The Russian Story Book 5

The Russian Story Book 5

"Nay, sire," said Ilya with perfect calm, "I did indeed come by the

straight way, and Nightingale the Robber now sitteth as a prisoner

securely bound within the sacred court of the holy temple, where all

who thieve must be bound hand and foot."

 

Now the astonishment and curiosity which fell upon the company at this

announcement was so great that it overcame the hunger of the lords

and ladies, who forgot also their courtly dignity as they scrambled

out from the palace to see the wonder, or at least to test the truth

of Ilya's words. But Prince Vladimir and Princess Apraxia went out

slowly upon the railed balcony.

 

And there they saw the wonder for themselves--Nightingale the Robber

sitting securely bound to the steel stirrup of Cloudfall, the shaggy

bay steed, with one eye fixed on Kiev city and the other on far-distant

Chernigof, according to the habit he had acquired when awaiting the

sallies of champions from those two cities within the security of

his lofty nest.

 

Then said Prince Vladimir, full of wonder mixed with curiosity,

"Whistle, Nightingale the Robber, roar like a lion, and hiss like

a serpent." But the Magic Bird replied with a strange smile which

had a long way to travel across his face from eye to eye. "I am not

your prisoner, Prince Vladimir, and do not eat from your bountiful

hand. However, bring me a bowl of wine, for I am plaguily thirsty,

and then we shall see what will happen."

 

"Give him a bowl of green wine," said Ilya to the waiting attendants,

"a large bowl, capable of accommodating a bucket and a half. And

bring a large cake of fine wheat flour, for the mouth of the Magic

Bird is parched, and his whistle, roar, and hiss will not be worth

hearing if he is not refreshed."

 

Then Vladimir himself came forward bringing three large bowls,

one of green wine, the drink of princes, a second of vodka, the

drink of peasants, and a third of sweet mead, the drink of fair

ladies; and Nightingale the Robber drained each of the bowls at a

draught. Thereupon Ilya commanded the Magic Bird to whistle, roar

and hiss, but to do so under his breath lest harm should come to the

royal party, of whom the ladies were now preparing to hide behind

the gentlemen, while the gentlemen were trying to persuade the ladies

that it was very uncourtly to stand before such peerless beauties.

 

Then that wicked pestilent thief began to smile from one eye to the

other, and it seemed as if a stormy gleam of light passed across the

open steppe from Chernigof to Kiev; and out of malice of which his

black heart was full, he gave his entertainment at full strength.

 

At the sounds which he made all the ancient palaces in the royal city

cracked, tottered, and tumbled to the ground; the new palaces rocked,

and only kept their upright position with a great effort. The roofs

of all the poorer houses moved from their places and fell into the

streets, while the walls remained, for they were of a tumble-down

character in their ordinary state, and not knowing which way to fall

decided to remain as they were. Moist Mother Earth quivered like

a man with the ague, the horses of the heroes stampeded from the

palace stables, the beautiful young ladies hid themselves in corners,

and the gay youths were so terrified that they ran into other corners

far away, where, of course, they could not comfort them. Ilya leaned

over the balcony and caught up Prince Vladimir under one arm and the

Princess Apraxia under the other in order to protect them; yet the

Prince fell into a swoon from which he did not emerge for three hours.

 

Then said Ilya, son of strength, in the mightiness of his wrath,

"For this base deed of thine, Nightingale the Robber, thou shalt die!"

 

"Spare a few of his family," pleaded Prince Vladimir, who had now

recovered, and who had never been of a vindictive disposition. "Spare

me myself," begged the Magic Bird, "and you shall have all my money

to build a monastery."

 

"Nay," said Ilya, "I will sweep away his pestilent brood and scatter

his bones to the winds. As for his ill-gotten gold, no monastery

would stand or receive a blessing which was built with it."

 

Thereupon he took Nightingale the Robber in his strong white hands and

led him far out upon the open plain. There he fitted a burning arrow to

his stout bow, for his vow no longer held him, seeing that he had come

to Kiev by the straight way, and shot the fiery dart into the black

breast of the Magic Bird. After that he struck off his pestilent head

and scattered his bones to the winds. Then he sought out his family

and scattered their bones to the winds also, and mounting Cloudfall,

his shaggy bay steed, he went once more to Prince Vladimir.

 

By this time the royal company had somewhat recovered their composure,

and in order to hide their confusion were busily conversing about the

day before yesterday. When Ilya arrived they were seated at the white

tables eating savoury viands from the board and drinking green wine

and sweet mead; and they complimented Ilya very prettily, as soon as he

had washed himself. When the feast was over, the Prince gave the hero

the supreme honour of ever henceforth styling himself Ilya of Murom

the Old Cossáck, for it was reckoned the highest honour that a hero

should take his title from the land on which he was born, especially if

it was owned by his father; and Ilya, being a true gentleman, valued

this distinction infinitely higher than a heaped-up waggon-load of

red gold, another of white silver, and a third of fine seed pearls.

