Hero Svyatogor

Hero Svyatogór saddled his good steed, and made ready to ride afield. As he traversed the open plain, he found none with whom to measure the strength which flowed so fiercely through his veins. Weighed down with might, as with a heavy burden, he spoke:

"Would there were a ring fixed in the heavens — I would drag them down! If there were but a pillar firm set in damp mother earth, and a ring made fast thereto, I would raise the whole earth and twist it round!"

And as he went his way over the wide steppe, he was aware of a traveller there, and rode after him, but could by no means overtake him. He rode at a trot, and the wayfarer was ever before him; — at full gallop, and the man stil went on before. Then cried the hero:

"Ho there, thou wayfarer! pause a little, for I cannot overtake thee on my good steed."

So the wayfarer halted, took a small pair of pouches from his shoulder and cast them on the damp earth.

"What hast thou in thy pouches T' said Svyatogór.

"Lift them from the earth, and thou shalt see," quoth the man.

Then Svyatogór sprang from his good steed, and seized the pouches with one hand, — and could not raise them. Then he essayed both hands; — a breath alone could pass beneath, but the hero was sunk to his knees in the earth, and blood, not tears, streamed down his white face.

"What lieth in thy wallet?" said Svyatogór then. "Lo! my strength hath not begun to fail me, yet I cannot lift this weight."

"The whole weight of the earth lieth therein," the man made answer.

"And who art thou? What art thou called, and what is thy patronymic?"

"I am Mikulushka Selyaninovich, the Villager's Son."

"Tell me then, Mikulushka, inform me, how I may know the fate decreed by God?"

"Ride on the straight way, until thou come to the fork of the road. At the parting of the way, turn to thy left hand, send thy horse at full speed, and thou shalt come to the Northern Mountains. In those mountains, beneath a great tree, standeth a smithy; and of the smith therein do thou inquire thy fate."

Then Svyatogór rode three days as he had been commanded, and so came to the great tree and the smithy, where stood the smith forging two fine hairs.

Quoth the hero: "What forgest thou, smith?" The smith made answer: "I forge the fates of those that shall wed."

"And whom shall I wed?"

"Thy bride is in the kingdom by the sea, in the royal city; thirty years hath she lain on the dungheap."

Then the hero stood and thought: "Nay: but I will go to that kingdom by the sea, and will slay my bride."

So he went to the royal city of that kingdom by the sea, and came to a miserable hut and entered. No one was there save a maiden lying on the dungheap; and her body was like the bark of fir-trees. Svyatogór drew forth five hundred rubles, and laid them on the table, and with his sharp sword, he smote her on her white breast. Then he departed from that kingdom, and the maiden woke and gazed about her. The fir-bark fell from her limbs, and she became a beauty such as was never seen in all the world nor heard of in the white world.

On the table lay the five hundred rubles, and with this money she began to trade. When she had accumulated untold treasure of gold, she built dark red ships, freighted them with precious wares and sailed forth upon the glorious blue sea. And when she was come to the great city, to the Holy Mountains, and began to barter her precious wares, the fame of her beauty spread through all the town and kingdom, and all men came to look upon her and marvel at her fairness. Hero Svyatogór came also to gaze upon her beauty — and loved her, and began to woo her for himself.

After they were married, he perceived a scar upon his wife's white bosom, and inquired of her: "What scar is that?"

And his wife made answer: "An unknown man came to our kingdom by the sea, and left five hundred rubles of gold in our hut. When I awoke, there was a scar upon my bosom, and the fir-bark had fallen away from my white body. For before that day, I had lain for thirty years upon the dungheap."

Then Svyatogór the hero knew that none may escape his fate, nor may any flee upon his good steed from the judgment of God.