Russia epic. Epics about Russian heroes Ilya Muromets leaves freedom bylina Karnaukhova

folk wisdom

Answers to pages 9 - 10

How Ilya from Murom became a hero
Bylina
(in the retelling by I. Karnaukhova)

In ancient times, lived near the city of Murom, in the village of Karacharovo, a peasant Ivan Timofeevich 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, they do not move.
Ilya hears, lying on the stove, how his mother is crying, his father is sighing, the Russian people are complaining: enemies are attacking Russia, trampling the fields, people are ruining, 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 let my native Russia offend enemies and robbers!
So the days went by, the months rolled by...

2
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, joke: for thirty years I've been sitting on the stove, I can't 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 there 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, that 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.

3
And Ilya took an ax and went to reap to his father and mother. He sees that a small place has been cleared of stumps and 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, he lowered the trees into a deep river, stuck an ax into an oak stump, grabbed a shovel and a rake, dug up and leveled a 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 stallion is worthless, but the peasant demands exorbitant money for him: fifty rubles and a half. Ilya bought a foal, brought it home, put it in the stable, fattened it with white-yar 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.

1 ∗ . Find the answers to the questions in the text and write them down.

Where did Ilya Muromets live? Near the city of Murom, in the village of Karacharovo.
What enemies attacked Russia? Robbers, Serpent Gorynych.

2. What were the names of the parents of Ilya Muromets?

Father -Ivan Timofeevich
Mother -Efrosinya Yakovlevna

Current page: 1 (total book has 4 pages) [accessible reading excerpt: 1 pages]

Karnaukhova Irina
Russian Bogatyrs (epics)

Russian Bogatyrs (epics)

In the retelling for children by I. V. Karnaukhova

Introduction

VOLGA VSESLAVIEVICH

MIKULA SELYANINOVICH

SVYATOGOR-BOGATYR

Alyosha Popovich and Tugarin Zmeevich

ABOUT DOBRYNYA NIKITICH AND THE ZMEY GORYNYCH

HOW ILYA FROM MUROM BECAME A BOGATYR

THE FIRST FIGHT OF ILYA MUROMTS

ILYA MUROMETS AND THE NIGHTINGALING ROBERT

ILYA RELIEVES TSARGRAD FROM IDOLISHCH

ON ZASTAVA BOGATYRSKAYA

THREE TRIPS OF ILYA MUROMTS

HOW ILYA FIGHTED WITH PRINCE VLADIMIR

ILYA MUROMETS AND KALIN-TSAR

ABOUT THE BEAUTIFUL VASILISA MIKULISHNA

SOLOVEY BUDIMIROVICH

ABOUT PRINCE ROMAN AND TWO KINGS

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, rich arable lands, the blue ribbon of the Dnieper, golden sands on the left bank, pine groves...

They plowed the land near Kyiv plowmen. 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-invisibly.

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, he didn’t build a house for himself, he didn’t start 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 relax, feast, listen to the harpists, learn about each other.

If the time is alarming, warrior heroes are needed, Prince Vladimir and Princess Apraksia meet them with honor. For them, stoves are heated, in the Gridna 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, the 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.

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

- Madam mother, do not swaddle me, do not 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 through 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 nets, 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 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 feed, 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!

He turned round - golden horns. The first time he jumped - he jumped 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, at the gate the sleepless guards cannot fly over, do not cross, do not break the gate.

The heroes grieved, 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 good fellows go 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, all the robbers live in those cities, tearing the skin from the poor plowman, collecting tolls on the roads. I went there to buy salt, bought three sacks of salt, each sack a hundred poods, put it on a gray mare, and headed home. 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 need to 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 lunchtime 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 the wolf will not run through there, the eagle will not fly by, - the ant and that have 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 hero Svyatogor is taller than a dark forest, props up the clouds with his head, gallops over 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, he pitches his 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 it ...

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

- Eh, if 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 - craving - 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 well done, 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 lift 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 might - 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 rivers are deep and more turbulent...

Under the very 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 and 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 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 get 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, all 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 - both 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 is speaking 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 featherbed, we will not find heroic glory there. And we will go to Prince Vladimir, maybe he will take us into his squad.

- Well, then, 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 he went 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, they suddenly see - an old man is walking in the middle of the steppe. Beggar wanderer kalika passable. 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, and 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 deal 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, do not 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, - how to grab him with a club between the eyes - so Tugarin fell unconscious to the ground.

