The Coming of the Serb

Prior to their incursion into the Balkan Peninsula during the seventh century, the Serbians1 lived as a patriarchal people in the country now known as Galicia. Ptolemy, the ancient Greek geographer, describes them as living on the banks of the River Don, to the north-east of the sea of Azov. They settled mostly in those Balkan territories which they inhabit at the present day, namely, the present kingdom of Serbia, Old Serbia, Macedonia, Bosnia and Herzegovina, Montenegro, Dalmatia, Batchka, Banat, Croatia, Sirmia and Istria. The ancient inhabitants of those regions, Latins, Illyrians, Thracians, Greeks and Albanians, were easily driven by the newcomers toward the Adriatic coast. Their Emperor, Heraclius (A.D. 610–641), unable to oppose an effective resistance, ceded to the Serbians all the provinces which they had occupied, and peace was thus purchased. The pagan and uncultured Serbian tribes now came into constant intercourse with the civilized Byzantines, and soon were converted to Christianity; for it is an almost invariable fact that when one people conquers or subjects another people, the more civilized of the two, whether the vanquished or the victorious, must necessarily impose its civilization and customs on the more barbarous. But the Serbians only embraced Christianity to any large extent [2]with the beginning of the ninth century, when the two brothers Cyrillos and Methodius—the so-called Slavonic apostles—translated and preached the teaching of Christ in the ancient Slav language, then in common use among all southern Slavs of that time.

Early Struggles

As the Serbians, during the seventh and eighth centuries, were divided into tribes, they became an easy prey to the attacks of the Byzantines, the Bulgars and the Francs, although they never were subjugated by any of those neighbours. The Serbians, however, were forced to realize that only by concentration of their power could they offer resistance as a nation, and a serious effort was made to found a State on the banks of the River Morava, with Horea Margi (now called Tyoupriya) as its capital, in the early part of the ninth century. Owing to Bulgarian hostility, however, this proved abortive.

A fresh attempt to form an independent State was made by the Djoupan (Count) Vlastimir, who had succeeded in emancipating himself from Byzantine suzerainty. This province was called Rashka and extended around the Rivers Piva, Tara, and Lim, touching the basin of the River Ibar in the east and that of Vrbas in the west. But in the very beginning of its civil life there were dissensions amongst the leaders which facilitated the interference of the Bulgarian Tsar Siméon. Tchaslav, the djoupan of another Serbian tribe, though he possessed no rights to it, claimed the throne, and was supported by Siméon, who successfully invaded Rashka. The Bulgarians retained possession of the country for seven years (924–931), when Tchaslav succeeded in wresting from them a new state which comprised, together with Rashka, the territories of [3]Zetta, Trebinye, Neretva and Houm. After his death, great disorder reigned in this principality.

In the course of the next century the Byzantine Empire, having again brought the now enfeebled Bulgaria within its rule, also overpowered Rashka, whose Grand Djoupan fled. The ruler of Zetta, Stephen Voïslav (1034–1051), son of Dragomir, djoupan of Trebinye, took the opportunity of declaring himself independent of his suzerain the Grand Djoupan of Rashka, and appropriated Zahoumlye (Herzegovina) and some other regions. His son Michaylo (1053–1081) succeeded further in bringing Rashka under his authority, and obtained the title of king (rex Sclavorum) from Pope Gregory VII in the year 1077. Under the rule of King Bodin, the son of Michaylo, the Serbia of Tchaslav was restored; furthermore Bosnia was added to his state. But after Bodin’s death new disorder ensued, caused mainly by the struggles amongst the several pretenders to the throne.

Internecine Strife

Internecine strife is an unfortunate feature to be noticed throughout Serbian history, and constantly we see energy wasted in futile dissensions among various members of ruling families, who criminally and fatally neglected national interests, in pursuit by legitimate or illegitimate means of their personal ambitions. This has at all times hindered the Serbian nation from becoming a powerful political unit, although efforts were made by many of the rulers to realize this policy.

In 1169 a dynasty destined to rule Serbia for more than two centuries (1169–1372) within ever-changing political boundaries, was founded by the celebrated Grand Djoupan Stephan Nemanya (1169–1196) who was created Duke [4](grand djoupan) of Serbia by the Byzantine Emperor after he had instigated a revolution, the result of which was favourable to his pretensions. By his bravery and wisdom he succeeded not only in uniting under his rule the provinces held by his predecessors, but also in adding those which never had been Serbian before, and he placed Ban Koulin, an ally, upon the throne of Bosnia. Furthermore he strengthened the orthodox religion in his state by building numerous churches and monasteries, and by banishing the heretic Bogoumils.2 Feeling the weakness of advanced age, and wishing to give fresh proof of his religious faith to his people, the aged Nemanya abdicated in 1196, in favour of his able second son Stevan, and withdrew into a monastery. On his accession in the year 1217 Stevan assumed the title of King of Serbia.

When the crusaders vanquished Constantinople, Sava, Stevan’s youngest brother, obtained from the Greek patriarch the autonomy of the Serbian Church (1219), and became the first Serbian archbishop.

Stevan was succeeded by his son Radoslav (1223–1233), who was dethroned by his brother Vladislav (1233–1242), who was removed from the throne by his third brother Ourosh the Great (1242–1276). Ourosh increased his territory and established the reputation of Serbia abroad. In his turn, he was dethroned by his son Dragoutin (1276–1281), who, owing to the failure of a campaign against the Greeks, retired from the throne in favour of a younger brother Miloutin (1281–1321), reserving, however, for himself a province in the north of the State. Soon afterward Dragoutin received from his mother-in-law, the queen of Hungary, the lands between the Rivers Danube [5]Sava and Drina, and assumed the title of King of Sirmia. Dragoutin, while still alive, yielded his throne and a part of his lands to Miloutin, and another part remained under the suzerainty of the King of Hungary. Miloutin is considered one of the most remarkable descendants of Nemanya. After his death the usual discord obtained concerning the succession to the throne. Order was re-established by Miloutin’s son, Stevan Detchanski (1321–1331), who defeated the Bulgarians in the famous battle of Velbouzd, and brought the whole of Bulgaria under his sway. Bulgaria remained a province of Serbia until the Ottoman hordes overpowered both.

Doushan the Powerful

Stevan Detchanski was dethroned by his son Doushan the Powerful (1331–1355), the most notable and most glorious of all Serbian sovereigns. He aimed to establish his rule over the entire Balkan Peninsula, and having succeeded in overpowering nearly the whole of the Byzantine Empire, except Constantinople, he proclaimed himself, in agreement with the Vlastela (Assembly of Nobles), Tsar of Serbia. He elevated the Serbian archbishopric to the dignity of the patriarchate. He subdued the whole of Albania and a part of Greece, while Bulgaria obeyed him almost as a vassal state. His premature death (some historians assert that he was poisoned by his own ministers) did not permit him to realize the whole of his great plan for Serbia, and under the rule of his younger son Ourosh (1355–1371) nearly all his magnificent work was undone owing to the incessant and insatiable greed of the powerful nobles, who thus paved the way for the Ottoman invasion.

Among those who rebelled against the new Tsar was [6]King Voukashin. Together with his brother and other lords, he held almost independently the whole territory adjoining Prizrend to the south of the mountain Shar.3

King Voukashin and his brother were defeated in a battle with the Turks on the banks of the River Maritza (1371), and all Serbian lands to the south of Skoplye (Üsküb) were occupied by the Turks.

The Royal Prince Marko

The same year Tsar Ourosh died, and Marko, the eldest son of King Voukashin, the national hero of whom we shall hear much in this book, proclaimed himself King of the Serbians, but the Vlastela and the clergy did not recognize his accession. They elected (A.D. 1371) Knez4 (later Tsar) Lazar, a relative of Tsar Doushan the Powerful, to be the ruler of Serbia, and Marko, from his principality of Prilip, as a vassal of the Sultan, aided the Turks in their campaigns against the Christians. In the year 1399 he met his death in the battle of Rovina, in Roumania, and he is said to have pronounced these memorable words: “May God grant the victory to the Christians, even if I have to perish amongst the first!” The Serbian people, as we shall see, believe that he did not die, but lives even to-day.

Knez Lazar ruled from 1371 to 1389, and during his reign he made an alliance with Ban5 Tvrtko of Bosnia against the Turks. Ban Tvrtko proclaimed himself King of Bosnia, and endeavoured to extend his power in Hungary, whilst Knez Lazar, with the help of a number of Serbian princes, prepared for a great war against the [7]Turks. But Sultan Amourath, informed of Lazar’s intentions, suddenly attacked the Serbians on June 15 1389, on the field of Kossovo. The battle was furious on both sides, and at noon the position of the Serbians promised ultimate success to their arms.

The Treachery of Brankovitch.

There was, however, treachery in the Serbian camp. Vook (Wolf) Brankovitch, one of the great lords, to whom was entrusted one wing of the Serbian army, had long been jealous of his sovereign. Some historians state that he had arranged with Sultan Amourath to betray his master, in return for the promise of the imperial crown of Serbia, subject to the Sultan’s overlordship. At a critical moment in the battle, the traitor turned his horse and fled from the field, followed by 12,000 of his troops, who believed this to be a stratagem intended to deceive the Turks. This was a great blow to the Serbians, and when, later in the day the Turks were reinforced by fresh troops under the command of the Sultan’s son, Bajazet, the Turkish victory was complete. Knez Lazar was taken prisoner and beheaded, and the Sultan himself perished by the hand of a Serbian voïvode,6 Milosh Obilitch.

Notwithstanding the disaster, in which Brankovitch also perished, the Serbian state did not succumb to the Turks, thanks to the wisdom and bravery of Lazar’s son, Stevan Lazarevitch (1389–1427). His nephew, Dyourady Brankovitch (1427–1456), also fought heroically, but was compelled, inch by inch, to cede his state to the Turks. [8]

The Final Success of the Turks

After the death of Dyourady the Serbian nobles could not agree concerning his successor, and in the disorder that ensued the Turks were able to complete their conquest of Serbia, which they finally achieved by 1459. Their statesmen now set themselves the task of inducing the Serbian peasantry in Bosnia, by promises of future prosperity, to take the oath of allegiance to the Sultan, and in this they were successful during the reign of the King of Bosnia, Stevan Tomashevitch, who endeavoured in vain to secure help from the Pope. The subjugation of Bosnia was an accomplished fact by 1463, and Herzegovina followed by 1482. An Albanian chief of Serbian origin, George Kastriotovitch-Skander-Beg (1443–1468), successfully fought, with great heroism, for the liberty of Albania. Eventually, however, the Turks made themselves master of the country as well as of all Serbian lands, with the exception of Montenegro, which they never could subdue, owing partly to the incomparable heroism of the bravest Serbians—who objected to live under Turkish rule—and partly to the mountainous nature of the country. Many noble Serbian families found a safe refuge in that land of the free; many more went to Ragusa as well as to the Christian Princes of Valahia and Moldavia. The cruel and tyrannous nature of Turkish rule forced thousands of families to emigrate to Hungary, and the descendants of these people may be found to-day in Batchka, Banat, Sirmia and Croatia. Those who remained in Serbia were either forced to embrace Islam or to live as raya (slaves), for the Turkish spahis (land-lords) not only oppressed the Christian population, but confiscated the land hitherto belonging to the natives of the soil. [9]

The Miseries of Turkish Rule

We should be lengthening this retrospect unduly if we were to describe in full the miserable position of the vanquished Christians, and so we must conclude by giving merely an outline of the modern period.

When it happens that a certain thing, or state of things, becomes too sharp, or acute, a change of some sort must necessarily take place. As the Turkish atrocities reached their culmination at the end of the XVIIth century, the Serbians, following the example of their brothers in Hungary and Montenegro, gathered around a leader who was sent apparently by Providence to save them from the shameful oppression of their Asiatic lords. That leader, a gifted Serbian, George Petrovitch—designated by the Turks Karageorge (‘Black George’)—gathered around him other Serbian notables, and a general insurrection occurred in 1804. The Serbians fought successfully, and established the independence of that part of Serbia comprised in the pashalik of Belgrade and some neighbouring territory. This was accomplished only by dint of great sacrifices and through the characteristic courage of Serbian warriors, and it was fated to endure for less than ten years.

Serbia again Subjugated

When Europe (and more particularly Russia) was engaged in the war against Napoleon, the Turks found in the pre-occupation of the Great Powers the opportunity to retrieve their losses and Serbia was again subjugated in 1813. George Petrovitch and other Serbian leaders left the country to seek aid, first in Austria, and later in Russia. In their absence, Milosh Obrenovitch, one of Karageorge [10]Petrovitch’s lieutenants, made a fresh attempt to liberate the Serbian people from the Turkish yoke, and in 1815 was successful in re-establishing the autonomy of the Belgrade pashalik. During the progress of his operations, George Petrovitch returned to Serbia and was cruelly assassinated by order of Milosh who then proclaimed himself hereditary prince and was approved as such by the Sublime Porte in October 1815. Milosh was a great opponent of Russian policy and he incurred the hostility of that power and was forced to abdicate in 1839 in favour of his son Michel (Serbian ‘Mihaylo’). Michel was an excellent diplomat, and had previously incorporated within the independent state of Serbia several districts without shedding blood. He was succeeded by Alexandre Karageorgevitch (1842–1860) son of Karageorge Petrovitch. Under the prudent rule of that prince, Serbia obtained some of the features of a modern constitution and a foundation was laid for further and rapid development. But an unfortunate foreign policy, the corruption existing among the high dignitaries of the state and especially the treachery of Milosh’s apparent friends, who hoped to supplant him, forced that enlightened prince to abandon the throne and to leave his country. The Skoupshtina (National Assembly) restored Milosh but the same year the prince died and was succeeded once again by his son Michel (1860–1868). At the assassination of this prince his young cousin, Milan (1868–1889), ruled with the aid, during his minority, of three regents, in conformity of a Constitution voted in 1869.

The principal events during the rule of Milan were: the war against Turkey (1876–1878) and the annexation of four new districts; the acknowledgment of Serbian independence by the famous Treaty of Berlin; the [11]proclamation of Serbia as a kingdom in 1882; the unfortunate war against Bulgaria, which was instigated by Austria, and the promulgation of a new Constitution, which, slightly modified, is still in force.

After the abdication of King Milan, his unworthy son, Alexander, ascended the throne. Despite the vigorous advices of his friends and the severe admonishments of his personal friend M. Chedo Miyatovich, he married his former mistress, Draga Mashin, under whose influence he entered upon a period of tyranny almost Neronian in type. He went so far as to endeavour to abolish the Constitution, thus completely alienating his people and playing into the hands of his personal enemies, who finally murdered him (1903).

King Peter I

The Skoupshtina now elected the son of Alexander Karageorgevitch, the present King Peter I Karageorgevitch, whose glorious rule will be marked with golden letters in modern Serbian history, for it is to him that Christendom owes the formation of the league whereby the Turk was all but driven from Europe in 1913. But, alas! the Serbians have only about one-half of their lands free, the rest of their brethren being still under the foreign yoke.

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Brief as is this retrospect it will suffice to show the circumstances and conditions from which sprung the Serbian national poetry with which we shall be largely concerned in the following pages. The legends have their roots in disasters due as much to the self-seeking of Serbian leaders as to foreign oppressors; but national calamities have not repressed the passionate striving of a [12]high-souled people for freedom, and these dearly loved hero tales of the Balkans express the ideals which have inspired the Serbian race in its long agony, and which will continue to sustain the common people in whatever further disappointments they may be fated to suffer ere they gain the place among the great nations which their persistence and suffering must surely win in the end. [13]

General Characteristics

The Serbians inhabiting the present kingdom of Serbia, having been mixed with the ancient indigenous population of the Balkan Peninsula, have not conserved their true national type. They have mostly brown visages and dark hair; very rarely are blonde or other complexions to be seen. Boshnyaks (Serbians inhabiting Bosnia) are considered to be the most typical Serbians, they having most strongly retained the national characteristics of the pure Southern-Slavonic race. The average Serbian has a rather lively temperament; he is highly sensitive and very emotional. His enthusiasm is quickly roused, but most emotions with him are, as a rule, of short duration. However, he is extremely active and sometimes persistent. Truly patriotic, he is always ready to sacrifice his life and property for national interests, which he understands particularly well, thanks to his intimate knowledge of the ancient history of his people, transmitted to him from generation to generation through the pleasing medium of popular epic poetry composed in very simple decasyllabic blank verse—entirely Serbian in its origin. He is extremely courageous and always ready for war. Although patriarchal and conservative in everything national, he is ready and willing to accept new ideas. But he has remained behind other countries in agricultural and industrial pursuits. Very submissive in his Zadrooga1 and obedient to his superiors, [14]he is often despotic when elevated to power. The history of all the Southern Slavs pictures a series of violations, depositions, political upheavals, achieved sometimes by the most cruel means and acts of treachery; all mainly due to the innate and hitherto inexpugnable faults characteristic of the race, such as jealousy and an inordinate desire for power. These faults, of course, have been most apparent in the nobles, hence the decay of the ancient aristocracy throughout the Balkans.

Paganism and Religion

There is available but slender material concerning the pre-Christian history of the Southern-Slavonic races, and their worship of Nature has not been adequately studied. Immediately after the Slavonic immigration into the Balkan Peninsula during the seventh and eighth centuries, Christianity, which was already deeply rooted in the Byzantines, easily destroyed the ancient faith. The last survivors of paganism lived in the western part of the peninsula, in the regions round the river Neretva, and these were converted to Christianity during the reign of Basil I. A number of Croatians had been converted to Christianity as early even as the seventh century, and had established an episcopate at Agram (Zagreb). In the course of some thousand years Græco-Oriental myths and legends, ancient Illyrian and Roman propaganda and Christian legends and apocryphal writings exercised so great an influence upon the ancient religions of the Southern-Slavonic peoples that it is impossible to unravel from the tangled skein of such evidence as is available a purely Southern-Slavonic mythology. [15]

The God Peroon

Of Peroon, the Russian God of Thunder, by whom the Russian pagans used to swear in their treaties and conventions concluded with the Byzantines during the tenth century, only a few insignificant traces remain. There is a village named ‘Peroon’ near Spalato; a small number of persons in Montenegro bear the name;2 and it is preserved also in the name of a plant, ‘Peroonika’ (iris), which is dedicated to the god. There is hardly a cottage-garden in the Serbian villages where one does not see the iris growing by the side of the house-leek (Tchuvar-Koutchye). The Serbians say that the god lives still in the person of St. Elias (Elijah), and Serbian peasants believe that this saint possesses the power of controlling lightning and thunder. They also believe that St. Elias has a sister ‘Ognyena Maria’ (Mary the Fiery One), who frequently acts as his counsellor.

The God Volos

From the Russian God of Cattle, ‘Volos,’ the city ‘Veless’ has obtained its name; also a village in the western part of Serbia, and there is a small village on the lower Danube called ‘Velessnitza.’ But the closest derivative appears in the Serbian word ‘Vo,’ or ‘Voll’ (in the singular) ‘Volovi’ (in the plural) which means ‘Ox.’

The Sun God

Other phenomena of Nature were also personified and venerated as gods. The Sun god, ‘Daybog’ (in [16]Russian ‘Daszbog,’ meaning literally ‘Give, O God!’), whose idols are found in the group of idols in Kief, and whose name reappears as a proper name of persons in Russia, Moldavia and Poland, is to the Serbians the personification of sunshine, life, prosperity and, indeed, of everything good. But there have been found no remains of idols representing the god ‘Daybog’ among the Southern-Slavonic nations, as with the Russians, who made figures of him in wood, with head of silver and moustache of gold.

