From glorious Rostov red city
As two bright falcons flew out -
Two mighty heroes went out:
What is the name of Aleshenka Popovich, young
And with the young Yakim Ivanovich.
They ride, heroes, shoulder to shoulder,
Stirrup in stirrups heroic.

By the sea, the blue sea,
Blue, but Khvalunsky
Walked-walked the Falcon-ship
A little - a lot of twelve years.
The Falcon-ship did not stop at anchors,
I did not roll to the steep banks,
There were no yellow sands.
The Falcon ship was well decorated:
Nose, stern - like an animal,
And the sides are serpentine,
It was also inserted instead of eyes
Two stones, two yachts,
Yes, it was on the Falcon on the ship:
Even instead of eyebrows it was hung
Two sables, two greyhounds;
Yes, it was on the Falcon on the ship:
Still instead of eyes it was hung
Two Mamur martens;
Yes, it was on the Falcon on the ship:
Three more cathedral churches,
Yes, it was on the Falcon on the ship:

Dobrynushka also traveled throughout the land,
Dobrynushka also traveled all over the country;
And Dobrynushka was looking for a rider,
And Dobrynya was looking for an opponent:
He couldn't find a rider,
He couldn't find an opponent.
He went far into the open field,
He envied where the tent stood in the field.
And the tent stood of dug velvet;
On the shatri-to-de the signature was signed,
And it was signed with a threat:
“And whoever comes to the tent, - so the living will not be,
And there won’t be a living one, don’t leave away. ”
And in the tent stood a barrel of green wine;
And on the barrel is a silver charm,
And the silver bowl is gilded,
And not small, not large, one and a half buckets.

If the heroes lived on the outposts,
Not far from the city - for twelve miles,
If only they had lived here for fifteen years;
If only there were thirty of them with the hero;
We did not see either horse or foot,
They are neither a passer-by nor a passer-by,
Yes, not a gray wolf roamed here,
Not a clear falcon flew,
Yes, the non-Russian hero did not pass.
If only there were thirty bogatyrs with a bogatyr:
The ataman is the old Cossack Ilya Muromets,
Ilya Muromets and son Ivanovich;
Podatamanem Samson da Kolybanovich,
Yes, Dobrynya Mikitich lived as a clerk,
Yes, Alyosha Popovich lived as a cook,
Yes, and Mishka Toropanishko lived in the stables;
Yes, and Vasily son Buslaevich lived here,
And Vasenka Ignatievich lived here,
Yes, and the Duke and son Stepanovich lived here,
Yes, and Perm and son Vasilyevich lived here,
Yes, and Radivon lived and the Exalted,
Yes, and Potanyushka Lame lived here;

At the prince's with Sergei
There was a feast, a feast,
For princes, for nobles,
On Russian defenders - heroes
And to the whole Russian glade.
Red sun at the bottom
Yes, and the feast goes on merrily;
Everyone at the feast is drunk and cheerful,
At the table at the oak
The hero Bulat Eremeevich is sitting,
Prince Sergei of Kyiv
Walking around the dining room
Shaking golden bells
And he says these words:
“Ah, you, Bulat Eremeevich!

How about the poor to say yes about the white,
About the daring to say a stout young man.
He walks de, daring good fellow,
A big tavern goes to the tsar,
On a circle he walks like a sovereign;
He drinks a lot, kid, green wine,
He does not drink by magic, he does not drink glasses,
He rolls back barrels-magpies;
In a hop, the kid himself drinks,
From the speeches, Butman the son is knocked out:
“Already I am stronger than the king,
I’m smarter than the king’s estimator.”
The king's courtiers came in handy,
Like court people - governors,
Governors, fat-bellied people;

At the honest widow and at Nenila
And she had a child, Babyla.
And Vavilushka went to the field,
After all, he shouts his cornfield,
Sow more white wheat
He wants to feed his own mother.
And to that widow and to Nenila
People came to her cheerful,
Funny people, not simple,
Not ordinary people - buffoons:
“Hello, honest widow Nenila!”
Where is your child and now Vavila?

In glorious great Novegrad
And Buslay lived up to ninety years,
He lived with the New City, did not argue,
With the men of New York
I did not say a word across.
Zhivuchi Buslay grew old,
Got old and changed.
After his century long
His life remained
And all the noble estate,
The mother's widow remained,
Matera Amelfa Timofevna,
And the dear child remained,
Young son Vasily Buslaevich. You with this good luck
Nakvasiti river will be Volkhov.

Works are divided into pages

Category Russian epics We offer you classical legends, that is, epics recorded by enthusiasts of the 18th-20th centuries in distant Russian villages and villages. All folk epics already after their first publications, they began to attract great attention of the domestic aristocracy. They were quite interested in such people as Pushkin, Dobrolyubov, Belinsky and Chernyshevsky.

For the first time the word "epics" was voiced by I. Sakharov in the book "Songs of the Russian people". Text epics could be like brief as well as deployed. The theme of epics usually talks about heroes heroes and their lives and deeds, representing a heroic epic. Most of them are historical and can describe both Kievan Rus and pre-state times.

Epics, Russian folk epic songs-tales, arose as an expression of the historical consciousness of the Russian people of the ΙΧ-ΧΙΙΙ centuries, in the process of existence they absorbed the events of a later time. They tell mainly about the heroes - the defenders of the motherland; reflected the moral and social ideals of the people. Northern Slavic legends or ancient Russian northern epics are performed in one voice, usually to short tunes of a declamatory-narrative warehouse, southern epics are choral, in music they are related to the broadly chanted Don songs.

All known epics according to their place of origin are divided into: Kyiv, Novgorod and later all-Russian. Epics are epic songs about Russian heroes; Slavic epic tales reflect the history of their lives, their exploits and aspirations, feelings and thoughts. Each of the epic songs speaks mainly about one episode in the life of one hero, and thus a series of songs of a fragmentary nature are obtained, grouped around the main representatives of Russian heroes.

Epic verse and versification of Russian oral folk poetry are quite multifaceted. There are three types: spoken verse (proverbs, sayings, riddles, jokes, etc.) - purely tonic, with paired rhymes, without any internal rhythm (paradise verse); recitative verse (epics, historical songs, spiritual verses) - non-rhyming, with feminine or (more often) dactylic endings, at the heart of the rhythm is a tactician, sometimes simplified to a chorea, sometimes loosened to an accent verse; song verse (“drawn-out” and “frequent” songs) - the rhythm is closely connected with the melody and fluctuates between a relatively clear chorea and very complex, not fully explored options.

In ancient times, including the Paleolithic, there are inscriptions made in Old Slavic syllabic writing, the so-called “Makosh runes”, “Rod runes” and “Mary runes”, that is, various types of Slavic writing associated with the corresponding Slavic deities. The word "runes" was also used on many medieval inscriptions.
The name "Makosh runes" connects writing with the most ancient and most powerful Slavic goddess - Makosh, from whom all the other gods of the Slavic pantheon originated. The runes of Makosh were distinguished by a sacred character and were most likely intended not for the population, but for the priests. It is impossible to read Makosh runes, especially those connected into ligatures, these texts require a clue, like puzzles. The runes of Makosh were used everywhere in Russia during the grand ducal period, but they are gradually falling out of use, and in different cities at different times. Thus, in Kyiv they give way to the Cyrillic alphabet as early as the 10th century, while in Novgorod they exist invariably until the 19th century.

The runes of the Sort are called proto-Cyrillic, that is, a letter that preceded the Cyrillic alphabet. The runes of the Family originated, apparently, from the runes of Makosh and were used to sign products, primarily the temple of the Family, for which it got its name. This letter existed in the form of secret inscriptions (pictocryptography), fit into drawings throughout Europe until the middle of the ΧΙΧ century. Saints Equal-to-the-Apostles Cyril and Methodius, on the basis of the runes of Rod, by adding Greek and compound letters, created in the ΙΧ century AD a Slavic Christian letter, named after the first brother in Cyrillic.

The runes of Mary are the most mysterious type of ancient Slavic writing. Presumably, this is not a special font, but a clue to the meanings of the written words. Mara was the goddess of death and disease, and her cult was very strong during the Paleolithic. The runes of Mary should mean something not just secret, but also somehow connected with the afterlife. It should be noted that it was the mythical power of Mary over the afterlife that gave the temple of Mary a very real power over contemporaries, so that this particular temple performed the most important social functions in the Slavic communities.

Russian epics are a reflection of historical events retold by the people, and as a result, have undergone strong changes. Each hero and villain in them is most often a real-life person, whose life or activity was taken as the basis of a character or a collective and very important image for that time.

Heroes of epics

Ilya Muromets (Russian hero)

Glorious Russian hero and brave warrior. This is exactly how Ilya Muromets appears in the Russian epic epic. Serving faithfully to Prince Vladimir, the warrior was paralyzed from birth and sat on the stove for exactly 33 years. Brave, strong and fearless, he was cured of paralysis by the elders and gave all his heroic strength to the defense of the Russian lands from the Nightingale the Robber, the invasion of the Tatar yoke and the Pogany Idol.

The hero of epics has a real prototype - Ilya Pechersky, canonized as Ilya Muromets. In his youth, he suffered paralysis of the limbs, and died from a blow to the heart with a spear.

Dobrynya Nikitich (Russian hero)

Another hero from the famous trio of Russian heroes. He served Prince Vladimir and carried out his personal assignments. He was the closest of all the heroes to the princely family. Strong, brave, dexterous and fearless, he swam perfectly, knew how to play the harp, knew about 12 languages ​​and was a diplomat in solving state affairs.

The real prototype of the glorious warrior is the governor Dobrynya, who was the maternal uncle of the prince himself.

Alyosha Popovich (Russian hero)

Alyosha Popovich is the youngest of the three heroes. He is famous not so much for his strength as for his onslaught, resourcefulness and cunning. A lover of boasting about his achievements, he was instructed on the true path by senior heroes. In relation to them behaved in two ways. Supporting and protecting the glorious trio, he falsely buried Dobrynya in order to marry his wife Nastasya.

Olesha Popovich is a Rostov brave boyar, whose name is associated with the appearance of the image of the epic hero-hero.

Sadko (Novgorod hero)

Lucky gusler from Novgorod epics. For many years he earned his daily bread by playing the harp. Having received an award from the Tsar of the Sea, Sadko became rich and set off by sea with 30 ships to overseas countries. On the way, a benefactor took him to himself as a ransom. On the instructions of Nicholas the Wonderworker, the guslar managed to escape from captivity.

The prototype of the hero is Sodko Sytinets, a Novgorod merchant.

Svyatogor (hero-giant)

A giant and a hero who possessed remarkable strength. Huge and mighty, born in the mountains of Saints. As he walked, the forests trembled and the rivers overflowed. Svyatogor transferred part of his strength in the writings of the Russian epic to Ilya Muromets. Shortly thereafter, he died.

There is no real prototype of the image of Svyatogor. It is a symbol of a huge primitive power, which has never been used.

Mikula Selyaninovich (heroic plowman)

Bogatyr and peasant who plowed the land. According to the epics, he was familiar with Svyatogor and gave that bag to lift the full weight of the earth. According to legend, it was impossible to fight with the plowman, he was under the protection of Mother Raw Earth. His daughters are the wives of the heroes, Stavr and Dobrynya.

The image of Mikula is fictional. The name itself is derived from the common at that time Michael and Nicholas.

Volga Svyatoslavich (Russian hero)

Hero-bogatyr of ancient epics. He possessed not only impressive strength, but also the ability to understand the language of birds, as well as turn around any animal and wrap others in them. He went on campaigns to the Turkish and Indian lands, and after that he became their ruler.

Many scientists identify the image of Volga Svyatoslavich with Oleg the Prophet.

Nikita Kozhemyaka (Kyiv hero)

Hero of Kyiv epics. A brave hero with great strength. Could easily tear apart a dozen folded bull skins. He tore out the skin with meat from the angry bulls rushing at him. He became famous for having defeated the snake, freeing the princess from his captivity.

The hero owes his appearance to the myths about Perun, reduced to everyday manifestations of miraculous power.

Stavr Godinovich (Chernigov boyar)

Stavr Godinovich is a boyar from Chernihiv region. Known for his good playing on the harp and strong love for his wife, whose talents he was not averse to boasting to others. In epics, the role is not the main one. More famous is his wife Vasilisa Mikulishna, who rescued her husband from imprisonment in the dungeons of Vladimir the Red Sun.

There is a mention of the real Sotsky Stavra in the annals of 1118. He was also imprisoned in the cellars of Prince Vladimir Monomakh after the riots.

Antiheroes of epics

Nightingale the Robber (antihero)

An ardent opponent of Ilya Muromets and a robber who for many years robbed both foot and horsemen on the road laid by him. He killed them not with a gun, but with his own whistle. In epics, he most often appears in human form with pronounced Turkic features.

It is believed that his image was taken from the Mordvinians who lived in Nizhny Novgorod. Their traditional names are the names of birds: Nightingale, Starling, etc.

Serpent Gorynych (serpent-dragon)

The Dragon. Breathing fire with three heads. This is a classic image of the Serpent Gorynych in Russian epics. The body of the snake is one, there are wings, large sharp claws, and an arrow-like tail. Guards the bridge-passage to the realm of the dead and spews fire when it attacks. Lives in the mountains, hence the nickname "Gorynych".

The image of the snake is mythical. Similar ones are found in Serbian and Iranian mythology.

Idolishche Poganoe (villain)

Idolishche is also a hero, only from the forces of the dark. Because of his gluttony, he has a huge shapeless body. Evil, unbaptized and non-religious. He plundered cities with his army, simultaneously forbidding alms and churches. He visited Russian lands, Turkey and Sweden.

In history, the prototype of Idolishche was Khan Itlar, who made barbarian raids on the cities of the Russian lands.

Kyiv-city stands on high hills.

In the old days, it was surrounded by an earthen rampart, surrounded by ditches.

From the green hills of Kyiv it was far to be seen. One could see suburbs and populous villages, fat arable lands, the blue ribbon of the Dnieper, golden sands on the left bank, pine groves...

Plowmen plowed the land near Kyiv. Skilled shipbuilders built light boats along the banks of the river, hollowed oak canoes. In the meadows and in the creeks, shepherds grazed their hard-horned cattle.

Dense forests stretched beyond the suburbs and villages. Hunters roamed over them, hunted bears, wolves, aurochs - horned bulls, and small animals, apparently, invisible.

And beyond the forests stretched steppes without end and edge. A lot of goryushka came from these steppes to Russia: Nomads flew from them to Russian villages - they burned and robbed, they took the Russian people in full.

In order to protect the Russian land from them, heroic outposts, small fortresses were scattered along the edge of the steppe. They guarded the way to Kyiv, protected from enemies, from strangers.

And the bogatyrs on mighty horses tirelessly rode across the steppes, vigilantly peered into the distance, not to see enemy fires, not to hear the clatter of other people's horses.

For days and months, years, decades, Ilya Muromets protected his native land, neither built a house for himself, nor started a family. And Dobrynya, and Alyosha, and Danube Ivanovich - all in the steppe and in the open field ruled the military service. From time to time they gathered in the yard of Prince Vladimir - to rest, feast, listen to the harpists, learn about each other.

If the time is alarming, warrior heroes are needed, they are met with honor by Prince Vladimir and Princess Apraksia. For them, stoves are heated, in the grill - the living room - for them the tables are bursting with pies, rolls, fried swans, with wine, mash, sweet honey. For them, leopard skins lie on the benches, bear skins are hung on the walls.

But Prince Vladimir also has deep cellars, and iron locks, and stone cells. Almost according to him, the prince will not remember the feats of arms, will not look at the heroic honor ...

But in black huts throughout Russia, the common people love heroes, praise and honor them. He shares rye bread with him, plants him in a red corner and sings songs about glorious deeds - about how the heroes protect their native Russia!

Glory, glory, and in our days to the heroes-defenders of the Motherland!

High is the heavenly height,
Deep is the depth of the ocean-sea,
Wide expanse over the whole earth.
Deep pools of the Dnieper,
Sorochinskiye mountains are high,
The dark forests of Bryansk,
Black mud of Smolensk,
Russian rivers are fast-light.

And strong, mighty heroes in glorious Russia!

Volga Vseslavevich

The red sun set behind the high mountains, frequent stars scattered across the sky, a young hero, Volga Vseslavievich, was born at that time in Mother Russia. His mother swaddled him in red swaddling clothes, tied them with golden belts, put him in a carved cradle, and began to sing songs over him.

Volga had only slept for an hour, woke up, stretched - the golden belts burst, the red diapers were torn, the bottom of the carved cradle fell out. And Volga got on his feet, and he says to his mother:

“Madam mother, don’t swaddle me, don’t twist me, but dress me in strong armor, in a gilded helmet, and give me a club in my right hand, so that the club weighs a hundred pounds.

The mother was frightened, and Volga is growing by leaps and bounds, but by minutes.

