Chapter V: Part 5

When Vasilissa reached the outskirts of Kiev town she put her good steed to the walls and leapt lightly over them into the courtyard of Vladimir's palace of white stone. Then she leapt from her horse, thrust the butt end of her spear into moist Mother Earth, and flung the bridle over the point. With the stride of a bold envoy she passed the guards without greeting, and came into the royal hall, where she bowed to North, South, East, and West, and especially to Prince Vladimir. Then she turned to the Prince, and making known her name as Vasily Mikulich, the envoy of King Yetmanuila Yetmanuilovich, she demanded the hand of Prince Vladimir's daughter Lovely in honourable marriage. The Prince looked earnestly at the bold wooer and then said:

"It is well. I will give you the hand of my daughter Lovely in honourable marriage."

Then, after due notice had been given, he went in state to his daughter's apartment to tell her with all the solemnity which the occasion demanded, that he had chosen for her a goodly husband whose claim upon her love was supported by a strong body-guard of forty good youths.

But Lovely looked with a smile at her royal father, and then looked again with a laugh. "Why, father," she said, "this is no bold ambassador from the Island of Kodol or elsewhere; from King Yetmanuila Yetmanuilovich or any other stern-eyed monarch. It is a woman. Why, when he walks in the courtyard I think of a duck in the pond. When he speaks I think of the note of a flute. When he walks in the palace I think of the dance, and when he sits on the bench of white oak he presses his feet close together. His hands are lily white with taper fingers, and upon them the marks of rings are plainly to be discovered." Then Lovely laughed and laughed again, and the sound was not pleasant to Prince Vladimir, the Fair Sun of Kiev, who walked away to the window.

"I will prove her," he said, after pondering for a time. Then he left the apartment and came to the ambassador. "Will it please you," he said courteously, "to accept the challenge of my heroes to a shooting match?"

"I have longed for many things," was the quick reply, "but for none so much as to receive such a challenge." Then without further delay they went out upon the open plain and began to shoot at an oak tree standing at a distance of about a mile. One shot and another shot, one struck and another missed, the shooting was good and not so good, and the old oak merely shook its smaller boughs as if a summer breeze were blowing.

Then it came to the turn of the ambassador from the stern King Yetmanuila Yetmanuilovich, and stepping forward the envoy said, "I will not shoot with one of the heroic bows of Kiev. I have within the fair white linen pavilion in which I have lodged my brave body-guard a little bow which I always carry with me when my royal master sends me upon an embassy across the open steppe." Then at a hail from the envoy the brave body-guard brought out the bow. Five of them carried it at one end and five at the other, while the remaining thirty bold youths dragged along the quiver filled full of flaming arrows. Then the ambassador took the little travelling bow in her hand and fitted to the bow-string a flaming shaft of steel.

The cord twanged, Prince Vladimir stepped quickly aside, the arrow sang a journeying song and shivered the trunk of the ancient oak, so that the sun streamed through it.

"I will prove this ambassador once again," murmured Prince Vladimir in his royal beard. "If he (she) be a woman he (she) will have no taste for a wrestling match."

Then he got together his strong wrestlers and assembled them in a brave company. "Will it please you," he said courteously, "bold ambassador of the stern King Yetmanuila Yetmanuilovich, to try a bout of wrestling."

"Have you then bold wrestlers, as well as expert bowmen?" asked the envoy. "I have often wrestled with children during my childhood, and I can but make a bold man's effort." Then the ambassador grasped two brave wrestlers in one heroic arm and three brave wrestlers in the other heroic arm, and cracked their skulls together until the Prince begged the wrestler with children to spare his brave heroes. Then said the ambassador:

"I came to woo your daughter Lovely, Prince Vladimir, and if you will not give her to me with your blessing, I will take her with your curse."

"You shall have her by my own consent," said the King, "for with such a wooer her own consent does not greatly matter."

Then Prince Vladimir seized the occasion to make a great wedding-feast, which lasted with intervals for resting for the full space of three days. When the feast was over the bride and bridegroom were about to be led to the church to take the golden crowns, but the ambassador sat sad and silent in the hall.

"What ails you on your wedding morning?" asked the father of the bride.

"I know not," was the reply. "It may be that my father has died or my mother, and my heaviness is the sign of grief. Perchance I need some music. Call the harp players, and let us see if they can dispel my heaviness."

So the harpers were called, and they sang of the great deeds of Svyatogor, of Ilya of Murom, and of Ivan the son of Golden Tress, but for all their skill and sweetness the heaviness of the ambassador was not dispelled.

"I heard in my own home," he said, when the music ceased, "of a skilful player upon the harp of maple wood whose name was Stavr of Chernigof. Send for him, and let us see if he can dispel my heaviness."

"If I do it not," said Vladimir in his royal beard, "I shall anger the stern King Yetmanuila Yetmanuilovich. If I do it, Stavr may be freed from my prison." Yet he did it.

Then Stavr came, and, standing before the ambassador, plucked the strings of his harp of maple wood. And he sang brave songs of heroic victory, and gentle songs of constancy in love. As he sang, the ambassador began to sleep and dream, and from these signs the royal host knew well that his guest was pleased and delighted and thankful beyond measure. Then with a gentle sigh the envoy woke and the music ceased.