 

As for those bones of the Magic Bird which were scattered to the winds,

as they fell to earth they became seeds of the blood-red poppy, from

the flowers of which came the first sweet whistling nightingales who

know nothing of the roar of the lion or the hiss of the serpent.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

ILYA AND FALCON THE HUNTER

 

 

One day Ilya rode his shaggy bay steed Cloudfall across the open

steppe; and as he went slowly onward he was thinking deeply, for he

had performed many deeds of the greatest valour, and was now wondering

greatly what he should do next.

 

"I have visited many lands," he said in a brooding voice, "and have

seen many strange people, but for a long time I have not visited Kiev,

where I took Nightingale the Robber as a prisoner firmly bound to my

stirrup of bright steel. I will go now to Kiev once more, so that I

may see what is happening in the household of Prince Vladimir."

 

Raising his head and smiling quietly like a man filled with a

secret purpose, he gave Cloudfall the rein, and before he could say

"Svyatogor" he was in the city of Kiev, where it was told him by a

cook whom he met hurrying across the street that Prince Vladimir was

holding a merry feast.

 

Ilya at once tethered Cloudfall to the carven pillar in the cathedral

court and took his way on foot to the banquet-hall of Prince Vladimir,

which he entered without invitation, knowing that all wayfarers were

welcome to the board of the hospitable Prince.

 

As soon as he had passed the threshold, Ilya bowed to North, South,

East, and West, and then to Prince Vladimir and Princess Apraxia in

particular, thinking that the royal couple would surely have a clear

remembrance of all the wonderful things that had taken place on his

last visit to their town. But neither the Prince nor the Princess

knew him again, and it was as a perfect stranger that Vladimir

addressed him.

 

"What is your name and to which horde do you belong?" he asked;

"and have you any title of degree?"

 

"Fair Sun Vladimir," said Ilya, who was secretly taken aback at his

reception, but determined not to show it, "I am called Nikita from

beyond the Forest."

 

"Welcome, my brave and merry little fellow," said the Prince with great

heartiness; "sit down at our board and eat and drink freely. You will

find a little room at the lower end of yonder table. I am sorry there

is not more room, but your sharp eyes will see at once that I feast

to-day a noble company of princes, statesmen, wealthy merchants,

and bold warrior-maids as well as sixty great Russian heroes whose

adventures have been many."

 

Now Ilya of Murom the Old Cossáck did not relish the tone of the

Prince's speech, and felt it a deep humiliation that the conqueror

of Nightingale the Robber should break the royal bread at the lower

end of the table. His anger rose, and raising his head he cried:

 

"Fair Sun Vladimir, do you think to place me among the crows while you

feast with the eagles? Nay! I will not eat bread with those beneath

my degree."

 

Such a speech from a man who had made no claim to higher rank than that

of Nikita from beyond the Forest, who was clearly a nobody, roused in

turn the anger of the Prince. He sprang nimbly to his feet, his face as

black as a thunder-cloud, and roared like a crowded den of wild beasts:

 

"Ho, there, ye mighty heroes of Holy Russia! Will you hear yourselves

classed with carrion crows? Seize the stranger, but take care that

three of you hold each arm, hale him to the courtyard and strike off

his head." Then there was a great commotion, and the cooks began to

wring their hands, for they knew that if they did not keep the food

hot while the quarrel was proceeding, the Prince would need new cooks

on the following day.

 

Three heroes grasped the right arm of Ilya and three heroes grasped his

left arm. He waved his right hand and three heroes fell breathless to

the floor of red brick; then he waved his left hand and three heroes

fell on top of them. Thereupon Vladimir roared out a command that

twelve fresh heroes should seize him, but these champions fared like

their fellows. Then twelve more rose before him and six more behind;

and these met the same fate as the rest.

 

Meanwhile the cooks had been able to snatch away the dishes from

beneath the nose of the angry Prince and were now hurrying away to

place them in the ovens. Then they heaved in unison such a sigh of

relief that the fire burned as brightly as it burns upon a frosty

night.

 

Ilya strode forth from the banquet-hall and the anger burned fiercely

within his breast. When he reached the courtyard he turned about and

fitted an arrow to his bow. As he drew the cord he whispered to the

shaft, "Fly, my dart, about the princely towers and strike off the

spires and crosses of gold from the royal palace." Off went the arrow,

but it did not travel by a straight road. It made a circuitous tour

of the pinnacles and domes of the stately building, and as it went on

its way spire after spire and cross after cross tumbled down upon the

pavement. Ilya gathered up these golden trophies, went to the tavern in

the market-place and ordered the landlord to bring out his best green

wine, for which he would pay with the royal spires and crosses. Then he

stood in the doorway and invited all the loafers of the market-place to come and drink the health of Prince Vladimir, who had been good enough, as he grimly remarked, to provide the means of drinking it.