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 to me 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 the golden board of Tugarin, 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.

Before the guests had time to take a piece, and already on the table there were only bones.

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 the same thing 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 allow 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 on 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 to raise!

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 good fellows go 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 politely: - Hello, good man, worker in the field! - Be healthy, Volga Vseslavevich! Where are you heading?

I am going to the cities of Gurchevets and Orekhovets - to collect tribute-taxes from trading people. - Eh, Volga Vseslavievich, all the robbers live in those cities, tear the skin from the poor plowman, collect duties on the roads. I went there to buy salt, bought three sacks of salt, each sack a hundred poods, put it on a gray mare, and headed home. 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, go with me for a comrade. - Well, I'll go, Volga Vseslavevich, I need to 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 Vseslavievich: - Oh, we did something wrong, we left the 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. The deed was done and the heroes went further along the way. 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. Asks the plowman Volga Vseslavievich: - 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 lunchtime 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: Ay, 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. There, the wolf will not run, the eagle will not fly by - the ant and that have 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, 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 the forests are like meadow grass. earthly traction for me, 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 bit of 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! Shouted to him Svyatogor: - 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 handbag, 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 the purse with his right hand - he did not move it by a hair. The hero grabbed the purse with both hands, jerked with all his might - 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 purse, fell to the ground, - a rumble went through the mountains-dales. The hero barely caught his breath - You tell me what 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, a kind person, 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. - Ride, 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 rivers are deep and more turbulent... Under the very 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 and knocking is going on all over the district. Svyatogor went into the forge 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 okuyu, hair with hair owl - two people and get 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, all 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 hillock, went beyond the threshold, bent over the lake and gasped: a beautiful girl was looking at her from the lake - both 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 fame 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.