"A boon, O Prince," cried he; "let Stavr go to my white pavilion to entertain my brave body-guard as he has entertained me."

Such a request from one who had paid the musician the high honour of dreaming to his music could not be refused, and Stavr was allowed to go out of the banquet-hall with the ambassador by his side.

Now when they came out into the bright sunlight and had almost reached the pavilion, Vasilissa looked up at her husband and said:

"Do you not know me, Stavr?"

"Alas and alack!" said he, rubbing his eyes, "after such a time in such a dungeon I cannot recall the faces of far-off years."

"Stupid," said she. "Do you not know your own young wife Vasilissa, of whom you made your boast?"

"I would know Vasilissa if I had not seen her for thirteen years," said Stavr, with a great deal of certainty and not a little vexation.

"Stupider and stupider," said Vasilissa, turning away. "I am certain that you would not know her after three months."

Then she went into the pavilion, where she put off her ambassador's garments and dressed herself as Vasilissa, placing a coif upon her head to hide her shortened hair. When she came forth Stavr dropped his harp of maple wood upon the lap of moist Mother Earth, and taking his young wife by her lily-white hands, he kissed her sugar mouth.

"Let us ride, my fair one," he said, "ride fast and far."

"Not so," was the reply; "we shall not steal away but march away from royal Kiev town. Let us go back to Prince Vladimir, and to Lovely, my promised bride."

So they went back to the Prince and told him all their tale. "With good reason did Stavr boast of his young wife," he said, with a laugh, and then with a frown he added, "but what of Lovely the forsaken bride, for whom I chose a husband?"

"She will doubtless be easily consoled," said Vasilissa, "and will choose her next bridegroom for herself. May he harp as well and boast not so well as Stavr of Chernigof."

THE GOLDEN HORDE

Prince Vladimir lost no occasion of making a royal feast, and his banquets were the admiration of Holy Russia and of all the white world. To one banquet he invited a large number of princes, nobles, mighty heroes and their body-guards, as well as a company of merchant princes who had bought land with their wealth in order that they might be accounted gentlemen. The host made good cheer, the food was of the richest, the wine of the greenest, and the white oak tables gleamed like the newly fallen snow on the wide steppe. The stove glowed fiercely, and Ilya sat in the great corner honoured of all.

As the wine-cup passed, the heart of Prince Vladimir grew more and more generous, and he gave cities to one prince, towns to a second, villages to a third, and hamlets to another; but to Ilya he gave a cloak of marten skins with a collar of sables. Then the hero arose, left the banquet-hall with the cloak held out at arm's length from him, and came at last to the kitchen. There he dragged the cloak about the brick floor by one sleeve as if he wished to defoul it and said savagely:

"Just as I drag about this cloak of marten skins with its collar of sables, I will drag about that poisonous serpent Tsar Kalin by his yellow curls. As I pour green wine upon this cloak," suiting the action to the word, "I will pour out his heart's blood."

Then a kitchenmaid came with unwashed face into the presence of Prince Vladimir, and said without preface: "Ilya hath been in my kitchen and hath dragged about the brick floor the mantle of marten skins with the collar of sables, saying that even so would he drag Vladimir by his yellow curls. And he has poured green wine upon the mantle, saying that even so would he pour out the heart's blood of Prince Vladimir." Then wiping her hands upon her apron she added, "And I know not what to do in the matter."

Prince Vladimir rose to his feet and his face was black with anger. "Ye mighty heroes!" he cried, raising his right hand aloft, "lead Ilya to our dungeon and place him behind the iron grating. Pile up trunks of oak trees against the door and heap yellow sand over all."

At once a great company of heroes left the banquet-hall, and coming to the kitchen stood in a ring round Ilya, who smiled at them as a father might smile at his boys; and no man laid hands upon him, for he was the pride of them all. "Help us now, Ilya of Murom," they said, "or Prince Vladimir will visit upon us his sore displeasure." So Ilya, smiling still, called Cloudfall, saddled him and rode himself to the entrance of the dungeon. There he dismounted and let the shaggy bay steed go free, after having taken from him his saddle and plaited bridle.

Then Ilya went down into the dungeon, and the heroes set up the iron grating, piled up trunks of oak trees at the door, and heaped yellow sand over all, as the prince had commanded. After that they went back to their host, who praised them for their obedience and their expedition; but Princess Apraxia dug a deep passage underground, and with her own fair hands carried food of the richest and drink of the sweetest to Ilya of Murom the Old Cossáck. And this went on for three years, until Tsar Kalin heard of it, and he was head of the Golden Horde, who in all his wanderings had seen no fairer lady than the Princess Apraxia, whom he meant to take as his own in spite of Prince Vladimir and all his band of well-fed heroes.

