me and play overseas chess?”
- Well, from an early age I beat all the guys at checkers and chess! And what, prince, are we going to start playing for?
- You set a tribute for twelve years, and I will set the whole Kyiv city.
- Okay, let's play! They started banging chess on the board.
Prince Vladimir played well, and the ambassador went once, another went, and the tenth went - checkmate for the prince, and away with chess! The prince became sad:
“You took Kyiv-grad from me, take my head, ambassador!”
“I don’t need your head, prince, and I don’t need Kyiv, just give me your niece Zabava Putyatishna.”
The prince was delighted, and in his joy he no longer went to Zabav and asked questions, but ordered the wedding feast to be prepared.
So they feast for a day or two and three, the guests are having fun, but the bride and groom are sad. The ambassador hung his head below his shoulders.
Vladimir asks him:
- Why are you, Vasilyushka, sad? Or don't you like our rich feast?
“For some reason, Prince, I’m sad and unhappy: maybe there’s trouble at home, maybe there’s trouble ahead of me.” Order to call the guslar players, let them amuse me, sing about the old years or about the current ones.
The guslars were called. They sing, the strings ring, but the ambassador doesn’t like it:
“These, prince, are not guslars, not choir players... My father told me that you have Staver Godinovich from Chernigov, he knows how to play, knows how to sing a song, but these are like wolves in a field howling.” I wish I could listen to Stavr!
What should Prince Vladimir do here? To release Stavr would mean Stavr would not be seen, and not to release Stavr would anger the ambassador.
Vladimir did not dare to anger the ambassador, because no tribute had been collected from him, and he ordered Stavr to be brought.
They brought Stavr, but he could barely stand on his feet, weakened, starved to death...
The ambassador jumped out from the table, grabbed Stavr by the arms, sat him down next to him, began to give him food and drink, and asked him to play.
Staver adjusted the gusli and began playing Chernigov songs. Everyone at the table listened, and the ambassador sat, listened, and did not take his eyes off Stavr.
Staver finished.
The ambassador says to Prince Vladimir:
- Listen, Prince Vladimir of Kiev, you give me Stavr, and I will forgive you the tribute for twelve years and return to the Golden Horde.
Prince Vladimir doesn’t want to give Stavr away, but there’s nothing to do.
“Take it,” he says, “Stavra, young ambassador.”
Then the groom did not wait for the end of the feast, he jumped on his horse, put Stavr behind him and galloped into the field to his tent. At the tent he asks him:
“Ali didn’t recognize me, Staver Godinovich?” You and I learned to read and write together.
“I have never seen you, Tatar ambassador.”
The ambassador entered the white tent and left Stavra at the doorstep. With a quick hand, Vasilisa threw off her Tatar dress, put on women's clothes, decorated herself and left the tent.
- Hello, Staver Godinovich. And now you don’t recognize me either?
Staver bowed to her:
- Hello, my beloved wife, young clever Vasilisa Mikulishna! Thank you for saving me from captivity! But where are your brown braids?
- With blond braids, my beloved husband, I pulled you out of the cellar!
“Let’s mount, wife, on fast horses and go to Chernigov.”
- No, it’s not honor for us, Staver, to run away secretly, we’ll go to Prince Vladimir to finish the feast.
They returned to Kyiv and entered the prince’s upper room.
Prince Vladimir was surprised when Staver entered with his young wife.
And Vasilisa Mikulishna asks the prince:
- Hey, Sunny Vladimir-Prince, I am a formidable ambassador, Stavrov’s wife, I’ve returned to finish the wedding. Will you give your niece to marry me?
The Fun Princess jumped up:
- I told you, uncle! He almost caused laughter all over Rus', he almost gave the girl to a woman.
The prince hung his head out of shame, and the heroes and boyars choked with laughter.
The prince shook his curls and began to laugh:
- Well, that’s right, Staver Godinovich, you boasted about your young wife! And smart, and brave, and pretty. She fooled everyone and drove me, the prince, crazy. For her and for the vain insult, I will reward you with precious gifts.