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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 the 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 is speaking 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? - There is no need to go to the blue sea, there is no need to go to Chernigov: there are good kalachnitsa. Eat one kalach - you will want another, eat another - you will fall on the featherbed, 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 he went 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 walkable 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 fellows, blocked their way: - Oh, you, brave fellows, 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, and 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 deal 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, - Tugarin shouts, - 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, - how to grab him with a club between the eyes - so Tugarin fell unconscious to the ground. - 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 ... Ekim Ivanovich fell to the ground, burst into tears: - 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. Vladimir the Prince was delighted: - 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 him 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. Before the guests had time to take a piece, and already on the table there were only bones. 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 it 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? - And I won’t leave it myself, and I won’t let you: it’s impolite to have a quarrel with the prince in the upper 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: I want - I will burn with fire, I want - I will trample on a horse, I want - I will stab with a spear! Alyosha drove up to him closer 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 shouted in a stentorian voice: - Hey, you, faithful comrades, help Tugarin's head to rise 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 princely 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 go at least along the coast to ride, breathe 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 a young servant: - You stay here, guard 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 swims along the Puchai River, wondering: - 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 the thunder rumbled, and there was no thunderstorm, but the fire was shining ... Dobrynya raised his head and saw that the Serpent Gorynych was flying towards him, a terrible snake with three heads, seven claws, flames burst from the nostrils, smoke pours out of the ears, copper claws on the paws shine. I saw the Serpent Dobrynya, thundered: - Oh, the old people prophesied that Dobrynya Nikitich would kill me, and Dobrynya himself came into my paws. 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. And Dobrynya says in a quiet voice: - Oh, you damned snake, you first take Dobrynyushka, 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 his head off. He threw the Serpent down to the ground with a swing, crushed his chest with his knees, wanted to beat off two more heads ... As the Serpent Gorynych implored 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, - the sky suddenly 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: - Why are you, 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 feels unkind. 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 Prince Vladimir 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, yesterday I was 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. Prince Vladimir 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 happened to you, Dobrynushka, what happened to 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 didn’t surround me with a spell, and I had a place according to rank, according to rank. - And why are you, Dobrynya, hung your head? - 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, the light woke Dobrynya Nikitich's mother: - 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, tightened 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 Serpent 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. Then 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 off the snakes' feet. 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 remembered 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 to him, took out a whip of seven silks, began to whip the earth, saying: - Part way, mother earth, and devour the snake's blood. 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 forever, Russian hero! And Dobrynya goes further, opens cave after cave, frees captive people. Old people and young women come out into the world, small children and old grandmothers, Russian people from foreign countries, and Putyatishna's Fun is gone. 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, they 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 legs are not comfortable, oh, you, my uncontrollable hands! If I were healthy, I would not let my native Russia offend enemies and robbers! And so the days went by, months rolled by ... That time, father and mother went into the forest to uproot stumps, tear out roots, 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've been sitting on the stove, I can't 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 some cold water, Ilyusha. 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 there 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 was a ring in heaven, I would grab it and turn the whole earth over. - There is too much power in you, you need to reduce it, otherwise the earth will not wear you. Bring some more water. Ilya went through the water, but the earth really does not carry him: his foot in the ground, in a swamp, gets stuck, he grabbed an oak tree - an oak with a root 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 sound 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 destroyed 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 a wide field - just 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 out of the village 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 rubles and a half. 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 over 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 up and went to his father and mother: - Release me, father and mother, a capital city of Kyiv to Prince Vladimir. I will serve Russia, natively; "" faithfully, to protect the Russian land from enemies-enemies. Says old Ivan Timofeevich: - I bless you for good deeds, but there is no blessing for me 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, 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 piece of rye crust, lowered it into the Oka River, the Oka River himself said: - And thank you, Mother Oka River, for giving water and feeding Ilya of Muromets. In parting, he took with him a small handful of his native land, mounted a horse, waved his whip ... People saw how Ilya jumped on a horse, but 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 damp oak tree, put a log house over the key, wrote the following words on the log house: "A Russian hero, the peasant son Ilya Ivanovich, rode here." Until now, a living spring is 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 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. Take off your heads - there is little 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 Chernihiv 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 of Chernigov, I am from under the city from under 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. The people of Chernigov began to ask Ilya to stay with them for at least a day, to feast at a cheerful feast, but Ilya refuses this too: - I have no 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 is it? - 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, straight to Kyiv three hundred miles, and by a roundabout way - a whole thousand. Ilya Muromets was silent for a while, and then shook his head: It’s not honor, not praise for me, well done, to go by the roundabout road, to let the Nightingale the Robber 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. They galloped to the Bryansk forests, you can’t ride further than Burushka: quicksand swamps have spread, the horse is up to its belly in the water
sinking. 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 versts Ilya laid the gati, - 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 gallop of horses, stood up on the oaks, 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 seems that I will no longer be on the loose. 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 the Nightingale saw the heroic horse, screamed at the whole
yard: - Rides, rides our father Nightingale Rakhmanovich, carries a rustic peasant at the stirrup! The wife of the Nightingale the Robber looked out the window, threw up her hands: - What are you talking about, foolish! This is a rustic peasant riding and carrying your father, Nightingale Rakhmanovich, at the stirrup!
The eldest daughter of the Nightingale - 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, let go only our father, Nightingale Rakhmanovich! Ilya says to her in response: - I do not 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 is a feast at Prince Vladimir, Russian heroes are sitting at the tables. Ilya entered, bowed, and 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. Just 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 from the battle, it’s not for you to order me. Then Vladimir-prince Ilya Muromets asks: - Order you to 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 a bite to eat with a kalach, then he will whistle, amuse us ... They gave the Nightingale a drink, fed; 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 how many troubles you have done! 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 our senior in the squad. You take me and Alyosha Popovich as comrades. You will be with us for the eldest, and I and Alyosha for the youngest. Then Alyosha became inflamed, jumped to his feet: - Are you in your mind, 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 went up to Ilya and said to him: - You, Ilya Ivanovich, do not be angry with Alyosha, he is a priestly boastful family, scolds better than anyone, boasts better. Here Alyosha shouted with a cry: Who did the Russian heroes choose as the elder? Unwashed woodland village! Then Samson Samoilovich 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 fun feasts! Ilya could not stand it, he 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 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 seems that I will no longer be on the loose.

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, you idiot!" This is a rustic peasant riding and carrying your father, Nightingale Rakhmanovich, at the stirrup!

The eldest daughter of the Nightingale - 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, let go only 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 is a feast at Prince Vladimir, Russian heroes are sitting at the tables. Ilya entered, bowed, stood at the threshold:

- Hello, Prince Vladimir with Princess Apraksia, are you accepting a visiting young 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 from the battle, 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 baked.

- 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 bite to eat with a kalach, 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:

- What is it doing? 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.