The Veele

The Serbian legends preserve to this day interesting traces of the worship of those pagan gods and of minor deities—which still occupy a considerable place in the national superstition. The “νύμφαι” and “ποταμὶ” mentioned by the Greek historian Procope, as inferior female divinities inhabiting groves, forests, fountains, springs or lakes, seem to have been retained in the Serbian popular Veela (or Vila—in the singular; Veele or Vile—in the plural). There are several fountains called “Vilin Izvor” in Montenegro (e.g. on Mount Kom), as also in the district of Rudnik in Serbia. During the Renaissance the Serbian poets of Ragusa and other cities of Dalmatia made frequent reference to the nymphs, dryads, and oreads beloved by them as “veele.” The Serbian bards or troubadours from the early fourteenth century to our day have ever glorified and sung of the veele, describing them as very beautiful and eternally young, robed in the whitest and finest gauze, with shimmering golden hair flowing down over snow-white bosoms. Veele were said to have the most sweet voices and were sometimes armed with bows and arrows. Their melodious songs were often [17]heard on the borders of the lakes or in the meadows hidden deep in the forests, or on high mountain-peaks beyond the clouds. They also loved to dance, and their rings are called ‘Vrzino (or Vilino) Kollo.’ In Mount Kom in Montenegro, there is one of these rings which measures about twenty metres across and is called ‘Vilino Kollo.’ The Treaty of Berlin mentions another situated between Vranya and Küstandil, through which ran the Serbo-Bulgarian frontier. When veele were dancing nobody dare disturb them, for they could be very hostile to men. Like the Greek nymphs, veele could also be amicably disposed; and on occasions they assisted the heroes. They could become the sisters of men and of women, and could even marry and have off-springs. But they were not by any means invulnerable. Prince Marko, the favourite hero of the Serbians, was endowed with superhuman strength by a veela who also presented him with a most wonderful courser, ‘Sharatz,’ which was, indeed, almost human. A veela also became his possestrima (Spiritual sister, or ‘sister-in-God’) and when Marko was in urgent need of help, she would descend from the clouds and assist him. But she refused to aid him if he fought in duels on Sundays. On one occasion3 Marko all but slew the Veela Raviyoyla who wounded his pobratim (brother-in-God) Voïvode Milosh. The veele were wise in the use of herbs, and knew the properties of every flower and berry, therefore Raviyoyla could heal the wounds of Milosh, and his pierced heart was “sounder than ever before.” They believed in God and St. John, and abhorred the Turk. The veele also possessed the power of clairvoyance, and Prince Marko’s ‘sister-in-God’ prophesied his death and that of [18]Sharatz.4 Veele had power to control tempests and other phenomena of nature; they could change themselves into snakes or swans. When they were offended they could be very cruel; they could kill or take away the senses of any who threatened them with violence; they would lead men into deep waters or raze in a night magnificent buildings and fortresses.5

To veele was attributed also the power of deciding the destiny of newly born children. On the seventh night after the birth of a child the Serbian peasant woman watches carefully for the Oossood, a veela who will pronounce the destiny of her infant, and it is the mother only who can hear the voice of the fairy.

Predestination and Immortality

The Serbians believe firmly in predestination, and they say that “there is no death without the appointed day” (Nema smrti bez soodyena dana). They believe universally in the immortality of the soul, of which even otherwise inanimate objects, such as forests, lakes, mountains, sometimes partake. After the death of a man, the soul delays its departure to the higher or lower spheres until the expiration of a certain period (usually forty days), during which time it floats in the air, and can perhaps enter into the body of some animal or insect.

Good and Evil Spirits

Spirits are usually good; in Montenegro the people believe that each house has its Guardian-Spirit, whom they call syen or syenovik. Such syens can enter into the body of a man, a dog, a snake, or even a hen. In the like [19]manner every forest, lake, and mountain has each its syen, which is called by a Turkish word djin. So, for example, the djin of the mountain Riyetchki Kom, near the northern side of the lake of Scutari, does not allow passers-by to touch a branch or a leaf in the perpetually green woods on the mountain side, and if any traveller should gather as much as a flower or a leaf he is instantly pursued by a dense fog and perceives miraculous and terrifying visions in the air. The Albanians dread similar spirits of the woods in the region round Lurya, where they do not dare touch even the dry branches of fallen firs and larches. This recalls the worship of sacred bushes common among the ancient Lithuanians.

Besides the good spirits there appear evil spirits (byess), demons, and devils (dyavo), whom the Christians considered as pagan gods, and other evil spirits (zli doossi) too, who exist in the bodies of dead or of living men. These last are called vookodlaks or Vlkodlaks (i.e. vook, meaning ‘wolf,’ and dlaka, meaning ‘hair’), and, according to the popular belief, they cause solar and lunar eclipses. This recalls the old Norse belief that the sun and moon were continually pursued by hungry wolves, a similar attempt to explain the same natural phenomena. Even to-day Serbian peasants believe that eclipses of the sun and moon are caused by their becoming the prey of a hungry dragon, who tries to swallow them. In other parts of Serbia it is generally believed that such dragons are female beings. These mischievous and very powerful creatures are credited with the destruction of cornfields and vineyards, for they are responsible for the havoc wrought by the hail-carrying clouds. When the peasants observe a partial eclipse of the moon or the sun, believing that a hailstorm is imminent, they gather in the village [20]streets, and all—men, women, and children—beat pots and pans together, fire pistols, and ring bells in order to frighten away the threatening monster.

In Montenegro, Herzegovina, and Bocca Cattaro the people believe that the soul of a sleeping man is wafted by the winds to the summit of a mountain, and, when a number of such has assembled, they become fierce giants who uproot trees to use as clubs and hurl rocks and stones at one another. Their hissing and groans are heard especially during the nights in spring and autumn. Those struggling crowds are not composed merely of human souls, but include the spirits of many animals, such as oxen, dogs, and even cocks, but oxen especially join in the struggles.

Witches

Female evil spirits are generally called veshtitze (singular, veshtitza, derived obviously from the ancient Bohemian word ved, which means ‘to know’), and are supposed to be old women possessed by an evil spirit, irreconcilably hostile to men, to other women, and most of all to children. They correspond more or less to the English conception of ‘witches.’ When an old woman goes to sleep, her soul leaves her body and wanders about till it enters the body of a hen or, more frequently, that of a black moth. Flying about, it enters those houses where there are a number of children, for its favourite food is the heart of an infant. From time to time veshtitze meet to take their supper together in the branches of some tree. An old woman having the attributes of a witch may join such meetings after having complied with the rules prescribed by the experienced veshtitze, and this is usually done by pronouncing certain stereotyped phrases. The [21]peasants endeavour to discover such creatures, and, if they succeed in finding out a witch, a jury is hastily formed and is given full power to sentence her to death. One of the most certain methods used to discover whether the object of suspicion is really a witch or not, is to throw the victim into the water, for if she floats she is surely a witch. In this case she is usually burnt to death. This test was not unknown in England.

Vampires

The belief in the existence of vampires is universal throughout the Balkans, and indeed it is not uncommon in certain parts of western Europe. Some assert that this superstition must be connected with the belief generally held in the Orthodox Church that the bodies of those who have died while under excommunication by the Church are incorruptible, and such bodies, being taken possession of by evil spirits, appear before men in lonely places and murder them. In Montenegro vampires are called lampirs or tenatz, and it is thought that they suck the blood of sleeping men, and also of cattle and other animals, returning to their graves after their nocturnal excursions changed into mice. In order to discover the grave where the vampire is, the Montenegrins take out a black horse, without blemish, and lead it to the cemetery. The suspected corpse is dug up, pierced with stakes and burnt. The authorities, of course, are opposed to such superstitious practices, but some communities have threatened to abandon their dwellings, and thus leave whole villages deserted, unless allowed to ensure their safety in their own way. The code of the Emperor Doushan the Powerful provides that a village in which bodies of dead persons have been exhumed and burnt [22]shall be punished as severely as if a murder had been committed; and that a resnik, that is, the priest who officiates at a ceremony of that kind, shall be anathematized. Militchevitch, a famous Serbian ethnographist, relates an incident where a resnik, as late as the beginning of the nineteenth century, read prayers out of the apocrypha of Peroon when an exorcism was required. The revolting custom has been completely suppressed in Serbia. In Montenegro the Archbishop Peter II. endeavoured to uproot it, but without entire success. In Bosnia, Istria and Bulgaria it is also sometimes heard of. The belief in vampires is a superstition widely spread throughout Roumania, Albania and Greece.6

Nature Worship

Even in our own day there are traces of sun and moon worship, and many Serbian and Bulgarian poems celebrate the marriage of the sun and the moon, and sing Danitza (the morning star) and Sedmoro Bratye (‘The Seven Brothers’—evidently The Pleiades).7 Every man has his own star, which appears in the firmament at the moment of his birth and is extinguished when he dies. Fire and lightning are also worshipped. It is common belief that the earth rests on water, that the water reposes on a fire and that that fire again is upon another fire, which is called Zmayevska Vatra (‘Fire of the Dragons’).

Similarly the worship of animals has been preserved to our times. The Serbians consider the bear to be no less than a man who has been punished and turned into an [23]animal. This they believe because the bear can walk upright as a man does. The Montenegrins consider the jackal (canis aureus) a semi-human being, because its howls at night sound like the wails of a child. The roedeer (capreolus caprea) is supposed to be guarded by veele, and therefore she so often escapes the hunter. In some parts of Serbia and throughout Montenegro it is a sin to kill a fox, or a bee.

The worship of certain snakes is common throughout the Balkans. In Montenegro the people believe that a black snake lives in a hole under every house, and if anybody should kill it, the head of the house is sure to die. Certain water-snakes with fiery heads were also considered of the same importance as the evil dragons (or hydra) who, at one time, threatened ships sailing on the Lake of Scutari. One of these hydras is still supposed to live in the Lake of Rikavatz, in the deserted mountains of Eastern Montenegro, from the bottom of which the hidden monster rises out of the water from time to time, and returns heralded by great peals of thunder and flashes of lightning.

But the Southern Slavs do not represent the dragon as the Hellenes did, that is to say as a monster in the form of a huge lizard or serpent, with crested head, wings and great strong claws, for they know this outward form is merely used as a misleading mask. In his true character a dragon is a handsome youth, possessing superhuman strength and courage, and he is usually represented as in love with some beautiful princess or empress.8 [24]

Enchanters

Among celebrants of the various pagan rites, there is mention of tcharobnitzi (enchanters), who are known to have lived also in Russia, where, during the eleventh century, they sapped the new Christianity. The Slavonic translation of the Gospel recognized by the Church in the ninth century applies the name ‘tcharobnitzi’ to the three Holy Kings.

To this same category belong the resnitzi who, as is apparent in the Emperor Doushan’s Code referred to previously, used to burn the bodies of the dead. Resnik, which appears as a proper name in Serbia, Bosnia and Croatia, means, according to all evidence, “the one who is searching for truth.”

Sacrificial Rites

From translations of the Greek legends of the saints, the exact terminology of the sacrificial ceremonies and the places where they had been made is well known. Procopius mentions oxen as the animals generally offered for sacrifice, but we find that calves, goats, and sheep, in addition to oxen, were used by the Polapic Slavs and Lithuanians, and that, according to Byzantine authorities, the Russians used even birds as well. In Montenegro, on the occasion of raising a new building, a ram or a cock is usually slaughtered in order that a corner-stone may be besprinkled with its blood, and, at the ceremony of inaugurating a new fountain, a goat is killed. Tradition tells of how Prince Ivan Tzrnoyevitch once shot in front of a cavern an uncommonly big wild goat that, being quite wet, shook water from its coat so that instantly a river began to flow thence. This stream is called even [25]now the River of Tzrnoyevitch. The story reminds one of the goats’ horns and bodies of goats which are seen on the altar dedicated to the Illyrian god, Bind, near a fountain in the province of Yapod.

It is a fact that Russians and Polapic Slavs used to offer human sacrifices. Mention of such sacrifices among the Southern Slavs is found only in the cycle of myths relating to certain buildings, which, it was superstitiously believed, could be completed only if a living human being were buried or immured. Such legends exist among the Serbians and Montenegrins concerning the building of the fortress Skadar (Scutari) and the bridge near Vishegrad; with the Bulgarians in reference to building the fort Lidga-Hyssar, near Plovdiv, and the Kadi-Köpri (Turkish for ‘the bridge of the judge’) on the river Struma; and again among modern Greeks in their history of the bridge on the river Arta, and the Roumanians of the church ‘Curtea de Ardyesh.’ It seems very likely that certain enigmatic bas-reliefs, representing oval human faces with just the eyes, nose and mouth, which are found concealed under the cemented surface of the walls of old buildings have some connexion with the sacrificial practice referred to. There are three such heads in the fortress of Prince Dyouragy Brankovitch at Smederevo (Semendria), not far from Belgrade, on the inner side of the middle donjon fronting the Danube, and two others in the monastery Rila on the exterior wall close to the Doupitchka Kapiya.

Funeral Customs

During the siege of Constantinople in the year 626, the Southern Slavs burnt the bodies of their dead. The Russians did the same during the battles near Silistria, [26]971, and subsequently commemorative services were held in all parts of Russia, and the remains of the dead were buried.

The Slavs of north Russia used to keep the ashes of the dead in a small vessel, which they would place on a pillar by the side of a public road; that custom persisted with the Vyatitchs of southern Russia as late as 1100.

These funeral customs have been retained longest by the Lithuanians; the last recorded instance of a pagan burial was when Keystut, brother of the Grand Duke Olgerd, was interred in the year 1382, that is to say, he was burnt together with his horses and arms, falcons and hounds.

There are in existence upright stones, mostly heavy slabs of stone, many of them broken, or square blocks and even columns, which were called in the Middle Ages kami, or bileg, and now stetyak or mramor. Such stones are to be found in large numbers close together; for example, there are over 6000 in the province of Vlassenitza, and some 22,000 in the whole of Herzegovina; some can be seen also in Dalmatia, for instance, in Kanovli, and in Montenegro, at Nikshitch; in Serbia, however, they are found only in Podrigne. These stones are usually decorated with figures, which appear to be primitive imitations of the work of Roman sculptors: arcades on columns, plant designs, trees, swords and shields, figures of warriors carrying their bows, horsemen, deer, bears, wild-boars, and falcons; there are also oblong representations of male and female figures dancing together and playing games.

The symbol of the Cross indicates the presence of Christianity. Inscriptions appear only after the eleventh century. But many tombstones plainly had their origin in [27]the Middle Ages. Some tombs, situated far from villages, are described by man’s personal name in the chronicles relating to the demarcations of territories, for example, Bolestino Groblye (the cemetery of Bolestino) near Ipek; Druzetin Grob (the tomb of Druzet). In Konavla, near Ragusa, there was in the year 1420 a certain point where important cross-roads met, known as ‘Obugonov Grob.’ Even in our day there is a tombstone here without inscription, called ‘Obugagn Greb.’ It is the grave of the Governor Obuganitch, a descendant of the family of Lyoubibratitch, famous in the fourteenth century.

Classic and Mediæval Influence

When paganism had disappeared, the Southern-Slavonic legends received many elements from the Greeks and Romans. There are references to the Emperors Trajan and Diocletian as well as to mythical personages. In the Balkans, Trajan is often confused with the Greek king Midas. In the year 1433 Chevalier Bertrandon de la Broquière heard from the Greeks at Trajanople that this city had been built by the Emperor Trajan, who had goat’s ears. The historian Tzetzes also mentions that emperor’s goat’s ears ὠτία τράγου. In Serbian legends the Emperor Trajan seems also to be confused with Dædalus, for he is given war-wings in addition to the ears.

To the cycle of mediæval myths we owe also the djins (giants) who dwelt in caverns, and who are known by the Turkish name div—originally Persian. Notable of the divs were those having only one eye—who may be called a variety of cyclops—mentioned also in Bulgarian, Croatian and Slovenian mythology. On the shores of the river Moratcha, in Montenegro, there is a meadow called [28]‘Psoglavlya Livada’ with a cavern in which such creatures are said to have lived at one time.

The Spread of Christianity

When the pagan Slavs occupied the Roman provinces, the Christian region was limited to parts of the Byzantine provinces. In Dalmatia after the fall of Salona, the archbishopric of Salona was transferred to Spalato (Splyet), but in the papal bulls of the ninth century it continued always to be styled Salonitana ecclesia, and it claimed jurisdiction over the entire lands as far as the Danube.

According to Constantine Porphyrogenete, the Serbians adopted the Christian faith at two different periods, first during the reign of the Emperor Heraclius, who had requested the Pope to send a number of priests to convert those peoples to the Christian faith. It is well known, however, that the Slavs in Dalmatia even during the reign of Pope John IV (640–642) remained pagans. No doubt Christianity spread gradually from the Roman cities of Dalmatia to the various Slav provinces. The Croatians already belonged to the Roman Church at the time when its priests were converting the Serbians to Christianity between the years 642 and 731, i.e., after the death of Pope John IV and before Leon of Isauria had broken off his relations with Rome.

The second conversion of those of the Southern Slavs who had remained pagans was effected, about 879, by the Emperor Basil I.

At first the Christian faith spread amongst the Southern Slavs only superficially, because the people could not understand Latin prayers and ecclesiastical books. It took root much more firmly and rapidly when the ancient Slavonic language was used in the church services. [29]

Owing to the differences arising over icons and the form their worship should take, enthusiasm for the conversion of the pagans by the Latin Church considerably lessened. In the Byzantine provinces, however, there was no need for a special effort to be made to the people, for the Slavs came in constant contact with the Greek Christians, whose beliefs they adopted spontaneously.

From the Slavonic appellations of places appearing in certain official lists, one can see that new episcopates were established exclusively for the Slavs by the Greek Church. The bishops conducted their services in Greek, but the priests and monks, who were born Slavs, preached and instructed the people in their own languages. Thus they prepared the ground for the great Slav apostles.

The Slav apostles of Salonica, Cyrillos and his elder brother Methodius, were very learned men and philosophers. The principal of the two, Cyrillos, was a priest and the librarian of the Patriarchate; in addition he was a professor of philosophy in the University of the Imperial Palace at Constantinople, and he was much esteemed on account of his ecclesiastical erudition. Their great work began in 862 with the mission to the Emperor Michel III., with which the Moravian Princes Rastislav and Svetopluk entrusted them.

The Moravians were already converted to Christianity, but they wished to have teachers among them acquainted with the Slav language. Before the brothers started on their journey, Cyrillos composed the Slav alphabet and translated the Gospel.

Thus the Serbians obtained these Holy Books written in a language familiar to them, and the doctrines of the great Master gradually, but steadily, ousted the old, primitive religion which had taken the form of pure [30]Naturalism. But the worship of Nature could not completely disappear, and has not, even to our day, vanished from the popular creed of the Balkans. The folk-lore of those nations embodies an abundance of religious and superstitious sentiment and rites handed down from pre-Christian times, for after many years’ struggle paganism was only partially abolished by the ritual of the Latin and afterwards of the Greek Christian Church, to which all Serbians, including the natives of Montenegro, Macedonia and parts of Bosnia, belong.

Superstition

The foundations of the Christian faith were never laid properly in the Balkans owing to the lack of cultured priests, and this reason, and the fact that the people love to cling to their old traditions, probably accounts for religion having never taken a very deep hold on them. Even to this day superstition is often stronger than religion, or sometimes replaces it altogether. The whole daily life of the Southern Slav is interwoven with all kinds of superstition. He is superstitious about the manner in which he rises in the morning and as to what he sees first; for instance, if he sees a monk, he is sure to have an unfortunate day; when he builds a house, a ‘lucky spot’ must be found for its foundation. At night he is superstitious about the way he lies down; he listens to hear if the cocks crow in time, and if the dogs bark much, and how they are barking. He pays great attention to the moment when thunder is first heard, what kind of rain falls, how the stars shine—whether or not they shine at all, and looks anxiously to see if the moon has a halo, and if the sun shines through a cloud. All these things are portents and omens to his superstitious mind, [31]and they play a considerable part in all his actions. When he intends to join a hunting expedition, for example, he decides from them whether there will be game or not; he believes that he is sure to shoot something if his wife, or sister (or any other good-natured person) jumps over his gun before he calls up his dogs. Especially there are numberless superstitions connected with husbandry, for some of which fairly plausible explanations could be given; for others, however, explanations are hopelessly unavailing, and the reasons for their origin are totally forgotten. Nevertheless, all superstitions are zealously observed because, the people say, “it is well to do so,” or “our ancestors always did so and were happy, why should we not do the same?”

The planting of fruit-trees and the growing of fruit must be aided by charms, and numerous feasts are organized to secure a fruitful year, or to prevent floods, hail, drought, frost, and other disasters. But undoubtedly the greatest number of superstitions exist regarding the daily customs, most of which refer to birth, marriage and death. Charms are used to discover a future bridegroom or bride; to make a young man fall in love with a maid or vice versâ; also, if it seems desirable, to make them hate each other. Sorcery is resorted to to ensure the fulfilment of the bride’s wishes with regard to children; their number and sex are decided upon, their health is ensured in advance, favourable conditions are arranged for their appearance. Death can come, it is believed, only when the Archangel Michael removes a soul from its body, and that can only happen on the appointed day.