Tsar Kalin assembled the Golden Horde, which was in number like the yellow sands upon the seashore, to ride against the royal town of Kiev. Under him were forty Tsars and Tsareviches, and forty Kings and their heirs, each with a company of forty thousand men, and when the host was all assembled it stood along the banks of swift-flowing Mother Dnieper and round about Kiev town on all sides for a distance of a hundred miles all told--a goodly escort for a fair princess. When all was ready Tsar Kalin sat down upon an armless chair in his gold-embroidered tent of white linen, and wrote a letter in great haste, using a swan-quill pen with molten gold in place of ink, and crimson velvet in place of parchment. Then he called his best and favourite runner and gave the royal letter into his hands.

"Go," he said, "to the town of Kiev, falsely styled 'royal.' Enter not by the gates of shining white oak, but leap over the city wall. Dismount not, but riding your charger enter without announcement the palace of white stone. Set the door wide open, but do not close it behind you. Bow not to North, South, East, or West, and do no special reverence to Prince Vladimir. But stand right over against him, and fling this letter upon the table, saying to him:

"Take this letter and ask Nikitich, the young man of supernatural wisdom who can both read and write, to tell thee what it contains, for it disposes in set terms of all your pretensions to royalty. Clean all the streets of Kiev town, take down the wonder-working crosses of the Holy Temples--but leave upon the domes the tall fiery darts of Ilya lest Falcon the Hunter should still be alive--and build stalls for horses in the churches. Cleanse also your palaces of white stone and prepare beds without number, for our host is great. Brew sweet liquors, for our thirst is also great, and let cask stand upon cask in noble array. For in less than two days Tsar Kalin and his great host shall walk the streets of Kiev, and our master shall wed the Princess Apraxia."

The boldness and the careful detail of the command caused the heart of Prince Vladimir to sink very low, and the best he could imagine was to gain time. So he caused Nikitich to write a letter in reply, saying: "Cleaning and fermenting are both slow processes. I shall need a space of three months to prepare this city for its coming guests." Then the favourite runner of Tsar Kalin brought this submissive reply to his master, and the truce was granted.

Prince Vladimir paced to and fro in his chamber, chewing his moustache, and occasionally heaving a heavy sigh when no one was near. Meanwhile, the cleaning and the brewing were proceeding apace, for as Princess Apraxia said quietly, "There is nothing lost by cleanliness, and a good store in the larders and the cellar, for who knows which of our friends will sleep in the clean beds and partake of our cheer."

"Ilya of Murom the Old Cossáck is no more," said Prince Vladimir bitterly. "There is no hero to fight for our faith and fatherland. There is none to defend Prince Vladimir." When the busy Princess heard these words she paused for a moment in her work and said, "Little father, command thy trusty servants to go to the deep dungeon and see whether Ilya of Murom the Old Cossáck be even yet alive." Then she went on with her dusting, for the china bowls and cups from Farthest East were always her own particular care.

"Foolish princess," said her husband, pausing in his pacing to and fro. "If I cut off your light head, will it grow again? How can the youthful aged one be alive after three years' starvation?" The Princess said nothing, but went on with her work, and in a few moments Vladimir himself went off to the dungeon on the desperate chance. And there, to his wonder, he found Ilya lying on cushions of down, with food of the richest and wine of the greenest on a table beside him, on which was also spread a wonderful written parchment of the Holy Gospels.

Vladimir was so much astonished to find Ilya not only alive and well, but to all appearance very comfortable and happy, that he bowed to North, South, East, and West, and then particularly to the hero. "Come forth, Ilya," he said, as if he had taken no share in the Old Cossáck's imprisonment. "Come forth, and defend us against the Golden Horde, for the sake of the widows and orphans which are to be." Ilya smiled gently and rose slowly from his seat of comfort, for three years' restraint had somewhat stiffened him. Then Vladimir hastened to take him by the hands, as if he had quite forgiven him for a crime which he had never committed, and leading him to his own table, placed him in the great corner and heaped food of the best before him.

But Ilya was not hungry, and he left the table without a word, for he wanted heroic exercise most of all. In the open field he saw Cloudfall grazing quietly as though his master had ridden him only yesterday; and you may be quite certain and absolutely sure that no other rider had during the past three years sat on the back of the faithful shaggy bay steed. The horse gave a joyful chuckle when Ilya once more drew near to him, and as his master proceeded to saddle him he turned his head about and gazed upon him with heroic approbation.

Certain of the people of Vladimir's palace saw Ilya mount upon Cloudfall, but they did not see him as he rode away, so swift was his flight--there was but a smoke wreath on the open steppe and streams of water burst forth where good Cloudfall's hoofs beat upon the ground. He gave a great leap upwards and alighted on the crest of a lofty mountain, from whence he looked out across the open plain to see if any of the heroes were within sight who had come out to defend Holy Russia against the Golden Horde of the Tatars.

Far away in the east he saw the white linen pavilions of the heroes who had helped him to form the barrier against Falcon the Hunter, and the sun shone brightly on their golden embroideries. At the opening of one snowy tent his keen eyes could descry even at that distance how the fine wheat had been shaken out upon the earth for the delight of a hero's charger, and how that same hero had planted upright a spear of heroic height and hung upon it a golden tassel, not for vanity of youthfulness, but as a signal to all the enemies of Holy Russia that a champion abode within that pavilion. As he stood there with his hand shading his eyes Ilya saw another hero come to that vicinity and, even at that far distance, he knew him for the young man of supernatural wisdom--Nikitich, who could both read and write. He saw how the new-comer pitched his pavilion, shook out fine wheat for his charger's delight, planted a lofty spear and displayed two tassels, not for vanity of youthfulness, but to show that a hero and a scholar abode in that pavilion.

