Dobrynya and Alyosha

From beneath white curling beeches, and Levanídof the wonder-working cross, from beneath the holy relics of Boris, and white Alátyr stone, rose, rose and flowed, flowed and rolled, swift Mother Volgá river.

Broad and far ran Mother Volgá past Kazán, and broader yet by Astrakhan; many a river did our Mother Volgá flood receive into her bosom, and yet more brooks did she ingulf, A vast sweep she gave at Dalinsky, along the lofty mountains of Sorochinsky and Smolensk's gloomy forests; in a bed of three thousand versts she ran, and fell into the Caspian Sea, through seventy mouths: — and broad is her flood at Nóvgorod. And this, brothers, is no fable, no play of words: neither is it Dobrynya's tale, which shall straightway find beginning.

— Dobrynya went to royal Kief town, where courteous Prince Vladimir had made an honorable feast to his princes, nobles, heroes, and warrior-maids.

The long day drew towards evening, the honorable feast waxed merry, the fair sun sank to the west. And the feast grew ever merrier, and the heroes began to boast of many things, — the wise man of his father and mother, the foolish of his young wife. Vladimir the Prince grew warm as ' he paced the banquet-hall, and he went forth upon the fair round porch to gaze off on the open plain.

Far, afar over the open plain, the clear falcon flew not, nor fled the small white hare; the little ermine galloped not, weaving the prints of his small pretty paws. But from the verge of the plain a bold and goodly youth emerged, — little Ilyá, the glorious, of Múrom, — rode straight to Prince Vladimir's court, and entered the banquet-hall.

He crossed himself, and did reverence as enjoined, to all four sides, and seated himself at the oaken board in the great corner of honor, on the bench of precious fishes' teeth. Already had the guests tasted bread and salt, and now were carving the white swan, when Vladimir came into the hall, stroked his black curls, and spoke:

"Ho, ye princes, nobles, strong and mighty heroes all, and all ye bold warrior-maids! stand for the Christian faith, for me, your Prince Vladimir, and for my Princess Apráxia, for widows, orphans, and unhappy women! Whom shall we send to defend the mighty barrier, and wage battle with the Discourteous Knight? For he hath written me a challenge to single combat, and is now flying hither in form of a raven. Whom shall we send to fight that raven, and to collect tribute of the Golden Horde which hath been due us these twelve years and a half, to visit the disobedient hordes, and clear the straight roads to the stern King Etmanyla Etmanylovich, to beat back the white-eyed Finns, to exterminate the Circassians of Pyatigórsk, the Kalmyks and Tatars?"

AU at the feast held their peace, each hiding behind some lesser man. Then glorious Ilyá of Múrom, that bold and goodly youth, stepped forward, and stood firm upon his nimble feet, and bowed low until his white face touched his feet.

"Foolish are ye, Russian heroes, to hold your peace thus, uttering no word! Not long is it, brothers, since I returned from the open plain. I have dwelt upon the Sorochinsky road, at the heroic ditch of defence, contending in single combat and waging battle these twelve years. Thither flew the Discourteous Knight in form of a black raven, but would not show himself to my eyes; else would I have slain that dog of a churl with my stout bow. But if I go, there will be none to defend the barrier. Let us therefore send young Dobrynya Nikitich."

Then Dobrynya drained a cup of green wine which Prince Vladimir himself brought him, but tarried not long at the feast, going thence in uncheerful mood. When he came to his mother he wept bitterly.

"Fair my lady mother," he lamented, "why didst thou bear me in an unpropitious hour, without genius, strength, great beauty, or tall stature, great wealth, or curling hair? Rather shouldest thou, fair and honorable widow, Afímya Alexandrovna, my mother, have wrapped my turbulent head in a sleeve of white linen, and cast me like a white pebble into the black Turkish sea. Then I should have lain at the bottom of the sea like a precious stone; the stormy winds would not have blown upon me, and I should not have roamed through Holy Russia, shedding innocent blood, causing tears to fathers and mothers, and making little children orphans."

Then his mother made answer: "Gladly would I have borne thee with the genius and fortune of Ilyá of Múrom, the strength of Hero Svyatogór, the mincing gait of Churilo Plenkóvich, the beauty of Osip Most Fair, the daring of Alyósha Popóvich, the wealth of Sadkó the merchant of Nóvgorod, the fame of Volgá Buslaevich, the curls of the Tzar Kudrydnisha. But to Dobrynya God gave courtesy alone; and other gifts were not bestowed upon thee."