The chief national customs of the Southern Slavs are involved in a mass of superstition. As the Serbians are the most representative of the Balkan Slavs, we shall [32]consider a few of their customs in order to show how little of the true spirit of religion is to be found in some of their religious observances.

Marriage

When a child is born in a Serbian family, the friends congratulate the parents and wish for them: “that they may live to see the green wreaths,” which means living to see their child married. Marriages are most frequent in autumn, especially towards Christmas, and more rare in summer. When parents intend to find a bridegroom for their daughter or a bride for their son, they generally consider the question thoroughly for a whole year beforehand. They take their daughter or son to various social gatherings, in order that they may meet one suited to become the husband of their daughter or the wife of their son. When a daughter is informed of her parents’ decision she must hasten her preparations: she must see that the bochtchaluks9 (wedding presents) which she has to distribute among the wedding guests (svati or svatovi) be finished soon. These presents are articles mostly made by her own hands, such as socks, stockings, shirts, towels, and rugs. Usually the house is put into good order and perhaps enlarged before the marriage, and when all the preparations are ready the rumour of her approaching marriage is allowed to spread through the village. As marriages are usually settled by the parents, love-matches, unfortunately, are rare, and elopements are regarded as phenomenal. There are, however, cases where young people are not docile to the will of their parents with regard to marriage. If a girl has fallen in love with a young man, she may have recourse, besides usual ways and [33]methods, to professional enchantresses. Among the devices recommended by these friends of lovers are the following: The maiden looks through the muzzle of a roast sucking-pig (which has been killed for the Christmas festivities) at her beloved, whereupon he is sure to grow madly in love with her; her lover is bound to die of love for her if she sees him through a hole made in a cherry or certain other fruit; she is equally sure to gain his affection if she can succeed in finding the trace of his right foot-print and turns the earth under it. These and many other kinds of sorcery are usually practised on or about St. George’s Day (23rd of April, O.S.).

Young men, too, have recourse on occasion to witchcraft when they desire the love of some obdurate maiden. For instance, if at midnight on a certain Friday the young man goes to the courtyard of the dwelling of the lady of his heart and there shakes a tree three times, uttering as many times her Christian name, she is absolutely certain to answer his call and to reciprocate his love. Another equally infallible method is for him to catch a certain fish and to let it die near his heart; then to roast its flesh until it is burnt to a cinder, then to pound this, and to place the powder secretly in water or some other beverage. If the girl can be induced to taste of it, she is as a matter of course constrained to love him. These expedients recall the famous exploit of the French troubadour Pierre Vidal undertaken to win the love of his beautiful patroness Donna Azalais de Baux. A magical recipe for success in love, taken from an Arabic monument, was given to the poet by Hugues de Baux, a mischievous young knight and brother-in-law of the fair Donna Azalais; the credulous Vidal was induced to ride on a pig one moonlight night three times round the castle of his lady-love, all unconscious [34]that his waggish friend had brought all the inmates to a terrace to witness his ridiculous exhibition.

Marriage Negotiations

When parents have chosen their son’s bride they send to her parents a fully qualified delegate (navodagjya) to inquire whether or not they would consent to give their daughter to the young man. As marriages are rarely concluded without the aid of these delegates there are numerous persons who make it their regular profession to negotiate marriages, and they receive a sum of money when their offices are successful. In addition to this fee the navodagjya receives from the future bride at least one pair of socks. If the father of the girl is not agreeable to the proposal, he generally does not give a decisive reply, but finds some pretext, stating, for example, that his daughter is still too young, or that she is not quite ready with her preparations for marriage; but if the young man appears to be eligible and the father is willing to give his consent, he generally answers that he would like to see his daughter married to such an excellent man, provided the couple be fond of each other. Then a meeting is arranged, although in fact this is merely a matter of form, since the final decision must come from the parents themselves, irrespective of the mutual feelings of the prospective husband and wife. The parents ask the young people if they like one another; usually an affirmative answer is given, whereupon all present embrace each other, and presents are exchanged, both between the parents and between the future husband and bride. This event is often celebrated by the firing of pistols and guns, in order to make it known all over the village that marriage festivities are soon to follow. Soon after the ceremony, [35]which may be called a preliminary betrothal, the parents of the bridegroom, together with the young man and a few most intimate friends, pay an official visit to the house of the bride. The visit usually takes place in the evening, and, after the bridegroom has given the bride a ring, festivities begin and last until the next morning. A few days later the bride and the bridegroom go to church, accompanied by a few friends, and the priest asks them some stereotyped questions, such as: “Do you wish to marry of your own free will?” to which they are, so to speak, compelled to answer “Yes.”

The Wedding Procession

A week before the wedding-day both families prepare their houses for numerous guests, whom they will entertain most hospitably for several days. Until very recent times, if the bride lived in some distant village the wedding procession had to travel for several days to fetch her, and, in the absence of good roads for carriages, the entire party had to ride on horseback. The wedding party includes the dever10 (that is, leader of the bride), who remains in constant attendance upon the bride throughout the ceremonies, being, in a sense, her guardian; the koom (principal witness, who in due course becomes a sort of sponsor or godfather to the children); and the stari-svat, who is the second witness of the wedding ceremony. Throughout the wedding ceremonies the koom has to stand behind the bridegroom and the stari-svat behind the bride. The stari-svat is also a kind of master of the ceremonies on the wedding-day; he [36]keeps order among the guests and presides at the nuptial banquets. With the dever come also his parents, and the koom and stari-svat must bring one servant each, to attend them during the ceremony. These two witnesses must provide themselves with two large wax candles, generally adorned with transparent silk lace and flowers, which they must present to the bride in addition to many other gifts.

Before the procession sets out, the young people fire pistols, sing, and dance, whilst the elders sit and take refreshment. The appearance of the bridegroom in his bridal garments, and wearing flowers in his hat, is the signal for the traditional nuptial songs from a chorus of girls. When the carriages are ready to start they sing the following:

The Tzigan (Gipsy) band begins its joyful melodies; the bridegroom, the standard-bearer, and other young people mount their horses, all gaily bedecked with flowers, and the procession starts for the bride’s house, the equestrians riding, generally, two and two, firing pistols and singing. The procession is always led by a frolicsome youth who carries a tchoutoura (a flat wooden vessel) containing red wine. It is his duty to offer this to every person the wedding party may meet on the road, and he is privileged to make, during the wedding festival, jokes and witticisms at the expense of everybody. He enjoys the licence of a [37]court jester for that day, and nobody must resent his witticisms, which are, at times, indelicate and coarse.

A few steps behind the tchoutoura-bearer ride the voivode (general, or leader), whose office it is to support the former in his sallies, and the standard-bearer, who carries the national flag; after them, in one of the carriages profusely decorated with flowers, ride the bridesmaids, who are selected from among the relatives of the bridegroom. With other presents the maidens carry the wedding dress and flowers which the bridegroom’s father has bought for his future daughter-in-law. Immediately following the bridesmaids rides the bridegroom between the koom and the stari-svat. Then come other relatives and guests, two and two in procession. At times these wedding processions offer a very impressive sight.

The Arrival

When the wedding procession approaches the house of the bride, its arrival is announced by firing off pistols and guns, whereupon a number of girls appear and sing various songs expressive of sorrow at the bride’s departure from her old home. In some parts of Serbia there still survives a strange old custom; the bride’s father requires that certain conditions should be fulfilled before the gates of the courtyard are opened for the procession. For example, he sends a good wrestler to challenge any or every man of the bridegroom’s party, and one of the wedding guests must overpower the challenger before the gates are opened. Of course, the wrestling bout is not serious, as a rule. Another condition, obtaining in ether parts, is that the newcomers are not be to admitted before one of them, by firing his pistol, has destroyed a pot or other terra-cotta vessel fastened at the top of the chimney. [38]

When such, or other, conditions have been successfully negotiated, the wedding party is admitted to the house and led to tables loaded with roast lamb or pork, cakes, fruit, wine and brandy. The bride’s father places the father of the bridegroom in the seat of honour, and immediately next to him the stari-svat, then the koom and then the bridegroom. When the guests are seated, a large flat cake (pogatcha) is placed before the bridegroom’s father, and he lays upon it some gold coins; it may be a whole chain made of golden ducats, which the bride is to wear later round her neck. His example is followed immediately by the stari-svat, the koom, and all the other guests. Finally the bride’s father brings the dowry which he has determined to give to his daughter and lays it on the cake. All the money thus collected is handed over to the stari-svat, who will give it in due course to the bride. Next the bridesmaids take the wedding dress to the bride’s apartment, where they adorn her with great care and ceremony. Her toilet finished, one of her brothers, or, in the absence of a brother, one of her nearest male relatives, takes her by the hand and leads her to the assembled family and friends. The moment she appears, the wedding guests greet her with a lively fire from their pistols, and the bridesmaids conduct her to the bridegroom, to whom she presents a wreath of flowers. She is then led to the stari-svat and the koom, whose hands she kisses. That ordeal concluded, she goes into the house, where, in front of the hearth, sit her parents on low wooden chairs. There she prostrates herself, kissing the floor in front of the fire. This is obviously a relic of fire-worship; now, however, symbolical of the veneration of the centre of family life. When she rises, the maiden kisses the hands of her father [39]and mother, who, embracing her, give her their blessing. Now her brother, or relative—as the case may be—escorts her back to the bridegroom’s party and there delivers her formally to the dever, who from that moment takes charge of her, in the first place presenting to her the gifts he has brought.

The Return from Church

After they have feasted the guests mount their horses and, firing tirelessly their pistols, set out with the bride for the nearest church. When the religious ceremony is over the wedding party returns to the bridegroom’s home, and the bride has to alight from her horse (or carriage) upon a sack of oats. While the others enter the courtyard through the principal gate, the bride usually selects some other entrance, for she fears lest she may be bewitched. Immediately she enters, the members of the bridegroom’s family bring to her a vessel filled with various kinds of corn, which she pours out on the ground “in order that the year may be fruitful.” Next they bring her a male child whom she kisses and raises aloft three times. She then passes into the house holding under her arms loaves of bread, and in her hands bottles of red wine—emblems of wealth and prosperity.

Although the wedding guests have been well feasted at the bride’s house, the journey has renewed their appetites, therefore they seat themselves at tables in the same order as we have already seen, and are regaled with a grand banquet. Throughout the meal, as at the previous one, the voivodes and the tchoutoura-bearer poke fun and satire at the expense of everybody. These mirthful effusions are, as we have already said, not generally in very good taste, but no one takes offence, and everybody [40]laughs heartily, provided there be wit in the jokes. After this feast, during which the young people perform the national dances (kollo) and sing the traditional wedding songs, the dever brings the bride to the threshold of her apartment (vayat) and delivers her to the koom, who, in his turn, leads her in, places her hand in that of the bridegroom and leaves them alone. The guests, however, often remain in the house, until dawn, drinking and singing.

Slava (or Krsno Ime)

This custom is considered to be a survival of the times when the Serbians were first converted to Christianity. Every Serbian family has one day in the year, known as slava, generally some saint’s day, when there are performed certain ceremonies partly of a religious and partly of a social character. The saint whom the head of the family celebrates as his patron, or tutelary saint, is also celebrated by his children and their descendants.

A few days before the celebration the priest comes to the house of every svetchar—the man who as the chief of the family celebrates the saint—in order to bless the water which has been prepared beforehand for that purpose in a special vessel; after this he besprinkles the heads of all the members of the family with the holy water, into which he has dipped a small sprig of basil. Then he proceeds from room to room performing the same ceremony in each.

In order to please their tutelary saint, all the members of the family fast for at least a week before the feast. On the eve of the saint’s day a taper is lit before the saint’s image, and remains burning for two days. One or two days before the festival the women prepare a kolatch (a [41]special cake made of wheat-flour) which measures about fifteen inches in diameter, and is about three inches thick. Its surface is divided into quarters by being marked with a cross, each quarter bearing a shield with the letters I.N.R.I. In the centre there is a circle in which is a poskurnik (monogram of these initials). Besides the kolatch, another cake of white wheat well boiled and mixed with powdered sugar, chopped nuts, and almonds, is made. This is called kolyivo (literally “something which has been killed with the knife”). This is obviously a relic of the pagan times when kolyivo was the name given to animals sacrificed on the altar. When the Serbians were converted to the Christian faith, they were told that the Christian God and His saints did not call for animal, and still less for human sacrifice, and that boiled wheat might serve as a substitute. And it is interesting to find that kolyivo is prepared only for those saints whom the people believe to be dead, and not for those who are believed to be still living, such as St. Elias (Elijah), the patron Saint of Thunder, or the “Thunderer,” the Archangel Michael and certain others, for it is emphatically a symbolic offering for the dead.

The Slava Eve Reception

On the eve of the Slava day enough food is prepared to last for the two following days, and toward sunset, all the tables are well loaded with refreshments in readiness for the arrival of numerous guests. Friends and relations are invited to come by a messenger especially sent out from the house. There are several stereotyped forms of this invitation, one of which is the following: “My father (or my uncle, as the case may be) has sent me to bring you his greetings and to invite you to our house this evening [42]to drink a glass of brandy. We wish to share with you the blessings bestowed upon us by God, and our patron-saint. We entreat you to come!” At these words the messenger hands to the invited guest a tchoutoura filled with red wine and decorated with flowers, out of which the guest is obliged to take a little. He then makes the sign of the Cross, and says: “I thank you, and may your Slava be a happy and prosperous one!” After tasting the wine, he continues: “We will do our best to come. It is simple to comply with your wish, since we are invited to share such an honour.” He invariably pronounces these words whether he really intends to accept the invitation or not.

In the meantime, while the messenger was away inviting guests, the women of the household have been making all the preparations necessary for their reception. Each guest, as he reaches the threshold exclaims: “O master of the house, art thou willing to receive guests?” Hearing this the Svetchar rushes to meet the guest and greets him in these words: “Certainly I am, and may there be many more good guests such as thou art!” Then the guest enters, embraces the Svetchar and says: “I wish thee a most pleasant evening and a happy Slava!” And then as a matter of course the host answers: “I thank thee, and welcome thee to my house!” In the same manner the other guests are greeted. When they have all arrived, the host invites them to wash their hands—for no Serbian peasant would ever sit down to take food without first doing so. Then the host shows to each one his place at the table, always strictly observing precedence due to seniority.

The girls of the house first pass round brandy to the assembled guests and this, at least in the winter, has [43]generally been warmed, and honey or sugar has been added. While that is being served all the guests stand, and in silence wait reverently for the ceremonies of the Slava to begin.

The host places in the middle of the table a large wax candle, which he does not light until he has made the sign of the Cross three times. Next he takes an earthen vessel containing a few embers, places in it a few small pieces of incense and then lets the fragrance ascend to the icon, which is, according to custom, occupying the place of honour in the room, then still holding the censer he stops for a few moments before each guest. That ceremony being ended, and if there be no priest present, the host himself invites his guests to say their prayers to themselves. A great many Serbian peasants are gifted with the power of offering extempore prayers and they are always in request at these ceremonies. The host passes the censer to his wife, whose duty it is to see that the fumes of the incense reach into every part of the house. Next the host breaks silence with the following prayer: “Let us pray, O brethren, most reverently to the Almighty Lord, our God, and to the Holy Trinity! O Lord, Thou omnipotent and gracious Creator of Heaven and Earth, deliver us, we pray Thee, from all unforeseen evil! O, St. George! (here he adds the name of the saint whose festival they are celebrating), our holy patron-saint, protect us and plead for us with the Lord, our God, we here gathered together do pray Thee. Ye Holy Apostles, ye, the four Evangelists and pillars upon whom rest the Heavens and the Earth, we, being sinners, do conjure ye to intercede for us,” and so on. When his prayer is finished, the guests make the sign of the Cross several times and then supper begins. [44]

Slava Toasts

During the first two or three courses, the guests continue to drink brandy, and wine is not served until they have partaken of meat. At the drinking of the first glass of wine the oldest guest or whoever enjoys the highest dignity of position (generally it is the village priest or the mayor) proposes the first toast, of which—as well as of all the subsequent ones—it may be said that tradition has ordered the exact programme to be followed in all these proceedings, and even prescribed the very words to be used. In some parts of Serbia the host himself proposes the first toast to the most distinguished of his guests, addressing him with: “I beg to thank you, as well as all your brethren, for the honour which you graciously show me in coming to my Slava! Let us drink the first glass to the glory of the gracious God! Where wine is drunk in His name, may prosperity always be!” The principal guest accepts the toast, makes the sign of the Cross and answers in such words as the following: “I thank you, most kind and hospitable host! May your Slava bring you prosperity, let us drink this second glass ‘for the better hour.’” The third toast is generally “To the glory of the Holy Trinity!” (In Serbian: Tretya-sretya, sve u slavu Svete Troyitze!)

In some parts of Serbia there are commonly seven or even more toasts to be drunk, but this custom shows, fortunately, a tendency to disappear.

The Ceremony at Church

Next morning all the members of the family rise very early in order to restore order in the house, and the Svetchar goes to the nearest church, taking with him the [45]kolyivo, the kolatch, some wine, incense and a wax candle. All these things he places in front of the altar where they must remain during the morning service, after which the officiating priest cuts the Slava cake from underneath so that his cuts correspond with the lines of the cross shown on the upper surface. Then he breaks the cake and turns it in a circle with the help of the Svetchar, while they pronounce certain prayers together. This ceremony ended, the host takes one half of the cake home and leaves the other half to the priest. If it happens that the church is far away, and time does not allow the host to absent himself long from home, the Slava cake may be cut in halves by him in his own house with the help of his male guests, chanting all the while certain formal prayers: and standing in a circle they hold the cake so that a thumb of each guest should be placed on the top of the cake, whilst they each support it with four fingers.

The Slava Feast

Toward noon, a few minutes before the sun reaches his zenith, a part of the Slava cake is placed upon the table together with a lighted wax candle. To this midday meal many more guests are usually invited than had attended the supper on the previous evening; furthermore, on this day even a stranger—whatever his religion may be—has the right to enter the house and to claim hospitality. For instance, the Royal Prince Marko had many friends amongst the Turks, and they would invariably come to him as guests on his Slava day. All the guests rise together, cross themselves with great reverence, and, in perfect silence, with glasses filled, they await the address to be made by the Svetchar. Again three, or perhaps [46]more, toasts are proposed and accepted, and, of course, as many times are the glasses again emptied and re-filled before the ‘midday’ meal is even begun. Eating and drinking, in all cases, “to the glory of God, the Holy Trinity, to the Holy Slava” and so forth continue till late at night, when the guests remember that it is time to go home. Many, however, remain in the house all night and for the next day. Some devotees of good wine used actually to remain, on occasions, for three whole consecutive days and nights. This very extreme devotion to the saints has been practised more especially at Nish, and in that neighbourhood, and has furnished the celebrated Serbian novelist Stefan Strematz with abundant material for one of the finest, as it is undoubtedly one of the wittiest, novels that have been written in Serbian.

Christmas Eve

Another festival, which the Serbians, like other nations, conduct with many rites and customs of unmistakably pagan origin and which fills the hearts of all with joy, is Christmas. It is a saying of the Serbian people that “there is no day without light—neither is there any real joy without Christmas.”

The Serbian peasant is, as a general rule, an early riser, but on Christmas Eve (Badgni dan) everybody is up earlier than usual, for it is a day when each member of the household has his hands full of work to be done. Two or more of the young men are sent out from every house to the nearest forest11 to cut, and bring home, a [47]young oak tree, which is called Badgnak. (The etymology of this word is obscure, but it is probably the name, or derived from the name, of a pagan god.) When the young man who is to cut the tree has selected it, he kneels down, and murmuring words of greeting and uttering a special prayer, he throws at it a handful of wheat or corn; then he makes the sign of the Cross three times and begins carefully to cut in such a direction that the tree must necessarily fall toward the East, and at just about the moment when the sun first shows himself above the horizon. He has also to see that the tree does not touch, in falling to earth, the branches of any tree near it, otherwise the prosperity of his house would most surely be disturbed during the ensuing year. The trunk of the tree is now cut into three logs, one of which is rather longer than the others.

Toward evening, when everything is ready and all the members of the family are assembled in the kitchen, the chief room in the dwelling, a large fire is lit, and the head of the family solemnly carries in the Badgnak, and, placing it on the fire, so that the thicker end is left about twelve inches beyond the hearth, he pronounces in a loud voice his good wishes for the prosperity of the house and all within it. In the same way he brings in the other parts of the Badgnak, and, when all are in a blaze, the young shepherds embrace across the largest log, for they believe that by doing so they will ensure the attachment of the sheep to their lambs, of the cows to their calves, and of all other animals to their young.