Then Ilya came down from the mountain-top, and before you could say Svyatogor he had arrived in the space between the two upright staffs, where he gave Cloudfall the rein that he might take his share of the fine wheat, planted his own lofty spear and hung three tassels upon it, as a sign that a hero, a scholar, and a landed gentleman had come to the assistance of Holy Russia against the Golden Horde. He now entered one of the snowy pavilions, where he found twelve Russian heroes sitting at meat, who all rose to their feet, kissed him and bade him welcome, whereupon they sat down again to go forward with the business of eating. But as he was not yet hungry Ilya did not join them. He hastened to explain his mission, and asked for their help in defending Kiev town, Vladimir, and Princess Apraxia. But one of them said:

"Nay, nay, Ilya of Murom, we will not mount our steeds to defend Kiev town, Vladimir, and his Princess. For he has many princely nobles, whom he feasts right heroically and upon whom he bestows the richest gifts."

"It will be the worse for all of you," said Ilya, in great anger, and their voices rose in wrath so that the good steeds raised their heads from the fine wheat and looked with intelligent wonder through the opening of the pavilion.

Meanwhile Vladimir wrapped himself in his black velvet mantle, which was trimmed with marten, and paced to and fro in his palace in Kiev town, for the time of the truce was almost over, and so far the heroes had not made their appearance. Now as he paced up and down to soothe his anxiety his nephew Yermak came to him and begged that he might have a warrior's charger, a coat of heavy chain mail and a ponderous mace, as well as leave to ride against the Golden Horde.

"You are a mere boaster," said Vladimir carelessly. "Why, you have never yet handled a mace."

"If you do not give me the charger, uncle," said Yermak, "I will set out on foot." The youth's quiet determination had more effect upon Vladimir than weeks of persuasion, and he bade Yermak choose what charger he desired from the royal stables as well as the armour which suited him best from the armoury. Off went the youth in great glee and equal haste, but the chain mail which he found was so rusty that he flung it down with impatience upon the brick floor, whereupon all the rust flew from it; so he picked it up, selected weapons to his taste, ran to the stables, saddled a horse, mounted it and rode at topmost speed to the pavilion of the heroes.

And what did he find in that hour of anxiety and the direst peril? Why, the twelve heroes contentedly sitting playing at draughts upon a board of gold and Ilya sound asleep upon a couch under a heavy coverlet of sables. Then the anger of Yermak was very great indeed, and he shouted with all his might. "Ho, there, you Old Cossáck, Ilya of Murom. Yonder in Kiev city there is bread to eat and to spare, but no one to defend the place against the Golden Horde."

Now Ilya, from force of habit and long practice, slept always with one ear open, and he knew also that it was a fatal mistake to lose his calmness, especially when others about him had lost their own. So he turned slowly on his couch and said quietly, "Climb up into the damp oak, young Yermak, and make an effort to number the host which comes against us by counting the standards which are displayed." So Yermak climbed up into the damp oak, and Ilya turning upon his other side went to sleep once more. From his perch in the damp oak Yermak saw a vast host of the Golden Horde, and how at that moment the leaders were marshalling their men in battle array; and he knew that the shaking of the bough on which he sat came from the trembling of moist Mother Earth at the tramp of their myriad feet. So great was the army that the swift grey wolf could not trot round it in the space of a long spring day; the black raven could not fly about it in the longest day of summer; the grey bird could not wing its flight across it in the longest light of autumn.

Now Yermak had in him some of the qualities of a hero, for the size of the host roused his courage to such a height that he felt impelled to advance against it by himself, single and alone. So he leapt quickly from the damp oak, sprang upon his charger, and rode fiercely across the open steppe against the vanguard of that great host. Meanwhile the game of draughts went quietly on in the fair pavilion of white linen, and Ilya slept. For three days and three nights this went on while Yermak hurled himself again and again against the forefront of the Golden Horde. Then Ilya awoke and said to Nikitich:

"Mount into the damp oak, young man of supernatural wisdom. Perhaps young Yermak has fallen down from the branch for no longer do I see him there."

Then Nikitich climbed up into the tree-top and looked out upon the Golden Horde. He saw the vast host and he saw more than that--not the black raven flying, nor the bright falcon soaring, but that heroic youth galloping boldly against the heathen horde; and he made his report to Ilya, who rose deliberately from his couch:

"Rise, ye draught players, and mount your good steeds. Then in the first place let one of you take grappling hooks and catch young Yermak by the shoulders. Say to him when he is stayed in his headlong flight, 'Thou hast breakfasted to-day. Now let the heroes dine.'"