So Staver Godinovich began to drive home with the beautiful Vasilisa Mikulishna. The prince and princess, the heroes, and the prince's servants came out to see them off.
They began to live and live at home, making good money.
And they sing songs and tell fairy tales about the beautiful Vasilisa.
Solovey Budimirovich
From under an old tall elm, from under a broom bush, from under a white pebble, the Dnieper River flowed. It filled with streams and rivers, flowed through the Russian land, and carried thirty ships to Kyiv.
All the ships are well decorated, but one ship is the best. This is the ship of the owner Solovy Budimirovich.
On the nose of the turk's head there is a carved head, instead of eyes it has expensive yachts inserted, instead of eyebrows there are black sables, instead of ears there are white ermines, instead of a mane there are black-brown foxes, instead of a tail there are white bears.
The sails on the ship are made of expensive brocade, the ropes are silk. The ship's anchors are silver, and the rings on the anchors are pure gold. The ship is well decorated with everything!
There is a tent in the middle of the ship. The tent is covered with sables and velvet, and there are bear furs on the floor.
Solovey Budimirovich is sitting in that tent with his mother Ulyana Vasilievna.
And the vigilantes stand around the tent. Their clothes are expensive, made of cloth, silk belts, and feather hats. They are wearing green boots, lined with silver nails, and fastened with gilded buckles.
Nightingale Budimirovich walks around the ship, shakes his curls, and says to his warriors:
- Come on, brother shipbuilders, climb onto the upper yards and see if Kyiv City is visible. Choose a good pier so that we can bring all the ships into one place.
The shipmen climbed onto the yards and shouted to the owner:
- Close, close to the glorious city of Kyiv! We also see the ship's pier!
So they arrived at Kyiv, dropped anchor, and secured the ships.
Nightingale Budimirovich ordered three gangplanks to be thrown onto the shore. One gangplank is pure gold, another is silver, and the third is copper.
At the golden gathering the Nightingale brought his mother together, at the silver gathering he himself went, and at the copper gathering the warriors ran out.
Nightingale Budimirovich called his housekeepers:
- Unlock our treasured caskets, prepare gifts for Prince Vladimir and Princess Apraksin. Pour a bowl of red gold, and a bowl of silver, and a bowl of pearls. Take forty sables and countless foxes, geese, and swans. Take out the expensive brocade with stains from the crystal chest - I’ll go to Prince Vladimir.
Nightingale Budimirovich took the golden goslings and went to the princely palace.
Mother and her maids follow him, and behind mother they carry precious gifts.
The Nightingale came to the prince's court, left his squad at the porch, and entered the upper room with his mother.
As Russian custom dictates, the polite Solovey Budimirovich bowed to all four sides, and especially to the prince and princess, and presented rich gifts to everyone.
He gave the prince a bowl of gold, the princess expensive brocade, and Zabava Putyatishna - large pearls. He distributed silver to the prince's servants, and furs to the heroes and boyars' sons.
Prince Vladimir liked the gifts, and Princess Apraksin liked them even more.
The princess started a merry feast in honor of the guest. At that feast they honored Nightingale Budimirovich and his mother.
Vladimir-Prince Nightingale began to ask:
- Who are you, good fellow? From what tribe? What should I reward you with: cities with villages or a gold treasury?
- I am a trade guest, Solovey Budimirovich. I don’t need cities with villages, and I myself have plenty of gold treasury. I didn’t come to you to trade, but to stay as a guest. Show me, prince, great kindness - give me a good place where I could build three towers.
- If you want, build on the market square, where wives and women bake pies, where little guys sell rolls.
- No, prince, I don’t want to build on the shopping area. Give me a place closer to you. Let me line up in the garden of Zabava Putyatishna, in the cherry and hazel trees.
- Take a place you like, even in the garden of Zabava Putyatishna.
- Thank you, Vladimir Red Sun.
The Nightingale returned to his ships and called his squad together.
“Come on, brothers, we’ll take off our rich caftans and put on workers’ aprons, take off our morocco boots and put on bast shoes.” You take saws and axes, go to the garden of Zabava Putyatishna. I will show you myself. And we will build three golden-domed towers in the hazel tree, so that Kyiv-grad will stand more beautiful than all cities.