At this point of the proceedings the oldest member of the family brings in a bundle of straw and hands it over to the housewife, to whom he wishes at the same time “a good evening and a happy Badgni dan.” She then throws [48]a handful of corn at him, thanks him for the straw and starts walking about the kitchen and the adjoining rooms, scattering straw on the floor and imitating the clucking of hens, while the children gleefully follow her and imitate the sounds made by young chicks.

This finished, the mother has next to bring a yellow wax candle and an earthen vessel filled with burning coal. The father again reverently makes the sign of the Cross, lights the candle and places some incense on the embers. Meanwhile the rest of the family have already formed themselves into a semi-circle, with the men standing on the right and the women on the left. The father now proceeds to say prayers aloud, walking from one end of the semi-circle to the other and stopping in front of each person for a short space of time that the fumes of smoking incense, in the censer, held in his right hand, should rise to the face of every one in turn. The prayers which they utter on these occasions last for about fifteen or twenty minutes, and vary in nearly every district.

After the prayers they all sit down to supper, which is laid, not upon a table, but on the floor, for it is considered a good orthodox custom to lay sacks over the stone or clay of which the floor is formed, and to use cushions instead of chairs, on Christmas Eve. During supper, at which no meat is served, the father of the family enthusiastically toasts the Badgnak, expressing at the same time his wishes for their common prosperity for the new year, and pours a glass of wine over the protruding end of the log. In many parts of Serbia all the peasants—men, women, and even small children—fast for the forty-five days immediately before Christmas. They abstain from meat, eggs, and milk-food, and eat simply vegetables and fruit. [49]

When the supper is over the whole family retires to bed, except one of the young men, who remains near the fire to see that the Badgnak does not burn off completely, and that the fire is not extinguished.

Christmas Day

It is generally believed that the rites and customs concerning this Church festival, which we Serbians call in our own language Bojitch, meaning ‘the little God,’ is nothing but the modified worship of the pagan god Dabog (or Daybog), to whom we have already referred, or perhaps represents several forms of that worship. Our pagan ancestors used to sacrifice a pig to their Sun-god, and in our day there is not a single house throughout Serbia in which “roast pork” is not served on Christmas Day as a matter of course. The men and boys of each household rise very early in the morning that day to make a big fire in the courtyard, and to roast a sucking-pig on a spit, for which all preparations are made on Badgni dan. The moment each little pig is placed at the fire there is a vigorous firing of pistols or rifles to greet it, showing by the sound of shot after shot that the whole village is astir. As nearly all the houses in a village practise the same custom most zealously, and as naturally every youth considers it a part of his duty to fire a pistol, the neighbouring hills echo again and again as if persistent skirmishing were going on.

Still early in the morning one of the maidens goes to the public well to fetch some drinking water, and when she reaches the well she greets it, wishing it a happy Christmas, throwing at the same time into it a handful of corn and a bunch, or perhaps merely a sprig, of basil. She throws the corn in the hope that the crops may be as abundant as [50]water, and the basil is to keep the water always limpid and pure. The first cupful of the water she draws is used to make a cake (Thesnitza) to be broken at the midday meal into as many pieces as there are members of the household. A silver coin has been put into the dough, and the person who finds it in his piece of cake is considered as the favourite of fortune for the year to come.

During the morning every house expects a visitor (polaznik), who is usually a young boy from a neighbouring house. When the polaznik enters the house he breaks off a small branch of the Badgnak’s smouldering end, and while he is greeting the head of the house with ‘Christ is born!’ and all the others are answering him with a cry of ‘In truth He is born!’ the mother throws at him a handful of wheat. He then approaches the hearth, and strikes the Badgnak with his own piece of tree repeatedly, so that thousands of sparks fly up into the chimney, and he pronounces his good wishes: “May the holy Christmas bring to this house as many sheep, as many horses, as many cows, as many beehives, [and so forth,] as there are sparks in this fire!” Then he places on the Badgnak either a silver or a gold coin, which the head of the family keeps to give to the blacksmith to smelt in with the steel when making his new plough—for, as he believes, this cannot fail to make the ground more fertile and all go well. The polaznik is, of course, made to stay and share the meal with them, and afterwards he is presented with a special cake also containing a coin, sometimes a gold one, sometimes silver.

After the repast all the youths go out of doors for sports, especially for sleighing, while the older people gather together around a gooslar (a national bard), and take [51]much, even endless, delight in listening to his recitals of their ancient ballads.

The Dodola Rite

The disasters which Serbian peasants most fear are of two kinds—drought and very violent storms. In pagan times there was a goddess who, it is believed, ruled the waters and the rain. When the Serbians were first converted to Christianity, the power of controlling the ocean, rivers, and storms, and the sailing of ships at sea, was attributed to St. Nicholas, and the Dalmatians, sea-going men, still pray only to him; whereas in the heart of Serbia, where the peasants have no conception of what large navigable rivers are, still less of what seas and lakes are like, recourse is taken to the favourite goddess Doda or Dodola whenever there is an unduly long spell of dry weather.

The Dodola rite is a peculiar one. A maiden, generally a Gipsy, is divested of her usual garments and then thickly wrapped round with grass and flowers so that she is almost concealed beneath them. She wears a wide wreath of willow branches interwoven with wild flowers around her waist and hips, and in such fantastic attire she has to go from house to house in the village dancing, while each housewife pours over her a pailful of water, and her companions chant a prayer having the refrain, Oy Dodo, oy Dodole, after every single line:

In each verse that follows mention is made of a cereal or other plant, imploring Doda that rain may soon be shed [52]upon it. Then the cottage women give them presents, either food or money, and the maidens sing other songs for them, always in the same rhythm, give their thanks, offer good wishes, and are gone.

Whitsuntide

During the Whitsuntide festivities, about fifteen young girls, mostly Christian Gipsies, one of whom personates the Standard-bearer, another the King, and another the Queen (kralyitza), veiled and attended by a number of Maids of Honour, pass from door to door through the village, singing and dancing. Their songs relate to such subjects as marriage, the choice of a husband or wife, the happiness of wedded life, the blessing of having children. After each verse of their songs follows a refrain, Lado, oy, Lado-leh! which is probably the name of the ancient Slavonic Deity of Love.

Palm Sunday

“In winter, just before Lent, the great festival in honour of the Dead is celebrated, at which every one solemnizes the memory of departed relations and friends, and no sooner does Palm Sunday arrive than the people join in commemorating the renovation of life.

“On the preceding Saturday the maidens assemble on a hill, and recite poems on the resurrection of Lazarus; and on Sunday, before sunrise, they meet at the place where they draw water and dance their country dance (kolllo), chanting a song, which relates how the water becomes dull by the antlers of a stag, and bright by his eye.”12 [53]

St. George’s Day

On St. George’s Day, April 23rd (Dyourdyev Dan), long before dawn, all the members of a Serbian family rise and take a bath in the water, in which a number of herbs and flowers—each possessing its own peculiar signification—have been cast before sunset the preceding day. He who fails to get up in good time, and whom the sun surprises in bed, is said to have fallen in disgrace with St. George, and he will consequently have little or no luck in any of his undertakings for the next twelve months. This rite is taken as a sign that the Serbian peasants yield to the many influences of newly awakened nature.

It will be seen by anyone who studies the matter that each season in turn prompts the Serbians, as it must prompt any simple primitive people, to observe rites pointing to the mysterious relation in which man finds that he stands to nature. [54]

The Importance of the Ballads

That the Serbian people—as a distinct Slav and Christian nationality—did not succumb altogether to the Ottoman oppressor; that through nearly five centuries of subjection to the Turk the Southern Slavs retained a deep consciousness of their national ideals, is due in a very large measure to the Serbian national poetry, which has kept alive in the hearts of the Balkan Christians deep hatred of the Turk, and has given birth, among the oppressed Slavs, to the sentiment of a common misfortune and led to the possibility of a collective effort which issued in the defeat of the Turk on the battlefields of Koumanovo, Monastir, Prilip, Prizrend, Kirk-Kilisse, and Scutari.

Who has written those poems? We might as well ask, who is the author of the Iliad and the Odyssey? If Homer be the collective pseudonym of an entire cycle of Hellenic national bards, ‘The Serbian people’ is that of the national bards who chanted those Serbian epic poems during the centuries, and to whom it was nothing that their names should be attached to them. The task of the learned Diascevastes of Pisistrate’s epoch, which they performed with such ability in the old Hellade, has been done in Serbia by a self-taught peasant, the famous Vouk Stephanovitch-Karadgitch, in the beginning of the nineteenth century. Vouk’s first collection of Serbian national poems, which he wrote down as he heard them from the lips of the gousslari (i.e. Serbian national bards), was published for the first time at Vienna in 1814, and was not only eagerly read throughout Serbia and in the literary [55]circles of Austria and Germany, but also in other parts of Europe. Goethe himself translated one of the ballads, and his example was quickly followed by others.

Those poems—as may be seen from the examples given in this volume—dwell upon the glory of the Serbian mediæval empire, lost on the fatal field of Kossovo (1389). When the Turks conquered the Serbian lands and drove away the flower of the Serbian aristocracy, these men took refuge in the monasteries and villages, where the Turkish horsemen never came. There they remained through centuries undisturbed, inspired by the eloquence of the Serbian monks, who considered it their sacred duty to preserve for the nation behind their old walls the memory of ancient kings and tzars and of the glorious past in which they flourished.

Professional bards went from one village to another, chanting in an easy decasyllabic verse the exploits of Serbian heroes and Haïdooks (knight-brigands), who were the only check upon the Turkish atrocities. The bards carried news of political and other interesting events, often correct, sometimes more or less distorted, and the gifted Serbians—for gifted they were and still are—did not find it difficult to remember, and to repeat to others, the stories thus brought to them in poetic form. As the rhythm of the poems is easy, and as the national ballads have become interwoven with the spirit of every true Serbian, it is not rare that a peasant who has heard a poem but once can not only repeat it as he heard it, but also improvise passages; nay, he can at times even compose entire original ballads on the spur of inspirational moments.

In Serbian Hungary there are schools in which the blind learn these national ballads, and go from one fair to [56]another to recite them before the peasants who come from all Serbian lands. But this is not the true method. In the mountains of Serbia, Montenegro, Bosnia and Herzegovina there is no occasion to learn them mechanically: they are familiar to all from infancy. When, in the winter evening, the members of a Serbian family assemble around the fire, and the women are engaged with their spinning, poems are recited by those who happen to know them best.

The Goussle

The ballads are recited invariably to the accompaniment of a primitive instrument with a single string, called a goussle, which is to be met with in almost every house. The popular Serbian poet, Peter Petrovitch, in his masterpiece, Gorsky Viyenatz (‘The Mountain Wreath’) uttered the following lines, which have become proverbial:

The old men, with grown-up sons, who are excused from hard labour, recite to their grandchildren, who yield themselves with delight to the rhythmic verse through which they receive their first knowledge of the past. Even the abbots of the monasteries do not deem it derogatory to recite those ballads and to accompany their voices by the monotonous notes of the goussle. But the performance has more of the character of a recitation than of singing: the string is struck only at the end of each verse. In some parts of Serbia, however, each syllable is accentuated by a stroke of the bow, and the final syllable is somewhat prolonged. [57]

The heroic decasyllabic lines have invariably five trochees, with the fixed cæsura after the second foot; and almost every line is in itself a complete sentence.

There is hardly a tavern or inn in any Serbian village where one could see an assembly of peasants without a gousslar, around whom all are gathered, listening with delight to his recitals. At the festivals near the cloisters, where the peasants meet together in great numbers, professional gousslars recite the heroic songs and emphasize the pathetic passages in such an expressive manner that there is hardly a listener whose cheeks are not bedewed with copious tears. The music is extremely simple, but its simplicity is a powerful and majestic contrast to the exuberance of romance manifested in the exploits and deeds of some favourite hero—as, for example, the Royal Prince Marko.

There are many bold hyperboles in those national songs, and little wonder if they are discredited by Western critics, especially in the ballads concerning the exploits of the beloved Marko—who “throws his heavy mace aloft as high as the clouds and catches it again in his right hand, without dismounting from his trusty courser Sharatz.” Now and then an English reader may find passages which may seem somewhat coarse, but he must bear in mind that the ballads have usually been composed and transmitted from generation to generation by simple and illiterate peasants. Most of those concerning the Royal Prince Marko date from the early fourteenth century, when the customs, even in Western Europe, were different from those prevailing now. My translations have, however, been carefully revised by Mrs. C. H. Farnam, who has taken a great interest in this book, and has endeavoured to do no injustice to the rugged [58]originals. Having passed some time in Serbia—as many noble English ladies have done—nursing the wounded heroes of the Balkan War, of 1912–13, and softening their pain with unspeakable tenderness and devotion, she was attracted by the natural, innate sense of honesty and the bravery which her cultivated mind discovered in those simple Serbians and her interest has since extended to their history and literature.

It is worthy of consideration that the history of the Serbian and other Southern Slavonic nations, developed by its poetry—if not even replaced by it altogether—has through it been converted into a national property, and is thus preserved in the memory of the entire people so vividly that a Western traveller must be surprised when he hears even the most ignorant Serbian peasant relate to him something at least of the old kings and tsars of the glorious dynasty of Nemagnitch, and of the feats and deeds of national heroes of all epochs. [59]

The Marko Legends

Marko was, as we have already seen, the son of King Voukashin; and his mother was Queen Helen, whom the Serbian troubadours called by the pleasing and poetic name Yevrossima (Euphrosyne) in their songs and poems.

According to the popular tradition, the Prince was born in the castle of Skadar (Scutari), and his mother, being the sister of that most glorious and adventurous knight Momchilo, fortunately transmitted much of the heroism, and many of the other virtues, characteristic of her own family, to her son.

But there is also another tradition, equally popular, which maintains that Marko was the child of a veela (fairy-queen) and a zmay (dragon). The fact that his father was a dragon is believed, by those who accept this tradition, to explain and in every way to account for, Marko’s tremendous strength and his astonishing powers of endurance.

Truly Prince Marko possessed a striking and extraordinarily attractive personality: he so vividly impressed the minds of the Serbian people, people of all ranks and localities, that he has always been, remains to this day, and promises ever to remain, our most beloved hero. Indeed there is no Serbian to be found, even in the most remote districts, who has not a great love for Kralyevitch Marko, and who cannot tell his story.

This Prince’s brave deeds and all his exploits have luckily been immortalized by the national bards, who are [60]never weary of describing him in their ballads and legends as a lover of justice, the hater of all oppression, and the avenger of every wrong. He is always represented as the possessor of great physical strength: his principal weapon was his heavy war-club (it weighed one hundred pounds—sixty pounds of steel, thirty pounds of silver, and the remainder was pure gold) and it must be borne in mind that the swords and clubs wielded by the merely human hands of his antagonists can never kill him; they never injure him, for they scarcely ever even touch this hero. Marko is always thought to have had much of the supernatural in him.

Marko, who was often rough and ready in his behaviour, and more especially so to the Turks, whose very Sultan, indeed, he mightily terrified with the tales he told of his many bloodthirsty and warlike deeds, was invariably a most dutiful, loving and tender-hearted son to his mother: and there were occasions when he willingly consulted her, and followed the advice she gave him.

Prince Marko was fearless: It was said that “he feared no one but God”; and it was his rule to be courteous to all women. In Serbia it was the usual custom to drink a great deal of wine, the red wine of which we so often hear, and this custom was one which Marko upheld: but it is always said, and universally believed, that he was never drunk.

The ballads also sing of King Voukashin. Voukashin had been the Councillor of State during the reign of Doushan the Powerful. The capital of the Empire was Prizrend, and Marko was brought up then at the Court, by his father Voukashin. According to the generally accepted belief it was Marko who, a little later on, attended the Emperor as secretary and councillor of State, and [61]was entrusted by Doushan, on the approach of death, with his young son Ourosh.

The Bad Faith of Voukashin

One ballad relates that the Emperor Doushan had bequeathed the crown to Voukashin and stipulated in his will that that monarch should reign for seven years, and at the end of that time he should give up the rule to the Tsarevitch Ourosh. King Voukashin not only prolonged his haughty rule to sixteen years, but absolutely refused to yield the sceptre even then, and moreover proclaimed himself sovereign Tsar. The ballad further depicts the incessant struggles which were in the end to cause the downfall of the Serbian mediæval State. And so tradition, earnestly sympathizing with the just anger felt by the people against the rebels, and their lamentation over the lost tsardom, charges Voukashin with all the blame and responsibility—curses him as a usurper and a traitor, and execrates him for his cunning and inconsistency: whilst on the other hand tradition ever extols and glorifies his son Marko as the faithful defender of Prince Ourosh, as the great avenger of national wrongs, and praises him at all times for his good heart, his generous foresight in politics and private affairs, his humanity, and above all his readiness to perish in the cause of justice.

The Horse Sharatz

The story of Marko cannot be told without some account of Sharatz, his much-loved piebald steed, from whom he was never parted.

Sharatz was undoubtedly unique. There are several versions of the story as to how Marko became possessed of him: Some of the bards assert that Sharatz was given [62]to Marko by the same veela who had from the first endowed him with his marvellous strength; but there are others who affirm that Marko once bought a foal suffering from leprosy, and that the Prince tended him himself and completely cured him, taught him to drink wine, and finally made him the fine horse that he became.

And there are others again who say that at one time, in his youth, Marko served a master for three years, and that for his sole reward he asked permission to choose a horse from among those then grazing in the meadow. His master gladly consented, and Marko, according to his custom, tested each horse in turn, by taking it by the tail and whirling it round and round.

At last, when he came to a certain piebald foal he seized it by the tail: but this animal did not stir, and Marko, with all his vast strength, could not make it move one step. Marko chose that foal, and it became his beloved Sharatz. The Serbians of Veles still call a great plain near Demir-Kapi ‘Markova Livada’ (Marko’s meadow). Sharatz means ‘piebald,’ and it is said that the skin of Marko’s horse was more like the hide of an ox in appearance than like the skin of an ordinary horse. The Prince called him by various endearing names, such as Sharin or Sharo, and was devoted to him for the hundred and sixty years they were together.

This wonderful beast was the strongest and swiftest horse ever known, and he often overtook the flying veela. He was so well trained that he knew the very moment when to kneel down to save his master from an adversary’s lance; he knew just how to rear and strike the adversary’s charger with his fore-feet. When his spirit was thoroughly roused Sharatz would spring up to the height of three lengths of a lance and to the distance of four lance-lengths [63]forward; beneath his hoofs glittering sparks shone forth, and the very earth he trod would crack and stones and fragments fly in all directions; and his nostrils exhaled a quivering blue flame, terrifying to all beholders. He often bit off the ears of enemies’ horses and crushed and trampled to death numbers of Turkish soldiers. Marko might peacefully doze, and sometimes even go to sleep, when riding through the mountains; and all the time he was safe, for Sharatz would keep careful guard. Therefore the Prince would feed his steed, with bread and wine, from the vessels that he used himself and loved him more than he loved his own brother; and Sharatz shared, as he deserved to share, the glory of many a victory with his master. Marko never rode upon another horse, and together they were described as “a dragon mounted upon a dragon.”

There are in existence about thirty-eight poems and perhaps twice as many prose-legends containing detailed descriptions of Marko’s thrilling exploits, and there is hardly a Serb or a Bulgar anywhere to be found who cannot recite at least a few of them. In the Balkans-Turkish War, 1912–13, a gouslar, when not fighting, would take his goussle1 and recite to his comrades heroic poems of which the greater number related to Marko. The intense veneration felt by Serbians for this beloved Prince proves an unfailing bond between them in their own country and in all parts of the world.

There are, naturally enough, various accounts of the death of Marko. The story that has most appealed to his countrymen and taken a specially firm hold of their poets’ [64]imaginations is that he never died. It is believed that he withdrew to a cave, near his castle at Prilip, which is still standing, to rest, and that he is there, now, asleep. From time to time he awakes and looks to see if his sword has yet come out of a rock into which he had thrust it to the very hilt. When the sword is out of the rock Marko will know that the time has come for him to appear among the Serbians once more, to re-establish the mediæval empire, lost at the battle of Kossovo.2 [65]

As for Sharatz, he is still feeding, but he has now nearly finished his portion of hay.