So one of the company went out with strong grappling irons. Thrice he caught Yermak by the shoulders and thrice did the young man break away, rending his chain mail in the action. Then the messenger returned to report his failure and Nikitich made the attempt with as little success. So Ilya went himself. He sat on Cloudfall as the grandfather of all the oaks stood upon the lap of moist Mother Earth, and caught Yermak by the shoulder with his heroic hand saying to him, "Rest your heroic heart and let us labour now."

Then Ilya rode against that mighty host as the swift eagle swoops down upon the swans and geese or the falcon darts upon the wild duck; and at the place against which Yermak had beaten in vain he made a breach in the line and began to hew a path through the host as the mower makes a way through the thick standing wheat. Then Cloudfall addressed him with the voice of a man:

"Ho, thou mighty hero of Holy Russia! with a heart of steel thou hast advanced against this mighty host, but even your great might may not overcome it, for that pestilent robber, Tsar Kalin, is served by many men of great renown and warrior-maids of heroic strength and feminine fierceness. Moreover, he is a wily leader, for he has dug three trenches across the open steppe and into these you will fall. I can lift you out of the first and likewise out of the second, but out of the third I may not lift you though I should succeed in rising from it myself. For I watched them digging the trenches while you were sleeping, and, indeed, I missed a great deal of the fine wheat while I served you in this manner."

Such a counsel of despair was not pleasing to the heroic Ilya, who grasped his silken whip in his right hand and beat Cloudfall soundly upon the flanks. "Traitor and renegade," he cried in heroic anger, "I feed thee on white wheat and give you water from crystal springs and yet you will forsake me in the deep ditches of the open steppe." And he paid no heed to the warning of the intelligent animal, but rolling up the sleeve of his right arm advanced with unabated fury against the foe. In a few moments he came to the first trench, into which he fell forthwith and from which Cloudfall bore him forth in safety. On he rode, fighting all the way, until he came to a second ditch, and from that also he escaped in like manner. Then he advanced again, fighting all the way, until he came to the third ditch from which Cloudfall leapt nimbly. But he left Ilya behind. Thereupon the accursed Tatars leapt down into the trench and fell upon Ilya of Murom the Old Cossáck. They bound his swift feet and his strong white hands and led him to where Tsar Kalin sat in his pavilion of fair white linen embroidered with gold.

"Ah, ho! Ilya of Murom the Old Cossáck," cried the pestilent leader of the Golden Horde. "How could you hope, you old dog, to prevail against my mighty host?" Then to his guards he said, "Unfetter his swift feet and unbind his strong white hands." This was done at once, and then Tsar Kalin said in a voice of honey:

"Now sit down at my table, Ilya of Murom. Eat of my food and drink of my mead, put on an embroidered robe, and marry my daughter. Serve Prince Vladimir no longer but be vassal to me."

Then Ilya's eyes flashed fire like the fire of Falcon the Hunter, whose father he was. "If I had by me my good sword," he said, "thou dog, Kalin the Tsar, it should woo thy neck. I will do none of these things, for my duty is to fight for the Christian temples which my darts have protected even against my own son Falcon the Hunter, for Prince Vladimir and Princess Apraxia and the city of Kiev."

Then Ilya raised his eyes and listened and a voice sounded in his ears, "Lift up thy hands, Ilya." He raised them heavenward and into his heroic arms came the strength of twenty heroes; and in that strength he fell upon Tsar Kalin and laid his lifeless body upon the floor of the fair pavilion. Snatching up the monarch's sword he ran from the pavilion to turn it against his host, and company after company fell before him until his sword edge turned and the weapon was useless. Then he flung it aside in impatience, and picking up a Tatar by the ankles he used him as a club with which he cleared a path through the host of astonished warriors. "It is a stout club, this of mine," he cried grimly as he dealt blows to right and left; "and it has a hard end to it with which to crack infidel pates."

At last he won his way to the edge of the host, where he flung his human club from him with a last great effort, and seizing the horn which hung at his side he sounded a mighty blast; for the heroic efforts he had made had dimmed the clearness of his eyes, so that he could not distinguish either the white day or the black night. From far away Cloudfall heard the sound of that familiar horn and in two heroic leaps was once more at his master's side. In a trice Ilya had mounted him and then he rode away to a lofty mountain upon the summit of which he stood and, raising his hand to his brow, gazed far away to the eastward. There he saw again the white pavilion of the heroes and the horses feeding on the fine wheat which was strewn for them. "I will send them a swift messenger," said Ilya of Murom the Old Cossáck.

As he fitted a fiery dart to his stout bow, Ilya conjured it saying, "Fly, little dart, to yonder pavilion. Tear through the roof and pierce the white breast of my brother-in-arms, Samson, that glorious hero of Holy Russia, and make a small scratch--not a wound which you would bestow upon one of the Golden Horde,--for the hero Samson sleepeth and taketh his ease while I stand here alone and have need of his help."

The shaft made a stream of blue light through the air, and reaching the pavilion tore a flaming path through the roof, but too quickly for the linen to catch fire, and made a small scratch upon the white breast of Samson, rousing him from his heavy sleep. He opened his eyes, gazed upwards, and saw the rent in the roof of the pavilion. Then he was aware of a slight discomfort on his breast, looked down, saw the scratch, and leapt lightly to his nimble feet.

