Chapter V

ILYÁ OF MÚROM AND NIGHTINGALE THE ROBBER.

The green oak bows not down to the earth,
Leaves of paper do not grow.

Ilyá had made up his mind to go to Kiev town to seek service with the gracious Prince Vladímir, but before setting out on that long journey he wished to see his father again and ask for his blessing, so he rode back to Múrom and to his old home. He found his old father there and greeted him, saying:

“Come thou, my own dear Father! I am here to ask for thy blessing. I go to glorious, royal Kiev town to pray at the sanctuary of Kiev and to pledge myself to Vladímir the Prince, to serve him in faith and in truth, and to uphold the Christian faith.”

The old farmer Iván blessed Ilyá and said:

“I give thee my blessing for the good work, but for evil work no blessing I give. Go thou on the right road, and do no harm to any woman whether she be Christian or Tartar.”

Ilyá of Múrom bowed to the earth before his father, and said farewell to his mother and his sisters and brothers, and then he mounted his good horse and rode through the open plain. With his whip he struck his horse on the curved hind quarter and his restive steed was wroth and suddenly sprang from the earth and bounded higher than an upright tree, almost as high as a moving cloud. At the first bound he passed twelve miles, at the second bound he came to a well. By the well Ilyá cut down a green oak tree, and beside the well he built a small chapel, and upon the chapel he wrote his name,

ILYÁ OF MÚROM, SON OF IVÁN,

so that if some strong and mighty hero should ride that way, he should know the name of the builder of that chapel.

At the third bound Ilyá’s horse brought him to the town of Chérnigov. Near Chérnigov there stood a countless host of Tartars, and at their head were three Princes, each with the strength of forty thousand. On seeing this vast horde the hero’s heart grew hot within him, and he could not control his longing to fight. His heart was filled with fires, and it burned too as if scorched by frost. Then he spoke and said:

“I desire not to go against my father’s wish, or knowingly to disregard his command.”

Then he took in his hand his battle-sword and taught it to take a walk through the army. Where he turned, it opened out a street, and when he turned round there was a great open space. Ilyá made his way to the three princes, and spoke thus to them:

“Come, my three king’s sons! Shall I take you away as prisoners, or shall I cut off your warlike heads? If I take you away as prisoners, I must travel over roads that I know not and must carry bread, but if I take off your heads the kingly race will be destroyed. If you will go home to your own country, you will spread such report of me that it will be known all over Russia, and you will tell it everywhere that in Holy Russia there are strong and mighty heroes.”

The Governor of Chérnigov saw Ilyá and said:

“This Lord has vanquished our tyrant and cleansed our glorious city of Chérnigov,” and he spoke to his princes and nobles and said:

“Go ye and call in this goodly hero to eat bread and salt with me.”

And the princes and nobles came forth to greet Ilyá of Múrom and said:

“Come now, thou stalwart and goodly hero, and tell us by what honoured name thou art called, and what is thy renowned father’s name?”

“They call me by the name of Ilyá, but I am honoured as the son of Iván,” said Ilyá.

“Come, Ilyá of Múrom,” said the princes and nobles, “come to our Governor, he sends us to invite thee to eat bread and salt with him.”

But Ilyá wished to be on the way to Kiev and answered with little ceremony:

“I will not come to your Governor; I wish not to eat bread and salt with him. Show me the straight road to glorious, royal Kiev town.”

So they had to let him go on his way, and they showed him the straight road to Kiev across the open plain.

Farther, farther upon on the open plain waves the feather grass in the breeze, and there upon the open plain, among old folk, mothers and men, rode the Old Cossack, Ilyá of Múrom, and the horse he rode was like a fierce wild beast and he himself like a bright falcon.

Now the old hero carried no money, only seven thousand golden ducats had he with him, and of small money, forty thousand pieces. And the horse the hero rode was priceless. Why was the hero’s horse priceless? Because these was no price for the horse.

When he came to a river he looked for no ford. Now the river was a full mile wide, but the good steed leapt from bank to bank. Then Ilyá saw a village near by and the villagers—brigands, as we say in our Russian tongue—rode out after the hero. They swept round him and tried to rob him, tried to part him from his life and soul.

Then said Ilyá of Múrom, son of Iván:

“Oh come, brother villagers, no reason have ye to kill an old man like me. And ye shall take nothing from the old man.”