He said to her: "Fair and good my mother, thy youth hath neither good steed nor heroic trappings."

"Go through the first unused stable, Dobrynya," his mother answered him, "and in the second choose for thyself a good, well-broken steed. And if none there shall please thee, descend into the deep vault where standeth a good heroic steed bound with twelve silver chains, with twelve fine bits of silk, — not of our silk, but of the silk of Samarcand, which weareth not nor teareth. There lie also heroic trappings and all caparisons meet for a youth."

Dobrynya inquired no further. He sprang to his nimble feet, ran to the first stable, found there no horse that pleased him, and in the second none likewise, and so descended to the deep vault. There he beheld a goodly steed, and fell down before his right fore-foot.

"Thou good heroic steed," he cried, "thou hast served my father and grandfather; serve now also Dobrynya on his heroic quests." Then he unchained and loosed the horse, and saddled him, girding him with twelve girths of the silk of Samarcand, the indestructible, and a thirteenth for heroic strength, lest the good steed should spring from under the saddle and throw the good youth upon the open plain.

After that he arrayed himself. Under the heels of his shoes of green morocco, studded with golden pins, sparrows might fly; from their awl-like beaks an egg might roll; his cap was gilded, — not for youthful grace, but for heroic might. Next he put on a coat of mail, not heavy (in weight but ninety poods), and set his foot in the stirrup of damascened steel. — More lightly than a hare he sprang — more sharply than a little ermine turned, seated himself in the Cherkéssian saddle, and came to the palace of white stone, to his mother, and said: "Give me thy leave to ride upon this heroic quest."

So his fair, good mother laid the cross of blessing on him, and led to his left stirrup his beloved wife, young Nastásya Mikúlichna, and having bade him farewell, went into the palace and wept bitter tears, wiped them away with a fair linen cloth, and said: "The warm and fair red sun which made my midsummer hath set behind the gloomy forests and lofty hills, behind mosses and wide lakes: and now the bright moon alone lighteth me: young Nastásya, my son's bride, alone tarrieth with me."

Young Nastásya, as she stood by his.stirrup, began to inquire of him: "Ai, my dearest Dobrynya Nikitich! when may I expect thee from the open field? Tell me when I may await thee from yonder lands."

"I will tell thee, fair Nastásya. Three years shalt thou wait for Dobrynya; if in that time I am not here, then wait yet another three. And when that space of six years is past, and I am not returned from the open field, wait for me three years more, and yet three years. And if after twelve years I come not, then shall I not be among the living. Then live a widow, or marry, at thy pleasure. Choose a prince, a noble, or a mighty Russian hero. But wed not with my brother in arms, Alyósha Popóvich, that scoffer at women. For a brother in arms is worse than an own brother. Therefore, marry a robber or a brigand if thou list, but not Alyósha, the scorner of maidens: for he loveth to mock at women, young widows, and fair maids."

— They saw the good youth as he mounted, they saw him not as he rode: from the court he departed not by the gates, he traversed the plain not by the highway. His steed's first leap was over the city walls, the second compassed three versts, and of the thhd leap no trace could be found evermore.

— Year followed year as the falcon flieth. Three years Nastásya waited, and Dobrynya came not.

But Alyósha Popóvich was cunning. He rode forth into the open plain, and after that turned back and came to Nastásya.

"Lo, Nastásya Mikúlichna!" quoth he: "as I roamed the open plain but yesterday, I saw Dobrynushka dead. He lieth with his head in a willow bush, his nimble feet amid the plume-grass tall; in his yellow curls small wood birds have woven their nests; Polish ravens have plucked out his clear eyes; silken grass springeth through his white breast, and amid it azure flowerets blossom. His weapons are scattered, his good steed roameth the plain, and his wife still liveth a widow. Therefore, lady, wed now with me."

"Nay, Alyósha Popóvich," Nastásya answered, "thou hast not been on the open plain; thou hast but wandered with the dogs in the outskirts of the town."

— Day followed after day, as the rain doth fall, week grew on week as groweth the grass, and hke the river, year flowed after year. Six full years passed. Alyósha came again to the palace of white stone, did reverence and crossed himself as enjoined, seated himself upon the wall-bench, and began to woo young Nastásya for his bride.

"Now marry me, a goodly youth, Nastásya! Dobrynya will never more return from the open plain."