There was a knocking and chiming sound in the green garden of Zabava Putyatishnch, as if woodpeckers were clicking in the trees... And three golden-topped towers were ready for the morning light. Yes, how beautiful! Tops are intertwined with tops, windows are intertwined with windows, some canopies are lattice, others are glass, and others are pure gold.
Zabava Putyatishna woke up in the morning, opened the window into the green garden and couldn’t believe her eyes: in her favorite hazel tree there were three towers, the golden tops burning like heat.
The princess clapped her hands and called her nannies, mothers, and hay girls.
- Look, nannies, maybe I’m sleeping and in a dream I see this:
Yesterday my green garden stood empty, and today the towers in it are burning.
- And you, Mother Zabavushka, go and look, your happiness has come to your yard itself.
Zabava quickly got dressed. She didn’t wash her face, didn’t braid her hair, put shoes on her bare feet, tied a silk scarf around her and ran into the garden.
She runs along the path through the cherry tree to the hazel tree. She ran to three towers and walked quietly.
She walked up to the lattice entryway and listened. In that mansion there is knocking, strumming, tinkling - this is the Nightingale’s gold, they are counting it and putting it into bags.
She ran to another mansion, to a glass vestibule, in this mansion they said in a quiet voice: Ulyana Vasilievna, Solovy Budimirovich’s dear mother, lives here.
The princess walked away, thought for a moment, blushed, and quietly walked on her toes to the third mansion with a vestibule made of pure gold.
The princess stands and listens, and from the tower the song flows, ringing, like a nightingale whistling in the garden. And behind the voice the strings ring like a silver ring.
“Should I come in? Cross the threshold?
And the princess is scared, and she wants to take a look.
“Let me,” he thinks, “let me take a peek.”
She opened the door slightly, looked through the crack and gasped: there is sun in the sky and sun in the mansion, stars in the sky and stars in the mansion, dawn in the sky and dawn in the mansion. All the beauty of heaven is painted on the ceiling.
And on a chair made of a precious fish tooth, Nightingale Budimirovich sits, playing with golden goosebumps.
The Nightingale heard the creaking of the doors, stood up and went to the doors.
Zabava Putyatishna was frightened, her legs gave way, her heart sank, she was about to fall.
Nightingale Budimirovich guessed, threw down the goose, picked up the princess, carried her into the room, and sat her on a strapped chair.
- Why are you, princess soul, so afraid? She didn’t enter the bear’s den, but rather a polite fellow. Sit down, relax, tell me a kind word.
Zabava calmed down and began asking him:
-Where did you bring the ships from? What tribe are you? Nightingale politely gave her answers to everything, but the princess forgot her grandfather’s customs and suddenly said:
- Are you married, Solovey Budimirovich, or are you living single? If you like me, marry me.
Nightingale Budimirovich looked at her, grinned, shook his curls:
“Everyone liked you, princess, everyone liked me, but I don’t like the fact that you’re wooing yourself.” Your job is to sit modestly in the mansion, sew pearls, embroider skillful patterns, wait for matchmakers. And you run around other people's houses, wooing yourself.
The princess burst into tears, rushed to run from the tower, ran to her little room, fell on the bed, trembling all over with tears.
And Solovey Budimirovich did not say that out of malice, but as an elder to a younger one.
He quickly put on his shoes, dressed more smartly and went to Prince Vladimir:
- Hello, Prince Sun, let me say a word, say my request.
- If you please, speak, Nightingale.
“You, prince, have a beloved niece, is it possible to marry her to me?”
Prince Vladimir agreed, they asked Princess Apraxia, they asked Ulyana Vasilievna, and Nightingale sent matchmakers to Mother Zabavina.
And they betrothed Zabava Putyatishna to the good guest Solovy Budimirovich.
Then Prince Sun summoned master craftsmen from all over Kyiv and ordered them, together with Solovy Budimirovich, to erect golden towers, white-stone cathedrals, and strong walls throughout the city. Kyiv-city has become better than before, richer than the old one.