Volga has grown up to five years. Other guys in such years only play chocks, and Volga has already learned to read and write - to write and count and read books. When he was six years old, he went for a walk on the ground. The earth shook from his steps. The animals and birds heard his heroic steps, got scared, hid. Deer tours ran away to the mountains, sable-martens lay down in their holes, small animals huddled in the thicket, fish hid in deep places.

Volga Vseslavievich began to learn all sorts of tricks.

He learned to fly across the sky like a falcon, learned to wrap himself like a gray wolf, to ride a deer in the mountains.

Volga turned fifteen years old. He began to collect his comrades. He recruited a squad of twenty-nine people - Volga himself was the thirtieth in the squad. All fellows are fifteen years old, all mighty heroes. They have fast horses, well-aimed arrows, sharp swords.

Volga gathered his squad and went with her to an open field, to a wide steppe. Carts with luggage do not creak behind them, neither downy beds nor fur blankets are carried behind them, servants, stewards, cooks do not run after them ...

For them, a featherbed is dry earth, a pillow is a Cherkasy saddle, food in the steppe, in the forests, there would be a lot of arrows and flint and flint.

Here the fellows spread the camp in the steppe, made fires, fed the horses. Volga sends junior combatants to dense forests:

- You take silk nets, put them in a dark forest along the very ground and catch martens, foxes, black sables, we will store fur coats for the team.

The warriors dispersed through the forests. Volga is waiting for them for a day, waiting for another, the third day is getting closer to evening. Then the merry warriors arrived: they knocked down their legs on the roots, tore off the dress on the thorns, and returned to the camp empty-handed. Not a single animal caught them in the net.

Volga laughed:

- Oh, hunters! Return to the forest, stand up to the nets and look, well done, both.

Volga hit the ground, turned into a gray wolf, ran into the forests. He drove the beast out of its holes, hollowed out, out of the deadwood, drove foxes, martens, and sables into nets. He did not disdain even a small animal, he caught gray bunnies for dinner.

The combatants returned with rich booty.

He fed and watered the Volga squad, and even shod and dressed them. Vigilantes wear expensive sable fur coats, they also have leopard fur coats for a break. Do not praise Volga, do not stop admiring.

Here time goes on and on, Volga sends medium vigilantes:

- Set up snares in the forest on tall oaks, catch geese, swans, gray ducks.

The heroes scattered through the forest, set snares, thought to come home with rich prey, but they did not even catch a gray sparrow.

They returned to the camp unhappy, hung their heads below their shoulders. They hide their eyes from Volga, turn away. And Volga laughs at them:

— Why did they return without prey, hunters? Well, you'll have something to feast on. Go to the snares and look vigilantly.

Volga hit the ground, took off like a white falcon, rose high under the very cloud, burst down on every bird in the sky. He beats geese, swans, gray ducks, only fluff flies from them, as if covering the ground with snow. Whom he did not beat, he drove into snares.

The heroes returned to the camp with rich booty. They lit fires, baked game, washed down the game with spring water, praised Volga.

How much, how little time has passed, Volga sends his combatants again:

- You build oak boats, wind silk seines, take maple floats, you go out into the blue sea, catch salmon, beluga, stellate sturgeon.

The combatants were fishing for ten days, but they did not even catch a small brush. Volga turned into a toothy pike, dived into the sea, drove the fish out of deep pits, drove silk nets into the seine. Well done brought full boats and salmon, and beluga, and baleen catfish.

Vigilantes walk across the open field, they are heroic games. arrows are thrown, they ride on horses, they measure the strength of a heroic ...

Suddenly Volga heard that the Turkish Tsar Saltan Beketovich was going to war against Russia.

His valiant heart flared up, he called the vigilantes and said:

“It’s enough for you to lie on your sides, it’s full of strength to work up, the time has come to serve your native land, to protect Russia from Saltan Beketovich. Who among you will make his way to the Turkish camp, will he know Saltanov's thoughts?

The fellows are silent, hiding behind each other: the eldest is behind the middle one. the middle one - for the younger one, and the younger one closed his mouth.

Volga got angry:

“Looks like I have to go myself!”

He turned round - golden horns. The first time he jumped - he slipped a mile, the second time he jumped - they only saw him.

Volga galloped to the Turkish kingdom, turned into a gray sparrow, sat on the window to Tsar Saltan and listened. And Saltan walks around the room, clicks with a patterned whip and says to his wife Azvyakovna:

- I decided to go to war against Russia. I will conquer nine cities, I myself will sit as a prince in Kyiv, I will distribute nine cities to nine sons, I will give you shushun sable.

And Tsaritsa Azvyakovna looks sadly:

- Ah, Tsar Saltan, today I had a bad dream: as if a black raven was fighting in a field with a white falcon. The white falcon clawed the black crow, and released its feathers into the wind. The white falcon is the Russian hero Volga Vseslavevich, the black raven is you, Saltan Beketovich. Don't go to Russia. Do not take you nine cities, do not reign in Kyiv.

Tsar Saltan got angry, hit the queen with a whip:

- I'm not afraid of Russian heroes, I will reign in Kyiv. Then Volga flew down like a sparrow, turned into an ermine. It has a narrow body and sharp teeth.

The ermine ran through the royal court, made its way into the deep royal cellars. There he bit off the bowstring of tight bows, gnawed the shafts of arrows, chipped his sabers, bent the clubs in an arc.

An ermine crawled out of the basement, turned into a gray wolf, ran to the royal stables - killed all the Turkish horses, strangled them.

Volga got out of the royal court, turned into a bright falcon, flew into the open field to his squad, woke up the heroes:

- Hey, my brave squad, now is not the time to sleep, it's time to get up! Get ready for a trip to the Golden Horde, to Saltan Beketovich!

They approached the Golden Horde, and around the Horde there was a high stone wall. The gates in the wall are iron, the bolt hooks are copper, the guards at the gate are sleepless - do not fly over, do not cross, do not break the gate.

The heroes became sad, thought: “How to overcome the high wall of the iron gate?”

Young Volga guessed: he turned into a small midge, turned all the good fellows into goosebumps, and goosebumps crawled under the gate. And on the other side they became warriors.

They hit Saltanov's strength like thunder from heaven. And the sabers of the Turkish army are blunted, the swords are chipped. Here the Turkish army went on the run.

Russian heroes passed through the Golden Horde, all Saltanov's strength was finished.

Saltan Beketovich himself ran away to his palace, closed the iron doors, pushed the copper bolts.

As Volga kicked the door, all the locks and bolts flew out. the iron doors burst.

Volga went into the upper room, grabbed Saltan by the hands:

- Do not be you, Saltan, in Russia, do not burn, do not burn Russian cities, do not sit as a prince in Kyiv.

Volga hit him on the stone floor and smashed Saltan to death.

- Don't brag. Horde, with your strength, do not go to war against Mother Russia!

Mikula Selyaninovich

Early in the morning, in the early sun, Volga got ready to take the given taxes from the trading cities of Gurchevets and Orekhovets.

The squad mounted good horses, brown colts, and set off. The good fellows left for an open field, in a wide expanse and heard a plowman in the field. The plowman plows, whistles, the plowshares scratch over the pebbles. As if a plowman is leading a plow somewhere nearby.

The good fellows go to the plowman, they go day to evening, but they cannot ride to him. You can hear the plowman whistling, you can hear the bipod creaking, the scraping of the plowballs, and you can’t even see the plowman himself.

The fellows ride the other day until evening, just as the plowman whistles, the pine creaks, the plowballs scratch, and the plowman is gone.

The third day goes to the evening, here only the good fellows have reached the plowman. The plowman plows, urges, hums at his filly. He lays furrows like deep ditches, twists oaks out of the ground, throws boulders aside. Only the plowman's curls sway, crumble like silk over his shoulders.

And the plowman's filly is not wise, and his plow is maple, silk tugs. Volga marveled at him, bowed courteously:

- Hello, good man, worker in the field!

- Be healthy, Volga Vseslavevich! Where are you heading?

- I'm going to the cities of Gurchevets and Orekhovets - to collect tribute-taxes from trading people.

“Oh, Volga Vseslavievich, in those cities all the robbers live, skinning the poor plowman, collecting tolls on the roads. I went there to buy salt, bought three bags of salt, each bag a hundred pounds, put it on a gray filly and headed home to myself. Merchant people surrounded me, they began to take travel money from me. The more I give, the more they want. I got angry, got angry, paid them with a silk whip. Well, who was standing, he is sitting, and who was sitting, he is lying.

Volga was surprised, bowed to the plowman:

- Oh, you, glorious plowman, mighty hero, you go with me for a comrade.

- Well, I'll go, Volga Vseslavevich, I must give them a mandate - do not offend other peasants.

The plowman removed the silk tugs from the plow, unharnessed the gray filly, sat on her astride and set off.

Well done galloped halfway. The plowman says to Volga Vseslavevich:

- Oh, we did something wrong, we left a plow in the furrow. You sent fellow vigilantes to pull the bipod out of the furrow, shake the earth out of it, put the plow under the willow bush.

Volga sent three vigilantes.

They turn the bipod this way and that, but they cannot lift the bipod from the ground.

Volga sent ten knights. They turn the bipod in twenty hands, but they cannot tear it off.

Then Volga went with the whole squad. Thirty people, without a single one, clung to the bipod from all sides, strained, went knee-deep into the ground, but did not move the bipod even a hair's breadth.

Here the plowman himself got down from the filly, took up the bipod with one hand. he pulled it out of the ground, shook the earth out of the pebbles. Cleaned the plowshares with grass.

So they drove up to Gurchevets and Orekhovets. And there, cunning trading people saw a plowman, cut down oak logs on the bridge over the Orekhovets River.

The squad almost climbed onto the bridge, oak logs broke, the good fellows began to drown in the river, the brave squad began to die, horses began to go to the bottom, people began to go to the bottom.

Volga and Mikula got angry, got angry, whipped their good horses, jumped over the river in one gallop. They jumped onto that bank, and began to honor the villains.

The plowman beats with a whip, says:

— Oh, you greedy trading people! The peasants of the city feed them with bread, give them honey to drink, and you spare them salt!

Volga favors with a club for combatants, for heroic horses. The Gurchevets people began to repent:

- You will forgive us for villainy, for cunning. Take tribute from us, and let the plowmen go for salt, no one will demand a penny from them.

Volga took tribute from them for twelve years, and the heroes went home.

The plowman Volga Vseslavevich asks:

- You tell me, Russian hero, what is your name, called by your patronymic?

- Come to me, Volga Vseslavevich, to my peasant yard, so you will know how people honor me.

The heroes drove up to the field. The plowman pulled out a pine, plowed up a wide field, sowed it with golden grain ... It was still dawn, and the plowman's field was noisy with an ear. The dark night is coming - the plowman is reaping bread. In the morning he threshed, by noon he blew it out, by dinner he ground flour, started pies. By evening, he called the people to a feast in honor.

People began to eat pies, drink mash, and praise the plowman:

Ah thank you, Mikula Selyaninovich!

Svyatogor-bogatyr

The Holy Mountains are high in Russia, their gorges are deep, the abysses are terrible; Neither birch, nor oak, nor pine, nor green grass grow there. Even a wolf won't run through there, an eagle won't fly by, - even an ant has nothing to profit from on the bare rocks.

Only the hero Svyatogor rides between the cliffs on his mighty horse. The horse jumps over the abyss, jumps over the gorges, crosses from mountain to mountain.

The old one travels through the Holy Mountains.
Here the mother of damp earth oscillates,
Stones fall into the abyss
Rapid rivers pour out.

The growth of the hero Svyatogor is higher than the dark forest, he props up the clouds with his head, jumps through the mountains - the mountains stagger under him, he will drive into the river - all the water from the river will splash out. He rides for a day, another, a third, he stops, pitches a tent - he lies down, sleeps, and again his horse wanders through the mountains.

It is boring for Svyatogor the hero, it is dreary for the old one: in the mountains there is no one to say a word to, no one to measure strength with.

He would go to Russia, take a walk with other heroes, fight with enemies, shake his strength, but the trouble is: the earth does not hold him, only the stone cliffs of Svyatogorsk under his weight do not collapse, do not fall, only their ridges do not crack under his hooves heroic horse.

It is hard for Svyatogor from his strength, he wears it like a heavy burden. I would be glad to give half of my strength, but there is no one. I would be glad to do the hardest work, but there is no work on the shoulder. Whatever he takes with his hand, everything will crumble into crumbs, flatten into a pancake.

He would begin to uproot forests, but for him forests are like meadow grass He would begin to move mountains, but no one needs this ...

And so he travels alone through the Holy Mountains, his head from longing is oppressed below ...

“Oh, if only I could find earthly traction, I would drive a ring into the sky, tie an iron chain to the ring; would have pulled the sky to the earth, would have turned the earth upside down, mixed the sky with the earth - would have spent a little power!

But where is it - traction - to find!

Svyatogor once rides along the valley between the cliffs, and suddenly a living person is walking ahead!

An unprepossessing little man is walking, stomping on his bast shoes, carrying a bag on his shoulder.

Svyatogor was delighted: he would have someone to say a word to, - he began to catch up with the peasant.

He goes to himself, in no hurry, but Svyatogorov's horse gallops with all his might, but he cannot catch up with the peasant. A peasant is walking, not in a hurry, throwing his bag from shoulder to shoulder. Svyatogor is jumping at full speed - everything is a passerby ahead! Goes step - do not catch up!

Svyatogor shouted to him:

— Hey, passer-by fellow, wait for me! The man stopped and put his bag on the ground. Svyatogor jumped up, greeted him and asked:

“What is that burden you have in that purse?”

- And you take my purse, throw it over your shoulder and run with it across the field.

Svyatogor laughed so that the mountains shook; I wanted to pry my purse with a whip, but the purse did not move, I began to push with a spear - it would not move, I tried to raise it with my finger, it did not rise ...

Svyatogor got down from his horse, took his handbag with his right hand - he didn’t move it by a hair. The hero grabbed the purse with both hands, jerked with all his strength - only raised it to his knees. Look - and he himself went knee-deep into the ground, not sweat, but blood flows down his face, his heart sank ...

Svyatogor threw his handbag, fell to the ground, - a rumble went through the mountains and valleys.

The hero barely caught his breath.

“Tell me, what do you have in your purse?” Tell me, teach me, I have never heard of such a miracle. My strength is exorbitant, but I can’t lift such a grain of sand!

- Why not say - I will say: in my little purse all the earth's thrust lies.

Spiatogor lowered his head:

- That's what the earth's thrust means. And who are you and what is your name, a passer-by?

- I'm a plowman, Mikula Selyaninovich.

“I see, good man, mother earth loves you!” Can you tell me about my fate? It's hard for me to ride the mountains alone, I can't live like this anymore in the world.

- Go, hero, to the Northern mountains. There is an iron forge near those mountains. In that forge, the blacksmith forges the fate of everyone, you will learn about your own fate from him.

Mikula Selyaninovich threw his purse over his shoulder and walked away. And Svyatogor jumped on his horse and galloped to the Northern Mountains. Svyatogor rode and rode for three days, three nights, did not go to bed for three days - he reached the Northern Mountains. Here the cliffs are still naked, the abysses are even blacker, the deep rivers are more turbulent ...

Under the cloud, on a bare rock, Svyatogor saw an iron forge. A bright fire is burning in the forge, black smoke is pouring out of the forge, ringing-knocking is going on all over the district.

Svyatogor went into the smithy and saw: a gray-haired old man was standing at the anvil, blowing up the bellows with one hand, hitting the anvil with a hammer with the other, but nothing was visible on the anvil.

- Blacksmith, blacksmith, what are you forging, father?

- Come closer, lean lower! Svyatogor bent down, looked and was surprised: the blacksmith forges two thin hair.

— What do you have, blacksmith?

“Here are two hairs of an okuyu, a hair with a hair of an owl—two people and they are getting married.

- And who does fate tell me to marry?

- Your bride lives on the edge of the mountains in a dilapidated hut.

Svyatogor went to the edge of the mountains, found a dilapidated hut. The hero entered it, put a gift bag with gold on the table. Svyatogor looked around and saw: a girl was lying motionless on a bench, covered with bark and scabs, her eyes did not open.

It became a pity for her Svyatogor. What is it that lies and suffers? And death does not come, and there is no life.

Svyatogor pulled out his sharp sword, wanted to hit the girl, but his hand did not rise. The sword fell on the oak floor.

Svyatogor jumped out of the hut, mounted a horse and galloped to the Holy Mountains.

Meanwhile, the girl opened her eyes and sees: a heroic sword lies on the floor, a bag of gold is on the table, and all the bark has fallen off her, and her body is clean, and her strength has arrived.

She got up, walked along the mountain, went beyond the threshold, bent over the lake and gasped: a beautiful girl was looking at her from the lake - and stately, and white, and ruddy, and clear eyes, and fair-haired braids!

She took the gold that lay on the table, built ships, loaded them with goods and set off on the blue sea to trade, to seek happiness.

