Part 10

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?"