His fame spread throughout his native Rus' and spread to overseas countries: there are no better cities than Kyiv-grad.
About Prince Roman and the two princes
On the other side, on Ulenovo, there lived two brothers, two princes, and two royal nephews.
They wanted to walk around Rus', burn towns and villages, kill mothers, orphan children. They went to the king-uncle:
Our dear uncle, King Chimbal, give us forty thousand warriors, give us gold and horses, we will go to plunder the Russian land, we will bring you booty.
- No, nephews and princes, I will not give you any troops, no horses, no gold. I do not advise you to go to Rus' to visit Prince Roman Dimitrievich. I have lived on earth for many years. I have seen people go to Rus' many times, but I have never seen them return back. And if you are so impatient, go to the land of Devon - their knights sleep in their bedrooms, their horses stand in their stalls, their weapons rust in their cellars. Ask them for help and go fight Rus'.
That's what the princes did. They received fighters, horses, and gold from the Devonian land. They gathered a large army and went to fight Rus'.
They drove up to the first village - Spassky, burned the entire village with fire, killed all the peasants, threw children into the fire, and took the women captive. We dropped into the second village - Slavskoye, ravaged, burned, killed people... We approached a large village - Pereslavsky, plundered the village, burned it, killed people, took Princess Nastasya Dimitrievna captive with her little son, two months old.
The prince-knights rejoiced at the easy victories, pulled up their tents, began to have fun, feast, and scold the Russian people...
“We’ll make cattle out of Russian peasants, harness them to plows instead of oxen!”
And Prince Roman Dimitrievich was away at that time, traveling far away to hunt. He sleeps in a white tent and knows nothing about trouble. Suddenly a bird sat down on the tent and began saying:
“Get up, wake up, Prince Roman Dimitrievich, why are you sleeping soundly, you don’t sense adversity over yourself: evil knights attacked Rus', with them two princes, they destroyed villages, they cut down men, they burned children, they took your sister and nephew prisoner!”
Prince Roman woke up, jumped to his feet, and hit the oak table in anger - the table shattered into small splinters, and the ground cracked under the table.
- Oh, you puppies, evil knights! I will stop you from going to Rus', burning our cities, destroying our people!
He galloped to his inheritance, gathered a squad of nine thousand soldiers, led them to the Smorodina River and said:
- Do it, brothers, you phony little fools. Each chick sign his name and throw these chock lots into the Smorodina River.
Some chicks sank like stones. Other little chicks swam along the rapids. The third little chicks are all swimming together in the water near the shore.
Prince Roman explained to the squad:
“Those whose chicks sank will be killed in battle.” Those who swam into the rapids will be wounded. Those who swim calmly will be healthy. I will not take either the first or the second into battle, but I will only take the third three thousand.
And Roman also ordered the squad:
- You sharpen sharp sabers, prepare arrows, feed horses. When you hear a crow, saddle your horses, when you hear a raven for the second time, mount your horses, and when you hear it a third time, ride to the tents of the evil knights, descend on them like falcons and give no mercy to your fierce enemies!
Prince Roman himself turned into a gray wolf, ran into the open field to the enemy camp, to the white linen tents, chewed the reins of the horses, drove the horses far into the steppe, bit off the strings of the bows, twisted the handles of the sabers... Then he turned into a white ermine and ran into the tent.
Then the prince’s two brothers saw the dear ermine, began to catch it, chase it around the tent, and began to cover it with a sable fur coat. They threw a fur coat over him, they wanted to grab him, but the ermine was agile, he jumped out of the fur coat through the sleeve - and onto the wall, and onto the window, from the window into an open field...
Here he turned into a black raven, sat down on a tall oak tree and cawed loudly.
Only for the first time did the raven caw, and the Russian squad began to saddle their horses. And the brothers jumped out of the tent:
- Why are you, raven, cawing at us, cawing at your head! We will kill you, we will spill your blood on the damp oak!
Then the raven cawed for the second time, and the warriors jumped onto their horses and prepared their sharpened swords. They wait and wait until the raven screams for the third time.