PRINCE MARKO TELLS WHOSE THE EMPIRE SHALL BE

Four tabors3 met together on the beautiful field of Kossovo near the white church Samodrezja:4 One tabor was headed by King Voukashin; the second by Despot Ouglesha;5 the third by Voïvode Goyko, and the fourth by Tsarevitch Ourosh.

The first three of these were disputing over the inheritance of the Empire and were ready to stab one another, so [66]eager were they all to reign. They did not know who had been appointed the Tsar’s successor and who was the rightful heir to the throne. King Voukashin announced: “The Empire was left to me!” Voïvode Goyko cried out: “Not so! The Empire is mine!” and Despot Ouglesha interposed angrily, “You are both wrong, for know that the Empire is mine.”

The youthful Tsarevitch remained silent, for he was not bold enough to proffer a single word in the presence of his haughty elders.

King Voukashin prepared a message and sent it by a faithful servant to the Archdeacon Nedelyko, at Prizrend, summoning him to come at once to the field of Kossovo and state without delay to whom the Empire had been left—for he must surely know, having received the last confession of the illustrious Tsar Doushan the Mighty and been in attendance upon him up to his death. Besides, it was known that the Archdeacon had the archives under his care, and could at least produce the Emperor’s will. Despot Ouglesha also sent a missive to the Archdeacon by his swiftest messenger; a third was written by Voïvode Goyko, who dispatched it by his special courier, and a fourth was inscribed and sent off by Ourosh.

The messages were all dispatched secretly, but the couriers reached Prizrend and met at the gates of Nedelyko’s dwelling. But Nedelyko had gone, as Court Chaplain, to officiate at the morning service in the Cathedral. The men were enraged at the delay, and without even alighting from their horses, they rushed infuriated, into the sacred edifice, raised their whips and brutally struck the good Archdeacon, commanding him: “Behold, O Archdeacon Nedelyko! Hasten now, [67]this very hour, to the plain of Kossovo. Thou must state to whom the Empire belongs, for thou hast received the confession from the illustrious Tsar and administered the last sacrament to him, and it is thou who hast the state records in thy care. Hasten, hasten, lest we, in our fierce impatience, do sever thy head from thy body!”

Archdeacon Nedelyko wept with grief and mortification and thus replied: “Begone, ye servants of the most mighty princes! Begone from the House of God! Suffer first that we end God’s service, then will I make known into whose hands the Empire is to fall!”

The couriers then went out and awaited the coming of the Archdeacon. Presently the Archdeacon came to them and spake in this wise: “O my children, messengers from the King himself, and from the Princes! I received the last confession of our glorious Tsar, and gave him the sacrament; but about the Empire and affairs of state he spoke never a word, for we were concerned only with the sins that he had committed. Ye must go to the city of Prilip, for there is the castle of the Royal Prince Marko. Marko, as ye may remember, learned from me how to read and write; later he was secretary to the Emperor and he was then entrusted with the care of the records, and he will surely know to whom the empire was entrusted. Call Marko to the field of Kossovo to say who is now the Tsar. Marko will tell the truth, for he fears none but God!”

Marko is Summoned

The messenger set out at once, and, arriving at Prilip, they smote on the portals of the castle. The knocking was heard by Yevrossima, and she spoke thus to her son: [68]“O Marko, my dearest son! who are they who knock at the gates below? They may be messengers from thy father!”

Marko commanded that the gates should be opened, and when the messengers entered they bowed with profoundest respect, and said: “May God always help thee, O noble Lord Marko!”

The Prince laid his hand upon their heads with kindness and said: “Be welcome, ye my dear children! Are the Serbian knights in good health? And is all well with the glorious Tsar and King!”

The couriers again made humble obeisance, saying: “O noble Lord, thou most Royal Prince Marko! All are well, though not, we fear, upon friendly terms together! The King, thy father, and other princes are seriously contending for the Empire upon Kossovo, that vast field which is near the church Samodrezja; they are ready to stab each other at any moment with their blades, for they know not to whom the Empire rightly belongs. Thou art now called upon, O noble Prince, to proclaim the heir to the Imperial crown.”

The bard goes on to narrate how Marko went to Yevrossima and asked her advice, and although it was well known that Marko himself loved the truth, his good mother implored him with the following words: “O Marko, thy mother’s only son! May the food on which thou wert nourished be not cursed! Speak not falsely either to please thy father, or to satisfy the ambitions of thine uncles, but tell, I beg of thee, the truth before God lest thou shouldest lose thy soul. It were better that thou shouldst perish than sin against thy soul!”

Marko took the ancient documents, mounted Sharatz and rode forthwith to the plain of Kossovo. As he approached [69]his father’s tent King Voukashin saw him and exclaimed: “Oh, how fortunate am I! Here is my son Marko; he will say that the Empire was left to me, for of course he knows that it will pass from father to son!”

Marko heard this, but said not one single word, neither would he turn his head towards the King’s tent.

When Despot Ouglesha saw Marko, he spoke in this wise: “Oh, what a lucky thing for me! here is my nephew Marko; he is certain to say the Empire is mine! Say, O Marko, the Empire is mine! We would reign together, you and I, like brothers!” Marko still kept silent and did not even turn his head in the direction of his uncle’s tent.

As Voïvode Goyko perceived his coming, he exclaimed: “Oh, here is a stroke of good fortune for me! here is my dear nephew Marko: he is sure to say that the Empire was left to me. When Marko was a little child I used to caress him fondly, for he was dear to me as a golden apple, and always most precious. Whenever I rode out on horseback I always used to take Marko with me. O Marko! dear Marko, thou must say that the Empire is mine! It will be virtually thou who shalt reign as Tsar, and I shall be at thy right hand, at all times ready, as thy counsellor!” Marko, still without a word, and completely ignoring Voïvode Goyko, went straight on to the tent where Tsarevitch Ourosh was, and there he alighted from his Sharatz.

When the young Ourosh saw him, he sprang from his silken couch, and exclaimed: “Hurrah! Behold my godfather Marko! Now he is going to tell us who the true Tsar is!” They embraced each other, inquired after each other’s health, and seated themselves upon the couch from which Ourosh had just risen. [70]

Marko tells the Truth

Some time elapsed and the sun had set, the night passed, morning dawned, and church bells called all to morning prayers, and after the service the King, the Princes and great Lords went out into the churchyard, where they took their places at tables, and ate sweet-meats and drank brandy. Marko at last opened the ancient documents, and said aloud: “O my father, thou King Voukashin! Art thou not content with thy Kingdom? May it be turned into a desert if thou art not. Oh! that thou shouldst wish to seize another’s Empire! And thou, my uncle, Despot Ouglesha! Art thou not satisfied within thine own territory? Is it indeed too small for thee that thou must struggle for the Empire that belongs to another? May it also turn into a desert! And thou, my uncle, thou Voïvode Goyko! Is thy Dukedom not vast enough for thee? May it likewise become a desert if it is not! Oh that thou too shouldst strive for another’s Tsardom? Do ye not all see and understand? If ye fail to see may God not see ye! It is clearly stated in the records that the Empire was left to Ourosh. From father shall it pass to son. To this youth now belongs the Imperial Crown of his ancestors. It was Ourosh whom our late Tsar, on his dying day, named as his successor!” When King Voukashin heard this, he sprang to his feet, drew out his golden yatagan and would have pierced his son with it. The Prince, pursued by his father, fled, for, indeed, it would have been unseemly for Marko to fight with and perhaps mortally strike his own father. Marko ran round the church Samodrezja, his father closely following, till they had run round the building three times, and then, when Voukashin was on the point of getting within reach [71]of his son, all at once a mysterious voice from within the church uttered these words: “Run into the church, O, thou Royal Prince Marko! Seest thou not that otherwise thou shalt perish by thy father’s hand, because thou hast spoken the truth so dear to God?” The doors suddenly opened of themselves and Marko passed inside; then they closed and interposed themselves between the two men. King Voukashin began to strike violently upon the doors with his short hanging sword until he noticed that there were drops of blood trickling down the beam, whereupon he was seized with remorse and sighed in lowly penance, saying: “Alas! Unfortunate man that I am! O, thou infinite and divine God! Hear me! I have killed my son Marko!” But the mysterious voice from the church answered: “Behold! Voukashin thou most mighty King! Lo, thou hast not even wounded thy son Marko, but thou hast injured the angel of the true God!”

At these words the King grew again enraged with Marko and cursed him in these words: “O Marko, my only son, may God kill thee! Mayest thou never be entombed! Mayest thou have no son to come after thee! May thy family end with thee! And, worse than all, may thy soul depart not from thy body before thou hast served as vassal to the Turk!” In these bitter words the King cursed Marko, but the new Tsar, Ourosh, blessed him, saying: “O my beloved god-father, Marko! May God ever support thee! May thy word be always respected and accepted by all just men for ever in the divan!6 May thy bright sabre prosper in all battles and combats! May there never be a hero to overpower thee! May it please God that thy name shall at all times be remembered with honour, for so long as the sun and the moon continue to shine.” [72]

PRINCE MARKO AND A MOORISH CHIEFTAIN

A great and powerful Moorish chieftain had built for himself a magnificent castle, rising to the height of twenty storeys. The place he had chosen for the castle was by the sea, and when it was quite completed he had panes of the most beautiful glass put in for windows; he hung all the rooms and halls with the richest silks and velvets and then soliloquized thus: “O my koula,7 why have I erected thee? for there is no one but I who is there to tread, with gentle footsteps, upon these fine rugs, and behold from these windows the blue and shining sea. I have no mother, no sister, and I have not yet found a wife. But I will assuredly go at once and seek the Sultan’s daughter in marriage. The Sultan must either give me his daughter or meet me in single combat.” As soon as the Moor, gazing at his castle, had uttered these words, he wrote a most emphatic letter to the Sultan at Istamboul,8 the contents of which ran thus: “O Sire, I have built a beautiful castle near the shore of the azure sea, but as yet it has no mistress, for I have no wife. I ask thee, therefore, to bestow upon me thy beloved daughter! In truth, I demand this; for if thou dost not give thy daughter to me, then prepare thyself at once to meet me face to face with thy sword. To this fight I now challenge thee!”

The letter reached the Sultan and he read it through. Immediately he sought for one who would accept the challenge in his stead, promising untold gold to the knight who would show himself willing to meet the Moor. Many a bold man went forth to fight the Moor, but not one ever returned to Istamboul. [73]

Alas! the Sultan soon found himself in a most embarrassing position for all his best fighters had lost their lives at the hand of the haughty Moor. But even this misfortune was not the worst. The Moor prepared himself in all his splendour, not omitting his finest sabre; then he proceeded to saddle his steed Bedevia, securely fastening the seven belts and put on her a golden curb. On one side of the saddle he fastened his tent, and this he balanced on the other side with his heaviest club. He sprang like lightning on to his charger, and holding before him, defiantly, his sharpest lance, he rode straight to Istamboul.

The instant he reached the walls of the fort, he spread his tent, struck his lance well into the earth, bound his Bedevia to the lance and forthwith imposed on the inhabitants a daily tax, consisting of: one sheep, one batch of white loaves, one keg of pure brandy, two barrels of red wine, and a beautiful maiden. Each maiden, after being his slave and attending on him for twenty-four hours, he would sell in Talia for large sums of money. This imposition went on for three months, for none could stop it. But even yet there was a greater evil to be met.

The Entrance of the Moor

The inhabitants of Istamboul were terrorized one day when the haughty Moor mounted upon his dashing steed entered the city. He went to the Palace, and cried loudly: “Lo! Sultan, wilt thou now, once and for ever, give me thy daughter?” As he received no answer he struck the walls of the Palace with his club so violently that the shattered glass poured down from the windows like rain. When the Sultan saw that the Moor might easily destroy the Palace and even the whole city in [74]this way, he was greatly alarmed, for he knew that there was no alternative open to him in this horrible predicament but to give up his only daughter. Although overwhelmed with shame, therefore, he promised to do this. Pleased with his success, the Moor asked for fifteen days’ delay before his marriage took place that he might go back to his castle and make the necessary preparations.

When the Sultan’s daughter heard of her father’s desperate resolution, she shrieked and exclaimed bitterly: “Alas! Behold my sorrow, O almighty Allah! For whom have I been taught to prize my beauty? For a Moor? Can it be true that a Moor shall imprint a kiss upon my visage?”

The Sultana’s Dream

That night the Sultana had a strange dream, in which the figure of a man appeared before her, saying: “There is within the Empire of Serbia a vast plain Kossovo; in that plain there is a city Prilip; and in that city dwells the Royal Prince Marko who is known among all men as a truly great hero.”

And the man went on to advise the Sultana to send, without delay, a message to Prince Marko and beg him to become her son-in-God, and at the same time to offer him immense fortune, for he was without doubt the only one living likely to vanquish the terrible Moor and save her daughter from a shameful fate. The next morning she sped to the Sultan’s apartments and told him of her dream. The Sultan immediately wrote a firman9 and sent it to Prince Marko at Prilip, beseeching him to journey with all speed to Istamboul and accept the challenge of the Moor, and if he should succeed in saving [75]the Princess the Sultan would give him three tovars10 of pure golden ducats.

When Marko read the firman, he said to the Sultan’s young courier, a native of Tartary: “In the name of God go back, thou Sultan’s messenger, and greet thy master—my father-in-God—tell him that I dare not face the Moor. Do we not, all of us, know that he is invincible? If he should cleave my head asunder, of what avail would three tovars, or three thousand tovars, of gold be to me?”

The young Tartar brought back Marko’s answer which caused the Sultana so much grief, that she determined to send a letter to him herself, once more beseeching him to accept the challenge and this time increasing the reward to five tovars of pure gold. But Marko, though generally so chivalrous and courteous to all women, remained inexorable, replying that he would not meet the Moor in combat even if he were to be presented with all the treasure the Sultan possessed; for he did not dare.

The Princess appeals to Marko

When the broken-hearted bride heard that this answer had come from Marko she sprang to her feet, took a pen and some paper, struck her rosy cheek with the pen and with her own blood traced the following: “Hail, my dear brother-in-God, O, thou Royal Prince Marko! Be a true brother to me! May God and Saint John be our witnesses! I implore thee, do not suffer me to become the wife of the Moor! I promise thee seven tovars of pure gold, seven boshtchaluks, which have been neither woven nor spun, but are embroidered with pure gold. [76]Moreover, I shall give thee a golden plate decorated with a golden snake, whose raised head is holding in its mouth a priceless gem, from which is shed a light of such brilliance, that by it alone you can see at the darkest hour of midnight as well as you can at noon. In addition to these I shall present thee with a finely tempered sabre; this sabre has three hilts, all of pure gold, and in each of them is set a precious stone. The sabre alone is worth three cities. I shall affix to this weapon the Sultan’s seal so that the Grand Vizir may never put thee to death without first receiving his Majesty’s special command.”

When he had read this missive, Marko reflected thus: “Alas! O my dear sister-in-God! It would be but to my great misfortune if I came to serve thee, and to my still greater misfortune if I stayed away. For, although I fear neither the Sultan nor the Sultana, I do in all truth fear God and Saint John, by whom thou hast adjured me! Therefore I now resolve to come and, if necessary, to face certain death!”

Marko prepares to succour the Princess

Having sent away the Princess’ messenger without telling him what he had resolved to do, Marko entered his castle and put on his cloak and a cap, made of wolves’ skins; next he girded on his sabre, selected his most piercing lance, and went to the stables. For greater safety he fastened the seven belts under the saddle of his Sharatz with his own hands; he then attached a leathern bottle filled with red wine on one side of his saddle and his weightiest war-club on the other. Now he was ready and threw himself upon Sharatz and rode off to Istamboul.

Upon reaching his destination he did not go to pay his respects either to the Sultan or to the Grand Vizir, but [77]quietly took up his abode in a new inn. That same evening, soon after sun-set, he led his horse to a lake near by to be refreshed: but to his master’s surprise Sharatz would not even taste the water, but kept turning his head first to the right, then to the left, till Marko noticed the approach of a Turkish maiden covered with a long gold-embroidered veil. When she reached the edge of the water she bowed profoundly toward the lake and said aloud: “God bless thee, O beauteous green lake! God bless thee, for thou art to be my home for ever more! Within thy bosom am I henceforth to dwell; I am now to die, O beauteous lake; rather would I choose such a fate than become the bride of the cruel Moor!”

Marko greets the Princess

Marko went nearer to the maiden and spoke thus: “O, thou unhappy Turkish maiden! What is thy trouble? What is it that has made thee wish to drown thyself?”

She answered: “Leave me in peace, thou ugly dervish,11 why dost thou ask me, when there is nought that thou canst do to help me?”

Then the maiden related the story of her coming marriage with the Moorish chieftain, of the messages sent to Marko, and finally she bitterly cursed that Prince for the hardness of his heart.

Thereupon Marko said: “O, curse me not, dear sister-in-God! Marko is here and is now speaking to thee himself!”

Hearing these words the maiden turned toward the famous knight, embraced him and earnestly pleaded: [78]“For God’s sake, O my brother Marko! Suffer not the Moor to wed me!”

Marko was greatly affected, and declared: “O dear sister-in-God! I swear that so long as my head remains upon my shoulders, I shall never let the Moor have thee! Do not tell others that thou hast seen me here, but request the Sultan and thy mother to have supper prepared and sent to the inn for me, and, above all things, beg them to send me plenty of wine. Meanwhile I shall await the Moor’s coming at the inn. When the Moor arrives at the Palace, thy parents should welcome him graciously, and they should go so far as to yield thee to him in order to avoid a quarrel. And I know exactly the spot where I shall be able to rescue thee, if it may so please the true God, and if my customary good luck, and my strength, do not desert me.”

The Prince returned to the inn, and the maiden hastened back to the Palace.

When the Sultan and the Sultana knew that Marko had come to their aid, they were much comforted, and immediately ordered a sumptuous repast to be sent to him, especially good red wine in abundance.

Now all the shops in Istamboul were closed, and there was silence everywhere as Marko sat drinking the delicious wine in peace. The landlord of the inn came presently to close his doors and windows, and, questioned by Marko as to why the citizens were all shutting up their dwellings so early that day, he answered: “By my faith, you are indeed a stranger here! The Moorish chieftain has asked for our Sultan’s daughter in marriage, and as, to our shame, she is to be yielded to him, he is coming to the Palace to fetch her this day. Therefore, owing to our terror of the Moor, we are forced to close our shops.” [79]But Marko did not allow the man to close the door of the inn, for he wished to see the Moor and his gorgeous train pass by.

The Moor in Istamboul

At that very moment, as they were speaking, Marko could hear from the city the clangour caused by the Moorish chieftain and his black followers, numbering at least five hundred, and all in glittering armour. The Moor had roused his Bedevia, and she trotted in such a lively manner that the stones, which she threw up with her hoofs, whizzed through the air in all directions, and broke windows and doors in all the shops she passed! When the cavalcade came up to the inn, the Moor thought: “Allah! I am struck with wonder and astonishment! The windows and doors of all the shops and houses throughout the entire city of Istamboul are closed from the great fear the people have of me, except, I see, the doors of this inn. There must either be nobody within, or if there is anybody inside, he is assuredly a great fool; or perhaps he is a stranger, and has not yet been told how terrible I am.” The Moor and his retinue passed that night in tents before the Palace.

Next morning the Sultan himself presented his daughter to the Moorish chieftain, together with all the wedding gifts, which were known to weigh twelve tovars. As the wedding procession passed the inn where Marko waited, the Moor again noticed the open door, but this time he urged Bedevia right up to it to see who might be there.

Sharatz and Bedevia

Marko was seated at his ease in the most comfortable room the inn could boast, leisurely drinking his favourite [80]red wine; he was not drinking from an ordinary goblet, but from a bowl which held twelve litres; and each time he filled the bowl he would drink only one half of its contents, giving, according to his habit, the other half to his Sharatz. The Moor was on the point of attacking Marko, when Sharatz barred his way and kicked viciously at Bedevia. The Moor, meeting such unexpected resistance, promptly turned to rejoin the procession. Then Marko rose to his feet, and, turning his cloak and cap inside out, so that to the first glance of those who saw him he presented the terrifying appearance of a wolf, inspected his weapons and Sharatz’s belts carefully, and dashed on his charger after the procession. He felled horsemen right and left, till he reached the dever and the second witness, and killed them both. The Moorish chieftain was immediately told of the stranger who had forced his way into the midst of the procession, and of those whom he had killed, also that he did not look like other knights, being clad in wolves’ skins.