"Ho, there," he cried aloud, "ye mighty heroes of Holy Russia, saddle your good steeds without delay and mount with speed. A message of distress has come from my brother-in-arms, and had it not been for the cross upon my breast it would have honoured me with a wound fit only for one of the Golden Horde."

Roused at last the heroes took their chargers from the scattered wheat, saddled them and rode them towards Kiev town; and Ilya noting this from his point of vantage came down from the mountain to join his twelve brethren, and in a long line of strength and swiftness the thirteen heroes rode against the Golden Horde.

For the space of five hours they mowed down young and old, and they left at the end of that heroic period not so many as one single soul to continue the accursed race. Flushed with victory and self-confidence, they came together in one place, and all except Ilya began to boast and to say, "If there were steps raised up to Heaven we would climb them and wage war against the sacred hosts."

As these impious words were spoken there happened a wonder of wonders. For the Tatars rose up from the field of the slain, and where there had been one man there were now three, and they all stood up strong and well upon their feet; and if Ilya had not accounted for Tsar Kalin their advance upon Kiev town would have been sudden and overwhelming; but they turned hither and thither like the sands of the desert, having no leader.

Now as the heroes saw them rise, man after man, three in place of one, they rubbed their eyes in wonder, and the impious words which they had spoken dazzled their sense and confused their wits, so that they turned their arms against each other and fought with the fury of sundered friends. But Ilya took no part in that unnatural fight. Sadly and dazedly he watched until the twelve lay dead upon the plain. Then he slowly turned his shaggy bay steed Cloudfall and rode towards a mountain cave which no man has ever seen or shall see till the end of Holy Russia; and sitting in that cavern with his sword across his knees he slowly turned to stone. Cloudfall also became a lifeless statue, and there the two heroic friends sit on, waiting, waiting, waiting for the touch of life which will come when Holy Russia is in direst need and calls aloud in distress for the courage and skill, the patience and the fiery valour of Ilya of Murom the Old Cossáck.

WHIRLWIND THE WHISTLER, OR THE KINGDOMS OF COPPER, SILVER, AND GOLD

In a certain kingdom in a certain land known to all of us lived the Great White Tsar and his wife Golden Tress, who was so beautiful that twice each day she caused the sun to blush a rosy red, once in the morning as he rose across the steppe, and once in the evening as he bade farewell to the white world; but for the rest of the day he asserted his kingship even over Golden Tress, and looked at her boldly and whenever he wished.

Now the Great White Tsar and his Tsaritza, Golden Tress, had three sons, Peter, Vasily, and Ivan, and one great enemy, Whirlwind the Whistler, whom he feared greatly, because this impetuous foe had vowed with a shriek and a howl to come at sunset and whirl away Golden Tress from the palace of the Little Father.

One evening Golden Tress went out with a company of maidens and nurses to walk in the gardens of the palace, and Whirlwind saw his chance. He rushed down upon the palace garden, blinding the eyes of all so that they could not see what tricks he was playing; and when the maidens and nurses opened their eyes they saw nothing at all and heard nothing at all except a far-off call of distress and a shriek of spiteful fury; for Whirlwind the Whistler had carried away Golden Tress to his den among the fastnesses of the mountains, while the trees bowed in fear before him as he took his way across the open steppe.

The Great White Tsar was now in deep distress, and knew not what to do. Years went by and still he knew not what to do, but one day it occurred to him to ask the help of his sons, who were now grown into fine young men. "My dear boys," he said, "which of you will go and seek Golden Tress?" "We will go, and at once, father," said the two elder brothers, and without delay they set out upon their quest.

When they had been gone for some time the youngest son, Ivan, said to his father, "Let me go also, my father, to seek Golden Tress." "No," said the Tsar, "for you are all I have in the white world." "Do let me go also," said Ivan, "for I long to wander over the white world and seek my mother." The father did his best to persuade his boy to stay with him, for he was now very lonely, but when he saw that Ivan could no longer rest at home he yielded to his entreaties, saying to him, "Well, there is no help for it; go, and may the God of Holy Russia be good to you."

Ivan without delay saddled his good steed, entered the audience chamber of his father, bowed to North, South, East, and West, and particularly to the Great White Tsar, mounted his horse and rode on and ever onward across the steppe, whether it was long or short. By and by he came to a forest in the heart of which stood a lordly castle protected from the keen winds by a ring of encircling pines. Ivan rode into the broad courtyard, where he met an old man and greeted him kindly with the words, "Many years and years of health to you." "Who are you, goodly youth?" asked the old man, and Ivan said quietly and proudly, "I am Ivan Tsarevich, son of the Great White Tsar and his Tsaritza, Golden Tress." "Oh, my very, very own nephew," said the old man; "and whither is God leading you?"

"I am in search of my mother, Golden Tress," said Ivan. "Can you tell me, uncle, where she may be found?"

"No, nephew, I cannot," returned the old man, "and that to my sorrow and discomfiture. But what I am able to do I will do willingly. Here is a ball. Throw it before you as you ride. It will roll onward and lead you to a range of steep rugged mountains. In the side of this range of mountains you will find a cave which you must enter, and having entered you will find within a pair of iron claws."