Wherever you come, all the people run to buy goods, to admire the beauty. The glory of her throughout Russia goes:

So she reached the Holy Mountains, the rumor about her reached Svyatogor. He also wanted to look at the beauty. He looked at her, and the girl fell in love with him.

- This is the bride for me, for this I will woo! Svyatogor also fell in love with the girl.

They got married, and Svyatogor's wife began to tell about her former life, how she lay covered with bark for thirty years, how she was cured, how she found money on the table.

Svyatogor was surprised, but did not say anything to his wife.

The girl quit trading, sailing the seas, and began to live with Svyatogor on the Holy Mountains.

Alyosha Popovich and Tugarin Zmeevich

In the glorious city of Rostov, the Rostov cathedral priest had one and only son. His name was Alyosha, nicknamed after his father Popovich.

Alyosha Popovich did not learn to read and write, he did not sit down to read books, but from an early age he learned to wield a spear, shoot from a bow, and tame heroic horses. Silon Alyosha is not a great hero, but he took it with impudence and cunning. So Alyosha Popovich grew up to the age of sixteen, and he became bored in his father's house.

He began to ask his father to let him go to an open field, to a wide expanse, to travel freely around Russia, to get to the blue sea, to hunt in the forests. His father let him go, gave him a heroic horse, a saber, a sharp spear and a bow with arrows. Alyosha began to saddle his horse, began to say:

- Serve me faithfully, heroic horse. Leave me neither dead nor wounded gray wolves to be torn to pieces, black crows to peck, enemies to reproach! Wherever we are, bring home!

He dressed up his horse in a princely way. Cherkasy saddle, silk girth, gilded bridle.

Alyosha called his beloved friend Ekim Ivanovich with him, and on Saturday morning he left home in search of heroic glory.

Here faithful friends ride shoulder to shoulder, stirrup to stirrup, looking around. No one is visible in the steppe - not a hero with whom to measure strength, not a beast to hunt. The Russian steppe stretches under the sun without end, without edge, and you can’t hear a rustle in it, you can’t see a bird in the sky. Suddenly Alyosha sees - a stone lies on the mound, and something is written on the stone. Alyosha says to Ekim Ivanovich:

— Come on, Ekimushka, read what is written on the stone. You are well literate, but I am not literate and cannot read.

Ekim jumped off his horse, began to disassemble the inscription on the stone.

- Here, Alyoshenka, what is written on the stone: the right road leads to Chernigov, the left road to Kyiv, to Prince Vladimir, and the straight road leads to the blue sea, to quiet backwaters.

- Where are we, Ekim, the way to keep?

“It’s a long way to go to the blue sea, there’s no need to go to Chernigov: there are good kalachnitsa. Eat one kalach - you will want another, eat another - you will fall on the feather bed, we will not find heroic glory there. And we will go to Prince Vladimir, maybe he will take us into his squad.

- Well, let's turn, Ekim, onto the left path.

The good fellows wrapped up the horses and drove along the road to Kyiv.

They reached the bank of the Safat River, set up a white tent. Alyosha jumped off his horse, entered the tent, lay down on the green grass and fell into a sound sleep. And Ekim unsaddled the horses, watered them, took a walk, hobbled them and let them into the meadows, only then did he go to rest.

Alyosha woke up in the morning, washed himself with dew, dried himself with a white towel, and began combing his curls.

And Ekim jumped up, went for the horses, gave them a drink, fed them with oats, saddled both his own and Alyosha.

Once again, the lads set out on their journey.

They go, they go, suddenly they see - an old man is walking in the middle of the steppe. The beggar wanderer is a passable kalika. He is wearing bast shoes made of seven silks woven, he is wearing a sable coat, a Greek hat, and in his hands is a travel club.

He saw the good fellows, blocked their way:

- Oh, you, well done daring, you do not go beyond the Safat River. The evil enemy Tugarin, the Snake's son, became camped there. He is as high as a tall oak, between his shoulders a slanting fathom, between his eyes you can put an arrow. He has a winged horse - like a fierce beast: flames burst from his nostrils, smoke pours from his ears. Don't go there guys!

Ekimushka glanced at Alyosha, but Alyosha became inflamed and angry:

- So that I give way to any evil spirits! I can't take it by force, I'll take it by cunning. My brother, travel wanderer, give me your dress for a while, take my heroic armor, help me cope with Tugarin.

- Okay, take it, but see that there is no trouble: he can swallow you in one gulp.

"Nothing, we'll manage somehow!"

Alyosha put on a colored dress and went on foot to the Safat River. Goes. leans on a club, limps ...

Tugarin Zmeevich saw him, shouted so that the earth trembled, tall oaks bent, water splashed out of the river, Alyosha was barely alive, his legs gave way.

“Hey,” shouts Tugarin, “hey, wanderer, have you seen Alyosha Popovich? I would like to find him, and stab him with a spear, and burn him with fire.

And Alyosha pulled a Greek hat over his face, grunted, groaned and answered in an old man's voice:

- Oh-oh-oh, don't be angry with me, Tugarin Zmeevich! I’m deaf from old age, I don’t hear anything that you order me. Come closer to me, to the poor.

Tugarin rode up to Alyosha, leaned down from the saddle, wanted to bark in his ear, and Alyosha was dexterous, evasive, - as soon as he was enough with a club between the eyes, - so Tugarin fell to the ground unconscious.

Alyosha took off from him an expensive dress, embroidered with gems, not a cheap dress, worth a hundred thousand, put it on himself. He strapped Tugarin himself to the saddle and rode back to his friends.

And so Ekim Ivanovich is not himself, he is eager to help Alyosha, but you can’t interfere in the heroic business, interfere with Alyosha’s glory.

Suddenly he sees Ekim - a horse is galloping like a fierce beast, Tugarin is sitting on it in an expensive dress.

Ekim became angry, threw backhand his thirty-pound club right into Alyosha Popovich's chest. Alyosha fell down dead.

And Ekim pulled out a dagger, rushed to the fallen man, wants to finish off Tugarin ... And suddenly he sees Alyosha lying in front of him ...

Yekim Ivanovich rushed to the ground and wept bitterly:

- I killed, I killed my named brother, dear Alyosha Popovich!

They began to shake Alyosha with Kalika, pump him, poured overseas drink into his mouth, rubbed it with medicinal herbs. Alyosha opened his eyes, stood up, stood on his feet, staggered.

Ekim Ivanovich is not himself for joy.

He took off Tugarin's dress from Alyosha, dressed him in heroic armor, and gave his property to the Kalika. He put Alyosha on a horse, he walked beside him: he supports Alyosha.

Only at Kyiv itself did Alyosha enter into force.

They drove up to Kyiv on Sunday, at lunchtime. We drove into the princely courtyard, jumped off the horses, tied them to oak poles and entered the chamber.

Prince Vladimir welcomes them affectionately.

Hello, dear guests, where did you come from? What is your first name, called by your patronymic?

- I am from the city of Rostov, the son of the cathedral priest Leonty. And my name is Alyosha Popovich. We drove through the pure steppe, met Tugarin Zmeevich, he now hangs in my tori.

Prince Vladimir rejoiced:

- Well, you are a hero, Alyoshenka! Wherever you want, sit down at the table: if you want, next to me, if you want, against me, if you want, next to the princess.

Alyosha Popovich did not hesitate, he sat down next to the princess. And Ekim Ivanovich stood by the stove.

Prince Vladimir shouted to the servants:

- Untie Tugarin Zmeyevich, bring here to the upper room! As soon as Alyosha took up the bread, the salt - the doors of the hotel opened, twelve grooms brought in on Tugarin's golden board, and they sat next to Prince Vladimir.

The stewards came running, brought roast geese, swans, brought ladles of sweet honey.

And Tugarin behaves impolitely, impolitely. He grabbed the swan and ate it with the bones, stuffing the whole carpet into the cheek. He scooped up the rich pies and threw them into his mouth, pouring ten ladles of honey down his throat in one breath.

The guests had no time to take a piece, and already there were only bones on the table.

Alyosha Popovich frowned and said:

- My father priest Leonty had an old and greedy dog. She grabbed a large bone and choked. I grabbed her by the tail, threw her downhill - the same will be from me to Tugarin.

Tugarin darkened like an autumn night, drew a sharp dagger and threw it at Alyosha Popovich.

Then Alyosha would have come to an end, but Ekim Ivanovich jumped up, intercepting the dagger on the fly.

“My brother, Alyosha Popovich, will you please throw a knife at him, or will you let me?”

“I won’t leave it myself, and I won’t let you: it’s impolite to have a quarrel in the prince’s room.” And I'll go over with him tomorrow in an open field, and Tugarin won't be alive tomorrow evening.

The guests made a noise, argued, began to keep a mortgage, they put everything for Tugarin, and ships, and goods, and money.

Only Princess Apraksia and Ekim Ivanovich are put behind Alyosha.

Alyosha got up from the table, went with Ekim to his tent on the Sa-fat-river. All night Alyosha does not sleep, looks at the sky, calls a thundercloud to moisten Tugarin's wings with rain. In the morning light, Tugarin flew in, hovering over the tent, he wants to strike from above. Yes, it was not in vain that Alyosha did not sleep: a thunderous, thunderous cloud flew in, poured rain, moistened Tugarin's horse with mighty wings. The horse rushed to the ground, galloped along the ground.

Alyosha sits firmly in the saddle, waving a sharp saber.

Tugarin roared so that a leaf fell from the trees:

“Here you are, Alyoshka, the end: if I want, I’ll burn it with fire, if I want, I’ll trample it with a horse, if I want, I’ll stab it with a spear!”

Alyosha drove closer to him and said:

- What are you, Tugarin, deceiving?! We fought with you about a bet that we would measure our strength one on one, and now you have an unimaginable strength behind you!

Tugarin looked back, wanted to see what power was behind him, and Alyosha needed only that. He waved a sharp saber and cut off his head!

The head rolled to the ground like a beer cauldron, mother earth buzzed! Alyosha jumped off, wanted to take his head, but he could not lift an inch from the ground. Alyosha Popovich called out in a loud voice:

- Hey you, faithful comrades, help Tugarin's head from the ground!

Ekim Ivanovich drove up with his comrades, helped Alyosha Popovich to put Tugarin's head on the heroic horse.

As soon as they arrived at Kyiv, they stopped at the prince's court, left a monster in the middle of the courtyard.

Prince Vladimir came out with the princess, invited Alyosha to the prince's table, spoke affectionate words to Alyosha:

- You live, Alyosha, in Kyiv, serve me, Prince Vladimir. I'm sorry for you, Alyosha.

Alyosha remained in Kyiv as a combatant.

So they sing old times about young Alyosha so that good people listen:

Our Alyosha of the priestly family,
He is brave and smart, and has a grumpy temper.
He is not as strong as he dared to be.

About Dobrynya Nikitich and Zmey Gorynych

Once upon a time there was a widow Mamelfa Timofeevna near Kyiv. She had a beloved son - the hero Dobrynushka. Throughout Kyiv, Dobrynya was famous: he was handsome and tall, and well-educated, and bold in battle, and cheerful at the feast. He will compose a song, and play the harp, and say a clever word. Yes, and the temper of Dobrynya is calm, affectionate. He will not scold anyone, he will not offend anyone in vain. No wonder they called him "quiet Dobrynushka."

Once, on a hot summer day, Dobrynya wanted to swim in the river. He went to his mother Mamelfa Timofeevna:

“Let me go, mother, go to the Puchai River, swim in the icy water,” the summer heat exhausted me.

Mamelfa Timofeevna got excited, began to dissuade Dobrynya:

“My dear son Dobrynushka, don’t go to the Puchai River. Puchai is a ferocious, angry river. From the first trickle the fire cuts, from the second trickle sparks pour, from the third trickle the smoke pours down.

- Well, mother, let me go at least along the shore to ride, get some fresh air.

Mamelfa Timofeevna let Dobrynya go.

Dobrynya put on a travel dress, covered himself with a high Greek hat, took with him a spear and a bow with arrows, a sharp saber and a whip.

He mounted a good horse, called a young servant along with him and set off. Dobrynya rides for an hour or two; the summer sun is burning hot, baking Dobrynya's head. Dobrynya forgot that his mother punished him, turned his horse to the Puchay River.

From Puchay-river cool carries.

Dobrynya jumped off his horse, threw the reins to the young servant:

- You stay here, guarding the horse.

He took off his Greek hat, took off his traveling clothes, put all his weapons on his horse and rushed into the river.

Dobrynya floats along the Puchay River, surprised:

- What did my mother tell me about the Puchai River? Puchai-river is not ferocious, Puchai-river is quiet, like a puddle of rain.

Before Dobrynya had time to say, the sky suddenly darkened, and there were no clouds in the sky, and there was no rain, but thunder rumbles, and there is no thunderstorm, but the fire shines ...

Dobrynya raised his head and saw that the Serpent Gorynych was flying towards him, a terrible serpent with three heads, seven claws, flames from his nostrils, smoke pouring out of his ears, copper claws on his paws shining.

I saw the Serpent Dobrynya, thundered:

“Oh, the old people prophesied that Dobrynya Nikitich would kill me, and Dobrynya himself came into my clutches. If I want to now, I’ll eat it alive, if I want it, I’ll take it to my lair, I’ll take it prisoner. I have a lot of Russian people in captivity, only Dobrynya was missing.

- Oh, you damned snake, you first take Dobrynushka, then brag, but for now Dobrynya is not in your hands.

Good Dobrynya knew how to swim; he dived to the bottom, swam under the water, surfaced near the steep bank, jumped ashore and rushed to his horse. And the horse and the trace caught a cold: the young servant was frightened by the roar of the snake, jumped on the horse and was like that. And he took away all the weapons to Dobrynina.

Dobrynya has nothing to fight with the Serpent Gorynych.

And the Serpent again flies to Dobrynya, sprinkles combustible sparks, burns Dobrynya's white body.

The heroic heart trembled.

Dobrynya looked at the shore - there was nothing to take in his hands: there was no club, no pebble, only yellow sand on a steep bank, and his Greek hat was lying around.

Dobrynya grabbed a Greek hat, poured yellow sand into it no less than five pounds, and how he hit the Serpent Gorynych with his hat - and knocked off his head.

He threw the Serpent down with a swing to the ground, crushed his chest with his knees, wanted to beat off two more heads ...

As the Serpent Gorynych pleaded here:

“Oh, Dobrynushka, oh, hero, don’t kill me, let me fly around the world, I will always obey you!” I will give you a great vow: not to fly to you to wide Russia, not to take Russian people prisoner. Only you have mercy on me, Dobrynushka, and don't touch my serpents.

Dobrynya succumbed to a crafty speech, believed the Serpent Gorynych, let him go, the damned one.

As soon as the Serpent rose under the clouds, he immediately turned towards Kyiv, flew to the garden of Prince Vladimir. And at that time, young Zabava Putyatishna, Prince Vladimir's niece, was walking in the garden.

The Serpent saw the princess, was delighted, rushed at her from under the cloud, grabbed her in his copper claws and carried her to the Sorochinsky mountains.

At this time, Dobrynya found a servant, began to put on a travel dress - suddenly the sky darkened, thunder rumbled. Dobrynya raised his head and sees: the Serpent Gorynych is flying from Kyiv, carrying Zzbava Putyatishna in his claws!

Then Dobrynya became sad - he became sad, squirmed, came home unhappy, sat down on a bench, did not say a word. His mother began to ask:

- What are you doing, Dobrynushka, sitting unhappy? What are you talking about, my light. are you sad?

“I don’t worry about anything, I don’t grieve about anything, and it’s not fun for me to sit at home. I will go to Kyiv to Prince Vladimir, he is having a merry feast today.

- Do not go, Dobrynushka, to the prince, my heart senses evil. We'll have a feast at home too.

Dobrynya did not listen to his mother and went to Kyiv to Prince Vladimir.

Dobrynya arrived in Kyiv, went to the prince's room. At the feast, the tables are bursting with food, there are barrels of sweet honey, and the guests do not eat, do not pour, they sit with their heads down.

The prince walks around the upper room, he does not treat guests. The princess covered herself with a veil, she does not look at the guests.

Here Vladimir the Prince says:

- Oh, my beloved guests, we have a gloomy feast! And the princess is bitter, and I am not happy. The damned Serpent Gorynych took away our beloved niece, the young Zabava Putyatishna. Which of you will go to Mount Sorochinskaya, find the princess, set her free?

Where there! The guests are hiding behind each other: the big ones are behind the middle ones, the middle ones are behind the smaller ones, and the smaller ones have closed their mouths.

Suddenly, the young hero Alyosha Popovich leaves the table.

- That's what, Prince Red Sun, I was yesterday in an open field, I saw Dobrynushka near the Puchai River. He fraternized with the Serpent Gorynych, called him a smaller brother. You went to the Serpent Dobrynushka. He will beg you for your beloved niece without a fight from the named brother.

Vladimir the Prince got angry:

- If so, get on your horse, Dobrynya, go to Mount Sorochinskaya, get me my beloved niece. But not. If you get Putyatishna's Fun, I'll order you to cut off your head!