He took from his saddle his tough bow and brought out from his quiver a sharp arrow. He bent his bow and fitted the arrow to the silken string, and shot—not at the village folk—brigands though they were—for he would have been loth to slay them, but he shot at the green oak tree; and the bowstring sang in the tough bow, the villagers fell from their horses, the arrow struck the crackling green oak tree and shattered the oak into chips and shavings. By this heroic deed of thunder the brigand villagers were filled with fear, and for five hours they lay without sense, and Ilyá made sport of them.

“Come, come, good youths, you village brigands! Why do you lie half the night there upon the damp earth? Why go off to sleep and sleep half the night? On my way here I passed many people both on horseback and on foot; you have let many a good chance escape you.”

The goodly youths stood up upon their nimble feet and threw themselves at Ilyá’s feet and said:

“O thou brave hero! come and join our band and be thou our chieftain.”

The good hero, Ilyá of Múrom, answered them:

“I desire not to join your band; I am on my way to Kiev town, to Vladímir the Prince, to help him, and to fight and defend him.”

The bold hero rode on through the open plain till he came to a pillar of white oak. On the pillar this writing was written:

“To ride straight on—only five hundred miles,
But making a round—seven hundred miles.”

Ilyá looked at this writing and said:

“If I ride straight, I shall cease to live; this way I can neither ride nor walk nor fly. Nightingale the Robber sits in his nest upon the seven oaks, and the robber-dog will seize me at the seventh mile.”

Ilyá stood still to think what he should do.

“The straight horse-road is broken up, the little bridge of white hazel is broken down. It would be no honour to me, or glory to my knighthood to ride by that roundabout way. It is better to ride by the straight road.”

At once he got down from his good steed; with one hand he led his horse, while with the other he put planks across the stream for a bridge—that bridge of white hazel.

The straight road he mended, and he rode on till he came near the clump of seven oak trees upon which Nightingale the Robber had built his great nest.

Nightingale the Robber was sitting upon his nest of twisted boughs upon the seven oak trees, and Ilyá rode up to the oak trees. The robber-dog tried to seize him just as he had come to the seventh mile, and Nightingale the Robber roared like a wild aurochs, and the villain whistled like a nightingale, and the robber-dog howled like a dog.

And at these sounds Ilyá’s good steed fell upon his knees with terror at the roar of the aurochs, and the whistle of the nightingale, and the dog-like howling of the robber-dog. Ilyá struck his horse between the ears and also struck him upon the flank, saying:

“Oh thou food for wolves, thou grass-bag! Hast thou never heard the roar of an aurochs? and hast thou never heard the whistle of a nightingale, and the howling of a robber-dog?”

The hero did not sit still but quickly bent his strong bow, took a sharp arrow from his quiver and shot the arrow at Nightingale the Robber as he sat there in his nest on the seven oak trees. The arrow hit Nightingale the Robber in the right eye and came out at the left ear, and Nightingale the Robber fell from his nest down upon the damp earth.

Then Ilyá took Nightingale the Robber and tied him to his Circassian stirrup and made him walk beside the horse towards Kiev town. Presently they came to the house of Nightingale the Robber. It was a big house in a large yard, and round the yard was a high iron fence with spikes on the railings, and upon every spike was set the head of a hero; for Nightingale the Robber killed all that passed that way.

Nightingale’s children caught sight of their father and called out:

“Look! father is bringing a man.”

And Nightingale’s young wife looked from the window and said:

“A strange man is carrying off your dear father.”

And she called to some men who were idling about the yard and said:

“Will you not take him from this wanderer on the road? Is your dear father nothing to you? He has fallen into the power of this horseman. It would be better to take a cup full of red gold, and another of pure silver, and a third cup full of round pearls. Go now and offer them as a ransom. Speak to this horseman and persuade him. Coax him and talk him over so that he may release Nightingale.”

And they rushed into the house, and Nightingale’s wife took the keys and went down to the deep vaults where all Nightingale’s treasure was stored, and they filled a cup full of red gold, and another with pure silver, and a third with round pearls, and they went out to Ilyá with flattering words and tried to coax him and talk him over, saying:

“O thou bold hero, good youth, give us back our dear father and we will give thee gold and silver!”

Ilyá received these messengers and talked to them thus:

“Look here, brothers, you who work for gain, I will not give you your dear father; he would only turn brigand again and rob the travellers passing this way.”

And Ilyá rode on to Kiev town with Nightingale the Robber by his side, still tied to the stirrup so that he could not run away. Ilyá hurried on, for he would fain be at Kiev in time for the service on Easter morning; but he could not get there in time. When he reached Kiev he rode into the wide courtyard of the Prince’s palace. He tied up his good horse to the gold ring on a carven pillar, but did not take off either the saddle or the bridle, and he left Nightingale the Robber still tied to the stirrup.