Marko and the Moor

The Moor astride his Bedevia, wheeled round and addressed Marko thus: “Ill fortune is indeed overtaking thee to-day, O stranger! Thou must have been driven here by Satan to disturb my guests and even kill my dever and second witness; thou must be either a fool, knowing nothing of to-day’s events, or thou must be extremely fierce and hast gone mad; but maybe thou art merely tired of life? By my faith, I shall draw in the reins of my Bedevia, and shall spring over thy body seven times; then shall I strike off thy head!” Thereupon Marko answered: “Cease these lies, O Moor! If God, and my usual luck, do but attend me now, thou shalt not even [81]spring near to me; still less can I imagine thee carrying out thy intention of springing over my body!” But, behold! The Moor drew in his Bedevia, spurred her violently forward and indeed he would have sprung over Marko, had not Sharatz been the well-trained fighter that he was, and in a trice he reared so as to receive the adversary against his forefeet and swiftly bit off Bedevia’s right ear, from which blood gushed forth profusely and streamed down over her neck and chest. In this way Marko and the Moor struggled for four hours. Neither would give way, and when finally the Moor saw that Marko was overpowering him, he wheeled his steed Bedevia round and fled along the main street of Istamboul, Marko after him. But the Moor’s Bedevia was swift as a veela of the forest, and would certainly have escaped from Sharatz if Marko had not suddenly recollected his club, and flung it after his adversary, striking him between his shoulders. The Moor fell from his horse and the Prince severed his head from his body. Next he captured Bedevia, returned to the street where he had left the bride, and found, to his astonishment, that she with her twelve tovars of presents, was alone, awaiting him, for all the wedding-guests and the retinue of the Moorish chieftain had fled at full gallop. Marko escorted the Princess back to the Sultan, and cast the head of the Moorish chieftain at his feet.

The hero now took his leave and started at once on his journey back to Prilip, and the following morning he received the seven tovars of gold which had been promised to him, the many precious gifts which the Princess had described, and last of all a message thanking him for the marvellous deeds he had done, and telling him that the vast stores of gold belonging to his father-in-God, the Sultan, would for ever be at his disposal. [82]

PRINCE MARKO ABOLISHES THE WEDDING TAX

Early one morning the Royal Prince Marko rode across the plain of Kossovo. When he reached the river a maiden from Kossovo met him, and Marko greeted her in the usual Serbian custom: “May God aid thee, O maiden of Kossovo!”

The maiden bowed very profoundly, and answered: “Hail! thou unknown hero!”

Marko, after having looked for a while at her, said: “Dear sister, thou maiden of Kossovo, thou art beauteous, though thou mightest well be a little younger! Thou art tall, strong and graceful; thy cheeks look healthful and thou hast a pleasing and dignified appearance. But, alas! dear sister, thy hair is grey and becomes thee not. Who caused thy sorrow? Tell me, is it thyself, thy mother or thy aged father.”

The maiden shed many bitter tears, and amidst her sobs answered Marko thus: “O dear brother, thou unknown knight! I am not the cause of mine own misfortune, and it is neither my mother nor yet my father who has brought great trouble upon me; but I have lost all happiness through the evil-doing of a Moor who dwells beyond the sea. He has taken possession of the whole field of Kossovo and has imposed, among other extortions, a terrible tax of thirty ducats to be paid by all brides, and thirty-four ducats by all bridegrooms. My brothers are poor and have not the money necessary to pay my tax, therefore I am unable to wed my sweetheart and have thus lost all happiness. Merciful God, should I not go and take my life?”

Thereupon Prince Marko said: “Dear sister, thou maiden [83]of Kossovo! Do not trifle with thy life; abandon every such idea, else thou shalt bring sin upon thy soul! Tell me, where is the castle where the Moorish Lord may be found? I think I have something to say to him!”

To this the maiden answered: “O my brother, thou unknown knight! Why dost thou inquire about his castle? How I wish it could be razed to the ground! Thou hast, perhaps, found a maiden according to thy heart and thou goest now to pay the wedding tax, or art thou the only son of thy dear mother? I fear for thee, O brother, for thou mayest perish there, and what then would thy sorrowful and lonely mother do?”

Marko plunged his hand into his pocket, took out a purse and handed it to the maiden saying: “O sister! take these thirty ducats, go home and await in peace for what may befall thee;12 only kindly point out to me the castle of the Moor, for I am going to pay him thy wedding tax!”

Thereupon the maiden, glowing with unexpected happiness spoke thus: “It is not a castle, but tents (and may they be cursed!). Seest thou not upon the plain where flutters that silken flag? There is the Moor’s own pavilion; around it grows a pleasant garden which he has dared to decorate with the heads of seventy-seven Christian heroes, and he has forty servants, who are, day and night, on guard near by.”

Marko visits the Moor

Upon hearing these words Marko took leave of the maiden and rode toward the tents. He urged his steed so violently that under his hoofs living fire shone, and [84]from his nostrils appeared a bright blue flame. Mad with anger Marko rode fiercely across the camp and, with tears streaming from his eyes which were fixed upon the plain of Kossovo he exclaimed: “Alas, O plain of Kossovo! Oh! to think that thou shouldst have remained to see this day! And, after the reign of our great Emperor,13 that thou shouldst be here to witness the tyranny of a Moor! Can I endure such shame and sorrow: Oh! that the Moors should be allowed to ravage thee! Now shall I either avenge thee, or perish!”

The sentinels observed Marko’s arrival and went to inform their Lord: “O Master, thou Moor! A strange and fierce hero, riding a piebald steed, is approaching; and it is plain that he intends to attack us.”

But the Moor answered indifferently: “O my children, ye forty true servants of mine! That hero will not attack us. He is undoubtedly bringing his wedding tax and, because he regrets the amount of money he has to give up, he is impatiently urging on his charger. You had better go forth and welcome him; take his steed and his weapons from him and show him to my tent. I do not care for his treasure, but I am quite willing to cleave his head and seize his courser, which would suit me well!”

The servants went forth to obey, but when they saw Marko near, they were so terrified that they did not dare face him, but fled to hide themselves behind their chieftain, concealing their yataghans under their cloaks at the sight of Marko.

As the fierce Prince came up, he alighted in front of the opening of the tent and spoke aside to his trusty courser: “Walk about alone, my Sharo,” said he, “for I am going into this tent to see the Moor; go not too far from this [85]spot, as should evil happen I may have need of thee!” Then Marko entered the pavilion.

The Moorish chieftain sat enjoying cool wine which was poured out for him by a Christian woman and a maiden. The princely Marko saluted the Moor: “May God help thee, my Lord!” The Moorish chieftain answered: “Hail, thou unknown knight! Be seated, that we may drink wine together ere thou dost tell me why thou hast come hither!”

Prince Marko answered: “I have no time to drink with thee; but I have come with the intention of seeing thee. I have found a maiden after my own heart, my guests and their horses await me a little way down the road, while I came to pay thee my wedding tax. I shall at once give thee the gold so that nothing may hinder my happiness. Tell me now, what must I pay?”

The Moor answered in a very friendly manner: “Well, thou oughtest to have known that long ago: it was thirty ducats for brides and thirty-four for bridegrooms; but as thou appearest to be a distinguished knight, it would not hurt either of us if thou gavest me a round hundred ducats!”

Prince Marko took out of his pocket three ducats and laid them before the haughty Moor, saying: “Believe me I have no more money; I should be grateful if thou wouldest wait till I reach my bride’s house, for there we shall certainly receive many rich presents. I shall give thee all the presents and will retain the bride only for myself!”

Marko pays for All

Thereupon the mighty Moor shouted out, bitterly enraged: “I allow no credit, thou wretch! Thou art bold enough [86]to laugh at me!” Then he sprang to his feet, raised his club and struck Marko’s shoulders three or four times.

Marko smiling, said: “Heroic Moor, dost thou strike in earnest or dost thou merely strike in jest?”

The Moor, continuing the assault, hissed: “I beat thee in earnest!”

Marko smiled again, and remarked: “Oh, then, I pity thee! Since thou art striking with serious intent, know then that I too have a club. Now I shall smite thee as many times as thou hast struck me, no more than that! Let us make it a fair fight!” With this, Marko raised his mace and smote the Moor with such force that his head fell from his shoulders!

At this Marko burst into laughter: “Merciful God, mayest thou be thanked! How quickly the Moorish hero’s head was cleft asunder! It now lies just as if it had never been upon his shoulders!”

He now unsheathed his sword, and caught the Moor’s bodyguard, cleaving also their heads one after the other, except four of their number, whom he left to tell the tale to all who wished to hear the truth. Then he took down the heads of the Christian heroes and carefully buried them, that wolves and vultures might not devour them. He next instructed the four remaining servants to run across the field of Kossovo, north, east, south, and west, and to proclaim to all that maids and youths were henceforth free to marry without paying the hated tax, for had not the Royal Prince Marko come and paid once for all?

When the oppressed Christians learned the news, they all, young and old, joined in the joyful cry: “May God grant Royal Prince Marko long life! For Marko has freed our land of a monster! We pray to God that his soul may be purified of all sin.” [87]

PRINCE MARKO AND BOGDAN THE BULLY

Early one morning three Serbian knights rode out from Kossovo; one was Prince Marko of Prilip; the second was Relya of Bazar, and the third was Milosh of Potzerye. They were bound for the seashore, and their way lay through the vineyards of Bogdan the Bully. Relya of Bazar was a joyous young knight, and he encouraged his steed to prance gaily through the vineyard, whereby he broke some of the tall vines loaded with sweet grapes.

Marko admonished his friend thus: “Thou hadst better leave these vineyards alone, O my Relya! If thou only knewest whose they are thou wouldst keep thy courser under careful control: for they belong to Bogdan the Bully. Once I, myself, was riding through these very vineyards, and as I was young then, I also made my Sharatz prance along, as thou art doing. But, alas! I was seen by Bogdan riding on his slender mare Bedevia. I knew that I was at fault and, as the true God does not support guilty men, I dared not face him, but fled up the rocky coast. He pursued me, and if I had not had my trusty Sharatz he would indeed have caught me. But thanks to Sharatz I at last got farther and farther from him. When Bogdan saw that at the rate I was fleeting he could never reach me, he swiftly threw his club after me and just touched my back with its handle, so that I fell forward over on the ears of my Sharatz and regained my seat only by a great effort. However, I did escape him. This happened some seven years ago, since when I have not come this way until to-day.”

As Marko said this, the three knights noticed in the distance a cloud of dust, in the midst of which they recognized [88]Bogdan with twelve attendants on horseback. Marko exclaimed: “Hark ye, my two brothers-in-God! Here he is! and he will surely kill all three of us if we do not make our escape.”

To this Milosh of Potzerye answered: “O my brother-in-God, thou Royal Prince Marko! The whole people believe that there are no greater heroes living than we three Serbian knights; it would be far better for us all to perish than shamefully to flee!”

When Marko heard this, he said: “Listen to me, my brothers-in-God! Since that is so, let us divide the enemy. Will ye face Bogdan alone or his twelve knights?”

Milosh and Relya chose to fight Bogdan alone, leaving Marko to meet the twelve followers. This division was quite agreeable to Marko, and it was hardly arranged than Bogdan came up at the head of his troop. He was immediately engaged by Milosh and Relya, while Marko turned his attention to the twelve attendants. Swinging his heavy mace he urged Sharatz against his foes, and in a very short time all were hurled to the ground. Marko then alighted from his horse, bound their hands behind them, and drove them through the vineyards.

He had gone but a little distance when he saw Bogdan driving toward him his two friends, their arms bound in the same manner as those of Bogdan’s followers. At this Marko was seized with fear and looked around for a means of escape. The next moment he remembered that the three brothers-in-God had sworn faithfulness one to another, and that they were pledged at all times to help one another. So tightening Sharatz’s reins he drew his helmet over his forehead, furiously unsheathed his trusty sabre, and cast one fierce, dark glance at Bogdan. [89]

The Bully fears to meet Marko

When the Bully saw the terrific fury and determination in Marko’s eyes his legs shook beneath him, and he turned his mare away, not daring to meet Marko face to face. He could not, however, hope to escape the vengeance of the Prince, and so after a short silence he called out: “Come, O Marko, let us be reconciled. Wilt thou release my twelve attendants? If thou art willing to do that I shall in turn set free thy brothers-in-God.”

Marko agreed to this, and alighting from Sharatz, he unhooked from his saddle a skin of wine, and they all sat down to refresh themselves with the cool wine and to partake of freshly gathered grapes. When they had rested, the three friends mounted their horses and prepared to depart. As they were about to ride off Marko thus addressed Bogdan: “Mayest thou prosper with God’s help, O Bogdan! And may we meet again some day in good health and once more drink together!”

To this Bogdan replied: “Farewell! and may God ever help thee, O thou Royal Prince Marko! But may my eyes never again behold thee! Seeing how thou hast terrified me this day, I do not think that I shall wish ever to meet thee again!”

PRINCE MARKO AND GENERAL VOUTCHA

Hark! Is it thunder or is it an earthquake? Neither, but guns are roaring from fort Varadin: General Voutcha is feasting in triumph, for he has captured three Serbian heroes; the first is Milosh of Potzerye, the second is Milan of Toplitza, and the third is Ivan Kosantchitch. The General has thrown them into the [90]deepest dungeons of his castle, noisome holes where stagnant water lies knee-deep and the bones of warriors lie piled as high as the shoulders of a hero.

Milosh of Potzerye is of noble lineage, unaccustomed to privation and suffering, and he bitterly laments and deplores his fate, as he peers anxiously through the grating of the massive door into the dark passage by which alone succour might come. And, indeed, after three days he saw a messenger, to whom he called: “O, my brother-in-God! Bring me that whereon I may inscribe a missive!”

The man was pleased to be called a brother-in-God of such a famous hero and swiftly brought a roll to Milosh, who inscribed on it the following words: “To the Royal Prince Marko of Prilip: O brother-in-God, thou princely Marko! Either thou dost not want to hear more of me or thou hast ceased to care for me! Fate has been hard, and I have fallen, O brother, into the hands of a foe. The Magyar Voutcha has captured me and my two brothers-in-arms. We have been immured in this vile dungeon for three whole days, and it is impossible that we should remain for another three days and live. Therefore, if thou wouldst see us again, rescue us, O brother, either by heroic deeds or by ransom!” Milosh scratched his cheek and sealed the missive with his blood; he then handed it to the man, together with twelve ducats, and implored him to hasten with it to Prilip. The messenger rode with all speed, arriving at the city of Prilip on a Sunday morning. Prince Marko was coming out of church when the courier dashed up to him with the missive. As the Prince read of the terrible straits in which his friends found themselves tears ran down his cheeks, and he swore that he would save his noble brothers-in-God. [91]

The bard here describes Marko’s preparations in much the same manner as in the ballad, “Prince Marko and the Moorish Chieftain.” Next he tells of the journey from Prilip to Varadin, but not without exaggerating as a matter of course, the wonderful alertness of Sharatz, who, on this occasion, swam across the Danube.

The Arrival of Marko

Arrived on the plain before the castle of Varadin, Marko spread his tent, unhooked his skin of wine, the contents of which he drank from a bowl ‘containing twelve okas’ (about forty-eight pints), never forgetting to have half the quantity of wine each time he filled the bowl, for his beloved Sharatz. This action was observed by a fair Magyar lady, the wife of General Voutcha’s son Velimir, and being alarmed at seeing such a strange hero, she was suddenly seized with a fever (‘which will torture her for three years’) and hastened to tell the General what she had seen, and described to him every detail of Marko’s attire.

But General Voutcha, feigning indifference, comforted his beloved daughter-in-law, promising that he would capture him as easily as he had captured the three knights already lying in his dungeons. Voutcha called his son, whom he ordered to take three hundred horsemen, and seize the haughty stranger immediately.

Marko sitting and enjoying his wine, did not see the approach of Velimir, but the faithful Sharatz began striking the earth with his right forefoot, thus warning his unobservant master. Marko understood, turned his head, and saw that a whole squadron was surrounding him; so he drank one more bowl of wine, threw the vessel on the grass, sprang on to his horse and fiercely attacked the army, ‘as [92]a falcon attacks the timid pigeons.’ One portion he cut to pieces, the second he ran down with his Sharatz, and the third he drowned in the Danube.

But Velimir nearly escaped him, thanks to his own speedy charger. When Marko saw that Sharatz, tired out, could not possibly come up with Velimir’s horse, he remembered his mace, which he now hurled so skilfully that the heavy handle only touched the youth with sufficient force to fling him to the earth. Marko was by his side immediately and he had Velimir securely bound, whereupon he threw him down on to the soft, green grass, and went on drinking more of his wine.

Velimir’s wife had witnessed the whole of the proceedings, and she now ran swiftly to the General, who was furious at the intelligence and ordered all the siege-guns to be fired. Then he collected three thousand warriors and mounting his mare he led this host against Marko.

The Magyars completely surrounded the hero, but Marko saw nothing of it as he went on sipping his wine. Sharatz, however, was watchful and came to the side of his master, who, realizing his critical position, sprang to the saddle and, more furious than before, rushed fiercely at the Magyars, with his sabre in his right hand, his lance in his left, and Sharatz’s reins held firmly in his teeth. Those whom he struck with his sabre, he cut in two; those he touched with his lance, were thrown over his head.

Marko captures General Voutcha

After three or four encounters Marko had killed so many Magyars that those who were left, filled with horror, fled in disorder. Marko next captured General Voutcha in the same manner as he had his son, and after tying his [93]hands, bound him to his Sharatz’s saddle and carried him off to where Velimir lay groaning. Making the two of them fast to the General’s mare, he proceeded to Prilip and cast them prisoners into a dungeon.

A few days later he received a letter from Voutcha’s wife, beseeching him not to destroy Velimir and his father, and offering him vast sums of gold as ransom. And Marko sent the following answer: “Behold! thou faithful consort of General Voutcha! If thou desireth that I should release my prisoners, thou hast but to release my old friends Milan of Toplitza and Ivan Kosantchitch and give to each three tovars of gold to compensate for the time he has wasted in prison; and thou must also give me a like sum, for I have had to overwork my good Sharatz. And there is still my friend Milosh of Potzerye within your castle, but I authorize him to settle his own affairs with you in person, for I agree to whatsoever he may arrange.”

The wife of the General lost no time in sending the required quantity of gold. Then she took the keys of the dungeons, and released the heroes; sent for a number of barbers to shave their beards, and to attend to their hair and nails. She next ordered a large quantity of the finest wines and most costly dishes to be served to the noble Serbians, and after the feast, she narrated to them Marko’s wonderful deeds, beseeching Milosh of Potzerye to use all his influence and persuade the princely Marko to have mercy on her husband and her son. Thereupon Milosh promised that her wish should be gratified, and that she had no need to fear. Only he requested her to give him: first, the best horse from General Voutcha’s stables, the one that Voutcha rode once a year to go in state to the church at Tekiye; secondly, the gilded coach, harnessed with twelve Arabian coursers used by General Voutcha [94]when travelling to Vienna on his visits to the Emperor, for in that carriage Milosh wished to drive home the aged hero, Milan of Toplitza. And finally he asked that his friend Toplitza might be allowed to wear the fine attire which the General wore on Easter day. To all this Voutcha’s wife agreed and, moreover, she gave each of the friends one thousand ducats in order that they might not be short of wine on their journey to Prilip.

Marko greeted the knights in a warm brotherly manner, and then released General Voutcha and his son Velimir, ordering a powerful convoy to escort them to Varadin. When the noble Serbian voïvodes had enjoyed Marko’s hospitality for several days (consuming during that time a formidable quantity of his red wine) they embraced and kissed each other on the cheek; the friends, in addition, kissing Marko’s uncovered hand. Then each proceeded in peace to his own domains.

PRINCE MARKO’S WEDDING PROCESSION

One evening as Prince Marko sat at meat with his aged mother, she requested him to seek a maiden of his heart, that she might enjoy the companionship and support of a daughter-in-law. Thereupon Marko answered: “May God be my witness, O mother dear! I have journeyed through nine kingdoms and through the whole Turkish empire, and whenever I found the maiden I wished to make my bride, I never found that thou wert of the same mind with me. Sometimes it was that thou didst not feel friendly toward her family; and when I chanced to find a family to thy liking there was never the maiden thou didst desire for me! Howbeit, when I was wandering through Bulgaria I once reined my Sharatz near a well, [95]and lo! there I saw a maiden so fair and gentle, that all at once it seemed to me as if the grass near where we stood were turning round us again and again. Later I learned that this maiden was the daughter of King Shishman of Bulgaria: assuredly this would be the very maiden for me and a family which would please thee! If thou approvest, therefore, I will at once go and ask her in marriage.”

