Ilya of Murom and Falcon the Hunter

On the road to Kief town of courteous Prince Vladimir, stood a great barrier and strong — a force of seven mighty heroes, bold warriors all, and lesser knights.

The first was Ilyá of Múrom, our Old Cossack of the Don; the second Dobrynya Nikitich, the third Alyósha Popóvich, the fourth Churilo Plenkóvich, the fifth Mikáilo the Rover, the sixth and seventh the Agrikánof brothers. They pitched their pavilions, and slept until the white dawn.

The barrier was strong: no horseman galloped past nor wayfarer journeyed by, no wild beast crouched, no bird soared overhead; and if, by chance, a bird flew by, it dropped its feathers there.

There, late at even, passed young Falcon the Hunter. He asked no leave at the barrier, but leaped across, and roamed the open plain.

The next morning, right early, at dawn of day, our Cossack of the Don went out to the white court to refresh himself, and espied the traces of a horse's hoofs, the marks of a heroic ride and a black steed.

Then Ilyá entered again the white pavilion, and spoke these words: "Comrades, brothers, ye heroes stout and mighty!"What sort of a barrier is this of yours — what manner of stern fortress? But now I beheld the traces of a horse's gallop, of a heroic ride. Arm ye then, friends, for a sally into the open plain to seek the rash intruder."Then he began to hold a great council:

"It will not do, children, to send Váska Longskirt, for he will get entangled in his skirts in the encounter; nor Grishka the Noble, — for men of noble descent are boastful, and he will vaunt himself in the combat. Nor may Alyósha go against the unbidden visitor, for Alyósha is of popish descent, and popes' eyes are covetous, popes' hands pilferous; Alyósha will see the braggart's great store of gold and silver, and will covet them. Dobrynya Nikitich must go: if the knight be Russian, then shall Dobrynya swear brotherhood with him, but if he be an infidel knight, he shall challenge him to single combat."

Dobrynya sprang to his nimble feet, saddled and mounted his good steed, and rode forth to Father Sakátar river, by the blue sea. As he looked along the straight road, he beheld a knight riding before him, with youthful valor. The horse under the hero was like a wild beast; at each leap he compassed a verst, and the tracks he left were as large as a ram or a full-grown sheep. From that good steed's mouth flames flashed, from his nostrils sparks showered abroad, from his ears smoke curled in rings.

The helmet on the hero's head glowed like fire, and his horse's bridle darted rays; stars sprinkled from his stirrups, on his saddle stood the dawn, the morning dawn. At his left stirrup sprang a greyhound, and a dragon of the hills was also chained thereto. On his right stirrup perched a blue-gray eaglet, who sang and whistled without ceasing, caressing and diverting the hero. From shoulder to shoulder hopped a falcon clear, plucking his long locks from ear to ear.

The knight sat his good steed well, and diverted himself in noble wise, hurling his steel mace to the clouds, and catching it as it fell, in his white hands, without permitting it to touch the damp earth. As he thus played, he conjured his mace: "Lightly as I now whirl this mace aloft, even so lightly will I twirl Ilyá of Múrom."

Then Dobrynya shouted: "Ho, thou Falcon the Hunter! Turnest thou not back before our barrier?"

Cried Falcon, "'Tis not for thee to pursue me in the open plain! high time is it that thou wert in the village herding the swine."

At that heroic cry, the peaceful bays were troubled, the waters grew choked with sand. Dobrynya's charger sank to his knees, and Dobrynya fell to the damp earth, where he lay as in a heavy sleep for the space of about three hours. When he awoke from that swoon, he mounted his good steed, and, returning to the barrier, told Ilyá of Múrom all.

Said the old man: "There is none to take my place, the place of this turbulent old head."

Then saddled he his good charger Cloudfall, both quickly and stoutly, and sprang upon his back without touching the stirrups. On his saddle-strap hung his war-club, and its weight was ninety poods. On his hip rested his sharp sword, in his hand he held his silken whip. Thus armed he rode in pursuit of the knight to the Sorochinsky mountains, and looking through the circle of his young fist, he descried a black spot in the plain, and rode towards it.