Dobrynya lowered his violent head, did not answer a word, got up from the table, mounted his horse and rode home.

Mother came out to meet him, she sees that there is no face on Dobrynya.

"What's the matter with you, Dobrynushka, what's the matter with you, son, what happened at the feast?" Did they offend you, or surrounded you with a spell, or put you in a bad place?

“They didn’t offend me and they didn’t surround me with a spell, and my place was according to rank, according to rank.

- Why are you hanging your head, Dobrynya?

- Prince Vladimir ordered me to do a great service: to go to Mount Sorochinskaya, find and get Zabava Putyatishna. And Zabava Putyatishna was carried away by the Serpent Gorynych.

Mamelfa Timofeevna was horrified, but she did not begin to cry and mourn, but began to think over the matter.

- Lie down, Dobrynushka, sleep quickly, gain strength. Morning evenings are wiser, tomorrow we will keep the council.

Dobrynya went to bed. Sleeping, snoring, that the stream is noisy. But Mamelfa Timofeyevna does not go to bed, sits down on a bench and weaves a seven-east braid from seven silks all night.

In the morning, light woke up mother Dobrynya Nikitich:

- Get up, son, get dressed, dress up, go to the old stable. In the third stall, the door does not open, the oak door was beyond our power. Try hard, Dobrynushka, open the door, there you will see your grandfather's horse Burushka. Bourka stands in a stall for fifteen years, not groomed. You clean it, feed it, give it to drink, bring it to the porch.

Dobrynya went to the stable, tore the door off its hinges, brought Burushka out into the world, cleaned it, bought it out, and brought it to the porch. Began to saddle Burushka. He put a sweatshirt on it, on top of the sweatshirt - felt, then a Cherkasy saddle, embroidered with valuable silk, adorned with gold, pulled up twelve girths, bridle with a golden bridle. Mamelfa Timofeevna came out, gave him a seven-tailed whip:

When you arrive, Dobrynya, on Mount Sorochinskaya, the Snake of Goryny-cha will not happen at home. You ride a horse to the lair and start trampling on the serpents. The serpents of Burke will wrap their legs around, and you whip Burke between the ears with a whip. Burka will jump up, shake off the kites from their feet and trample everyone to the last.

A twig broke off from an apple tree, an apple rolled away from an apple tree, a son left his dear mother for a difficult, bloody battle.

Day after day goes by like rain, and week after week it runs like a river. Dobrynya rides with a red sun, Dobrynya rides with a bright month, he went to Mount Sorochinskaya.

And on the mountain near the snake's lair, serpents are teeming with serpents. They began to wrap Burushka's legs around her, began to grind their hooves. Burushka cannot jump, falls to her knees.

Here Dobrynya remembered his mother's order, snatched out a whip of seven silks, began to beat Burushka between the ears, saying:

- Jump, Burushka, jump, shake away from the feet of the little snakes.

Burushka gained strength from the whip, he began to jump high, toss stones a mile away, and began to shake off the little snakes from their feet. He beats them with his hoof and tears them with his teeth and trampled them all to the last.

Dobrynya got off his horse, took a sharp saber in his right hand, a heroic club in his left, and went to the snake caves.

As soon as he took a step, the sky darkened, thunder rumbled, the Serpent Gorynych flies, holding a dead body in its claws. Fire cuts from the mouth, smoke pours out of the ears, copper claws burn like heat ...

The Serpent saw Dobrynushka, threw the dead body to the ground, growled in a loud voice:

Why, Dobrynya, did you break our vow, trample on my cubs?

“Oh, you damned snake! Have I broken our word, broken my vow? Why did you fly, Serpent, to Kyiv, why did you take Zabava Putyatishna away?! Give me the princess without a fight, so I will forgive you.

- I will not give Zabava Putyatishnu, I will devour it, and I will devour you, and I will take all the Russian people in full!

Dobrynya got angry and rushed at the Serpent.

And then a fierce battle ensued.

The Sorochinsky mountains fell down, the oaks with their roots turned out, the grass per arshin went into the ground ...

They fight for three days and three nights; the Serpent began to overcome Dobrynya, began to toss, began to toss ... Dobrynya then remembered about the whip, grabbed it and let's whip the Serpent between the ears. The serpent Gorynych fell to his knees, and Dobrynya pressed him to the ground with his left hand, and with his right hand he was courting him with a whip. He beat him, beat him with a silk whip, tamed him like cattle and cut off all his heads.

Black blood gushed from the Serpent, spilled to the east and west, flooded Dobrynya to the waist.

For three days Dobrynya stands in black blood, his legs get cold, the cold reaches his heart. The Russian land does not want to accept snake blood.

Dobrynya sees that the end has come for him, took out a whip of seven silks, began to whip the ground, saying:

- Part you, mother damp earth, and devour the blood of a snake. The damp earth parted and devoured the blood of the snake. Dobrynya Nikitich rested, washed himself, cleaned the heroic armor and went to the snake caves. All caves are closed with copper doors, locked with iron bolts, hung with golden locks.

Dobrynya broke the copper doors, tore off the locks and bolts, went into the first cave. And there he sees a myriad of people from forty lands, from forty countries, two days cannot be counted. Dobrynushka tells them:

“Hey, you foreign people and foreign warriors! Go out into the open world, go to your places and remember the Russian hero. Without it, you would have been in captivity for a century.

They began to go free, bow to the land of Dobrynya:

We will remember you for a century, Russian hero!

So Dobrynya went through eleven caves, and in the twelfth he found Fun Putyatishna: the princess hangs on a damp wall, chained by her hands with golden chains. Dobrynushka tore off the chains, removed the princess from the wall, took him in his arms, carried him out of the cave into the free light.

And she stands on her feet, staggers, closes her eyes from the light, does not look at Dobrynya. Dobrynya laid her on the green grass, fed her, gave her to drink, covered her with a cloak, and lay down to rest himself.

Here the sun rolled down in the evening, Dobrynya woke up, saddled Burushka and woke up the princess. Dobrynya sat on his horse, put Zabava in front of him and set off. And there are no people around and there is no count, everyone bows to Dobrynya from the waist, thanks for the salvation, rushes to their lands.

Dobrynya rode out to the yellow steppe, spurred his horse and drove Zabava Putyatishna to Kyiv.

How Ilya from Murom became a hero

In ancient times, Ivan Timofeevich lived near the city of Murom, in the village of Karacharovo, with his wife Efrosinya Yakovlevna.

They had one son, Ilya.

His father and mother loved him, but they only cried, looking at him: for thirty years Ilya has been lying on the stove, not moving his hand or foot. And the hero Ilya is tall, and his mind is bright, and his eyes are sharp-sighted, but his legs do not wear, like logs lie, do not move.

Ilya hears, lying on the stove, how his mother cries, his father sighs, the Russian people complain: enemies attack Russia, trample the fields, people are ruined, orphans are children. Robbers prowl along the paths, they do not give people either passage or passage. The Serpent Gorynych flies into Russia, drags the girls into his lair.

Bitterly, Ilya, hearing about all this, complains about his fate:

- Oh, you, my unsteady legs, oh, you, my uncontrollable hands! If I were healthy, I would not give my native Russia an insult to enemies and robbers!

So the days went by, the months rolled by...

Once upon a time, father and mother went to the forest to uproot stumps, tear out roots, and prepare the field for plowing. And Ilya lies alone on the stove, looking out the window.

Suddenly he sees - three beggar wanderers are coming up to his hut. They stood at the gate, knocked with an iron ring and said:

- Get up, Ilya, open the gate.

- Evil jokes. You, strangers, are joking: for thirty years I have been sitting on the stove, I cannot get up.

- And you get up, Ilyushenka.

Ilya rushed - and jumped off the stove, stands on the floor and does not believe his own luck.

- Come on, take a walk, Ilya.

Ilya stepped once, stepped another - his legs hold him tightly, his legs carry him easily.

Ilya was delighted, he could not say a word for joy. And the passers-by say to him:

- Bring me, Ilyusha, some cold water. Ilya brought a bucket of cold water. The wanderer poured water into the ladle.

Drink up, Ilya. In this bucket is the water of all the rivers, all the lakes of Mother Russia.

Ilya drank and felt the heroic strength in himself. And the Kaliki ask him:

- Do you feel a lot of strength in yourself?

“A lot, strangers. If I had a shovel, I would plow the whole earth.

- Drink, Ilya, the rest. In that remnant of the whole earth is dew, from green meadows, from high forests, from grain-growing fields. Drink. Ilya drank and the rest.

- And now you have a lot of power in you?

“Oh, kaliks are passing, there is so much strength in me that, if there were a ring in heaven, I would grab it and turn the whole earth over.

“There is too much strength in you, you need to reduce it, otherwise the earth will not bear you. Bring some more water.

Ilya went on the water, but the earth really does not carry him: his foot in the ground, in a swamp, gets stuck, he grabbed the oak tree - the oak tree is out, the chain from the well, like a thread, was torn to pieces.

Already Ilya steps quietly, and under him the floorboards break. Already Ilya speaks in a whisper, and the doors are torn off their hinges.

Ilya brought water, the wanderers poured more ladles.

- Drink, Ilya!

Ilya drank the well water.

- How many strengths do you have now?

- I have half strength in me.

- Well, it will be with you, well done. You will be, Ilya, a great hero, fight, fight with the enemies of your native land, with robbers and monsters. Protect widows, orphans, little children. Only never, Ilya, do not argue with Svyatogor, his land carries through force. Don't quarrel with Mikula Selyaninovich, mother earth loves him. Do not go to Volga Vseslavevich, he will not take it by force, so by cunning-wisdom. And now goodbye, Ilya.

Ilya bowed to the passers-by, and they left for the outskirts.

And Ilya took an ax and went to reap to his father and mother. He sees that a small place has been cleared of stump-roots, and his father and mother, exhausted from hard work, are again soundly asleep: people are old, and work is hard.

Ilya began to clear the forest - only chips flew. Old oaks are felled with one stroke, young ones are uprooted from the ground.

In three hours he cleared as much fields as the whole village could not master in three days. He ruined a great field, lowered the trees into a deep river, stuck an ax into an oak stump, grabbed a shovel and a rake and dug up and leveled the wide field - only know to sow with grain!

The father and mother woke up, were surprised, delighted, with a kind word they remembered the old wanderers.

And Ilya went to look for a horse.

He went outside the outskirts and sees - a peasant is leading a red, shaggy, mangy foal. The whole price of a foal is worthless, but the peasant demands exorbitant money for him: fifty and a half rubles.

Ilya bought a foal, brought it home, put it in the stable, fattened it with white wheat, soldered it with spring water, cleaned it, groomed it, put fresh straw on it.

Three months later, Ilya Burushka began to lead out into the meadows at dawn. The foal rolled in the dawn dew, became a heroic horse.

Ilya led him to a high tyn. The horse began to play, dance, turn his head, shake his mane. He began to jump back and forth through the tyn. He jumped over ten times and did not touch his hoof! Ilya put a heroic hand on Burushka, - the horse did not stagger, did not move.

“Good horse,” says Ilya. He will be my true friend.

Ilya began to look for a sword in his hand. As he squeezes the hilt of the sword in his fist, the hilt will crush, crumble. Ilya has no sword in his hand. Ilya threw swords to the women to chip a torch. He himself went to the forge, forged three arrows for himself, each arrow weighing a whole pood. He made himself a tight bow, took a long spear, and even a damask club.

Ilya got dressed and went to his father and mother:

- Let me go, father and mother, a. capital Kyiv-grad to Prince Vladimir. I will serve Russia, natively; ”‘ faith-truth, to protect the Russian land from enemies-enemies.

Says old Ivan Timofeevich:

“I bless you for good deeds, but I don’t have my blessing for bad deeds. Defend our Russian land not for gold, not out of self-interest, but for honor, for heroic glory. In vain do not shed human blood, do not cry mothers, but do not forget that you are a black, peasant family.

Ilya bowed to his father and mother to the damp earth and went to saddle Burushka-Kosmatushka. He put felts on the horse, and sweatshirts on the felts, and then a Cherkasy saddle with twelve silk girths, and with the thirteenth iron girth, not for beauty, but for strength.

Ilya wanted to try his strength.

He drove up to the Oka River, rested his shoulder against a high mountain that was on the shore, and dumped it into the Oka River. The mountain blocked the channel, the river flowed in a new way.

Ilya took a rye crust bread, lowered it into the Oka River, the Oke River himself said:

- And thank you, mother Oka-river, for giving water, for feeding Ilya of Muromets.

In parting, he took with him a small handful of native land, mounted a horse, waved his whip ...

People saw how Ilya jumped on a horse, but they did not see where he rode. Only the dust rose in a column across the field.

The first fight of Ilya Muromets

As Ilya grabbed the horse with a whip, Burushka-Kosmatushka soared, slipped a mile and a half. Where the horse's hooves struck, there the spring of living water clogged. At the key, Ilyusha cut down a raw oak tree, put a log house over the key, wrote the following words on the log house:

"The Russian hero, the peasant son Ilya Ivanovich, rode here." A living spring is still flowing there, an oak log house is still standing, and at night a beast-bear goes to the cold spring to drink water and gain heroic strength. And Ilya went to Kyiv.

He was driving along a straight road past the city of Chernigov. As he drove up to Chernigov, he heard noise and uproar under the walls: thousands of Tatars surrounded the city. From dust, from a pair of horses above the ground, the haze is standing, the red sun is not visible in the sky. Do not slip between the Tatars to a gray hare, do not fly over the army to a bright falcon. And in Chernigov weeping and groaning, funeral bells are ringing. Chernigov residents locked themselves in a stone cathedral, crying, praying, waiting for death: three princes approached Chernigov, each with a force of forty thousand.

Ilya's heart flared up. He laid siege to Burushka, tore out of the ground a green oak with stones and roots, grabbed it by the top and rushed at the Tatars. He began to wave the oak, began to trample the enemies with his horse. Where he waves, there will be a street; if he waves, there is an alley. Ilya rode up to the three princes, grabbed them by the yellow curls and said to them these words:

- Oh, you, Tatar princes! Should I take you as a prisoner, brothers, or take off your violent heads? Take you prisoner - so I have nowhere to put you, I'm on the road, I'm not sitting at home, I have counted bread in tori, for myself, not for freeloaders. To take off your heads is not enough honor for the hero Ilya Muromets. Disperse to your places, to your hordes, and spread the news that your native Russia is not empty, there are mighty heroes in Russia, let the enemies think about it.

Then Ilya went to Chernigov-grad, He enters the stone cathedral, and there people cry, say goodbye to the white light.

- Hello, peasants of Chernigov, why are you, peasants, crying, hugging, saying goodbye to the white world?

- How can we not cry: three princes surrounded Chernigov, with forty thousand forces each, so death is coming to us.

- You go to the fortress wall, look into the open field, at the enemy army.

The Chernigovites went to the fortress wall, looked into the open field - and there the enemies were beaten and knocked down, as if the field had been cut down by hail. Chernihiv residents beat Ilya with their foreheads, bring him bread and salt, silver, gold, expensive fabrics embroidered with stones.

- Good fellow, Russian hero, what kind of tribe are you? What father, what mother? What is your first name? You come to us in Chernigov as a governor, we will all obey you, give you honor, feed and drink you, you will live in wealth and honor. Ilya Muromets shook his head:

“Good peasants from Chernigov, I am from the city near Murom, from the village of Karacharova, a simple Russian hero, a peasant son. I did not save you out of self-interest, and I do not need either silver or gold. I saved Russian people, red girls, little children, old mothers. I will not go to you as governor in wealth to live. My wealth is a heroic strength, my business is to serve Russia, to defend from enemies.

Chernigov residents began to ask Ilya to stay with them for at least a day, to feast at a merry feast, but Ilya refuses this too:

“I don’t have time, good people. In Russia, there is a groan from the enemies, I need to get to the prince as soon as possible, get down to business. Give me bread and spring water for the road, and show me the straight road to Kyiv.

The people of Chernigov thought, they became sad:

- Oh, Ilya Muromets, the direct road to Kyiv is overgrown with grass, for thirty years no one has traveled along it ...

- What?

- The nightingale the robber, son Rakhmanovich, sang there by the Smorodina River. He sits on three oaks, on nine branches. How he whistles like a nightingale, roars like an animal - all the forests bend to the ground, the flowers crumble, the grasses dry, and people and horses fall dead. Go on, Ilya, dear roundabout. True, it’s three hundred miles straight to Kyiv, and a whole thousand by a roundabout way.

Ilya Muromets paused, and then shook his head:

It is not honor, not praise for me, well done, to go by the roundabout way, to allow the Nightingale the Robber to prevent people from keeping their way to Kyiv. I'll take the straight road, the untravelled one!

Ilya jumped on his horse, whipped Burushka with a whip, and he was like that, only the Chernigov people saw him!

Ilya Muromets and the Nightingale the Robber

Ilya Muromets gallops at full speed. Burushka-Kosmatushka jumps from mountain to mountain, jumps rivers-lakes, flies over hills.

