Ilya of Murom and Tzar Kalin

At courteous Prince Vladimir's palace in royal Kief town, an honorable feast was assembled of many princes, all the nobles, the mighty heroes and their bold body-guards, and all the merchant-traders.

The Fair Sun made good cheer; to one he gave cities, to another towns, to this man villages, to that one hamlets. And to Ilyá he gave a cloak of marten skins, with a collar of sables. But the cloak came not into honor with Ilyá nor into praise. He bare that cloak of marten''skins to the kitchen, dragged it about the brick floor by one sleeve, and began to say to it:

"I will drag about that serpent, Tzar Kálin, by his yellow curls, as I drag this cloak of marten skins. As I pour green wine upon this cloak, even so will I pour out his hot heart, with its seething blood."

But a black-visaged maid bore this saying to the Fair Sun Prince Vladimir. Ilyá hath been in my kitchen,"she said;" he hath dragged his mantle of marten about, and hath said that even so he would also drag Vladimir by his yellow curls.

And he hath poured green wine upon the mantle, and declared that even so he would pour out Prince Vladimir's burning heart with his own white hands."

Then was Prince Vladimir very wroth, and shouted in his thundering voice:

"Ye mighty heroes! lead Ilyá to our dungeon, and set an iron grating there; pie trunks of oak trees on all sides, and heap over all yellow sand."

The heroes went and told Ilyá. all, and besought him to help them in this strait, else would Prince Vladimir overwhelm them with his displeasure. So Ilyá mounted his good steed, and rode willingly with them to the dungeon. There he dismounted from his good Cloudfall, took off the Cherkéssian saddle and plaited bridle, and let his brown horse wander free at God's good will.

Then he descended into the dungeon, and the heroes made all fast as Prince Vladimir had commanded.

"When the Princess Apráxia heard of that, she dug a deep passage, and carried sugar viands and mead to Ilyá of Múrom the Old Cossack. There Ilyá sat for the space of three years. And it came to the ears of the Dragon Tzar Kálin.

Then Kálin the Tzar assembled a great host from the Golden Horde, to ride against Kief town, to take the Princess Apráxia for his wife. Each of the forty Tzars and Tzaróviches, the forty Kings and Princes, had a company of forty thousand men. They stood along swift-flowing Mother Dniepr, and about Kief town on all sides, a hundred versts well told.

That dog Tzar Kálin seated himself on his faldstool, and wrote in haste a cartel, with a swan-quill pen, and pure gold in place of ink, upon crimson velvet. Then he chose his best and favorite runner, gave him the cartel, and commanded him in these words:

"Go thou to Kief town; enter not by the white oak gates, but leap the city wall; bind not thy horse, but enter straight the palace of white stone; open the door wide, but close it not again; do no reverence to Vladimir, neither take thou thy cap from thy head. But take thy stand over against him, fling this cartel upon the golden table, and say to Prince Vladimir: ' Take this cartel, and look what is written there. Clean all thine arrow-straight streets, remove the wondrous crosses from God's temples, and build horse-stalls in the churches; for our good steeds shall be stabled there. 'And clean out all thy palaces of white stone, for our host is great. And brew sweet intoxicating liquors; let cask stand upon cask in close array. For Kálin the Tzar and his great host shall stand in thy city of Kief; and he shall wed the Princess Apráxia.'"

All this was done as Kálin had commanded;

and when Prince Vladimir had read the cartel he wrote a submissive letter in reply: "Thou hound and Tzar Kálin! Grant me a truce of three months to clean the streets and palaces, and to brew the sweet liquors."

And Kálin granted the truce.

Prince Vladimir began to pace to and fro with bitterness; he dropped burning tears from his clear eyes, and wiped them away with a silken kerchief, and said:

"Ilyá of Múrom the Old Cossack is no more; there is none to fight for our faith and fatherland, for the church of God and the city of Kief; there is none to defend Prince Vladimir."

Then spake the Princess: "Little father! command thy trusty servants to go to the deep dungeon and" see whether Ilyá be not yet alive."

"Thou foolish princess!" Vladimir made answer. "If I take thy turbulent head from thy shoulders, will it grow again? How can the bold gold youth be living after these three years?"

Nevertheless he went himself to the dungeon, and found Ilyá with sweet viands, cushions of down, and warm coverlets, reading the Holy Gospel. He bowed to the earth before Ilyá, and besought him to defend them all, not for his own sake, but for pity of the windows and orphans. Then he took the Old Cossack by his little white hands, by his golden ring, led him to his own table, and gave him to eat and drink of the best.