"Take these iron claws," the old man went on, "and place them upon your hands and your feet. This will enable you to climb up the steep face of the mountain, and having done so, perhaps you will find there your mother, Golden Tress."

This was good advice so far as Ivan was able to judge, so he took the ball in his hand, thanked his uncle courteously, and, starting his horse on the path which led through the pine forest, threw the ball before him. Onward and ever onward it rolled, but it seemed something more than a mere ball, for occasionally it came to a parting of the ways and then appeared to pause for a moment and consider. Then onward and ever onward it rolled, while Ivan rode behind it until he came out at last upon an open plain where a great horde was encamped; and in the midst of the horde stood a fair pavilion of white linen embroidered with gold. The ball made a path through the ranks of the men-at-arms, who stood nimbly aside to let it pass, until it rested, but impatiently rested, by the opening of the pavilion, near which two stout chargers were feeding on wheat of the finest which was scattered thickly for their sustenance and comfort.

Then two leaders came forth shoulder to shoulder and hand to hand from that fair pavilion, and Ivan saw that they were his two elder brothers.

"Where are you going, Ivan, son of the Great White Tsar?" they asked, and the young man answered, "I grew weary at home and thought of going to seek my mother, Golden Tress. Send these men of yours to their homes and let us go together."

The two brothers assented, and in a short space of time the great army was disbanded, and the two brothers sat across their chargers ready to go forward after the ball which was bouncing in great impatience. As soon as the three put spurs to their horses it rolled on again and went onward and ever onward until it came to a cave in a steep mountain. At the opening of this cave Ivan slipped down from his horse and said to his brothers, "Take care of my horse while I go on up the face of this mountain, where perhaps I shall find my mother. Remain here and wait for me for the space of just three months. If I do not come back within that time then you may conclude that it is of no use waiting for me any longer."

The brothers looked up the face of the steep mountain and thought in their hearts, "How can a man climb that mountain-side? He will merely fall and crack his skull." But they did not give utterance to their thoughts. They merely said, "Well, brother, go, and God be with you. We will wait for you here."

Ivan now stepped forward to the cave, after giving his charger an affectionate pat upon its glossy neck, and saw that it was closed with a door of iron. He raised his hand and struck a hearty blow upon the door, which opened, and he went in. As he stood in the middle of the dark earthen floor, iron claws came upon his hands and feet of themselves, and, coming forth from the place into the light of day, he began to climb up the steep face of the mountain--climb, climb, climb.

For a whole month he toiled upward, resting at night beneath some friendly bush, and at the end of the month reached the summit with a sigh of relief. "Well," he said, "well, well, glory be to God!"

For a little while he rested, and then walked onward on the summit of the mountain--walked and walked, walked and walked, until he came to a castle of copper. At the gateway sat terrible wriggling serpents fastened with copper chains, crowds of them writhing in a mass upon the earth; and not far away was a well, at the mouth of which was a copper bucket fastened with a copper chain. Now Ivan watched the writhing serpents for a moment, and then, obeying an impulse of kindliness, he drew water in the copper bucket and gave to them to drink. When they had quenched their thirst they lay down in quiet, and Ivan was able to enter the castle unmolested.

At the doorway and just over the threshold the young man was met by a Tsaritza who was clothed in a cloth of a coppery red, warm and brilliant, and whose hair was of a deep auburn tinged with light and shining with the early gloss of youthfulness. She looked coolly at Ivan as if she thought little of him, but her greeting was courteous enough. "Who are you, gallant youth?" she asked, and the young man replied simply:

"I am Ivan, youngest son of the Great White Tsar."

"How did you come here?" asked the Copper Tsaritza, "with your own will or against your will?"

"With my own will," said Ivan. "I am in search of my mother. For, while she walked in the green palace garden, Whirlwind the Whistler came with a shriek and bore her away to an unknown land. Can you tell me where I may find her?"

"No, I cannot," was the reply, "but far away from here lives my second sister the Silver Tsaritza--perhaps she will be able to tell you where you may find Golden Tress. But I pray you, good youth, when you have killed Whirlwind the Whistler, do not forget me, poor unfortunate, but rescue me from this place and take me out into the free white world. Whirlwind the Whistler holds me here as a captive and comes to visit me once in three months to torment me with his doleful whining." Then she gave the good youth a copper ball and a copper ring as a token. "This ball," she said, "will lead you to my second sister, and within this ring lies the whole of the Kingdom of Copper."

Then Ivan set the copper ball rolling and followed it until he came to a castle all of silver and finer than the first. At the gateway were terrible writhing serpents fastened with silver chains, and near them was a well with a silver bucket. Remembering the previous reward for his impulse of kindliness, Ivan drew water and gave it to the serpents to drink. When they had quenched their thirst they lay down in quiet, and Ivan was able to enter the castle unmolested.