Ilya jumped off his horse. He supports Burushka with his left hand, and with his right hand tears the oaks by the roots, lays oak floorings through the swamp. Thirty miles Ilya gati laid, - until now, good people ride on it.

So Ilya reached the Smorodina River.

The river flows wide, raging, rolls from stone to stone.

Burushka neighed, soared higher than the dark forest and jumped over the river in one leap.

The nightingale the robber sits across the river on three oaks, on nine branches. Neither a falcon will fly past those oaks, nor an animal will run, nor a reptile will crawl. Everyone is afraid of the Nightingale the Robber, no one wants to die. The Nightingale heard the galloping of horses, stood up on the oaks, and shouted in a terrible voice:

- What kind of ignoramus is driving here, past my reserved oaks? Sleep does not give the Nightingale the Robber!

Yes, as he whistles like a nightingale, growls like an animal, hisses like a snake, so the whole earth trembled, hundred-year-old oaks swayed, flowers crumbled, the grass died. Burushka-Kosmatushka fell to his knees.

And Ilya sits in the saddle, does not move, the blond curls on his head do not flinch. He took a silk whip, hit the horse on the steep sides:

- You are a bag of grass, not a heroic horse! Haven't you heard the squeak of a bird, a thorn of a viper?! Get up on your feet, take me closer to the Nightingale's Nest, or I'll throw you to the wolves to be eaten!

Here Burushka jumped to his feet, galloped to the Nightingale's nest. The Nightingale the Robber was surprised, leaned out of the nest. And Ilya, without a moment's hesitation, pulled on a tight bow, lowered a red-hot arrow, a small arrow, weighing a whole pood. The bowstring howled, an arrow flew, hit the Nightingale in the right eye, flew out through the left ear. The Nightingale rolled from the nest like a sheaf of oats. Ilya picked him up in his arms, tied him tightly with rawhide straps, tied him to the left stirrup.

Nightingale looks at Ilya, afraid to utter a word.

- Why are you looking at me, robber, or have you not seen Russian heroes?

“Oh, I fell into strong hands, it’s obvious that I won’t be on the loose anymore.

Ilya rode further along a straight road and galloped to the courtyard of the Nightingale the Robber. He has a yard of seven miles, on seven pillars, he has an iron pole around him, on each stamen there is a head of a slain hero. And in the yard there are white-stone chambers, gilded porches burn like heat.

The daughter of Nightingale saw the heroic horse, shouted to the whole yard:

- Rides, rides our father Nightingale Rakhmanovich, carries a rustic peasant by the stirrup!

The wife of the Nightingale the Robber looked out the window, clasped her hands:

"What are you talking about, stupid!" This is a rustic peasant riding and carrying your father, Nightingale Rakhmanovich, at the stirrup!

Nightingale's eldest daughter, Pelka, ran out into the yard, grabbed an iron board weighing ninety pounds and threw it at Ilya Muromets. But Ilya was dexterous and evasive, waved the board away with a heroic hand, the board flew back, hit Pelka, killed her to death.

Nightingale's wife Ilya threw herself at the feet:

- You take from us, hero, silver, gold, priceless pearls, as much as your heroic horse can take away, only let go of our father, Nightingale Rakhmanovich!

Ilya says to her in response:

“I don’t need unrighteous gifts. They are obtained by the tears of children, they are watered with Russian blood, acquired by the need of the peasants! Like a robber in the hands - he is always your friend, and if you let him go, you will cry with him again. I'll take Nightingale to Kyiv-grad, there I'll drink kvass, open the door for kalachi!

Ilya turned his horse and galloped to Kyiv. Nightingale fell silent, does not stir.

Ilya rides around Kyiv, drives up to the princely chambers. He tied the horse to a chiseled post, left the Nightingale the Robber with the horse, and he himself went to the bright room.

There, Prince Vladimir is having a feast, Russian heroes are sitting at the tables. Ilya entered, bowed, stood at the threshold:

“Hello, Prince Vladimir and Princess Apraksia, are you accepting a visiting fellow?”

Vladimir the Red Sun asks him:

“Where are you from, good fellow, what is your name?” What kind of tribe?

My name is Ilya. I'm from near Murom. Peasant son from the village of Karacharova. I was driving from Chernigov by a straight road. Then Alyosha Popovich jumped up from the table:

- Prince Vladimir, our affectionate sun, in the eyes of a man mocks you, lies. You can not go by road direct from Chernigov. The Nightingale the Robber has been sitting there for thirty years, not allowing either horsemen or footmen to pass. Drive, prince, the impudent peasant out of the palace!

Ilya did not look at Alyoshka Popovich, bowed to Prince Vladimir:

- I brought you, prince. Nightingale the robber, he is in your yard, tied to my horse. Don't you want to look at him?

Here the prince and the princess and all the heroes jumped up from their places, hurried after Ilya to the princely court. We ran up to Burushka-Kosmatushka.

And the robber hangs by the stirrup, hanging with a grass bag, tied hand and foot with straps. With his left eye he looks at Kyiv and at Prince Vladimir.

Prince Vladimir tells him:

- Come on, whistle like a nightingale, roar like an animal. The Nightingale the Robber does not look at him, does not listen:

“You didn’t take me out of the fight, it’s not for you to order me. Then Vladimir-Prince Ilya Muromets asks:

“Order him, Ilya Ivanovich.

- Well, only you are with me, the prince do not be angry, but I will close you and the princess with the skirts of my peasant caftan, otherwise there would be no trouble! And you. Nightingale Rakhmanovich, do what you are ordered!

— I can't whistle, my mouth is caked.

- Give the Nightingale a cup of sweet wine in one and a half buckets, and another bitter beer, and a third of intoxicating honey, give it a snack with a grainy roll, then it will whistle, amuse us ...

They gave the Nightingale a drink, fed him; The Nightingale prepared to whistle.

You look. Nightingale, - says Ilya, - do not you dare whistle at the top of your voice, but whistle with a half-whistle, growl with a half-roar, otherwise it will be bad for you.

The Nightingale did not listen to the order of Ilya Muromets, he wanted to ruin Kyiv-grad, he wanted to kill the prince and princess, all Russian heroes. He whistled with all the nightingale's whistle, roared with all his might, hissed with all the snake's spike.

What happened here!

The poppy domes on the towers crooked, the porches fell off the walls, the glass in the upper rooms burst, the horses fled from the stables, all the heroes fell to the ground, crawled around the yard on all fours. Prince Vladimir himself is barely alive, staggering, hiding under Ilya's caftan.

Ilya got angry at the robber:

I ordered you to amuse the prince and princess, and you have done so many troubles! Well, now I'll pay for everything with you! It’s enough for you to tear down fathers and mothers, it’s enough for you to widow young women, orphan children, it’s enough to rob!

Ilya took a sharp saber, cut off the Nightingale's head. Here the end of the Nightingale has come.

“Thank you, Ilya Muromets,” says Prince Vladimir. And you live with us in Kyiv, live a century, from now until death.

And they went to feast.

Prince Vladimir seated Ilya next to him, next to him opposite the princess. Alyosha Popovich was offended; Alyosha grabbed a damask knife from the table and threw it at Ilya Muromets. On the fly, Ilya caught a sharp knife and stuck it into the oak table. He didn't even look at Alyosha.

Polite Dobrynushka approached Ilya:

- Glorious hero, Ilya Ivanovich, you will be the eldest in our squad. You take me and Alyosha Popovich as comrades. You will be with us for the eldest, and I and Alyosha for the youngest.

Here Alyosha flared up, jumped to his feet:

Are you sane, Dobrynushka? You yourself are of the boyar family, I am from the old priestly family, but no one knows him, no one knows, he was brought from nowhere, but he is acting weird with us in Kyiv, boasting.

There was a glorious hero Samson Samoylovich here. He approached Elijah and said to him:

- You, Ilya Ivanovich, do not be angry with Alyosha, he is of the priestly boastful family, scolds best of all, boasts better. Here Alyosha shouted:

— Yes, what is being done? Who did the Russian heroes choose as the elder? Unwashed woodland village!

Here Samson Samoylovich uttered a word:

- You make a lot of noise, Alyoshenka, and you speak stupid words - Russia feeds on the village people. Yes, and glory does not go by tribe, but by heroic deeds and feats. For deeds and glory to Ilyushenka!

And Alyosha, like a puppy, barks at the tour:

- How much glory will he get, drinking honey at merry feasts!

Ilya could not stand it, jumped to his feet:

- The priest's son said the right word - it’s not good for a hero to sit at a feast, to grow a stomach. Let me go, prince, to the wide steppes to see if the enemy is prowling in his native Russia, if there are robbers somewhere.

And Ilya came out of Gridni.

Ilya saves Tsargrad from Idolishche

Ilya rides through an open field, he is sad about Svyatogor. Suddenly he sees - a cross-country Kalika is walking along the steppe, the old man Ivanchishche. - Hello, old man Ivanchishche, where are you wandering from, where are you heading?

- Hello, Ilyushenka, I'm on my way, wandering from Tsargrad. yes, it was sad for me to visit there, I’m sad and I’m going home.

- And what is there in Tsargrad not in a good way?

- Oh, Ilyushenka; everything in Constantinople is not the same, not in a good way: people cry, and they do not give alms. He settled in the palace of the prince of Constantinople, the giant - the terrible Idolishche, took possession of the whole palace - he does what he wants.

“Why didn’t you treat him with a stick?”

- What will I do with him? He is more than two sazhens tall, he himself is as thick as a hundred-year-old oak, his nose is like an elbow sticking out. I was afraid of the filthy Idolish.

- Oh, Ivanchishche, Ivanchishche! You have twice the strength against me. and half the courage. Take off your dress, take off your bast shoes, give your downy hat and your hunchbacked stick: I will dress like a walker so that the filthy Idolisch does not recognize me. Ilya Muromets.

Ivanchishche pondered, grieved:

“I wouldn’t give my dress to anyone, Ilyushenka. Two expensive stones are woven into my bast shoes. They light the way for me at night. Why, I won’t give it up myself — will you take it by force?

- I'll take it, and I'll fill my sides.

The Kalika took off his old man's clothes, took off his bast shoes, gave Ilya both a downy hat and a travel stick. Ilya Muromets dressed himself in a kalika and says:

- Dress in my heroic dress, sit on Burushka-Kosma-carcass and wait for me by the Smorodina River.

Ilya put viburnum on a horse and tied him to the saddle with twelve girths.

“Otherwise my Burushka will shake you off at once,” he said to the viburnum of the passerby.

And Ilya went to Constantinople Whatever step - Ilya died a mile away, soon came to Constantinople, went up to the prince's tower. Mother earth under Ilya trembles, and the servants of the evil Idolish laugh at him:

- Oh, you, Kalika Russian beggar! What an ignoramus came to Constantinople Our Idol of two fathoms, and even then it will pass quietly along the mountain, and you knock, rattle, trample.

Ilya didn’t say anything to them, went up to the tower and sang in Kalich:

- Give, prince, alms to the poor Kalika!

And the giant-Idolish of the fist knocks on the table:

But Ilya does not wait for the call, he goes straight to the tower. He climbed the porch - the porch was loosened, he walked along the floor - the floorboards were bent. He entered the tower, bowed to the prince of Constantinople, but did not bow to the filthy Idolish. Idolishche sits at the table, is rude, stuffs it into his mouth on the carpet, immediately drinks honey in a bucket, throws crusts and leftovers under the table to the prince of Tsargrad, and he bends his back, is silent, sheds tears.

I saw Idolishche Ilya, shouted, got angry:

Where did you get so brave? Didn't you hear that I didn't order the Russian Kaliks to give alms?

- I didn’t hear anything, Idolishche didn’t come to you, but to the owner - the prince of Constantinople.

"How dare you talk to me like that?"

He grabbed Idolishche with a sharp knife and threw it at Ilya of Muromets. But Ilya was not a mistake - he waved the knife with a Greek cap. A knife flew through the door, knocked the door off its hinges, the door flew out into the courtyard, and killed twelve servants of Idolish to death. Idolishche trembled, and Ilya said to him:

- Father always punished me: pay your debts as soon as possible, then they will give you more!

He let a Greek hat into Idolishche, hit Idolishche against the wall, broke the wall with his head, and Ilya ran up and began to walk around him with a stick, saying:

- Do not go to other people's houses, do not offend people, will there be elders for you?

And Ilya killed Idolishche, cut off his head with the sword of Svyatogor and drove his servants out of the kingdom.

The people of Constantinople bowed low to Ilya:

- How can I thank you, Ilya Muromets, Russian hero, who saved us from the great captivity? Stay with us in Tsargrad to live.

- No, friends, I have already hesitated; maybe my native Russia needs my strength.

The people of Constantinople brought him silver, and gold, and pearls, Ilya took only a small handful.

“This,” he says, “is earned by me, and give the rest to the poor brethren.

Ilya said goodbye and left Constantinople to go home to Russia. Near the Smorodina River Ilya saw Ivanchischi. Burushka-Kosmatushka wears it, beats it on oaks, rubs it on stones. All the clothes hang in tufts in Ivanchishche, the viburnum sits barely alive in the saddle, well tied with twelve girths.

Ilya untied him, gave him a calico dress. Ivanchishche groans, groans, and Ilya says to him:

- Forward science to you, Ivanchishche: you have twice the strength of mine, but you don’t have half the courage. It is not good for a Russian hero to run away from misfortune, to leave friends in trouble!

Ilya sat on Burushka and went to Kyiv.

And glory ahead of him runs. As Ilya drove up to the princely court, the prince and the princess met him, met the boyars and combatants, received Ilya with honor, with affection.

Alyosha Popovich approached him:

— Glory to you, Ilya Muromets. Forgive me, forget my stupid speeches, you take me to your younger self. Ilya Muromets hugged him:

- Whoever remembers the old, that eye out. We will stand together with you and Dobrynya at the outpost, protect our native Russia from enemies! And they went feasting like a mountain. At that feast, Ilya was praised: honor and glory to Ilya Muromets!

At the outpost of the heroic

Near the city of Kyiv, in the wide steppe of Tsitsarskaya, there was a heroic outpost. The ataman at the outpost was the old Ilya Muromets, the taman Dobrynya Nikitich, the captain Alyosha Popovich. And their warriors are brave: Grishka is a boyar's son, Vasily Dolgopoly, and everyone is good.

For three years the heroes have been standing at the outpost, they do not allow either foot or horsemen to pass to Kyiv. Past them and the beast will not slip, and the bird will not fly. Once an ermine ran past the outpost, and even he left his fur coat. A falcon flew by, dropped his feather.

Once, at an unkind hour, the sentry heroes dispersed: Alyosha galloped off to Kyiv, Dobrynya went hunting, and Ilya Muromets fell asleep in his white tent ...

Dobrynya is coming from a hunt and suddenly sees: in the field, behind the outpost, closer to Kyiv, a trace from a horse's hoof, but not a small trace, but half a furnace. Dobrynya began to consider the trace:

- This is the footprint of a heroic horse. A heroic horse, but not a Russian one: a mighty hero from the Kazar land rode past our outpost - in their hooves are shod.

Dobrynya galloped to the outpost, gathered his comrades:

— What have we done? What kind of outpost do we have, since someone else's hero passed by? How did we, brothers, not see it? We must now go in pursuit of him, so that he does not do anything in Russia. The bogatyrs began to judge and judge who should go after someone else's bogatyr. They thought to send Vaska Dolgopoly, but Ilya Muromets did not order Vaska to be sent:

- Vaska's floors are long, Vaska walks on the ground, braids, in battle he braids and dies in vain.

They thought to send Grishka boyarsky. Ataman Ilya Muromets says:

- It's not okay, guys, you've thought of it. Grishka of the boyar family, the boastful boyar family. He will start boasting in battle and die in vain.

Well, they want to send Alyosha Popovich. And Ilya Muromets does not let him in:

- Do not be offended, be it said, Alyosha is of the priestly family, the priestly eyes are envious, the hands are raking. If Alyosha sees a lot of silver and gold in a foreign land, he will envy him and die in vain. And we will send, brothers, better Dobrynya Nikitich.

And so they decided - to go to Dobrynushka, beat the foreigner, cut off his head and bring him to the valiant outpost.

Dobrynya did not shy away from work, saddled his horse, took a club, girded himself with a sharp saber, took a silk whip, and rode up Mount Sorochinskaya. Dobrynya looked into the silver tube - he sees: something is turning black in the field. Dobrynya galloped straight at the hero, shouted to him in a loud voice:

“Why are you passing through our outpost, why don’t you beat Ataman Ilya Muromets with your forehead, why don’t you put duty in the treasury of Yesaul Alyosha ?!

The hero Dobrynya heard, turned his horse, galloped towards him. From his lope, the earth shook, water splashed out of rivers, lakes, Dobrynin's horse fell to his knees. Dobrynya was frightened, turned his horse, galloped back to the outpost. He arrives neither alive nor dead, tells everything to his comrades.

