The Russian Story Book 6

The Russian Story Book 6

For once the loafers hesitated to lift the green wine to their

lips. "What will the Prince do to us in the morning," they asked, "when

he finds that we have drunk up all his golden spires and crosses?"

 

"Drink, my men," said Ilya. "To-morrow I myself will reign as Prince

in Kiev town, and ye shall be my chiefs." Then they drank and drank

again; but Ilya of Murom did not put the bowl to his lips in such

company, for he merely meant to use these men in his determination

to win respect and ample apology from the Prince.

 

In the meantime Prince Vladimir sat at the board with the hungry

revellers about him; but he was so deeply wrapped in thought that he

did not even notice that the cooks had taken away the dishes. "Who is

this who has come to town?" he asked moodily. Then a young nobleman,

whose name was Nikitich, sprang to his nimble feet and said, "I have

met all the mighty heroes of Holy Russia save one, and that one

is Ilya of Murom, who, I have heard, will not die in battle. This

wonderful visitor is no Nikita from beyond the Forest. It must be

none other than Ilya of Murom the Old Cossáck. I fear, my Prince,

with all respect to your Highness, that you did not know how to pay

worthy honour to your guest either at his coming or his going."

 

The Prince's face lighted up, for the young nobleman who had spoken

was the only man in the whole of the company who could read and write,

and on that account was privileged to speak his mind when his fellows

feared for their heads. "Whom shall we send," asked Prince Vladimir,

"to invite the hero to our banquet?" (At these words some of the cooks

hurried off to prepare fresh food.) "My royal chamberlain will not

know how to address him, and my chief page is like a peacock--only

fit to strut about in the sun among the women. Go you, Nikitich, for

you can read and write and therefore have supernatural wisdom. Bow

down before him, with your forehead upon moist Mother Earth, and

invite him by his name and title thrice repeated to honour us with

his presence at a worshipful feast.

 

"Say that I did not, to my lasting sorrow, recognise him when I placed

him at the lower end of the board, but that now I entreat him to

honour us with his truly remarkable presence. Tell him that I bear no

ill-will for what has passed, and that instead of sitting at the lower

end of the board--though there is now more room in that quarter--he

shall sit in the great corner near to the Princess Apraxia herself."

 

Now Nikitich, having learnt to read and write, did not act upon

rash impulse, but stood for a few moments looking supernaturally

wise and weighed the matter with the utmost circumspection. "Shall I

go?" he asked himself. "It may mean sudden death for me at the hands

of Ilya. On the other hand, it will certainly mean slow death at

the hands of Prince Vladimir if I do not obey. Perhaps I had better

go." Then with a low bow to the Prince and another to the Princess,

he left the banquet-hall with the step of resolution.

 

In a few moments he came to the tavern where he saw Ilya of Murom

the Old Cossáck sitting grimly watching the loafers while they drank

the health of Prince Vladimir. "It will be better," said Nikitich to

himself, "if I come upon him from behind, for then I shall be able

to deliver my message without being put in deadly fear by his eyes

of terror." So he approached Ilya from behind as he sat there and,

placing his hands upon the hero's mighty shoulders, told him all

that Prince Vladimir had said; but being able to read and write,

and therefore full of supernatural wisdom, he missed out the sentence

about the Prince bearing no ill-will for what had passed.

 

Had he been able to watch the face of Ilya as he spoke the Prince's

message, Nikitich would have seen a bright gleam of laughter steal into

the terrible eyes of the Old Cossáck. But when the speech was over,

Ilya did not turn his head. "It is well for you, young Nikitich,"

he said grimly, "that you come upon me from behind. If you had

approached me from before, your body would have been dust and ashes

before now. Go at once and deliver to Prince Vladimir the following

message in answer to his own:

 

"Let strict orders be issued to all the inn-keepers of Kiev and

Chernigof that they invite all who care to come to quaff green wine

at the expense of Prince Vladimir; and for those who care not for

green wine let vodka, the drink of the peasants, be provided; while

those who love neither shall drink sweet mead beloved of fair ladies

and their squires. By this all men shall know that Ilya of Murom the

Old Cossáck who led captive Nightingale the Robber is now come to

town. Let the Prince also prepare an honourable banquet and reserve

the great corner near the high table for me.

 

"Otherwise," continued Ilya, at last turning his head and fixing

his heroic eyes on the young man of supernatural wisdom who could

both read and write, "otherwise----" But the ambassador of Prince

Vladimir did not stay to enquire what would happen. The sight of

Ilya's countenance was enough for him, and only the drunken loafers

heard the completion of the hero's threat "--the Prince shall reign

in Kiev no longer than to-morrow's morn."

 

Then quickly, quickly, very very quickly, and with lightning speed,

ran the wise young man to Prince Vladimir, and quickly, quickly, very

very quickly, and with lightning speed, were the "requests" of Ilya

complied with. Great crowds drew to the tavern, though they came not

to drink but to see the Old Cossáck. They were however disappointed,

for Ilya had gone, post-haste upon the heels of the envoy, to take

his place at the banquet, taking his invitation for granted. But

being a true gentleman, he bowed on entering the hall to the North,

South, East, and West, and then in particular to Prince Vladimir and

Princess Apraxia.