So Ilyá saddled his good steed,' and sallied forth. They saw the good youth as he mounted, they saw him not as he rode. There was but a smoke-wreath on the open plain, and springs of water burst forth where good Cloudfall's hoofs beat the earth. He leaped to the crest of a lofty mountain, and the Old Cossack gazed upon all sides, hoping to descry the absent Russian heroes.

In the east he espied white pavilions, for Alyósha Popóvich was come to the oak Nevída, to the cross Levanídof, to the white stone Alátyr. He had pitched a snowy tent, shaken out fine wheat for his good steed, planted a staff of twenty fathoms, and on it hung a golden tassel, — not for beauty and splendor, but as a heroic signal, that the accursed Tatars might know that Alyósha Popóvich stood on guard in the open plain.

From afar, very far, came also Dobrynya Nikitich to the oak, the cross, the stone, pitched his pavilion, and displayed two tassels; and so the other heroes did likewise. Then came Ilyá placed three golden tassels on his staff, flung the silken reins on his steed's neck that the good beast might gather up a little of the wheat, and entered the white pavilion, where twelve heroes of Holy Russia were sitting at meat.

All rose and kissed, and bade him welcome heartily. Then they sat down again to eat and drink, and Ilyá announced his errand.

But his godfather, Samson Samóilovich, made answer: "Nay, my beloved godson! but we will not saddle our horses to defend Kief town, Vladimir, and his Princess. For lo! he hath many princely nobles, to whom he giveth meat and drink and guerdon, while we have nothing from Prince Vladimir:."

"It will be the worse for thee," quoth Ilyá; and so they wrangled.

Meanwhile Vladimir wrapped himself in his mantle furred with marten, and paced to and fro in Kief town. For the truce was nearly expired, and the heroes were not come. As he thus walked the streets, his nephew, young Yermák Timoféevich, sprang forth from the royal pot-house, and entreated Vladimir that he might have a heroic steed, a coat of chain mail of ninety poods, and a mace of equal weight, so that he might ride against the hostile host.

"Thou art but a braggart child," quoth Vladimir, "and hast never taken a mace in thy hand."

"If thou grant not the horse, uncle, I will go on foot."

So Vladimir yielded, and bade Yermák choose what horse he would from the stable, where he should also find what armor he required. Thither went the youth in all haste; but the chain mail was so rusty, that he flung it down upon the brick floor, whereupon all the rust flew from it.

Then Yermák saddled a good horse, and rode to the barrier by the Nevída oak, and found the twelve heroes playing checkers upon a board of gold, and Ilyá asleep upon a couch of fishes' teeth, beneath a coverlet of sables.

Yermák was vexed, and shouted with all his strength: "Ho there, thou Old Cossack, Ilyá Múrometz! Yonder in Kief there is bread to eat in plenty, but no one to defend the town."

Then said the Old Cossack: "Climb into the damp oak, oak, young Yermák, and reckon yon host by the standards."

Yermák climbed the damp oak, viewed the vast host, and saw that it was sallying forth: damp mother earth trembled and bent under the weight thereof.

— The gray wolf could not skirt that force in a long spring day; the black raven could not fly about it in the longest day of summer, nor would the longest light of autumn suffice for the gray bird to fly over.it.

Then Yermák leaped quickly from the damp oak, sprang upon his good steed, and rode straightway against that host. The heroes sat on in the white pavilion. Ilyá slept three days and nights.

During that space, young Yermák contended alone with the Tatars, pausing not to eat nor to drink, nor to let his good steed rest.

"Mount the damp oak, Dobrynya," spoke Ilyá when he awoke. "Perchance young Yermák hath fallen thence."

From the tree-top Dobrynya beheld the vast host, and something more: not the black raven flying, not the bright falcon soaring, but that bold and goodly youth Yermák galloping against those infidels. This he told to Ilyá.

"Rise, ye Russian heroes!" shouted the Old Cossack then. "Mount your good steeds, and sally forth against that host. And take iron grappling-hooks, catch them in young Yermák,k's shoulders, and persuade him: ' Thou hast breakfasted to-day, now let us dine.' For the young lad will perish, and will never attain to herohood."

So Alyósha went forth with stout grappling-irons; but thrice did young Yermák break away from them, and Alyósha returned to the pavilion. And so it fared also with Dobrynya. Then Ilyá went himself. He sat his charger like a century-old oak, wavering not, and caught hold of Yermák. "Calm thy heroic heart," he said, "we will labor now."

As the clear falcon swoopeth down upon the geese and swans, and small gray migratory ducks, so swooped the Holy Russian hero upon that Tatar horde, and began to trample the host under his horse's hoofs, and to lay them low, as a mower cutteth down the grass.