"Ai, bold Alyósha Popóvich! I have kept a man's oath, and now will I keep a woman's. If in twelve years Dobrynya return not, then I shall be free to live a widow or to wed. But thee, Alyósha, I may never wed."

Then Alyósha was not merry, and said: "Thou mayest turn and strive thy uttermost, but none other wilt thou get for a husband; and so shalt thou wed with me."

Thereupon he went forth from the palace of white stone; and time passed on until the full term of years was accomplished.

Again he came to woo with Fair Sun Prince Vladimir, and sat upon the wall-bench as before.

"Marry me now, young Nastásya Mikúlichna," said he.

"I will not marry thee," she answered.

The Fair Sun Prince Vladimir spoke: "Young Nastásya Mikúlichna, if thou wed not bold Alyósha Popóvich, I will shut thee up in a nunnery; I will give thee in marriage to Murza the Tatar in the Lithuanian land; I will make thee my cowherd."

But she still made answer: "Nay, I will not wed bold Alyósha."

Then they said: "If thou wit not do this freely, we will take thee by force." Thereupon they took her by her white hands, led her to the cathedral, and betrothed her to bold Alyósha. After that, Fair Sun Vladimir took their hands and led them to his palace, where he made for Alyósha a great banquet, and an honorable feast, and bade to it many of all degrees. And the honorable widow Afímya Alexandrevna wailed: "Now hath my bright moon set also!"

— Now Dobrynya had gone to the Golden Horde, and had fought for royal Kief and his native land all those years, wandering far through many countries. When Nastásya married Alyósha, he was far away upon the open plain, beyond the glorious blue sea. As the good youth sat in his tent, diverting himself with chess, upon a board of gold, he knew not of the misfortune which had befallen him. Then flew thither a dove and his mate, perched upon a damp oak, and began to coo:

"There is feasting to-day in Kief town, for Dobrynya's young wife is wedded to Alyósha Popóvich."

When Dobrynya heard that, he sprang to his nimble feet, and flung his golden board upon the damp earth, whereat mother earth quaked. Then he saddled his good steed with haste, fell down before his right fore-foot, and besought him:

"Ai, my good steed Fly-alone! Thou hast borne me hither in three years. Now bear me home in three hours to royal Kief town."

Then he mounted his good steed, and quickly, quickly, very, very quickly, with speed, rode Dobrynya from beyond the blue sea. Good Fly-alone left the earth; higher than the standing wood he soared, yet lower than the flying clouds. He leaped the lakes and rivers, dashed through the dusky forests, galloped round the dark blue sea, — afar in the open plain, 'twas not the first light snow descending, nor a white hare coursing fleet, nor snowy partridge fluttering, but a bold and goodly youth swift riding. Straight to Kief town he rode; not through the gates, but over the city walls, past the angled towers, he entered, and took his way to the honorable widow's dwelling. He asked no leave of the porters at the gate, nor of the keepers at the doors. Thrusting them aside, he broke open the portals, and entered unbidden, unannounced, and boldly, the honorable widow's dwelling. "Hail, honorable widow, Afímya Alexandrevna!" he said when he had crossed himself and done reverence as was the usage.

The porters and door-keepers, entering, made complaint of the bold youth, and the widow said:

"Why, bold and goodly youth, hast thou entered the orphaned dwelling unannounced? Were my dear child living, young Dobrynya Nikitich, he would have cut off thy turbulent head for thine unmannerly ways. Were he but alive, all the drunken boors would not come to jeer at this unprotected dwelling. But twelve years have passed since my fair red sun set forever."

"Mournest thou not in vain?" said Dobrynya. "But yesterday I parted from Dobrynya, and not a week hath passed over since we exchanged crosses. He went to Tzargrád, and I came to Kief. He bade me, his own brother, inquire for his dear wife, young Nastásya. Where is she?"

"Go forth, thou pot-house boor, and mock not a poor old woman! Though I already totter with extreme old age, yet will I myself put thee out by force."

"Ai, my fair lady mother," answered young Dobrynya. "Knowest thou not thy beloved son, young Dobrynya Nikitich?"

"Young Dobrynya had shoes of morocco upon his feet, but thine, thou sot, are torn and patched. Dobrynya's face was white and red, — thine is dark and dust-begrimed. His eyes were clear as the sea falcon's, but thine are troubled. Young Dobrynya had yellow locks, curling in three tiers upon his head, — thine hang upon thy shoulders. Upon his curls rested a fair new cap, and his raiment was flowered; but thy garments are rent and pieced."