And the brothers grabbed their tight bows:
- Will you shut up, black bird! Don't bring trouble on us! Don't stop us from feasting!
The knights looked, and the bow strings were torn, the saber handles were broken off!
Then the raven shouted for the third time. The Russian cavalry rushed like a whirlwind and flew into the enemy camp!
And they cut with sabers, and stab with spears, and beat with whips! And ahead of everyone, Prince Roman, like a falcon, flies across the field, beats the Devonian mercenary army, and gets to the two brothers.
- Who called you to go to Rus', burn our cities, cut down our people, tear off our mothers?
The warriors defeated the evil enemies, Prince Roman killed two princes. They put the brothers on a cart and sent the cart to Chimbal the King. The king saw his nephews and became sad.
King Chimbal says:
“I’ve lived in this world for many years, many people have come to Rus', but I haven’t seen them come home.” I punish both my children and grandchildren: do not go to war against great Rus', it has stood for centuries without shaking and will stand for centuries without moving!
We talked about old things.
What about the old ones, about the experienced ones,
So that the blue sea calms down,
So that good people will listen,
So that the fellows think about it,
That Russian glory never fades!
It is impossible to determine the exact age of this or that epic, because they took centuries to develop. Scientists began to record them en masse only after 1860, when a still living tradition of performing epics was discovered in the Olonets province. By that time, the Russian heroic epic had undergone significant changes. Like archaeologists removing one layer of soil after another, folklorists stripped texts of later “layers” in order to find out what epics sounded like a thousand years ago.
It was possible to establish that the oldest epic stories tell about the clash between a mythological hero and a Kyiv hero. Another early plot is dedicated to the matchmaking of a hero to a foreign princess. Svyatogor and Volkh Vseslavyevich are considered the most ancient heroes of the Russian epic. At the same time, people often introduced contemporary characters into archaic plots. Or vice versa: an ancient mythological character, at the will of the narrator, became a participant in recent events.
The word “epic” came into scientific use in the 19th century. The people called these stories antiquities. Today, about 100 stories are known, which are told in more than 3,000 texts. Bylinas, epic songs about the heroic events of Russian history, as an independent genre, emerged in the 10th–11th centuries - during the heyday of Kievan Rus. At the initial stage they were based on mythological subjects. But the epic, unlike the myth, talked about the political situation, about the new statehood of the Eastern Slavs, and therefore, instead of pagan deities, historical figures acted in them. The real hero Dobrynya lived in the second half of the 10th - early 11th centuries and was the uncle of Prince Vladimir Svyatoslavich. Alyosha Popovich is associated with the Rostov warrior Alexander Popovich, who died in 1223 in the battle on the Kalka River. The holy monk lived, presumably, in the 12th century. At the same time, the merchant Sotko was mentioned in the Novgorod chronicle, who turned into a hero of Novgorod epics. Later, people began to correlate heroes who lived at different times with the single epic era of Prince Vladimir the Red Sun. The figure of Vladimir merged the features of two real rulers at once - Vladimir Svyatoslavich and Vladimir Monomakh.
Real characters in folk art began to intersect with the heroes of ancient myths. For example, Svyatogor supposedly came into the epic from the Slavic pantheon, where he was considered the son of the god Rod and the brother of Svarog. In the epics, Svyatogor was so huge that the earth did not support him, so he lived in the mountains. In one story, he met with the warrior Ilya Muromets (“Svyatogor and Ilya Muromets”), and in the other, with the tiller Mikula Selyaninovich (“Svyatogor and the Earth’s Thrust”). In both cases, Svyatogor died, but, remarkably, not in battle with young heroes - his death was predetermined from above. In some versions of the text, when he died, he transferred part of his power to the hero of the new generation.