Marko’s mother, delighted with this choice of her son, hastened to prepare the usual presents that very night, for she feared her son might change his mind before the morrow. Next morning, however, Marko ordered Sharatz to be saddled, and slinging the necessary skin of wine on one side of the saddle and his war-club on the other, he took leave of his mother and rode straight to the castle of King Shishman.

The Bulgarian sovereign saw Marko while he was still a long way off, and walked forth to greet him. When he was quite close, Marko alighted from Sharatz, stretched out his arms and the two embraced, each inquiring after the state of the other’s health. The King then led Marko into the castle while Sharatz was taken by the grooms to the royal stables.

A little later, in the course of the gorgeous banquet which had been immediately arranged in honour of the princely guest, Marko sprang to his feet, bowed deeply before the King and asked his daughter’s hand in marriage. The King was so pleased to have such a noble and valiant son-in-law that he consented without hesitation. Marko expended three tovars of gold on the ring to be worn by his future bride, for her wedding-robe and other presents. Next he asked if he might return to Prilip to gather his wedding guests and friends, and as he was on the point of leaving the Palace, the Queen specially advised the [96]Prince not to select as the bride’s leader one whom he could not trust implicitly, but rather to choose his own brother or at least a cousin, for, said she, a stranger might possibly prove a rival, so charming and beauteous was her daughter.

When Marko came near to Prilip, his mother walked forth to greet him, and, after embracing him warmly on both cheeks and giving him her fair hands to kiss, she inquired if he had had a prosperous journey and had become betrothed to the Princess. Marko narrated all that had happened, and did not forget to repeat the Queen’s words at parting, complaining of his great misfortune in that his brothers were dead, neither had he a cousin. His mother, filled with joy, advised Marko not to lament because of that, but to send at once a message to the Doge of Venice, inviting him to come with a company of five hundred and to act as koom; also to send to Styepan Zemlyitch, asking him to join the wedding party with five hundred followers and to be the bride’s leader.

Marko thought the counsel good and dispatched couriers forthwith, as his mother advised. The Doge soon appeared with his five hundred horsemen and Styepan Zemlyitch likewise. Marko welcomed them cordially and hospitably, and there was no lack of good red wine.

The company now proceeded to the court of the Bulgarian King, who received them most heartily and feasted them for three days. On the fourth day the wedding party prepared to return for it was evident that if the guests were to remain for another three days the King would have no wine left. Shishman presented all with royal gifts: to some he gave silks, to others costly shirts, to others again golden dishes and plates; to the bride’s leader was presented a special shirt embroidered in gold. [97]When the bride was mounted, her royal father presented her to the bride’s leader with these words: “Here are now, in thy keeping, the bride and her horse till thou arrivest at Marko’s castle; once there thou shalt give Marko the bride, but her courser thou mayst retain for thyself!”

The Wedding Procession

The procession rode on through the Bulgarian woodland and meadows, and as there is no happiness without some misfortune, a gust of wind blew aside for a moment the bride’s veil. The Doge of Venice, riding close by her side, beheld the maiden’s fair face and was so fascinated by her wondrous beauty that he fell violently in love with her. When the whole party of wedding guests halted for the night, he went unperceived to the tent of Styepan Zemlyitch, addressing him thus: “O thou bride’s leader! Wilt thou yield to me thy charge that we may flee together: I will give thee a bootful of golden ducats!” Styepan Zemlyitch answered indignantly: “Keep silent, thou Doge of Venice! Mayest thou be turned to stone! Hast thou made up thy mind to perish!”

When they reached the halting-place on the second day, the Doge again went secretly to the tent of Styepan Zemlyitch and once more asked for the bride, but this time he offered two bootfuls of ducats. Again the bride’s leader refused, saying: “Begone, O Doge! Lest thou shouldst have thy head cleft asunder! Has anybody ever heard of a koom taking his kooma from her bridegroom?”

The Unfaithful Koom

When the third night came, the Doge offered to the bride’s leader three bootfuls of pure golden ducats. This [98]enormous sum of money was too great a temptation for the bride’s leader, and he gave up the bride to the Doge, who conducted her to his own tent. Then he declared his love to the maiden, and in impassioned tones implored her to fly with him to Venice, where he could offer her all that heart could desire. But the Bulgarian maiden turned from him with loathing. “For pity’s sake, O thou Doge of Venice!” said she, “the earth under us would surely crack to swallow us and the skies above us would burst asunder if a kooma should thus be false to her bridegroom.”

But the Doge persisted: “Oh do not be so foolish, my sweet kooma! I have kissed and caressed many koomas, but never once did the earth open under us, or the heavens burst asunder. Come, let us embrace!” The maiden thought it well to dissemble, and she replied: “O my koom, thou Doge of Venice! My aged mother told me that I should have her curse if I ever kissed a bearded hero; and I swore to her that I should love only a shaven knight such as is the Royal Prince Marko.”

Upon this the Doge called two barbers: one to shave his beard and the other to wash his face clean. As they were thus engaged the maiden stooped and gathered up, unnoticed, the Doge’s beard and wrapped it in the folds of her silken robe.

The Doge now dismissed the barbers and endeavoured afresh to make love to the bride, who feigned coyness and said that she feared that they both would surely perish when Marko learned of what had taken place. But the Doge protested: “Oh do not be so foolish. I have five hundred followers with me! Marko’s tent stands far away. Dost thou not see it in the distance? On its top is fixed a golden apple. In the apple are placed two large [99]diamonds which shed a light so far and wide that the neighbouring tents need no candles at night.”

The Escape of the Maiden

The maiden pretended that she wished to have a clear view of this wonder, and the Doge gallantly raised the hanging at the door that she might see more clearly. The next moment she was running swiftly as a deer toward Prince Marko’s pavilion.

Marko was sleeping, and was greatly astonished when suddenly he was awakened by the entrance of his unexpected visitor. When he recognized in the maiden his future wife he addressed her angrily: “Thou maiden of low birth! Is it seemly that thou shouldst visit me contrary to all our Christian customs?”

The maiden bowed low and replied: “O my Lord, thou Royal Prince Marko! I am not a girl of low birth, but of most noble lineage. Thou hast brought with thee guests of most evil dispositions. Know then, that my leader Styepan Zemlyitch sold me, thy bride, to the Doge of Venice for three bootfuls of gold! If thou canst not believe this, look! Here is the Doge’s beard!” and she unfastened her robe and took out the Doge’s beard and showed it to him.

Marko’s wrath was now directed against his perfidious friends, and at break of day, wrapping himself in his wolf-skin cloak, and taking his heavy mace, he went straight to the bride’s leader and to the koom, saying: “Good morning to ye, O bride’s leader and koom! Thou leader, where is thy sister-in-law? And thou, O koom, where is thy kooma?” Styepan Zemlyitch kept as silent as a stone, but the Doge said: “O thou Royal Prince Marko! There are such strange people about that one cannot even make a joke without being misunderstood!” [100]

But Marko answered: “Ill is thy joke, O thou Doge of Venice! Where is thy beard? It is a very strange joke to shave one’s beard!” The Doge would have answered, but before he could do so Prince Marko had unsheathed his sabre and cleft his head in twain.

Styepan Zemlyitch attempted to escape, but Marko rushed after him and struck him so neatly with his keen sabre that he fell to earth in two pieces.

This done, Marko returned to his tent, ordered the procession to advance, and arrived without mishap at Prilip.

PRINCE MARKO AND THE MOORISH PRINCESS

One day the mother of Prince Marko spoke thus to her son: “O, my darling son, thou Royal Prince Marko! Why dost thou erect so many churches and shrines? Either thou hast sinned gravely before God and thou art in lowly penance, or thou must have piled somewhere superabundant wealth?” Then Marko of Prilip answered her: “My beloved, aged mother! I will tell thee the truth. Once while I travelled through the Moorish country I rose early one morning in order to go and refresh my Sharatz at the well. When I arrived there I found twelve Moors who had come for the same purpose, and, as I, in my pride, would not await my turn, the twelve Moors opposed me because they had come first. At once we began to quarrel. I lifted my heavy club and felled one of the Moors, to the earth; his companions attacked me and I struck another to the ground; ten assailed me and I killed a third; nine engaged me and a fourth bit the dust; the other eight rushed on me and I knocked down the fifth; seven strove with me and I sent to [101]eternity the sixth; but I had to face the remaining six, who overpowered me; they bound my arms to my back and carried me to their Sultan, who flung me in prison. There I dwelt for eight years knowing nothing of the seasons, save that in winter girls would play with snow-balls and sometimes fling them through my prison bars, wherefore I knew that it was winter; or maidens flung me bunches of basil, and thus I knew when it was early summer.”

The Moorish Princess

“When the eighth year broke upon me, it was not my dungeon that distressed me so much as a Moorish maiden, the beloved daughter of the Sultan. She annoyed me by coming every morning and every evening and calling to me through my dungeon-window: ‘Why shouldst thou perish in this prison, O Marko? Give me thy word that thou art willing to marry me and I will release thee, and thy Sharatz too, I would take with me, also, heaps of golden ducats; as much, O Mark, as thou canst ever wish to have.’

“At that time I was in very great misery and despair, O my mother, and so taking off my cap and placing it upon my knee I addressed it thus: ‘By my firm faith! I shall never abandon thee; neither shall I ever forget thee, upon my soul! The sun itself has often changed, shining not in winter as in summer, but my promise shall be unbroken for ever!’

“The maiden believed, in pleasant delusion, that I had sworn faithfulness to her, and so at dusk one evening she opened the doors of my prison, led me along to my spirited Sharatz, having got ready for herself a fine noble charger. Both steeds bore on their backs bags filled with [102]ducats. The Moorish maiden brought in addition my best tempered sabre and we sped swiftly through the Moorish lands.

“When darkness came upon us and I flung myself on the ground to slumber, the Moorish princess did likewise, and lo! she threw her arms around me. And I looked at her, O my mother, and I saw how black her face was and how white were her teeth! I shuddered with horror and hardly knowing what I did, I sprang to my feet, mounted my Sharatz, and galloped away madly, leaving her alone. The maiden called after me in anguish: ‘O my brother-in-God, thou Royal Prince Marko! Leave me not thus!’ But I would not stay my flight.

“Then and there, O my mother, I sinned before God! Then it was that I obtained gold in profusion, and therefore is it that I have built numberless churches and shrines to expiate my sin!”

PRINCE MARKO AND THE VEELA

Prince Marko and Milosh of Potzerye rode early one morning across the beauteous mountain Mirotch, carrying their lances and trotting their steeds. They loved each other so dearly that they would now and then embrace. Suddenly Marko began to doze on his Sharatz, and tried to persuade his companion to sing something in order to keep him awake. Thereupon Milosh answered: “O dear brother-in-God, thou Royal Prince Marko! I would gladly sing a song for thee, but last night when I was with veela Raviyoyla, I drank far too much wine, and she threatened, in truth she promised, to pierce both my heart and my throat with arrows if she ever heard me sing again.”

But Marko insisted: “Oh do sing, brother dear! Fear [103]not the veela as long as I, Prince Marko, live; and as long as I have Sharatz and my six-edged club!”

So Milosh to please his pobratim, began to sing a beautiful song telling of their valiant and virtuous ancestors; how they had held kingdoms and ruled in succession over the much-honoured land of Macedonia; and how every one of those good sovereigns had erected a shrine or a church.

The song pleased Marko so much that, lulled by Milosh’s melodious voice, he fell asleep. But it happened that the veela also heard the song, and began to sing in turn with Milosh, doing all the time her very best to show him that she sang better than he did. Milosh really sang better, for he possessed a magnificent voice, and this fact much irritated the veela; she took two slim arrows, twanged her bow, and transfixed first Milosh’s throat and then his heart.

Milosh uttered a piercing cry: “Alas, O my mother! Alas, Marko, my brother-in-God! The veela has shot me with her arrows! Did I not tell thee, O pobratim, that I must not sing on the mountain Mirotch?”

The Pursuit of the Veela

This lamentation awoke Marko at once. He leaped lightly from the saddle, tightly fastened his Sharatz’s girths, embraced him, and thus whispered in his ear: “Lo, Sharo, thou on whom I depend for speed! Oh, thou must overtake, now, the veela Raviyoyla; and I shall shoe thy hoofs with pure silver and gild them with the finest gold; I shall cover thee with a silken cloak reaching to thy knees, and on it I shall fasten fine silk tassels to hang from thy knees to thy hoofs; thy mane shall I intertwine with threads of gold and adorn it with rare pearls. But, [104]woe to thee if thou reachest not the veela! Both thy eyes shall I tear out; thy four legs shall I break; and I shall abandon thee here and thou shalt for ever creep from one fir-tree to another, exactly as I should do if I lost my dear brother Milosh!”

Then Marko sprang upon Sharatz, and rode swiftly after the veela. Raviyoyla was already flying over the mountain top, and when Sharatz caught sight of her he bounded fiercely forward, leaping to the height of three lances in the air, and covering the length of four lances at each bound. In a few moments Sharatz came up with the veela, who, greatly affrighted, flew upward to the clouds. But Marko pitilessly hurled his far-reaching club and struck her between the white shoulders, and she fell instantly to the earth. Marko struck her several times as she lay on the earth, exclaiming: “O Veela! May God requite thee! Why didst thou pierce my dear pobratim’s throat and heart? Thou hadst better give him healing herbs, else thou shalt not carry thy head much longer upon thy shoulders!”

The veela implored Marko to forgive her, and to become her brother-in-God. “For God’s sake, O my brother Marko, and by the memory of St. John,” she cried, “spare my life, and I will go through the mountain and gather herbs to heal thy pobratim’s wounds!”

Marko was very easily moved by the mention of the divine’s name, and he released the veela, who went at once, but never out of hearing and answering to Marko’s frequent calls.

When the veela had collected herbs she brought them to Milosh and healed his wounds; his voice was not only quite restored, but it was finer than before and his heart was sounder. Then the brothers-in-God rode straight to [105]the district of Poretch, where they crossed the River Timok, and soon arrived at the town of Bregovo, whence, after tarrying awhile, they departed to the district of Vidin. When the veela rejoined her sisters she admonished them, saying: “Hark, ye veelas, my sisters! Do not shoot any heroes in the mountains with your bows and arrows, so long as the Royal Prince Marko and his Sharatz are alive. Oh, what I, much to be pitied, have suffered at his hands to-day! I marvel, indeed, that I still live!”

PRINCE MARKO AND THE TURKISH HUNTSMEN

Amouradh, the grand Vizir once arranged a hunting party of twelve Turkish warriors to which he also invited Prince Marko. They hunted for three days and found nothing in the mountain-forest. But, behold! they suddenly discovered a green-bosomed lake upon which a team of wild ducks was swimming! The Vizir let loose his falcon and bade him pounce upon a gold-winged duck, but the duck did not even allow the falcon to see it, so swiftly it flew toward the clouds; as for the falcon it fell on the branches of a fir-tree.

Then Prince Marko spoke thus to the Vizir: “Am I permitted, O Vizir Amouradh, to release my falcon and try to secure the gold-winged duck?” “Surely you may, Prince Marko,” answered the Vizir. Then the princely Marko let loose his falcon, and the bird ascended to the clouds, sprang upon the gold-winged prey, and bore it down to the foot of the green fir-tree.

When Amouradh’s falcon saw this it became greatly excited and, according to its natural habit of seizing others’ spoil, it turned violently upon its rival and tried to pluck the duck from its claws. [106]

But Marko’s falcon was exceedingly valiant, worthy of its master, and would yield its well-earned trophy to none but its master. So it turned sharply on Amouradh’s falcon and vehemently tore at its proud feathers.

When the Vizir saw this, he too became excited and in great rage rushed to the combatants and flung Prince Marko’s falcon fiercely against a fir-tree so that its right wing was broken. He then took horse with his followers and fled from the scene of his violence.

The noble falcon, as it lay upon the ground, wailed in its pain and Prince Marko ran quickly and caught it to his breast, for he loved it very dearly. Then very tenderly he bound its wounded pinion and addressed the bird with emotion: “Woe to me and to thee, my falcon, that ever we went hunting with the Turk without our dear Serbians, for the Turk must ever violate the rights of others!”

After having bound his falcon’s wing, Marko sprang upon Sharatz and sped through the forest swift as a veela. Soon he left the mountain behind and he observed the fleeing Turks in front of him. The Vizir turned in his saddle and saw Marko in the distance, wherefore he spoke thus to his twelve valiant companions: “Ye, my children, ye twelve valiant heroes! See ye yonder mountain-mist approaching, and in it the Royal Prince Marko? Hark! how fiercely he enrages his Sharatz! God alone knows, what will befall us!”

The Vengeance of Marko

He had barely uttered these words when Prince Marko came up flourishing his bright sabre. Instantly the twelve Turks dispersed like a flock of sparrows startled by a vulture. Marko made for the Vizir and with one thrust of his sabre cleft his head asunder. Next he pursued [107]the twelve Turkish warriors, each of whom he cut in two, striking them through their Turkish sashes. Then he stood for a while in doubt: “Oh, what am I to do now? Ought I to go to the Sultan at Yedrenet or had I perhaps better return to my white castle at Prilip?” After long thought he decided that it would be far better to go to the Sultan and give an account of what had happened than to give an opportunity to his foes to calumniate him to the Padishah.

When Prince Marko arrived at Yedrenet he was at once received in divan by the Sultan.

A poet describes Marko’s eyes as being as bright and fierce as those of a hungry wolf; and the Sultan was terrified by the lightning flashing from his eyes. He deemed it well to temporize and so spoke gently to the hero: “O my dear son Marko, why art thou so enraged to-day? Art thou, perchance, short of gold?”

Prince Marko narrated to the Sultan what had happened to his Vizir Amouradh, not omitting to mention one single incident. When he had heard the tale, the Sultan, convulsed with laughter, comforted Prince Marko: “May Blessings fall upon thee, my dearest son Marko!” said he. “If thou hadst not behaved thus, I would no longer call thee a son of mine; any Turk may become Vizir, but there is no hero to equal Marko!” With these words the Sultan plunged his hand in his silk-lined pocket, drew out a purse containing one thousand ducats and proffered it to Prince Marko, exclaiming: “Accept this as a gift from me, O my dearest son Marko, take some wine and go in peace!” Marko, nothing loth, accepted the purse and left the divan.

The Sultan, however, was not moved to this seeming generosity by friendliness to Marko; on the contrary he [108]feared him exceedingly and was anxious only for his speedy departure.

PRINCE MARKO AND MOUSSA KESSEDJIYA14

“Moussa Arbanass15 was one day drinking wine in a white tavern in Istamboul. Presently, when he had drunk a good deal he began to talk thus: ‘It is just about nine years since I entered the service of the Sultan at Istamboul, yet he has never given me a horse, or arms, or even a velvet cloak! By my faith, I shall rebel! I shall go down to the coast, seize the harbours and all the roads leading to them: and then build myself a koula, around which I shall erect gibbets with iron hooks and hang his hodjas (priests) and hadjis (pilgrims) upon them.’”

The threats the Albanian made in his drunkenness he actually carried out when he became possessed of his senses. He turned rebel, seized the sea-ports and the main roads, captured and robbed the rich merchants, and hanged the Sultan’s hodjas and hadjis. When the Sultan heard of all these misdeeds, he sent the Grand Vizir Tyouprilitch with three thousand men to undertake a campaign against Moussa. But, alas! no sooner had the Turkish army reached the sea-coast than Moussa dispersed it and took the Grand Vizir prisoner. Next he [109]bound the Vizir hand and foot and sent him back thus ignominiously to his master at Istamboul.

Now the Sultan, in despair, published a proclamation all over his vast empire, promising untold riches to any knight who would vanquish the rebel. And many a brave knight went to fight the rebel, but, alas! not one ever returned to Istamboul to claim the promised gold! This humiliation threw the Sultan into unspeakable distress and anxiety.

At length the Grand Vizir Tyouprilitch came to him and said: “Sire, thou Glorious Sultan! If only we had now with us the Royal Prince Marko! He would surely overcome Moussa the Bully!”