"My garments have become worn in these twelve years past, fair my lady mother; my shoes are rubbed through on my stirrups, my white face the fierce heats have discolored, and my cap hath been soaked with frequent rains."

"If thou be indeed young Dobrynya, my son, thou hast a birthmark upon thy right breast."

Then Dobrynya showed her the mark. His mother heeded not her age, but ran and caught him by his white hands, and kissed his sugar mouth, calling him her beloved son.

"Where now is my young wife?" he asked.

"Where is Nastásya, that she cometh not to meet me, returning from the open plain?"

"The clear falcon hath flown into my court, but the white swan hath fluttered forth from it," his mother answered, and told him all Alyósha's treachery, and how it was now the third day of the wedding feast.

"Fetch quickly my minstrel's garment, which lieth upon the table in the new chamber, and my little gúsly of maple-wood, from the peg in the cellar."

Then he arrayed himself in haste, and strung his harp, and took his way to the palace of white stone, where the wedding guests were making merry.

The gate-keepers had been strictly charged to admit no one, but when Dobrynya gave them gold they permitted him to go in to the feast.

When he was come to the banquet-hall, he crossed himself, and did reverence on all sides, and in particular to the Prince and Princess, and to young Nastásya Mikúlichna.

"Fair Sun, Prince of royal Kief," he said, "is there not a little place and small for the little jester, where he may play upon his harp?"

"Ai, little minstrel!" said Prince Vladimir, "all the places are filled; but there is yet a small place upon the earthen oven — the minstrel's place."

Dobrynya was agile of foot: lightly he sprang upon the oven, and tuned his harp. One string he tuned to Kief, one to Tzargrád, and the third to Jerusalem; and the tones he sang were from over the sea; but the theme was Dobrynya's adventures, and the men of Kief town.

"Ho, little minstrel," quoth Prince Vladimir, "thy place is not upon the oven. Come hither. Three places are thine to choose: the first is beside me, the second over against me, and the third is where thou wilt."

Then Dobrynya seated himself opposite bold Alyósha and the young Princess Nastásya, and said to Vladimir:

"Fair Sun, grant me to pour out a cup of green wine, in measure a bucket and a half, in weight a pood and a half, and bear to whom I will."

"Thy song was great," said Prince Vladimir, "and the solace thereof was sweet. Pour the green wine without measure, take golden treasure without stint!"

So Dobrynya poured a great cup of wine, dropped therein his marriage ring, and gave to Nastásya.

"Drink to the bottom, young Princess Nastásya, and thou shalt see good: and if thou drink not to the bottom, thou shalt not see good."

Then Nastásya took the cup in one hand, and drained it at a draught, and lo! she beheld the ring with which she had wedded Dobrynya.

"Fair Sun Prince Vladimir," she said, "not he that sitteth beside me is my husband, but he that sitteth over against me, that little minstrel, young Dobrynya Nikitich."

Thereupon she rose to her nimble feet, put her little white hands upon the oaken board, and vaulted over, fell upon Dobrynya's white breast, and kissed his sugar mouth.

"The proverb saith — ' A man goeth to the forest for wood, and his wife doth wed straightway!' Take thy silken whip, therefore, Dobrynya, and beat me."

But Dobrynya answered, "I marvel not at thee, woman; as 'tis said, ' a woman's hair is long, but her wits are short.' But at Prince Vladimir, the Fair Sun, I do marvel, — that he should woo the wife of a living husband for another man, and should compel her to wed when she would not willingly. And yet more do I marvel at my brother in arms, bold Alyósha Popóvich. Yestere'en was but a week that Alyósha saw me in the open plain; and now the younger brother hath taken away the elder brother's wife."

Then he seized Alyósha by the yellow curls, dragged him over the oaken table, hurled him upon the brick floor, and began to beat him with his little cudgel of ninety poods; and when he was done, he flung Alyósha under the wall-bench. Quoth he, "' Any man may marry,' saith the proverb, ' but not with every man doth it go well! '" Then the guests were all terrified and fled.

And Dobrynya took his young wife by her white hands, and led her to his palace of white stone. Thenceforward he rode upon no quest, but dwelt in Kief town; but Alyósha went, with shame and grief, to a strange and distant land.

And Dobrynya's fame, and the fame of that feast, have been sung since that day, and shall be so forever, and forevermore.