At the doorway, and just over the threshold, he was met by a Tsaritza, who was clothed in cloth of silver and whose hair was of fine white silver, which yet did not take away from the beauty of her youthfulness. At first she did not see Ivan, and she spoke to herself. "It will soon be three years," she said, "since Whirlwind the Whistler first imprisoned me in this silver castle, and during that time I have not seen or spoken with a dweller in Holy Russia. But by my lost Kingdom I see a Russian now and a goodly one." Then she bent her beautiful eyes upon Ivan and said in a voice like a silver bell, "Who are you, good youth?"

"I am Ivan, youngest son of the Great White Tsar," was the simple answer.

"How did you come here?" asked the Silver Tsaritza, "with your own will or against your will?"

"With my own will," said Ivan. "I am in search of my mother. For, while she walked in the green palace garden, Whirlwind the Whistler came with a shriek and bore her away to an unknown land. Can you tell me where I may find her?"

"No, I cannot," was the reply, "but not far away from here lives my eldest sister the Golden Tsaritza, Elena the Lovely--perhaps she will be able to tell you where you may find Golden Tress. But I pray you, good youth, when you have killed Whirlwind the Whistler, do not forget me, poor unfortunate, but rescue me from this place and take me out into the free white world. Whirlwind the Whistler holds me here as a captive, and comes once in two months to torment me with his hideous voice." Then she gave the good youth a silver ball and a silver ring as a token and said to him, "Within this little circle lies the whole of the Kingdom of Silver."

Once more Ivan set the ball rolling, and wherever it went, there he followed it, and he came at last across many leagues of open country to a castle of gold. At the gateway sat terrible wriggling serpents fastened with golden chains, crowds of them writhing in a mass upon the earth; and not far away was a well at the mouth of which was a golden bucket fastened with a golden chain. Again Ivan watched the writhing serpents for a moment and then drew water in the golden bucket and gave to them to drink. When they had quenched their thirst they lay down in quiet, and Ivan was able to enter the castle unmolested.

At the doorway, and just over the threshold, he was met by a Tsaritza, who was clothed in cloth of gold and whose hair was of fine red gold glowing with the fire of youthfulness. At once she saw Ivan and said to him:

"Who are you, good youth?"

"I am Ivan, youngest son of the Great White Tsar," was the simple answer.

"How did you come here?" asked the Golden Tsaritza, "with your own will, or against your will?"

"With my own will," said Ivan. "I am in search of my mother. For, while she walked in the green palace garden, Whirlwind the Whistler came with a shriek and bore her away to an unknown land. Can you tell me where I may find her?"

"I can indeed tell you," said the Golden Tsaritza. "She lives not far from here. Whirlwind the Whistler flies to her once a week and to me once a month, and he wearies both of us with his shrieks and his moans. Here is a golden ball for you. Throw it before you and follow it. It will lead you to your mother." Then she gave the good youth a golden ring as a token and said to him: "Within this little circle lies the whole of the Kingdom of Gold. I pray you, good youth, when you have conquered Whirlwind the Whistler, do not forget me, poor unfortunate, but rescue me from this place and take me out into the free white world."

"I will take you," promised Ivan. Then he rolled the golden ball before him and wherever it went, there he followed it, until he came at last to such a palace as he could scarcely bear to look upon, it blazed so brightly with diamonds and precious stones. At the gateway six-headed serpents were hissing, but when Ivan had given them water from a well with a diamond bucket, fastened with a chain of fine seed pearls, they sank down in quiet and allowed him to pass into the castle. He walked quickly through one lofty chamber after another and in the last chamber he found his mother.

She was sitting on a great throne of a single emerald clad in the festal robes of a Tsaritza, and crowned with a dazzling crown, beneath which her golden tresses flowed downward over the emerald steps. Raising her sad clear eyes, she looked at the stranger, and as she looked the mist of memory cleared, a smile played about her beautiful ruddy lips, and she said eagerly, holding her hands forward, "Ah, is it you, my dear, dear son? How have you found out the place of my concealment?"

"That is so and so and by the way and matterless," said Ivan. "Suffice it to say that I have come to fetch you home."

"But, my dear, dear son," said Golden Tress, "that will be indeed a hard matter for you. In these mountains the king of all is mighty Whirlwind, whom all the spirits of the air obey. It was he who bore me away, and it is against him that you must fight. Come quickly to the cellar."

Golden Tress stepped with the step of youthfulness down from the emerald throne, and taking her son by the hand led him down a dark stairway into the cellar beneath the palace.

Now in the cellar there were two tubs of water, one on the right hand and the other on the left. Golden Tress led Ivan forward and said to him, "Drink from the tub on your right hand." Ivan drank and drank deeply while his beautiful mother watched him closely, and when he was finished she asked, "Well, what strength is in thee?" "I am so strong," said the youth, "that I could turn over the whole castle with one hand."

"Drink again," said Golden Tress, very quietly. Ivan drank again and drank deeply.

"What strength is in thee now?" asked his mother.

"I am so strong," said he, "that, if I wished, I could turn the whole world over."

"That is very great strength," said Golden Tress. "Now move these tubs of water so as to make them change positions. Place the right-hand tub on the left and the left-hand tub on the right." Ivan did so with perfect ease.