“It can be seen that I, the old one, will have to go to the open field myself, since even Dobrynya could not cope,” says Ilya Muromets.

He equipped himself, saddled Burushka and rode to Mount Sorochinskaya.

Ilya looked from the fist of a valiant and sees: the hero is driving around, amusing himself. He throws an iron club weighing ninety pounds into the sky, catches the club on the fly with one hand, twirls it like a feather.

Ilya was surprised, thoughtful. He hugged Burushka-Kosmatushka:

- Oh, my shaggy Burushka, serve me faithfully, so that a foreigner does not cut off my head.

Burushka neighed, rode on the boaster. Ilya drove up and shouted:

- Hey you, thief, boaster! Why are you bragging? Why did you pass the outpost, didn’t pay duty to our captain, didn’t beat me, the ataman, with your forehead ?!

The praiser heard him, turned his horse, rode on Ilya Muromets. The ground beneath him trembled, rivers, lakes splashed out.

Ilya Muromets was not afraid. Burushka stands as if rooted to the spot, Ilya does not move in the saddle.

The heroes gathered, struck with clubs, - the handles fell off at the clubs, but the heroes did not injure each other. They hit with sabers - damask sabers broke, but both were intact. They pierced with sharp spears - they broke the spears to the top!

- You know, we have to fight hand to hand!

They got off their horses, clutching chest to chest. They fight all day until evening, they fight from evening until midnight, they fight from midnight until dawn, not a single one gains the upper hand.

Suddenly, Ilya waved his right hand, slipped with his left foot and fell to the damp ground. The praiser jumped up, sat on his chest, took out a sharp knife, taunts:

“You old old man, why did you go to war?” Don't you have heroes in Russia? It's time for you to rest. You would have built yourself a pine hut, you would have collected alms, so you would have lived and lived until your soon death.

So the boaster scoffs, and Ilya gains strength from the Russian land. Ilya's strength doubled, - he will jump up, how he will throw up a boaster! He flew above the standing forest, above the walking cloud, fell and went into the ground to the waist.

Ilya tells him:

- Well, you are a glorious hero! I will let you go on all four sides, only you, from Russia, go away, and another time, do not bypass the outpost, beat the ataman with your brow, pay duties. Do not wander around Russia as a boaster.

And Ilya did not cut off his head.

Ilya returned to the outpost to the heroes.

“Well,” he says, “my dear brothers, for thirty years I have been driving around the field, fighting with heroes, trying my strength, but I have never seen such a hero!”

Three trips of Ilya Muromets

Ilya traveled across an open field, defended Russia from enemies from a young age to old age.

The good old horse was good, his Burushka-Kosmatushka. The tail of Burushka is three seedlings, the mane is to the knees, and the wool is three spans. He did not look for a ford, he did not wait for a ferry, he jumped over the river with one leap. He saved the old Ilya Muromets hundreds of times from death.

Not fog rises from the sea, not white snows turn white in the field, Ilya Muromets rides through the Russian steppe. His little head turned white, his curly beard, his clear gaze clouded:

- Oh, you old age, you old age! You caught Ilya in an open field, flew in like a black crow! Oh, youth, youthful youth! You flew away from me like a clear falcon!

Ilya drives up to three paths, a stone lies at the crossroads, and on that stone it is written: “Whoever goes to the right will be killed, who will go to the left, he will become rich, and who will go straight, he will be married.”

Ilya Muromets pondered:

- What do I, the old one, need wealth for? I have no wife, no children, no one to wear a colored dress, no one to spend the treasury. Should I go, where should I be married? What am I, an old man, to marry? It’s not good for me to take a young woman, but to take an old woman, so lie on the stove and slurp jelly. This old age is not for Ilya Muromets. I'll go along the path where the dead man will be. I will die in an open field, like a glorious hero!

And he went along the road where the dead man would be.

As soon as he drove three miles, forty robbers attacked him. They want to drag him off his horse, they want to rob him, kill him to death. And Ilya shakes his head, says:

- Hey you, robber, you have nothing to kill me for and there is nothing to rob from me. All I have is a marten coat worth five hundred rubles, a sable hat worth three hundred rubles, and a bridle worth five hundred rubles, and a Cherkasy saddle worth two thousand. Well, a blanket of seven silks, sewn with gold and large pearls. Yes, between the ears of Burushka is a gemstone. On autumn nights it burns like the sun, it is light three miles from it. Moreover, perhaps, there is a horse Burushka - so he has no price all over the world. Because of such smallness, is it worth chopping off the head of an old man?!

The ataman of the robbers got angry:

"He's laughing at us!" Oh, you old devil, gray wolf! You talk a lot! Hey guys, chop off his head!

Ilya jumped off Burushka-Kosmatushka, grabbed a hat from a gray-haired head, and began to wave his hat: where he waved it, there would be a street, if he brushed it off, there was an alley.

For one stroke, ten robbers lie, for the second - and there are no twenty in the world!

The ataman of the robbers pleaded:

“Don’t beat us all, old hero!” You take from us gold, silver, colored clothes, herds of horses, just leave us alive! Ilya Muromets chuckled:

- If I took a gold treasury from everyone, I would have full cellars. If I had taken a colored dress, there would have been high mountains behind me. If I had taken good horses, great herds would have chased after me.

The robbers say to him:

- One red sun in the world - one in Russia such a hero Ilya Muromets! You come to us, hero, as comrades, you will be our chieftain!

“Oh, brother-robbers, I won’t go to your comrades, and you will go to your places, to your homes, to your wives, to your children, you will stand by the roads, shed innocent blood.

He turned his horse and galloped away Ilya.

He returned to the white stone, erased the old inscription, wrote a new one: “I went to the right path, I was not killed!”

- Well, I'll go now, where to be married!

As Ilya drove three miles, he drove to a forest clearing. There are golden-domed towers, silver gates are wide open, roosters are singing on the gates.

Ilya drove into a wide courtyard, twelve girls ran out to meet him, among them a beautiful queen.

- Welcome, Russian hero, come into my high tower, drink sweet wine, eat bread and salt, fried swans!

The princess took him by the hand, led him to the tower, and seated him at the oak table. They brought Ilya sweet honey, overseas wine, fried swans, cereal rolls ... She fed and fed the hero, began to persuade him:

- You are tired from the road, tired, lie down and rest on a board bed, on a downy feather bed.

The queen took Ilya to the sleeping chamber, and Ilya goes and thinks:

“It is not for nothing that she is affectionate with me: what a simple Cossack, old grandfather, is more royal! It looks like she's up to something."

Ilya sees that there is a chiseled gilded bed against the wall, painted with flowers, guessed that the bed is with cunning.

Ilya grabbed the princess and threw her on the bed against the boarded wall. The bed turned, and the stone cellar opened, and the princess fell down there.

Elijah got angry.

“Hey you, nameless servants, bring me the keys to the cellar, otherwise I’ll cut off your heads!”

- Oh, grandfather unknown, we have never seen the keys, we will show you the passages to the cellars.

They took Ilya to deep dungeons; Ilya found the cellar doors; they were covered with sands, covered with thick oaks. Ilya dug up the sands with his hands, crushed the oaks with his feet, opened the cellar doors. And there sit forty kings-princesses, forty kings-princes and forty Russian heroes.

That's why the queen beckoned to her golden-domed chambers!

Ilya says to the kings and heroes:

- You go, kings, to your lands, and you, heroes, to your places and remember Ilya of Muromets. If not for me, you would have laid down your heads in a deep cellar.

Ilya dragged the princess by the braids into the white world and cut off her crafty head.

And then Ilya returned to the white stone, erased the old inscription, wrote a new one: “I drove straight, never been married.”

- Well, now I'll go to the path where the rich can be.

As soon as he drove three miles, he saw a large stone weighing three hundred pounds. And on that stone it is written: "Whoever can roll a stone, to be rich."

Ilya strained, rested his feet, went knee-deep into the ground, succumbed with his mighty shoulder - he turned the stone from its place.

A deep cellar was opened under the stone - countless riches: silver, gold, large pearls, and yachts!

Loaded Ilya Burushka with expensive treasury and took her to Kyiv-grad. He built three stone churches there, so that there was somewhere to escape from enemies, to sit out from the fire. The rest of the silver-gold, he distributed pearls to widows, orphans, he did not leave himself a penny.

Then he sat down on Burushka, went to the white stone, erased the old inscription, wrote a new inscription: "I went to the left - I have never been rich."

Here Ilya forever glory and honor went, and our story reached the end.

How Ilya quarreled with Prince Vladimir

Ilya traveled in an open field for a long time, grew old, overgrown with a beard. The colored dress on him was worn out, he had no gold treasury left, Ilya wanted to rest, live in Kyiv.

“I have been to all Lithuanias, I have been to all the Hordes, I have not been to Kyiv alone for a long time. I'll go to Kyiv and see how people live in the capital city.

Ilya galloped to Kyiv, stopped at the prince's court. Prince Vladimir is having a merry feast. Boyars are sitting at the table, rich guests, mighty Russian heroes.

Ilya went into the princely Gridnya, stood at the door, bowed in a learned way, to Prince Sunshine with the princess - especially.

— Hello, Vladimir Stolno-Kyiv! Do you drink, do you feed visiting heroes?

“Where are you from, old man, what is your name?”

- I'm Nikita Zaoleshanin.

- Well, sit down, Nikita, eat bread with us. There is also a place at the far end of the table, you sit down there on the edge of the bench. All other places are occupied. Today I have eminent guests, not for you, peasant, a couple - princes, boyars, Russian heroes.

The servants Ilya sat down at the thin end of the table. Then Ilya thundered all over the room:

- Not by birth, the hero is glorious, but by a feat. It’s not for me a place, not for the strength of honor! You yourself, prince, are sitting with the crows, and you are sitting me with stupid crows.

Ilya wanted to sit comfortably, broke the oak benches, bent iron piles, pressed all the guests into a large corner ... Prince Vladimir did not like this. The prince darkened like an autumn night, shouted, roared like a fierce beast:

- What are you, Nikita Zaoleshanin, mixed up all the places of honor for me, bent iron piles! It was not in vain that strong piles were laid between the heroic places. So that the heroes do not push at the feast, they do not start quarrels! And what are you doing here for orders? Oh, you Russian heroes, why do you suffer that the forest peasant called you crows? You take him by the arms, throw him out of the grid into the street!

Three heroes jumped out here, began to push Ilya, twitch, but he stands, does not stagger, the cap on his head will not move.

If you want to have some fun, Prince Vladimir, give me three more heroes!

Three more heroes came out, six of them grabbed Ilya, but he did not budge.

- Not enough, prince, give, give three more! Yes, and nine heroes did nothing with Ilya: it stands old, like a hundred-year-old oak, it will not budge. The hero was inflamed:

“Well, now, prince, it’s my turn to have some fun!”

He began to push the heroes, kick them, knock them down. The bogatyrs spread across the room, not one of them can stand on his feet. The prince himself huddled in the oven, covered himself with a marten fur coat and trembled ...

And Ilya came out of the grid, slammed the doors - the doors flew out, slammed the gates - the gates crumbled ...

He went out into the wide yard, took out a tight bow and sharp arrows, began to say to the arrows:

- You fly, arrows, to high roofs, knock down golden domes from the towers!

Here golden domes fell down from the prince's tower. Ilya shouted in full heroic cry:

“Gather together, poor, naked people, pick up golden domes, bring them to a tavern, drink wine, eat your fill of rolls!”

Beggars came running, picked up poppies, began to feast with Ilya, walk.

And Ilya treats them, says:

- Drink, eat, beggar brethren, do not be afraid of Prince Vladimir; maybe tomorrow I myself will reign in Kyiv, and I will make you assistants! They reported everything to Vladimir:

- Nikita knocked down your, prince, poppy seeds, waters and feeds the poor brethren, boasts of sitting down as a prince in Kyiv. The prince was frightened, thoughtful. Dobrynya Nikitich got up here:

- You are our prince, Vladimir the Red Sun! This is not Nikita Zaoleshanin, this is Ilya Muromets himself, we must return him back, repent before him, otherwise, no matter how bad it was.

They began to think about whom to send for Ilya.

Send Alyosha Popovich - he will not be able to call Ilya. Send Churila Plenkovich - he is only smart to dress up. They decided to send Dobrynya Nikitich, Ilya Muromets calls him his brother.

Dobrynya walks along the street and thinks:

“Terrible in anger Ilya Muromets. Are you following your death, Dobrynushka?

Dobrynya came, looked at Ilya drinking and walking, began to think:

“Enter in front, so he will immediately kill, and then come to his senses. I'd rather go up behind him."

Dobrynya came up behind Ilya, hugged him by his mighty shoulders:

- Oh, my brother, Ilya Ivanovich! You hold back your mighty hands, you fasten your angry heart, because ambassadors are not beaten, they are not hanged. Prince Vladimir sent me to repent before you. He did not recognize you, Ilya Ivanovich, and therefore put you in a place not of honor. And now he's asking you to come back. He will receive you with honor, with glory.

Ilya turned around.

- Well, you are happy, Dobrynushka, that you came from behind! If you had gone in front, only the bones of you would have remained. And now I will not touch you, my brother. If you ask, I will go back to Prince Vladimir, but not alone, but I will capture all my guests, let Prince Vladimir not be angry!

And Ilya called all his comrades, all the naked poor brethren, and went with them to the princely court.

Prince Vladimir met him, took him by the hands, kissed him on the lips of sugar:

- Goy, you are old Ilya Muromets, you sit higher than everyone else, in a place of honor!

Ilya did not sit down in the place of honor, he sat down in the middle place and seated all the poor guests next to him.

“If it were not for Dobrynushka, I would have killed you today, Prince Vladimir. Well, this time I will forgive your guilt.

The servants brought refreshments to the guests, but not generously, but in a cup, in a dry kalachik.

Again Ilya became angry:

- So, prince, will you treat my guests? Little cups! Prince Vladimir did not like this:

- I have sweet wine in my cellar, there is a forty-barrel for each. If you didn’t like what’s on the table, let them bring it from the cellars themselves, not the great boyars.

“Hey, Prince Vladimir, you regale your guests in such a way, you honor them in such a way that they themselves run for drink and food!” Apparently, I myself will have to be for the owner!

Ilya jumped to his feet, ran to the cellars, took one barrel under one arm, another under the other hand, rolled the third barrel with his foot. Rolled out to the princely court.

- Take, guests, wine, I'll bring more!

And again Ilya descended into the deep cellars.

Prince Vladimir became angry and shouted in a loud voice:

“Goy, my servants, faithful servants! You run as quickly as possible, close the doors of the cellar, close it with a cast-iron grate, cover it with yellow sand, fill it with hundred-year-old oaks. Let Ilya die there a starving death!

Servants and servants ran in, locked Ilya, blocked the doors of the cellar, covered them with sand, pulled the grate, killed the faithful, old, mighty Ilya of Muromets! ..

And they drove the beggars out of the yard with whips.

The Russian heroes did not like such a thing.

They got up from the table without finishing their meal, went out of the prince's chamber, sat on good horses and left.

“But we won’t live in Kyiv anymore!” Let's not serve Prince Vladimir!

So at that time, Prince Vladimir had no heroes left in Kyiv.

Ilya Muromets and Kalin Tsar

Quiet, bored in the prince's room.

There is no one to advise the prince with, no one to feast with, go hunting with ...

Not a single hero visits Kyiv.

And Ilya is sitting in a deep cellar. Iron bars are locked on the locks, the bars are littered with oak, rhizomes, covered with yellow sand for the fortress. Not even a gray mouse can get to Ilya.

Then death would have come to the old one, but the prince had a clever daughter. She knows that Ilya Muromets could protect Kyiv-grad from enemies, could stand up for the Russian people, protect both mother and Prince Vladimir from grief.

So she was not afraid of the prince's wrath, took the keys from her mother, ordered her faithful servants to dig secret digs to the cellar and began to bring food and sweet honey to Ilya Muromets.

Ilya is sitting in the cellar alive and well, and Vladimir thinks that he has been dead for a long time.

Once the prince sits in the upper room, he thinks a bitter thought. Suddenly he hears - someone is galloping along the road, hooves are beating, as if thunder is rumbling. The boarded gates fell down, the whole chamber trembled, the floorboards in the passage jumped. The doors were torn off the forged hinges, and a Tatar entered the room - an ambassador from the Tatar Tsar Kalin himself.

The messenger himself is as tall as an old oak, his head is like a beer cauldron.

The messenger gives the prince a letter, and in that letter it is written:

“I, Tsar Kalin, ruled the Tatars, the Tatars are not enough for me, I wanted Russia. You surrender to me, Prince of Kyiv, otherwise I will burn all of Russia with fire, trample on horses, harness peasants to carts, chop up children and old people, I will make you guard the horses, prince, bake cakes in the kitchen.

Then Prince Vladimir burst into tears, burst into tears, went to Princess Apraksin:

"What are we going to do, princess?" I angered all the heroes, and now there is no one to protect us. I killed the faithful Ilya of Muromets with a stupid, starving death. And now we have to flee from Kyiv.