Then Ilyá walked quickly through the new entrance, through the guard room and into the hall. There he crossed himself like a good Russian, and made his bow as he came into the hall. The steward of Vladímir the Prince he greeted, and asked him:

“Where is the Prince Vladímir of royal Kiev?”

“Prince Vladímir has gone to Mass,” was the answer.

Ilyá sat down on the plain wooden bench to wait, and in a short time Prince Vladímir came in with his nobles and attendants from the Easter service.

Then they all gave greetings one to the other, and each hero greeted the other, and Vladímir spoke to Ilyá and said:

“All hail to thee, brave youth, I know not thy name or thy father’s name. Art thou a Tsar or a Tsar’s son? Art thou a king or a king’s son?”

Ilyá answered and said:

“I am from the town of Múrom. I am the old Cossack, Ilyá of Múrom.”

And they all sat down at the table to eat bread, and they carved and ate white swans, and Ilyá began to talk and to boast of what he had done.

“I am a brave hero, I have been riding through the eve of Easter Day. I would fain have been in time for the Easter Mass, but I could not get here in time for Easter morning, for the hour was past. I rode here by the straight road, and when I reached the green oaks, Nightingale the Robber was sitting upon the seven oaks. That ill-doer used to seize upon every one for seven miles round. When I came near the oaks Nightingale roared like a wild aurochs, and the villain whistled like a nightingale, and the robber-dog howled like a dog. Then my good horse fell upon his knees with fear, but I took out my tough bow, set the sharp arrow, and shot Nightingale the Robber. I shot the villain through the right eye, and the arrow came out by the left ear. Then Nightingale fell upon the damp earth, and I took the robber and fastened him to my Circassian stirrup and brought the villain with me.”

Vladímir the Prince looked at Ilyá and said:

“It seems to me, my bold youth, that there must be a big tavern in this country! Hast thou been drinking strong drink? Art thou not making empty boasts, good hero?”

Ilyá’s wrath grew hot within him, and angrily he said:

“Thou it is who art the fool, O Prince of royal Kiev! I have Nightingale the Robber here, tied to my Circassian stirrup.”

Then all sprang up and rushed out, hurried and stumbled against each other as they ran out to see Nightingale the Robber. They all spoke and shouted together and called out to him:

“O thou Nightingale the Robber! Roar, O Nightingale, like an aurochs! Thou evil doer, whistle like a nightingale! O thou robber-dog, howl like a dog!”

Nightingale the Robber looked up and said:

“With you I neither eat nor drink, and I will not obey you.”

At once the crowd of courtiers turned back to the hall and came to Ilyá of Múrom, bowed low to him and craved their boon:

“O Ilyá of Múrom, we beg thee to make Nightingale the Robber roar like an aurochs, and make the villain whistle like a nightingale, and make the robber-dog howl like a dog.”

And Ilyá spoke to the Prince and said:

“O Vladímir, Prince of royal Kiev! Nightingale’s lips are now sealed together and his mouth is filled with dried blood, for my arrow went through his right eye and it came out by the left ear. Pray let a bowl of strong drink be poured out for him—a bowl weighing half a hundredweight, a bowl holding four gallons, and let it be given to Nightingale.”

And they poured him out a bowl of strong drink—a bowl weighing half a hundredweight, a bowl holding four gallons; and they took it to Nightingale the Robber. He took the bowl in one hand, drank off the bowl of strong drink at one draught, and spoke these words:

“Pour out another bowl of strong beer—a bowl weighing half a hundredweight, a bowl holding four gallons, and pour out a third bowl of sweet mead—a bowl weighing half a hundredweight, a bowl holding four gallons.”

And they poured out a bowlful of strong beer, and they poured out a bowlful of sweet mead and brought both to Nightingale the Robber. He took the bowl with one hand and drank off the bowlful at one draught. And then Nightingale the Robber was drunken, and Ilyá of Múrom said to him:

“Now, Nightingale! Roar, thou robber, like an aurochs; whistle, O villain, like a nightingale; and howl, O dog, like a dog.”

And Nightingale the Robber roared like an aurochs, the villain whistled like a nightingale, and the robber-dog howled like a dog.

Princes and nobles all lay for dead, but Vladímir the Prince of royal Kiev stood up straight and went up to Ilyá, for the Prince had a boon to ask:

“Silence Nightingale the Robber, lest he whistle again like a nightingale, and my nobles leave me here alone.”