Dobrynya and the Adventure of the Pavilion

As young Dobrynya Nikitich roamed the open plain on a day, he came to a damp oak, whereon sat a black raven. Dobrynya drew his bow from its case, fitted to the cord a flaming arrow, and made ready to shoot the raven. But the bird addressed him in human language:

"Now ai, Dobrynya Nikitich! Slay me not, and I will reveal all things to thee. The children in the streets have a proverb: ' In killing a graybeard there is no salvation, and none shall receive profit from shooting a raven.'"With the blue plumes of a raven may no man solace himself, and my flesh thou canst not eat."Half the raven's wings were white; — and he said:

"Ai, Dobrynya Nikitich! Go thou to the lofty mountain; for there be three wondrous marvels, three marvellous damsels. The first is a wonder of white whiteness, the second is redly beautiful, the third a black marvel of darkness."

Dobrynya reflected then in haste, and replied to the raven: "What thou hast said of the old man and the raven is true." Then he put aside his dart, and thought: "Better is it that I should go to the lofty mountain, to yon steep hill, and view those three wondrous marvels, those three marvellous damsels."

So he turned his good steed in haste, quickly, quickly, veiy, very quickly, and with speed, and rode to that lofty mountain. And as he gazed about him, lo! there stood a pavilion of white linen. On the pavilion was a lock of damascened steel, and upon the lock this writing: "Whoso entereth this pavilion, shall not issue thence alive."

Dobrynya's heroic heart burned within him when he read that, and he smote the lock with his fist, so that the lock fell upon the damp earth. Within the pavilion, he beheld tables set and viands thereon, and he entered. Much as the youth ate and drank, even more did he fling upon the ground, pour out and trample under foot.

Then the youth lay down to sleep, and as he slept and took his ease, he wist not of the peril hanging over him.

From afar in the open plain came Alyósha Popóvich riding, and gazed upon that sight. — More had been cast down, poured out and trampled under foot, than had been eaten. Then was Alyósha very wroth, and his heroic heart burned within him. He grasped his sharp-pointed spear, and would have pierced Dobrynya's white breast; but he reflected:

"No honor shall I win, nor youthful praise, if I slay a sleeping man, who is no better than a dead one. Rather will I mount Dobrynya's good steed, and fight and contend with this Dobrynya on his own good steed."

So Alyósha mounted, and smote Dobrynya with the butt end of his spear. Thereupon the hero awakened from his sleep, and sprang quickly forth in his fine white shirt without a girdle, and without his shoes, grasped his heroic mace, and they two began to fight. Dobrynya leaped about on foot, but Alyósha rode Dobrynya's good steed. All day they contended eating nothing, all day they fought drinking nothing. Two more days and nights they fought.

Then came a clap of thunder, and mother earth began to quiver. When Ilyá of Múrom the Old Cossack heard that, he pondered: "'Tis Russian heroes in battle. Where contend they now, and fight r'

In haste he saddled his good steed, Cloudfall, with girth upon girth, saddlecloth on saddlecloth, felt on felt, and over all his little Cherkéssian saddle, with its girth of silk, saying to himself: "Not for dainty beauty is this, brothers, but for heroic strength." — They saw the good youth as he mounted, as he rode they saw him not nor knew whither his course was directed.

When Ilyá came to the lofty mountain, he beheld young Dobrynya and bold Alyósha in combat.

Then he seized Dobrynya in his right hand, bold Alyósha in his left, and shouted at the top of his voice: "Why contend ye, mighty Russian heroes?"

Alyósha answered: "Ah, thou Old Cossack, Ilyá of Múrom! How could I refrain from fighting? The tables were all laid in my pavilion, and viands set thereon; and this Dobrynya Nikitich cast to the earth and trampled under foot as much as he ate and drank, so that I was ashamed for the youth."

"I thank thee, Alyósha," spoke Ilyá, "for defending thine own." And to Dobrynya he said:

"And thou, Dobrynya Nikitich, my cross-brother in arms, why contendest thou?"

"Ilyá of Múrom, my brother in arms. Old Cossack! How was it possible not to fight? For this dog and robber had a lying inscription written: ' Whoso entereth this pavilion shall not issue thence alive,' and I desired to remain alive."

"I thank thee, Dobrynya," quoth the Old Cossack, "for that thou hast entered boldly into the dwelling of a stranger." And yet more said Little Ilyá.

"Calm now your heroic hearts, and call each other brother in arms, and swear brotherhood, with exchanging of crosses." Then he flattered and persuaded them, and they began not again to fight and contend, but swore brotherhood on the cross: Dobrynya called himself the elder brother, and Alyósha called himself the younger. And so they parted and came to Kief town.