Then Cloudfall conjured him with human tongue: "Ai, thou mighty Russian hero! Boldly hast thou attacked this vast host, but thou mayest not overcome it. For that hound. Tzar Kálin hath many great heroes and bold warrior-maids; and moreover, he hath dug three great trenches in the open plain. If thou ride against that horde, we shall fall into those trenches. Out of the first I may leap and bear thee, and likewise out of the second. But out of the third I may not bear thee, and though I leap forth, thou wilt remain in the ditch. For I watched them dig the trenches whilst thou wert sleeping, and so watching had no time to eat my wheat."

This discourse pleased not the Old Cossack. He grasped his silken whip in his white hands, and beat the horse upon his flanks. "Thou treacherous hound!" quoth he. "I feed and water thee, and yet thou wilt abandon me in the deep ditches of the open plain!"

So he heeded not good Cloudfall's warning, but rode on, destroying the host with his spear and his horse's hoofs; and his strength was not diminished.

When he fell into the first trench, his good steed bore him out in safety. Again he rode, and came to the second ditch; and from that also he -,

escaped. From the third, heroic Cloudfall leaped

nimbly (but bore not Ilyá with him), and fled far

afield.

Then the accursed Tatars fell upon the Old Cossack, fettered his nimble feet, bound his white hands, and led him to where Tzar Kálin sat in his linen pavilion.

"Ai, thou Old Cossack, Ilyá of Múrom!" quoth Tzar Kálin. "How should a young puppy prevail alone against my great host?"

And to his guards he said:

"Unbind Ilyá's white hands, unfetter his nimble feet." And it was done.

"Now sit thou at one table with me, Ilyá; eat my sweet viands, drink my mead, put on my flowered apparel. Marry my daughter, and serve not Prince Vladimir, but be vassal to me, the Tzar Kálin."

"Had I my sharp sword by me, thou dog, Kálin the Tzar, it should woo thy neck!" Ilyá answered. "None of these things will I do. But I will uphold the temples of God, the Princess Apráxia and Prince Vladimir, and the city of Kief"

Then he heard a voice from heaven say, "Lift up thy hands, Ilyá." So he lifted them, and smote off Tzar Kálin's turbulent head, and going forth from the pavilion, he began to destroy the Tatars; and none opposed him. But he perceived that the task was not small, and so seized a Tatar by the heels, and began to beat the Tatars with a Tatar. "This Tatar is stout," quoth Ilyá, "he breaketh not; he is tough, and teareth not."

When he was come to the open plain, he flung the Tatar far from him, and blew a heroic blast on his aurochs horn; for his clear eyes were dimmed, his hot heart burned, and he could distinguish neither the white day nor the black night. His heroic steed heard that ringing blast, and galloped to his master from afar.

Then Ilyá mounted him, and rode forthwith to a lofty mountain, and gazed to the eastward, where the heroic steeds stood beside the white pavilions. He lighted down from off his horse, fitted a fiery arrow to his stout bow, and conjured it: "Fly, little dart aflame, to yonder white pavilion! Tear off the roof, pierce the white breast of my brother in arms, make a small scratch — not large. For he sleepeth, and taketh his ease, while I stand here alone, and can do but little."

The shaft sped straight to the white breast of Samson Samóilovich, and roused that glorious hero of Holy Russia from his heavy sleep. When he opened his eyes, and beheld that the roof of his tent was gone, and a little dart had flown into his breast, he sprang quickly to his nimble feet.

"Ho there, my mighty heroes of Holy Russia!" he shouted. "Saddle now your good steeds in haste, and mount with speed. An unwelcome messenger is come from my brother in arms, — a little dart. — Had it not been for the cross of six poods upon my breast, my turbulent head had been torn away."

Eight quickly then did those Holy Russian heroes saddle their chargers, and ride towards Kief town, and Ilyá went down from the lofty mountain to meet the twelve. And all thirteen heroes rode against the Tatar horde.

For five hours these good youths mowed down young and old, leaving not so much as a single soul to continue the race. And when they were come together again in one place, they began to boast, and to say: "If there were a ladder to heaven, we would climb it, and destroy all the heavenly host!" Then they began again to slay the Tatars: when lo! two, yea even three, rose up in place of every man they killed.

Then those mighty Russian heroes began to turn their arms against each other, to pierce and hew each other, so that of all those Russian warriors there was left alive only young Yermák Timoféevich. When Yermák returned to Kief town, courteous Prince Vladimir inquired of him; "How shall I reward thee now, beloved nephew mine? Wilt thou have estates, or golden treasure?"

And young Yermák made answer: "Grant me only, uncle, that I may drink beer and wine without price in all the pot-houses." And so Vladimir granted it.

But Ilyá of Múrom the Old Cossack of the Don was caught away from those accursed Tatars, and with his good heroic Cloudfall was turned to stone. And the bones of the Old Cossack have become holy relics.

And so the race of Russian heroes came to an end forever.