"Thief! dog! braggart!" he shouted in piercing tones. "Why hast thou passed our barrier, doing no reverence to me, asking no leave?" When the braggart hunter heard that, he turned and rode at Ilyá; and Ilyá's heart died within him. — 'Twas not two threatening clouds which clashed, nor yet two mountains moved together, but two stout heroes who rode against each other.

First they fought with their maces, until these snapped short at the hilt, — and wounded one another not. Then they fought with their sharp swords, until these brake, — and wounded one another not; and so likewise with their sharp spears: and when these were shattered they lighted down from their good steeds, and fought hand to hand. All day they fought till even, till midnight, till the white dawn: — and so they did the second day, and likewise the third, and sank to their knees in the earth.

Then Ilyá waved his right hand, and his left foot slipped from under him. — 'Twas not a gray duck fluttering, but Ilyá falling to the damp earth like a stack of hay.

Falcon the Hunter planted himself upon Ilyá's white breast, snatched out his dagger of damascened steel, and would have pierced that white breast, closed Ilyá's clear eyes, and struck off his turbulent head, and plucked out his heart with his liver; but his arm was stiffened from the shoulder down, and he could not move it.

"O Lord!" said Ilyá: "It is written on my right hand that I shall not die in battle." And to Falcon he said: "O brave, good youth! tell me, from what land art thou, from what horde? Who are thy father and mother?"

Then the hunter began to curse: "Full time is it, thou old dog, that thou shouldest shave thy head, and go to a monastery!"

Ilyá's heroic heart grew hot at that, and his young blood boiled. He smote Falcon upon his black breast, and hurled him higher than the standing wood, yet lower than the flying clouds. When Falcon descended again to the damp earth, Ilyá leaped to his nimble feet, and sat upon the hunter's breast.

"Tell me now, good youth, thy land, thy horde, thy father's name."

"Sat I on thy white breast," the hunter answered, "so would I not inquire of thee thy name and country. But I would pierce thy white breast, and scan thy restive heart, and scatter thy white body over the plain, to be torn of the gray wolf, and picked by the black crows."

Then Ilyá inquired no further of him, but drew forth his dagger. The youth perceived that misfortune was close at hand, and answered;

"I come from the blue sea, from the palaces of gray stone, from mighty Zlatigórka; and my father I do not know. When I rode forth upon the open plain, my mother enjoined me to greet the Old Cossack, Ilyá of Múrom, if I should chance to meet him, but without approaching; to dismount from my good horse and do reverence to him, touching my forehead to the ground."

Then the old man felt compassion; for he knew now that this was his own Falcon, by that fierce Zlatigórka whom he had overcome in single combat, and to whom he had given his golden ring with an inscription, and set with a rich jewel. He took Falcon by his white hands, kissed his sugar lips, and called him his son, weeping greatly as he looked upon him. Then he blessed him with a great blessing.

"Ride, my child, my dear son, whither thou wilt, over the open plain, but shed no blood without cause, waste no strength in vain. And go now to the blue sea, to thy mother, and greet her lowly from me, from the Old Cossack Ilyá of Múrom. For shouldst thou fall into the hands of our Russian heroes, thou shouldst hardly escape thence alive."

The secret of his birth overwhelmed the good youth as a great misfortune, and he rode straightway to the blue sea, to the palaces of gray stone, to his mother.

When he came to the fair porch, he shouted with a great voice: "Ho there, thou bold and evil warrior-maid! Come forth to meet the good youth!"

So Zlatigórka came forth to meet him, bowing low, and saluting him. But Falcon met her with his sharp sword, and greeted her so that she fell there upon the fair porch. For he liked it not that he should be the son of a peasant, and of dishonor.

"I go now," quoth he, "to give that old dog over likewise to speedy death, for so dishonored I will not live."

Therewith, he wheeled his good charger about, and rode to the pavilion of white linen. There he fitted a burning shaft to his stout bow, and sent it at Ilyá's breast as he lay buried in sleep. But it glanced aside from the wondrous golden cross, three poods in weight, which Ilyá wore, and roused him from his slumber. He leaped forth from the tent all unclothed as he was, seized Falcon by his yellow curls, flung him upon the damp earth, cut out his little heart, and scattered his four quarters over the plain.

So Falcon's praise is sung, and Ilyá's glory is not diminished; and forever shall Ilyá be celebrated in song.