 

Vladimir rose quickly to his feet and cried with hands extended,

"Ho, there, Ilya of Murom the Old Cossáck. Here is a place for you

beside me, in the great corner near the stove. Or if it please you

to sit elsewhere it shall be as you will." So Ilya sat in the great

corner, and before long the cooks and the serving men were passing

to and fro like a whirlwind.

 

Now, as they sat at meat and as the wine pails freely passed, there

happened a very great wonder; for Prince Vladimir turned to pledge Ilya

of Murom the Old Cossáck, and behold! he no longer sat in the great

corner. The Prince rubbed his eyes in astonishment, but the Princess,

with a somewhat scornful smile, told him to look for Ilya under the

banquet table. Then they looked, but Ilya was not there. So the Prince

sent out messengers upon the broad road which ran for forty furlongs

to the city of Galich; but Ilya was not upon the broad road, and the

only man they met was an old pilgrim who was making his way slowly and

painfully to Kiev town. His smock was tattered with use, and a ragged

girdle was bound about his waist. His cap was heavy with moisture,

his feet were covered with rotten straw, and he leaned so heavily upon

a crooked staff that the moist earth squirted out beneath his step.

 

The ancient pilgrim entered the town and went to the chief inn, where

he asked courteously enough for a pail and a half of green wine. "You

old grey dog," said the inn-keeper, "we do not trust such as you, nor

can we give you green wine without your money." Then the old man took

from his neck a cross of gold, wonderfully chased, of great weight,

and clearly of as great antiquity. "Take this cross in payment," he

said, but not one of the men dared to handle it. Then seeing that the

old man was faint for want, the peasants about the place gave each a

kopeck that he might have his wine; and when it was brought to him he

drank it in a draught and a half and at a breath and a half. Having

done this, he climbed upon the stove, lay down as if he were in his

mother's cottage, and fell fast asleep.

 

Very early in the morning, as the warm red sun arose, the old pilgrim

descended from the stove, went down to the cellars, burst open the

door with his foot, took a cask of wine under each arm and rolled

a third before him with his right great toe. So he came out to the

green meadow and then into the market-place, where he shouted out,

in a voice wonderfully strong for so aged a pilgrim, "Ho, ye peasants

of the village, come to the old man's feast." By this time, however,

the men from the tavern were upon him; but though there were many of

them they could not take the wine from the old man, so they went to

make their complaint to Prince Vladimir.

 

"Bring him before me," said the royal judge, and they did so. Then

the ancient pilgrim raised his eyes, and by means of the smile in

the depths of them Vladimir knew him for Ilya of Murom the Old Cossáck.

 

"Plague upon my love of fun," said Ilya, "but these thick-headed

varlets are easily imposed upon. Let me pay them for my fun and,

Prince, give me work worthy of a hero."

 

"The time demands a hero's help," said Prince Vladimir, "for my

royal city goes in fear by day and passes sleepless nights in terror

for Falcon the Hunter, who rides the heavens and can pass over the

loftiest barriers to hurl his fiery darts upon every golden pinnacle

which rears upward to the sky. Make a barrier, Ilya, upon the road

by which he comes, and check him, if you can, with fiery shafts from

your magic bow."

 

Then Ilya's eyes gleamed with pleasure, and he called for six of

the mightiest heroes to help him to form a barrier in the path of

Falcon the Hunter; and among the six was Nikitich, the young man of

supernatural wisdom who could both read and write, as well as Vaska

Longskirt, who was very brave but hampered in his fighting by his

voluminous coat in which he defied the white world. The seven made

a strong barrier on the road by which Falcon the Hunter took his

flight, so strong that no horseman ever so swift could gallop by,

nor wayfarer circumvent it; no wild beast could break it, and if a

ravening eagle or carrion crow soared above it the fiery darts of Ilya

brought it down in a shower of feathers and a rain of blood. "Surely,"

said Princess Apraxia, whose bright eyes always closed involuntarily

as Falcon the Hunter was seen riding upon the clouds, "we shall be

safe from the horror that stalks in the darkness by reason of the

barrier of Ilya of Murom."

 

But late that night young Falcon the Hunter passed by, leaping from

one low black cloud to another, and with a dazzling smile scorning

the barrier of the seven heroes. In the early dawn Ilya went forth and

traced the footsteps of his black horse--a blasted pine tree with its

heart scorched to charcoal, a tall tower, and several golden pinnacles

of the royal pavilion lying upon the bosom of moist Mother Earth. He

went back to his brother heroes. "While we slept until the white

dawn," he cried in a loud voice, "Falcon the Hunter swept by in his

malignity. What a barrier is this of ours! What a fortress! Let us

arm ourselves, my friends, and go out upon the steppe to seek this

rash intruder whose malignant glance causes the Princess Apraxia

to close her eyes in fear." Then they sat down in a circle to hold

a wise council, having no immediate fear of Falcon the Hunter, who

never came to the city of many golden pinnacles while the sun shone broadly upon it.