Another ancient character is Volkh (Volga) Vseslavyevich, born of a woman and a snake. This werewolf, great hunter and sorcerer is mentioned in Slavic mythology as the son of Chernobog. In the epic “Volkh Vseslavyevich,” Volkh’s squad set off to conquer a distant kingdom. Having penetrated the city with the help of witchcraft, the warriors killed everyone, leaving only young women for themselves. This plot clearly refers to the era of tribal relations, when the ruin of one tribe by another was worthy of praise. In a later period, when Rus' repelled the attacks of the Pechenegs, Polovtsians, and then the Mongol-Tatars, the criteria for heroic prowess changed. The defender of his native land began to be considered a hero, and not the one who waged a war of conquest. In order for the epic about Volkh Vseslavyevich to correspond to the new ideology, an explanation appeared in it: the campaign was against the tsar, who allegedly planned to attack Kyiv. But this did not save Volkh from the fate of a hero of a bygone era: in the epic “Volga and Mikula,” the werewolf sorcerer was inferior in cunning and strength to the same peasant Mikula, who appeared in the epic about Svyatogor. The new hero defeated the old one again.
By creating a heroic epic, the people presented outdated stories in a new light. Thus, the basis of later epics of the 11th, 12th and 13th centuries was the motif of matchmaking, reworked in a new way. In tribal relations, marriage was the main responsibility of a man who had entered into adulthood, as many myths and fairy tales told about. In the epics “Sadko”, “Mikhailo Potyk”, “Ivan Godinovich”, “Danube and Dobrynya woo a bride to Prince Vladimir” and others, the heroes married foreign princesses, just as in ancient times brave men “obtained” a wife from a foreign tribe. But this act often became a fatal mistake for the heroes, leading to death or betrayal. You need to marry your own people and generally think more about service, and not about personal life - such was the attitude in Kievan Rus.
Every event significant for the people was reflected in epics. The surviving texts mention realities from the era and, wars with Poland and even Turkey. But the main place in epics, starting from the 13th–14th centuries, was occupied by the struggle of the Russian people against the Horde yoke. In the 16th–17th centuries, the tradition of performing epics gave way to the genre of historical song. Until the 20th century, the heroic epic lived and developed only in the Russian North and in some regions of Siberia.
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Read Rodari's tales
- Name
About Gianni Rodari
In 1920, a boy, Gianni, was born into a baker's family in Italy. He was often sick, cried, and was difficult to educate. The kid himself became interested in music and literature, played the violin and read books by Nietzsche and Schopenhauer, unusual for children.
The soul of the family was the father, who knew how to have fun and fill the lives of his wife and three sons with joy. His death was a heavy blow for Gianni, his mother, brothers Mario and Cesare. Mom worked day and night to somehow feed the family.
The boys studied at the theological seminary, because there was no need to pay, and with all their hearts they hated studying, the boring, measured life and the poverty that surrounded them. Gianni spent all his time in the library in order to somehow kill time, and then he developed a taste for it and could no longer tear him away from books.
In 1937, Gianni's torment ended with the end of the seminary. The young man began working as a teacher to earn money and help his mother, while studying at the University of Milan. However, with the outbreak of war, Gianni Rodari’s life changed...
A significant year in his life was 1952 - it was then that the future writer came to the USSR, where over time his fairy tales were loved more than in his homeland. In 1970, Gianni's Andersen Prize brought him long-awaited fame.
About the fairy tales of Gianni Rodari
The tales of Gianni Rodari are fantastic stories in which there is no banality or obsessive morality, everything in them is simple and at the same time filled with magic. Reading Rodari's tales, an adult will more than once be surprised by the author's gift for inventing unusual characters. The child always reads or listens with sparkling eyes about the miracles that happen in fairy tales and empathizes with the heroes.
One way or another, you need to be an extraordinary person and love children very much in order to write such wonderful fairy tales, fill them with joy and fun, and shade them with a little sadness, but only slightly.
Gianni Rodari himself really wanted children to treat his fairy tales like toys, that is, to have fun, come up with their own endings to stories that they would never get tired of. Rodari tried to help parents get closer to their children and was very happy if the book was not only read, but also made the children want to talk, argue, and invent their own stories.
I would like to end our short story about the life and work of Gianni Rodari with his own words: “Books are the best toys, and without toys, children simply cannot grow up to be kind.”
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