His young daughter says to the prince:

- Let's go, father, to look at Ilya, maybe he is still alive in the cellar.

"Oh, you foolish fool! If you take your head off your shoulders, will it grow back? Can Ilya go without food for three years? For a long time already, his bones crumbled to dust ...

And she says one thing:

“Send the servants to look at Ilya.

The prince sent to dig deep cellars, to open iron grates.

The servants of the cellar opened, and there Ilya was sitting alive, a candle was burning in front of him. His servants saw him and rushed to the prince.

The prince and princess went down to the cellars. Prince Ilya bows to the damp earth:

- Help, Ilyushenka, the Tatar army overlaid Kyiv with its suburbs. Come out, Ilya, from the cellar, stand by me.

“I spent three years in the cellars on your orders, I don’t want to stand up for you!”

The princess bowed to him:

“Stay for me, Ilya Ivanovich!”

“I won’t leave the cellar for you.

What to do here? The prince prays, the princess cries, but Ilya does not want to look at them.

The young prince's daughter came out here, bowed to Ilya Muromets.

- Not for the prince, not for the princess, not for me, young, but for poor widows, for small children, come out, Ilya Ivanovich, from the cellar, you stand up for the Russian people, for your native Russia!

Ilya got up here, straightened his heroic shoulders, left the cellar, sat on Burushka-Kosmatushka, galloped to the Tatar camp. I rode and rode, I reached the Tatar army.

Ilya Muromets looked, shook his head: in the open field, the Tatar army is apparently invisible, a gray bird cannot fly around in a day, a fast horse cannot go around in a week.

Among the Tatar army stands a golden tent. In that tent sits Kalin the king. The king himself is like a hundred-year-old oak, his legs are maple logs, his hands are spruce rakes, his head is like a copper cauldron, one mustache is gold, the other is silver.

Tsar Ilya Muromets saw, began to laugh, shake his beard:

- Puppy ran into big dogs! Where can you deal with me, I will put you in the palm of my hand, I will slam the other, only a wet place will remain! Where did you jump out so that you yelp at Kalina the Tsar?

Ilya Muromets tells him:

“Before your time, Kalin Tsar, you boast!” I'm not great bo.a-tyr, the old Cossack Ilya Muromets, and perhaps I'm not afraid of you either!

Hearing this, Kalin-tsar jumped to his feet:

The earth is full of rumors about you. If you are that glorious hero Ilya Muromets, then sit down with me at the oak table, eat my food. sweet, drink my overseas wines, do not serve only the Russian prince, serve me, the Tsar of the Tatars.

Ilya Muromets got angry here:

- There were no traitors in Russia! I did not come to feast with you, but to drive you away from Russia!

Again the king began to persuade him:

- A glorious Russian hero, Ilya Muromets, I have two daughters, they have braids like a crow's wing, their eyes are like slits, the dress is sewn with a yacht and pearls. I will give any marriage to you, you will be my favorite son-in-law.

Ilya Muromets became even more angry:

- Oh, you scarecrow overseas! I was afraid of the Russian spirit! Come out soon for a mortal battle, I will take out my heroic sword, I will woo on your neck.

Then Kalin the Tsar was furious. He jumped to his maple feet, brandishing his crooked sword, shouting in a loud voice:

“I’ll chop you up with a sword, I’ll prick you with a spear, I’ll cook stew from your bones!”

They had a great fight here. They cut with swords - only sparks from under the swords spray. They broke their swords and threw them away. They prick with spears - only the wind makes noise and thunder rumbles. They broke their spears and threw them away. They began to fight with their bare hands.

Tsar Kalin beats and oppresses Ilyushenka, breaks his white arms, bends his frisky legs. Tsar Ilya threw on the damp sand, sat on his chest, took out a sharp knife.

“I will split your mighty chest, I will look into your Russian heart.

Ilya Muromets tells him:

- In the Russian heart there is direct honor and love for Mother Russia. Kalin-Tsar threatens with a knife, scoffs:

- And indeed you are not a great hero, Ilya Muromets, it is true that you eat little bread.

- And I'll eat kalach, and I'm full from that. The Tatar king laughed:

- And I eat three ovens of rolls, in cabbage soup I eat a whole bull.

“Nothing,” says Ilyushenka. - My father had a cow - a glutton, she ate and drank a lot, and burst.

Ilya says, and he himself presses closer to the Russian land. From the Russian land, strength comes to him, rolls over Ilya's veins, fastens his heroic hands.

Tsar Kalin waved a knife at him, and Ilyushenka, as soon as he moved ... Kalin Tsar flew off him like a feather.

- I, - Ilya shouts, - have received three times the strength from the Russian land! At Yes, when he grabs Kalina the Tsar by the maple legs, he began to wave the Tatar around, beat and crush the Tatar army with him. Where he waves, there will be a street; if he waves, there is an alley! Beats, crushes Ilya, says:

- This is for you little kids! This is for peasant blood! For evil insults, for empty fields, for dashing robbery, for robbery, for the whole Russian land!

Then the Tatars ran away. They run across the field, shouting in a loud voice:

“Ay, if we didn’t come to see Russian people, we wouldn’t meet more Russian heroes!”

Since then, it’s been enough to go to Russia!

Ilya threw Kalin the Tsar like a worthless rag into a golden tent, went in, poured a cup of strong wine, not a small cup, into one and a half buckets. He drank the charm for a single spirit. He drank for Mother Russia, for her wide peasant fields, for her trading cities, for green forests, for blue seas, for swans in the backwaters!

Glory, glory to native Russia! Do not gallop enemies on our land, do not trample their horses on the Russian land, do not overshadow our red sun!

About the beautiful Vasilisa Mikulishna

There was once a big feast at Prince Vladimir, and everyone at that feast was cheerful, everyone boasted at that feast, and one guest sat unhappy, did not drink honey, did not eat fried swan - this is Staver Godinovich, a merchant guest from the city of Chernigov.

The prince approached him:

What are you, Staver Godinovich, not eating, not drinking, sitting gloomy and not boasting about anything? True, you are not famous by birth, and you are not famous for military deeds - which is something for you to brag about.

- Your word is right, Grand Duke: I have nothing to brag about. I haven’t had my father and mother for a long time, otherwise I would have praised them ... I don’t want to brag about a golden treasury; I myself don’t know how much I have, I won’t have time to count it to death.

You shouldn't brag about your dress: you all go to this feast in my dresses. I have thirty tailors working for me alone day and night. I wear the caftan from morning to night, and then I will sell it to you.

You shouldn't brag about boots either: every hour I put on new boots, and I sell you rags.

My horses are all golden-haired, all the sheep are with the golden fleece, and even those I sell to you.

Can I brag about my young wife Vasilisa Mikulishna, the eldest daughter of Mikula Selyaninovich. There is no other like it in the world!

Under her scythe, a bright moon shines, her eyebrows are blacker than sable, her eyes are a clear falcon!

And there is no person smarter than her in Russia! She will wrap her fingers around you all, you, prince, and then drive you crazy.

Hearing such impudent words, everyone at the feast was frightened, fell silent ... Princess Apraksia was offended and began to cry. And Prince Vladimir was angry:

“Come on, my faithful servants, grab Stavr, drag him to the cold basement, chain him to the wall for his insulting speeches. Drink it with spring water, feed it with oatmeal. Let him sit there until he comes to his senses. Let's see how his wife will drive us all crazy and help Stavra out of captivity!

Well, they did everything: they put Stavr in deep cellars. But this is not enough for Prince Vladimir: he ordered to send guards to Chernigov, to seal the wealth of Stavr Godinovich, and his wife in chains. Bring Kyiv - see what kind of clever girl it is!

While the ambassadors were gathering and saddling their horses, news of everything flew to Chernigov to Vasilisa Mikulishna.

Vasilisa thought bitterly:

“How can I help out my dear husband? You can't buy it with money, you can't take it by force! Well, I won’t take it by force, I’ll take it by cunning!”

Vasilisa came out into the hallway and shouted:

- Hey you, my faithful servants, saddle me the best horse, bring me a Tatar man's dress and cut my fair-haired braids! I'm going to rescue my dear husband!

The girls wept bitterly while the fair-haired braids cut Vasilisa. Long scythes strewed the entire floor, fell on the scythes and a bright moon.

Vasilisa put on a Tatar men's dress, took a bow and arrows and galloped to Kyiv. No one will believe that this is a woman, - a young hero gallops across the field.

Halfway there, she met ambassadors from Kyiv:

- Hey, hero, where are you going?

- I'm going to Prince Vladimir as an ambassador from the formidable Golden Horde to receive tribute for twelve years. And you guys, where did you go?

- And we are going to Vasilisa Mikulishna, to take her to Kyiv, to transfer her wealth to the prince.

You are late, brothers. I sent Vasilisa Mikulishna to the Horde, and my warriors took her wealth away.

- Well, if so, we have nothing to do in Chernigov. We will ride back to Kyiv.

Kyiv messengers galloped to the prince, told him that an ambassador from the formidable Golden Horde was going to Kyiv.

The prince was sad: he could not collect tribute for twelve years, he had to propitiate the ambassador.

They began to lay tables, throw spruce trees into the yard, put sentinel people on the road - they are waiting for a messenger from the Golden Horde.

And the ambassador, before reaching Kyiv, pitched a tent in an open field, left his soldiers there, and he himself went to Prince Vladimir alone.

The ambassador is handsome, and stately, and powerful, and not formidable in face, and the ambassador is courteous.

He jumped off his horse, tied it to a golden ring, and went to the upper room. He bowed on all four sides, to the prince and princess separately. He bowed below Zabava Putyatishna.

The prince says to the ambassador:

— Hello, formidable ambassador from the Golden Horde, sit down at the table. rest, eat, drink from the road.

“I don’t have time to sit around: the khan does not favor us ambassadors for this. Give me a quick tribute for twelve years, and give Zabava Putyatishna in marriage to me, and I'll jump into the Horde!

“Allow me, Ambassador, to consult with my niece. Prince Zabava led out of the room and asked:

- Will you go, niece, for the Horde ambassador? And Fun says to him quietly:

- What are you, uncle! What are you thinking, prince? Do not make laughter throughout Russia - this is not a hero, but a woman.

The prince got angry:

- Your hair is long, but your mind is short: this is the formidable ambassador from the Golden Horde, the young hero Vasily.

- This is not a hero, but a woman! He walks along the upper room, as if a duck is swimming, he does not tap his heels; he sits on a bench, knees together. His voice is silver, his arms and legs are small, his fingers are thin, and traces of rings are visible on his fingers.

The prince thought

“I need to test the ambassador!”

He called the best young Kyiv wrestlers - five brothers Pritchenkov and two Khapilovs, went out to the ambassador and asked:

“Don’t you want, guest, to have fun with the wrestlers, to wrestle in a wide courtyard, to stretch the bones from the road?”

- Why don’t you stretch the bones, I love to fight since childhood. They all went out into the wide courtyard, the young ambassador entered the circle, grabbed three wrestlers with one hand, three fellows with the other, threw the seventh into the middle, and as soon as he hit them forehead on forehead, so all seven lie on the ground and cannot get up.

Prince Vladimir spat and walked away:

- Well, stupid Fun, unreasonable! She called such a hero a woman! We have never seen such ambassadors! And Fun stands on its own:

- This is a woman, not a hero!

She persuaded Prince Vladimir, he wanted to test the ambassador again.

^ He brought out twelve archers.

“Don’t you, Ambassador, have fun with archery and archers?”

- From what! I've been archery since childhood!

Twelve archers came out, shot arrows into a tall oak. The oak staggered, as if a whirlwind had passed through the forest.

Ambassador Vasily took the bow, pulled the bowstring, - the silk bowstring sang, the red-hot arrow howled and went, the mighty heroes fell to the ground, Prince Vladimir could not stand on his feet.

An arrow lashed the oak, the oak shattered into small chips.

“Oh, I’m sorry for the mighty oak,” says the ambassador, “but I’m more sorry for the red-hot arrow, now you won’t find it in all of Russia!”

Vladimir went to his niece, and she kept repeating her own: a woman and a woman!

Well, - the prince thinks, - I myself will translate with him - women in Russia do not play overseas chess!

He ordered to bring golden chess and says to the ambassador:

“Wouldn’t you like to have fun with me, play overseas chess?”

- Well, from an early age I beat all the guys in checkers and chess! And what shall we play, prince?

- You put a tribute for twelve years, and I'll put the whole Kyiv-city.

- Okay, let's play! They began to knock on the board with chess.

Prince Vladimir played well, and once the ambassador went, another went, and the tenth went - checkmate and checkmate for the prince, and away with chess! The prince was sad:

“You took away Kyiv-grad from me, take your head, ambassador!”

“I don’t need your head, prince, and I don’t need Kyiv, give me only your niece Zabava Putyatishna.

The prince was delighted and, in his joy, did not go and ask Zabava anymore, but ordered to prepare a wedding feast.

Here they feast for a day or two and a third, the guests are having fun, and the bride and groom are sad. The ambassador hung his head below his shoulders.

Vladimir asks him:

- What are you, Vasilyushka, sad? Or do you not like our rich feast?

“Something, prince, I’m sad, unhappy: maybe I’ve had trouble at home, maybe trouble awaits me ahead. Order to call the harpists, let them amuse me, sing about the old years or about the current ones.

They called the goons. They sing, the strings ring, but the ambassador does not like:

“These, prince, are not harpists, not songwriters ... Batiushka told me that you have a Chernigov Staver Godinovich, that he knows how to play, knows how to sing a song, and these are like wolves howling in the field. If only I could listen to Stavr!

What is Prince Vladimir to do here? To let Stavr out means not to see Stavr, and not to let Stavr out means to anger the ambassador.

Vladimir did not dare to anger the ambassador, because he had not collected tribute, and ordered to bring Stavr.

They brought Stavr, but he could hardly stand on his feet, weakened, starved to death ...

As soon as the ambassador jumped out from behind the table, he grabbed Stavr by the arms, seated him next to him, began to feed and drink, asked to play.

Staver set up a harp, began to play Chernihiv songs. Everyone at the table listened, and the ambassador sits, listens, his eyes fixed on Stavr.

Finished Staver.

The ambassador says to Prince Vladimir:

- Listen, Prince Vladimir of Kyiv, you give me Stavr, and I will forgive you a tribute for twelve years and return to the Golden Horde.

Reluctance to give Stavra to Prince Vladimir, but there is nothing to do.

“Take it,” he says, “Stavra, young ambassador.

Then the bridegroom did not wait for the end of the feast, jumped on his horse, seated Stavr behind him and galloped into the field to his tent. At the tent, he asks him:

“Ali didn’t recognize me, Staver Godinovich?” You and I learned to read and write together.

“I never saw you, Tatar ambassador.

The ambassador went into the white tent, Stavra left at the threshold. With a quick hand, Vasilisa threw off her Tatar dress, put on women's clothes, embellished herself and left the tent.

— Hello, Staver Godinovich. And now you don't recognize me either?

Staver bowed to her:

- Hello, my beloved wife, young clever Vasilisa Mikulishna! Thank you for rescuing me from bondage! But where are your blond braids?

- Fair-haired braids, my beloved husband, I pulled you out of the cellar!

- Let's sit down, wife, on fast horses and go to Chernigov.

- No, it’s not honor for us, Staver, to run away secretly, we’ll go to Prince Vladimir to finish the feast.

They returned to Kyiv, entered the prince's chamber.

Prince Vladimir was surprised when Staver entered with his young wife.

And Vasilisa Mikulishna asks the prince:

“Ay, Sunny Prince Vladimir, I am a formidable ambassador, Stavrov’s wife, I came back to finish the wedding. Will you marry me your niece?

Fun-princess jumped up:

- I told you, uncle! I almost made a laugh all over Russia, I almost gave a girl for a woman.

Out of shame, the prince hung his head, and the heroes, the boyars choke with laughter.

The prince shook his curls and began to laugh himself:

- Well, it’s true that you, Staver Godinovich, boasted of your young wife! And smart, and brave, and good-looking. She twisted everyone around her finger and drove me, the prince, crazy. For her and for the insult in vain I will give you precious gifts.

So Staver Godinovich began to drive home with the beautiful Vasilisa Mikulishna. The prince and the princess, and the heroes, and the servants of the prince came out to see them off.

They began to live at home, to live, to make good.

And they sing songs about the beautiful Vasilisa and tell fairy tales.

Nightingale Budimirovich

From under an old high elm, from under a willow bush, from under a white pebble, the Dnieper River flowed. It filled with streams, rivers, flowed through Russian land, carried thirty ships to Kyiv.

Well, all the ships are decorated, and one ship is the best. This is the ship of the owner Nightingale Budimirovich.

On the nose of the turya, the head is carved, expensive yachts are inserted instead of eyes, black sables are placed instead of eyebrows, white ermines instead of ears, black-brown foxes instead of a mane, white bears instead of a tail.

The sails on the ship are made of expensive brocade, silk ropes. The anchors of the ship are silver, and the rings on the anchors are pure gold. Well the ship is decorated with everything!

There is a tent in the middle of the ship. The tent is covered with sables and velvet, bear furs lie on the floor.

In that tent sits Nightingale Budimirovich with his mother Ulyana Vasilievna.

And around the tent the vigilantes are standing. They have an expensive, cloth dress, silk belts, downy hats. They have green boots, lined with silver nails, fastened with gilded buckles.

Nightingale Budimirovich walks around the ship, shakes his curls, says to his warriors:

- Come on, fellow shipbuilders, climb on the upper yards, see if Kyiv-city is visible. Choose a good marina so that we can bring all the ships to one place.

The sailors climbed onto the yards and shouted to the owner:

— Close, close, the glorious city of Kyiv! We also see the ship's pier!

So they came to Kyiv, dropped anchor, secured the ships.

Nightingale Budimirovich ordered to throw three gangways ashore. One gangway is pure gold, another is silver, and the third is copper.

Nightingale brought his mother along the golden gathering, he himself went along the silver one, and the combatants ran out along the copper one.

Nightingale Budimirovich called his keykeepers:

- Unlock our cherished chests, prepare gifts for Prince Vladimir and Princess Apraksin. Pour a bowl of red gold, and a bowl of silver, and a bowl of pearls. Grab forty sables and countless foxes, geese, swans. Take out the expensive brocade with divorces from the crystal chest, I will go to Prince Vladimir.

Nightingale Budimirovich took the golden goose and went to the prince's palace.

Behind him comes the mother with the maids, behind the mother they carry precious gifts.

The Nightingale came to the princely court, left his squad at the porch, he himself entered the room with his mother.

As Russian custom dictates, polite, Nightingale Budimirovich bowed on all four sides, and especially to the prince and princess, and brought rich gifts to everyone.

He gave the prince a bowl of gold, the princess an expensive brocade, and Zabava Putyatishna a large pearl. He distributed silver to princely servants, and furs to heroes and boyar sons.

Prince Vladimir liked the gifts, and Princess Apraksin liked them even more.

The princess started a merry feast in honor of the guest. At that feast they called Nightingale Budimirovich and his mother.

Vladimir-Prince Nightingale began to ask:

"Who are you, good fellow?" From what tribe? How should I welcome you: cities with villages or a golden treasury?

“I am a trading guest, Nightingale Budimirovich. I do not need cities with suburbs, and I myself have a lot of gold treasury. I came to you not to trade, but to live as a guest. Show me, prince, a great caress - give me a good place where I could build three towers.

- If you want, line up on the market square, where wives and women bake pies, where little guys sell rolls.

- No, prince, I do not want to build on the market square. You give me a place closer to you. Let me line up in the garden at Putyatishna's Fun, in cherry and hazel.

- Take yourself a place that you like, even in the garden near Putyatishna's Fun.

Thank you, Vladimir Red Sun.

Nightingale returned to his ships, called his squad.

“Come on, brothers, let’s take off our rich caftans and put on worker aprons, take off our morocco boots and put on bast shoes.” You take saws and axes, go to the garden of Putyatishna's Fun. I will show you myself. And we will put three golden-domed towers in a hazel tree so that Kyiv-grad stands more beautiful than all cities.

There was a knocking-chime in the green garden of Fun Putyatishnch, like forest woodpeckers clicking on the trees ... And by morning-light, three golden-domed towers are ready. Yes, how beautiful! Tops twist with tops, windows intertwine with windows, some vestibules are lattice, others are glass, and still others are of pure gold.

Zabava Putyatishna woke up in the morning, opened the window to the green garden and could not believe her eyes: in her favorite hazel tree there are three towers, golden domes burn like heat.

The princess clapped her hands, called her nannies, mothers, hay girls.

- Look, nannies, maybe I'm sleeping and in a dream I see this:

yesterday my green garden stood empty, and today the towers are burning in it.

- And you, mother Zabavushka, go and see, your happiness has come to your yard by itself.

Hastily Fun dressed. She didn’t wash her face, didn’t braid her braids, put on her shoes on her bare feet, tied them with a silk scarf and ran into the garden at a run.

She runs along the path through the cherry to the hazel. She ran to three towers and went quietly.

She went up to the trellis and listened. In that tower it knocks, strums, tinkles - this is the Nightingale's gold, they are laid out in bags.

She ran to another tower, to the glass porch, in this tower they say in a quiet voice: here lives Ulyana Vasilievna, the mother of Nightingale Budimirovich.

The princess walked away, thought, blushed, and quietly walked on her fingers to the third tower with a passage of pure gold.

The princess stands and listens, and a song pours from the tower, ringing, as if a nightingale whistled in the garden. And behind the voice, the strings ring with a silver chime.

"Shall I come in? Cross the threshold?

And the princess is scared, and she wants to look.

“Let me,” he thinks, “I’ll look with one eye.”

She slightly opened the door, looked through the crack and gasped: the sun is in the sky and the sun is in the tower, the stars are in the sky and the stars are in the tower, the dawn is in the sky and the dawn is in the tower. All the beauty of heaven is painted on the ceiling.

And on a chair made of a precious fish tooth, Nightingale Budimirovich is sitting, playing golden guselki.

Nightingale heard the creak of doors, got up and went to the door.

Zabava Putyatishna was frightened, her legs gave way, her heart sank, she was about to fall.

Nightingale Budimirovich guessed, dropped the guselka, picked up the princess, carried her into the room, and seated her on a strapped chair.

“What are you, soul-princess, so afraid of?” After all, she entered the lair not to the bear, but to the courteous fellow. Sit down, rest, tell me a kind word.

Zabava calmed down, began to question him:

Where did you bring the ships from? What kind of tribe are you? The Nightingale politely gave her answers to everything, and the princess forgot her grandfather's customs, and when she suddenly says:

- Are you married, Nightingale Budimirovich, or do you live single? If you like me, take me in marriage.

Nightingale Budimirovich looked at her, grinned, shook his curls:

- Everyone liked you, princess, I liked you, everyone liked me, but I don’t like that you yourself are wooing yourself. Your business is to sit modestly in the tower, sew with pearls, embroider skillful patterns, wait for matchmakers. And you run around other people's towers, you woo yourself.

The princess burst into tears, rushed out of the tower to run away, ran to her bed, fell on the bed, all trembling with tears.

And Nightingale Budimirovich did not say so out of malice, but as an elder to a younger one.

He rather put on his shoes, dressed more smartly and went to Prince Vladimir:

- Hello, Prince Sun, let me say a word, say my request.

- If you please, speak, Nightingale.

- Do you have a beloved niece, prince - is it possible to marry her to me?

Prince Vladimir agreed, they asked Princess Apraksia, they asked Ulyana Vasilievna, and the Nightingale of the matchmakers was sent to Zabavina's mother.

And they wooed Zabava Putyatishna for the good guest Nightingale Budimirovich.

Here the Prince-Sun called together craftsmen from all over Kyiv and ordered them, together with Nightingale Budimirovich, to set up golden towers around the city, white-stone cathedrals, strong walls. Kyiv-city has become better than before, richer than the old one.

The fame of him spread throughout his native Russia, and ran to overseas countries: there are no better cities than Kyiv-grad.

About prince Roman and two princes

On the other side, on Ulenov, there lived two brothers, two princes, two royal nephews.

They wanted to walk around Russia, burn towns and villages, leave their mothers, orphan their children. They went to the king-uncle:

Our dear uncle, Chimbal King, give us forty thousand warriors, give us gold and horses, we will go to plunder the Russian land, we will bring you booty.

“No, nephews-kings, I will not give you troops, horses, or gold. I do not advise you to go to Russia to Prince Roman Dimitrievich. I have lived on earth for many years. many times I saw how people went to Russia, but I never saw how they returned back. And if you are so impatient, go to the land of Devon - they have knights sleeping in their bedrooms, their horses are in their stalls, the guns are rusting in their cellars. Ask them for help and go fight Russia.

This is what the queens did. They received from the Devonian land and fighters, and horses, and gold. They gathered a large army and sent Russia to fight.

They drove up to the first village - Spassky, burned the whole village with fire, cut down all the peasants, threw the children into the fire, took the women prisoner. They jumped into the second village - Slavskoe, ruined, burned, knocked out people ... They approached the large village - Pereslavsky, plundered the village, burned it, cut down people, captured Princess Nastasya Dimitrievna with her little son, two months old.

The royal knights rejoiced at the easy victories, opened their tents, began to have fun, feast, scold the Russian people ...

- We will make cattle out of Russian peasants, instead of oxen we will harness to plows! ..

And Prince Roman Dimitrievich was away at that time, he went hunting far away. He sleeps in a white tent, knows nothing about trouble. Suddenly the bird sat down on the tent and began to say:

“Get up, wake up, Prince Roman Dimitrievich, that you are sleeping a deep sleep, you don’t feel adversity over yourself: evil knights attacked Russia, two princes with them, devastated villages, knocked out peasants, burned children, took your sister and nephew prisoner!

Prince Roman woke up, jumped to his feet, as he hit the oak table in anger - the table shattered into small chips, the earth cracked under the table.

- Oh, you puppies, evil knights! I will wean you from going to Russia, burning our cities, destroying our people!

He galloped to his inheritance, gathered a squad of nine thousand soldiers, led them to the Smorodina River and said:

— Do, brothers, fake chicks. Each sign your name on a chock and throw these chock lots into the Smorodina River.

Some little chicks went to the bottom like a stone. Other churochki swam along the rapids. The third little chicks float on the water near the shore all together.

Prince Roman explained to the squad:

- Whose little chicks went to the bottom - those who will be killed in battle. From whom they swam away into the rapids, they will be wounded. Those who swim calmly, so be healthy. I will not take into battle either the first or the second, but I will take only the third three thousand.

And Roman also ordered the squad:

- You sharpen sharp sabers, prepare arrows, feed horses. As soon as you hear the crow's roar, saddle your horses; when you hear a raven for the second time, sit on horses;

Prince Roman himself turned into a gray wolf, ran into an open field to the enemy camp, to white linen tents, bit the reins of the horses, drove the horses far into the steppe, bit the bowstrings at the bows, twisted the handles of the sabers ... Then he turned into a white ermine and ran into the tent.

Then the two brothers of the prince saw an expensive ermine, began to catch him, drive him around the tent, began to cover him with a sable fur coat. They threw a fur coat over him, they wanted to grab him, but the ermine was dexterous, jumped out of the fur coat through the sleeve - yes, on the wall, yes on the window, from the window into the open field ...

Here he turned into a black crow, sat on a tall oak and croaked loudly.

Only for the first time the raven croaked, - the Russian team began to saddle the horses. And the brothers jumped out of the tent:

- What are you, raven, croaking over us, croaking at your own head! We will kill you, we will shed your blood on the damp oak!

Then the raven croaked for the second time - the combatants jumped on their horses, prepared sharpened swords. They are waiting, waiting, when the raven screams for the third time.

And the brothers grabbed the tight bows:

- Will you shut up, black bird! Don't call trouble on us! Don't stop us from drinking!

The knights looked, and the strings of the bows were torn, the handles of the sabers were broken off!

Then the raven called a third time. The Russian cavalry rushed off in a whirlwind, flew into the enemy camp!

And they cut with sabers, and prick with spears, and beat with whips! And ahead of all, Prince Roman, like a falcon, flies across the field, beats the Devonian mercenary army, gets to two brothers.

- Who called you to go to Russia, burn our cities, cut down our people, tear down our mothers?

The vigilantes defeated the evil enemies, Prince Roman killed two princes. They put the brothers on a cart, sent the cart to Chimbal the King. The king saw his nephews and became sad.

Chimbal King says:

- I have been living in the world for many years, many people jumped into Russia, but I did not see them come home. I punish both my children and grandchildren: do not go to war against great Russia, it has not staggered for a century and will stand for a century without moving!

We talked about old things.
What about the old, about the experienced,
To calm the blue sea
For good people to listen
So that the good fellows become thoughtful,
That Russian glory does not fade for centuries!

From glorious Rostov red city
As two bright falcons flew out -
Two mighty heroes went out:
What is the name of Aleshenka Popovich, young
And with the young Yakim Ivanovich.
They ride, heroes, shoulder to shoulder,
Stirrup in stirrups heroic.

By the sea, the blue sea,
Blue, but Khvalunsky
Walked-walked the Falcon-ship
A little - a lot of twelve years.
The Falcon-ship did not stop at anchors,
I did not roll to the steep banks,
There were no yellow sands.
The Falcon ship was well decorated:
Nose, stern - like an animal,
And the sides are serpentine,
It was also inserted instead of eyes
Two stones, two yachts,
Yes, it was on the Falcon on the ship:
Even instead of eyebrows it was hung
Two sables, two greyhounds;
Yes, it was on the Falcon on the ship:
Still instead of eyes it was hung
Two Mamur martens;
Yes, it was on the Falcon on the ship:
Three more cathedral churches,
Yes, it was on the Falcon on the ship:

Dobrynushka also traveled throughout the land,
Dobrynushka also traveled all over the country;
And Dobrynushka was looking for a rider,
And Dobrynya was looking for an opponent:
He couldn't find a rider,
He couldn't find an opponent.
He went far into the open field,
He envied where the tent stood in the field.
And the tent stood of dug velvet;
On the shatri-to-de the signature was signed,
And it was signed with a threat:
“And whoever comes to the tent, - so the living will not be,
And there won’t be a living one, don’t leave away. ”
And in the tent stood a barrel of green wine;
And on the barrel is a silver charm,
And the silver bowl is gilded,
And not small, not large, one and a half buckets.

If the heroes lived on the outposts,
Not far from the city - for twelve miles,
If only they had lived here for fifteen years;
If only there were thirty of them with the hero;
We did not see either horse or foot,
They are neither a passer-by nor a passer-by,
Yes, not a gray wolf roamed here,
Not a clear falcon flew,
Yes, the non-Russian hero did not pass.
If only there were thirty bogatyrs with a bogatyr:
The ataman is the old Cossack Ilya Muromets,
Ilya Muromets and son Ivanovich;
Podatamanem Samson da Kolybanovich,
Yes, Dobrynya Mikitich lived as a clerk,
Yes, Alyosha Popovich lived as a cook,
Yes, and Mishka Toropanishko lived in the stables;
Yes, and Vasily son Buslaevich lived here,
And Vasenka Ignatievich lived here,
Yes, and the Duke and son Stepanovich lived here,
Yes, and Perm and son Vasilyevich lived here,
Yes, and Radivon lived and the Exalted,
Yes, and Potanyushka Lame lived here;

At the prince's with Sergei
There was a feast, a feast,
For princes, for nobles,
On Russian defenders - heroes
And to the whole Russian glade.
Red sun at the bottom
Yes, and the feast goes on merrily;
Everyone at the feast is drunk and cheerful,
At the table at the oak
The hero Bulat Eremeevich is sitting,
Prince Sergei of Kyiv
Walking around the dining room
Shaking golden bells
And he says these words:
“Ah, you, Bulat Eremeevich!

How about the poor to say yes about the white,
About the daring to say a stout young man.
He walks de, daring good fellow,
A big tavern goes to the tsar,
On a circle he walks like a sovereign;
He drinks a lot, kid, green wine,
He does not drink by magic, he does not drink glasses,
He rolls back barrels-magpies;
In a hop, the kid himself drinks,
From the speeches, Butman the son is knocked out:
“Already I am stronger than the king,
I’m smarter than the king’s estimator.”
The king's courtiers came in handy,
Like court people - governors,
Governors, fat-bellied people;

At the honest widow and at Nenila
And she had a child, Babyla.
And Vavilushka went to the field,
After all, he shouts his cornfield,
Sow more white wheat
He wants to feed his own mother.
And to that widow and to Nenila
People came to her cheerful,
Funny people, not simple,
Not ordinary people - buffoons:
“Hello, honest widow Nenila!”
Where is your child and now Vavila?

In glorious great Novegrad
And Buslay lived up to ninety years,
He lived with the New City, did not argue,
With the men of New York
I did not say a word across.
Zhivuchi Buslay grew old,
Got old and changed.
After his century long
His life remained
And all the noble estate,
The mother's widow remained,
Matera Amelfa Timofevna,
And the dear child remained,
Young son Vasily Buslaevich. You with this good luck
Nakvasiti river will be Volkhov.

Works are divided into pages

Category Russian epics We offer you classical legends, that is, epics recorded by enthusiasts of the 18th-20th centuries in distant Russian villages and villages. All folk epics already after their first publications, they began to attract great attention of the domestic aristocracy. They were quite interested in such people as Pushkin, Dobrolyubov, Belinsky and Chernyshevsky.

For the first time the word "epics" was voiced by I. Sakharov in the book "Songs of the Russian people". Text epics could be like brief as well as deployed. The theme of epics usually talks about heroes heroes and their lives and deeds, representing a heroic epic. Most of them are historical and can describe both Kievan Rus and pre-state times.