The Sultan cast at his Vizir a reproachful glance, and, with tears in his eyes, said: “Oh, torture not my soul, by speaking of the princely knight Marko! His very bones must have rotted long before this day, for at least three years have flown since I threw him into my darkest dungeon, the door of which has remained fast bolted.” Thereupon the Vizir asked: “Gracious master, what wouldst thou give to the man who could bring Marko into thy presence alive?” And the mighty Sultan answered: “I would give him the vizirate of Bosnia, with power there to remain for nine years without recall, and I would not demand from him even a dinar of the revenues and taxes which he might collect.”

Marko is Sent for

Hearing this, the cunning Vizir hastened to the prison, opened the door of the dungeon, brought out the Royal Prince Marko and led him before the Sultan. Marko’s hair had grown to the ground, one-half of it he had used to sleep upon, and with the other part he covered himself [110]at night; his nails were so long that he could plough with them; the dampness and dirt in the dungeon had changed him so that he was as black as a black stone.

When the Sultan saw him, he exclaimed: “Dost thou still live, Marko?” “Yea, I am still alive, but hardly can I move my limbs,” the hero answered.

And the Sultan went on to tell Marko about the evil doings of Moussa, and asked him: “Couldst thou undertake, O Marko, to go to the sea-coast and kill Moussa Kessedjiya? If thou wouldst do this, I would gladly give thee as much gold as thou canst desire.”

Thereupon Prince Marko answered: “Alas, O Sire! The dampness of the stone dungeon has ruined my bones and much hurt my eyes. How could I venture to fight a duel with Moussa? But, if thou wishest me to try that feat, place me in a good inn somewhere, supply me with plenty of wine and brandy, fat mutton and good white bread, that I may perhaps regain my strength. I shall then tell thee as soon as I feel myself able to fight a duel.”

Hearing this, the Sultan summoned attendants to wash Marko, to cut his hair, to shave him and to trim his nails. Then he had him conducted with honour to the New Inn, where there was abundance of everything to satisfy his needs.

Marko remained in the inn for three months, zealously eating and drinking, and he had thus considerably restored his strength, when the Sultan asked him: “Dost thou yet feel thyself able to go and overcome Moussa, for my poor subjects are incessantly sending me complaints against that accursed brigand?” And Marko answered the Sultan thus: “Let a piece of perfectly dry wood of a medlar-tree, which has been cut off nine years be brought to me, that I may test my strength!” When the piece of [111]wood was brought, Marko took it in his right hand and squeezed it so hard that it broke in three. “By my faith, Sire, it is not yet time for me to venture a duel with such a dangerous adversary as Moussa!”

So Marko remained in the New Inn for another month, eating, drinking, and resting, till he felt a little stronger. Then he asked again for a dry stick from a medlar-tree. When the wood was brought to him, he squeezed it with his right hand till it broke in pieces, and this time two drops of water came from it. Then Marko said to the Sultan: “Sire, now I am ready to fight the duel.”

Marko orders a Sword

From the palace Marko went straight to Novak, the famous maker of swords. “Make me a finer sword than any thou hast ever made before, O Novak!” said Marko, and he gave the smith thirty ducats and went back to the inn. There he stayed to drink red wine for the next few days, and then went again to the smith’s. “Hast thou finished my sword, O Novak?” And the swordsmith brought forth the blade and gave it to Marko, who asked: “Is it good?” “There is the sword and here is the anvil; thou canst try on it the quality of thy sword!” answered Novak timidly. Thereupon Marko lifted his sword and struck the anvil with it so hard that he cut right through it. “O Novak, the swordsmith, tell me now, truthfully—and may God help thee—hast thou ever made a better sword?” And Novak answered: “Since thou didst call upon the name of the true God, I must tell thee truthfully that I did once make a better sword; yea, and it was for a better warrior. When Moussa turned rebel and went to the sea-coast, he ordered me to make him a sword, with which he cut right through the anvil [112]as thou hast done, and through the trunk of an oak-tree upon which it was standing, as well.”

This enraged Marko. “Hold out thy hand, Novak, that I may pay thee for my sword!” No sooner had the man stretched forth his right arm, than Marko by a swift stroke cut it off from the shoulder. “Now, O Novak, from this day thou shalt not make either a better or a worse sword than mine! And take these hundred ducats as thy reward!”

Marko meets Moussa

Then Marko mounted his Sharatz and rode off to the sea, seeking and inquiring all the way for Moussa. One morning early he rode up the defile Katchanik, when suddenly he saw Moussa Kessedjiya, calmly seated on his black steed with his legs crossed, throwing his mace to the clouds and catching it again in his right hand. When the two knights met, Marko said to Moussa: “Knightly Moussa, move aside and leave the path free for my Sharatz to pass! Move aside or bow before me!”

To this Moussa answered: “Pass on quietly, Marko, do not start a quarrel. Better still, let us dismount and take refreshment together. I shall never move aside to make way for thee. I know well that thou wert born of a queen in a palace, and wert laid upon silken cushions. Doubtless thy mother wrapped thee in pure silk, and fastened the silk with golden thread, and gave thee honey and sugar; my mother was a poor, wild Albanian, and I was born on the cold rocks near the sheep she was tending, and she wrapped me in a rough, black cloth, tying it on to me with bramble twigs; she fed me on oatmeal—but above all things she always made me swear that I should never move aside for anybody.” [113]

Hearing this, Marko of Prilip aimed his lance at Moussa’s breast, but the fierce Albanian received it on his warrior-mace, and it glanced off, whizzing high above his head. Then Moussa threw his own lance, aiming at Marko’s breast, but the princely hero received it on his club and it broke in three. They next unsheathed their swords and attacked each other at close quarters. Marko gave a great stroke, but Moussa interposed his mace and the sword was shattered. Instantly Moussa raised his own sword to strike his adversary, but Marko, in the like manner, received it upon his club and the weapon snapped in two near its hilt. Then they began labouring each other with their maces until these broke too. They next dismounted and seized each other fiercely. The famous heroes were equally matched for once, the knightly Moussa against the princely Marko. Moussa could neither throw Marko down, nor could Marko overcome Moussa. For a whole summer’s morning did they wrestle together. At about noon, white foam rose on Moussa’s lips, and Marko’s lips were covered with blood and foam. Then Moussa exclaimed: “Do throw me down, O Marko! or, if you cannot do it, let me throw you down!” Marko did all he could, but his attempts were vain. Seeing this, Moussa exerted his last remnants of strength and, lifting Marko from the ground, he threw him on to the grass and pressed his knees on his breast.

Marko, in great danger, exclaimed: “Where art thou now, my sister-in-God, thou Veela? Where art thou to-day, mayst thou live no longer! Now I see thine oath was false when thou didst sware to me that whenever I should be in distress, thou wouldst help me!”

The veela appeared from behind the clouds, saying: “O my brother, Royal Prince Marko! Hast thou forgotten my [114]words: That thou shouldst never fight on Sunday? I cannot help thee, for it would not be fair that two should fight against one. Where are thy secret poniards?”

Moussa cast a glance to the clouds to see where the voice came from, and this was his undoing, for Marko seized the moment, drew out a secret blade, and with a sudden fierce stroke cut Moussa so that his body was opened from his waist to his neck.

Marko disengaged himself with difficulty from the embraces of the horrible Moussa, and as the body lay upon its back the Prince discovered through the gaping wound that his adversary had three rows of ribs and three hearts. One of the hearts had collapsed; another was still beating excitedly; on the third a serpent was just awaking, and as it saw Marko it hissed: “Praise God, O Royal Prince Marko, that I still slept while Moussa was alive—for a three hundred fold misfortune would surely otherwise have befallen thee!”

When Marko heard this, tears poured down his cheeks and he lamented: “Alas! Gracious God forgive me, I have killed a better knight than I am!”

Then he struck off Moussa’s head with his sword, put it into Sharatz’s nose-bag and returned triumphantly to Istamboul. When he flung the head of Moussa before the Sultan the monarch was so horrified that he sprang to his feet. “Do not fear the dead, O gracious Sultan! If thou art frightened by the sight of Moussa’s head, what wouldst thou have done if thou hadst met him alive?”

The Sultan gave three tovars of gold to Marko, who returned to his castle at Prilip.

As for Moussa the Bully, he remained on the top of Katchanik Mountain. [115]

THE DEATH OF PRINCE MARKO

In the early dawn of a Sabbath morning Prince Marko paced the sea-shore. Soon he came to a bridle path that led up the slopes of the Ourvinian mountain, and as he got near to the mountain top, his faithful Sharatz suddenly stumbled and began to shed tears. His moans fell sadly upon Marko’s heart and he addressed his favourite thus: “Alas! dear Sharo, my most precious treasure! Lo! we have dwelt happily together these many summers as beloved companions; till now thou hast never stumbled, and to-day for the first time thine eyes do weep: God alone knows what fate awaits us, but I can see that my life or thine is in great peril and that one of us is surely doomed to die.”

When Marko had spoken to his Sharatz thus, the veela from the Ourvinian mountain called to him: “My dear brother-in-God! O Royal Prince Marko! Knowest thou not, brother, why thy horse is stumbling? Thy Sharatz is grieving for thee, his master. Know that ere long ye must be divided!”

Marko answered: “O thou white veela! May thy throat cause thee pain for speaking thus: How in this world could I ever part from Sharatz, who through many a land and many a city hath borne me from dawn till sunset; better steed never trod our earth than Sharatz, and Marko never better hero. While my head is on my shoulders, never will I be severed from my beloved steed!”

And the veela called again: “O my brother, Royal Prince Marko, there is no force which can tear thy Sharatz from thee; thou canst not die from any hero’s shining sabre, or battle-club, or lance of warrior; thou fearest no hero [116]on earth—but, alas! thou must die, O Marko! Death, the ancient slayer, will smite thee. If thou wilt not believe me, hasten to the summit of the mountain, look to the right and to the left, and thou wilt presently see two tall fir-trees covered with fresh green leaves and towering high above the other trees of the forest. Between those fir-trees there is a spring; there alight, and bind thy Sharatz to one of the fir-trees; then bend thee down and the water will mirror thy face. Look and thou shalt see when death awaits thee!”

Marko learns his Fate

Marko followed the veela’s instruction, and when he arrived upon the mountain top, he looked to the right and to the left, and truly, he saw the two tall straight fir-trees just as she described them, and he did everything she had counselled him to do. When he looked into the spring he saw his face reflected in the water, and lo! his fate was written on its surface!...

Then he shed many bitter tears, and spoke in this wise: “O thou treacherous world, once my fairy flower! Thou wert lovely—but I sojourned for too short a time with thee: yea for about three hundred years! The hour has come for me to depart!” Then he drew his sabre and hastened to Sharatz; with one stroke he smote off his head. Never should he be mounted by the Turk; never should a Turkish burden be placed upon his proud shoulders; never should he carry the dyugoom16 from the well for the hated Moslem!

Marko now dug a grave for his faithful Sharatz and interred him with more honour than he had buried Andreas, his own brother. Then he broke his sabre in four that it [117]might not fall into the hands of a Moslem, and that the Turk might not brandish it with something of his own power, lest the curse of Christendom should fall upon him. Marko next broke his lance in seven pieces throwing the fragments into the branches of the fir-tree. Then he took his terrible club in his right hand, and swiftly flung it from the Ourvinian mountain far into the dark sapphire sea, with the words: “When my club returns from the depths of the ocean, then shall come a hero as great as Marko!” When he had scattered thus all his weapons, he drew from his belt a golden tablet upon which he inscribed this message: “To him who passes over this mountain, and to him who seeks the spring by the fir-trees and finds Marko’s body: know that Marko is dead. There are here three purses filled with golden ducats. One shall be Marko’s gift to him who digs his grave: the second shall be used to adorn churches; the gold in the third shall be distributed among the blind and maimed, that they may wander in peace through the land and with hymns laud Marko’s deeds and feats of glory!”

When Marko had thus written he bound the tablet to a branch that it might be seen by the passers-by. He spread his cloak on the grass beneath the fir-trees, made the sign of the holy cross, drew over his eyes his fur cap and laid himself down....

The Finding of Marko

The body of Marko lay beside the spring day after day till a whole week had passed. Meanwhile many a traveller passed over the broad path and saw the knightly Marko, but one and all believed him to be slumbering and kept a safe distance, fearing to disturb or awake the sleeping hero. [118]Fortune is the leader of misfortune, as misfortune often leads to fortune: and it befell that Vasso the igouman (abbot) of Mount Athos, rode that way from the white church Vilindar attended by the youthful Issaya his deacon. When the igouman noticed Marko, he beckoned to Issaya. “O my son,” he said, “be cautious, lest thou wake the hero, for Marko is furious when disturbed and may destroy us both.” Then he looked anxiously round and saw the inscription which Marko had fixed above his head. He drew near cautiously and read the message. Then he dismounted hastily from his horse and seized Marko’s hand—but the hero moved not! Tears rushed from the eyes of Vasso, and he lamented loudly the fate of Marko. After a time he took the three purses from the hero’s girdle and hid them beneath his belt. Long he pondered as to where he should entomb Marko; at length he placed the hero’s body on his horse and brought it to the shore. In due course he arrived safely with it at the white church Vilindar, and having sung the customary hymns and performed those rites which are fitting he interred Marko’s body beneath the centre of the church.

There the aged igouman buried Marko but he raised no monument over the tomb, lest foes should learn the whereabouts of the hero’s grave and take vengeance on the dead. [119]

Historical Data

The ballad relating to Banovitch Strahinya is one of the finest and most famous which the anonymous Serbian bards composed during the Middle Ages. The author was probably a dependent of the descendants of Banovitch, and utilized a few historical and biographical data, which he must have found among the manuscripts and other records belonging to his lord or in the other castles he visited from time to time.

Prince Ourosh (of the Nemanya dynasty) married Helen, a French princess of the house de Courtenay, and through her he kept up friendly relations with the French Court of Charles of Anjou in Naples, and he endeavoured to negotiate an alliance between Serbs and French for the overthrow and partition of the Byzantine Empire.

Some Serbian historians believe that Banovitch Strahinya was really the glorious Strashimir Balshitch-Nemanyitch (who reigned conjointly with his two brothers from 1360–1370 in Skadar, the capital of Northern Albania) and a descendant of the old Provençal family of des Baux.

In early local records the name Baux is latinized Balcius, and members of the family who attended the Court at Naples changed the name, in Italian fashion, into Balza. And it is supposed that these Italianized Seigneurs des Baux, who were permitted to marry into the Royal House of Nemanyitch, and who settled in Serbian lands, then further changed their patronymic to Balsha or Balshitch—itch, or ich, or ić being the characteristic termination of most Serbian family names.

It may here be stated that Skadar was at that time still [120]the capital of Zeta (the Montenegro of modern times). The valiant Nicholas I Petrovitch, the present King of Montenegro, and an indirect descendant out of Balshitch, was obliged by the Great Powers to evacuate the town after he had obtained possession of it by the heroism of his troops, and Serbian bards throughout the kingdom are now improvising ballads, in which they may transmit to future generations the story of the sad events of the present time, just as their ancestors recorded the exploits of Strahinya. But let us turn to the story of Banovitch as it was given in the old ballad.

The Falcon Banovitch

In the opening verses the bard describes the hero and eulogizes him as “a falcon without equal.” He tells of the orders given by Banovitch to his servants and pages relative to the preparations to be made for himself, Dyogo his faithful steed, and the greyhound Caraman, his inseparable companion. He is not going to the hunt, however; he intends to visit the aged Youg Bogdan, and is clad in pure silk and velvet embroidered with fine gold. Bogdan, his beloved father-in-law, resides at his sumptuous castle in Kroushevatz. The old man rejoiced to see him, and his nine sons and their wives, as well as Bogdan’s sons-in-law, of whom one was a direct descendant of King Nemanya, greeted him warmly.

As they were feasting, a letter was brought from Banovitch’s mother, telling him that innumerable hordes of Turks had encamped on the field of Kossovo. Strahinya seized the letter and read in horror his mother’s malediction: “Woe to thee and thy feasting in the accursed castle of thy wife’s father!” The letter went on to say that a certain chieftain named Vlah-Ali, proud, haughty, [121]and independent not only of Mehmed, the Grand Vizir, but of Sultan Amourath himself, had attacked, conquered, and pillaged his castle, captured his servants, and taken his wife away to his tent on a mountain near the field of Kossovo, where she was seemingly quite content to remain. Youg Bogdan, observing Strahinya’s grief, asked him in alarm what was amiss, if he lacked anything in his castle, or if any one of his family had offended him. Banovitch thanked his father-in-law, and assured him that other misfortunes were troubling him, and he read the letter aloud. Banovitch then begged Youg Bogdan to allow his sons to accompany him to the field of Kossovo, as he had resolved to rescue his wife from the hands of the foe. But Youg Bogdan, thinking that it would be foolish for so few to go and face the many thousands of bloodthirsty Turks, disapproved altogether of this, and strongly advised Banovitch to abandon the idea. He even promised to find him a bride fairer and more worthy of him than his own faithless daughter. But Strahinya remained unshaken in his resolution, and convinced of his father-in-law’s lack of chivalry, ran hurriedly to the stables, refusing in scorn the help of Bogdan’s servants, saddled Dyogo, and indignant and sorrowful mounted forthwith. As he was riding out of the courtyard he suddenly remembered Caraman, so he whistled, and instantly Caraman ran to his master and comforted him.

Banovitch seeks the Turk

So over fields and over mountains, straight to Kossovo, Banovitch rode forth with courage and gladness, for his dog was even dearer to him than his steed. At Kossovo he saw the plain crowded with tents and soldiers, and as he looked he felt something like dread within him; [122]nevertheless, he called on the name of the true God and taking the precaution of disguising himself as a Turk, he rode over the plain. For several days he sought, but alas! in vain, the tent of Vlah-Ali. At last from the banks of Sitnitza, he beheld a spacious green tent upon the pole of which a golden apple shone; before the entrance stood an Arab steed stamping sharply with his forefeet upon the ground. Strahinya thought that this must surely be the tent of Vlah-Ali, and he fiercely spurred on his Dyogo. Reaching the tent in a moment, spear in hand, he boldly drew aside the silken curtain which veiled the entrance. To his disappointment he saw that the only occupant of the pavilion was an old dervish with a white beard reaching to his knees. The old man was drinking wine, a thing forbidden to him by the laws of his order, and he returned the greeting of Strahinya, who spoke good Turkish, with a profound salaam. Then, to Strahinya’s astonishment, the dervish said: “Hail! O Banovitch Strahinya, Lord of Little Banyska near Kossovo!” Banovitch was taken aback, but he tried to put a good face upon it and asked in apparent surprise: “Who is the man thou hast called Banovitch Strahinya?” The half-drunken dervish laughed aloud. “Thou canst not deceive me,” said he, “I would instantly recognize thee, yea, even wert thou on the top of the mountain Goletch.” Then he told Banovitch how that he had been a captive in his castle a few years previously, and had been treated most humanely, even receiving a daily measure of wine. Finally Banovitch had let him go to his estates to collect his ransom. Upon reaching his home he discovered that his estates had been appropriated by the Sultan, and his house and other possessions had been given to Pashas’ daughters as dowries. All was dreariness and desolation; [123]he had lost his fortune—and, he added bitterly, consequently all his friends—so he was reduced to ride to Yedrenet1 to offer his services to the Sultan. The Vizir, he continued, told the Sultan that he looked as if he might quite likely be of use as a soldier, whereupon the Sultan had given him good clothes and better weapons and the Vizir added his name to the roll of warriors sworn to fight for the Sultan. “Now,” he concluded, “I do not possess so much as even a dinar, give me, I pray thee, time for my fortunes to improve.”

Strahinya was deeply touched by the dervish’s misfortunes and, alighting from his steed, he embraced him and spoke to him in the following friendly manner: “Thou art my brother-in-God! I forgive thee gladly thy ransom, neither shall I ever ask even a dinar from thee, but thou canst repay me! I am now seeking the haughty Vlah-Ali, who demolished my castle and robbed me of my wife. Tell me, O aged dervish! Where shall I find my foe? I beseech thee as my brother-in-God, not to let the Turks know of my presence here, and not to suffer them to take me by guile.” The dervish was glad to become brother-in-God of such a valiant hero as Strahinya, and he pledged his unalterable faith that, even if Strahinya should destroy half of the Sultan’s army, he would never betray him; but at the same time, he tried to persuade Banovitch to give up all intention of attacking such an unconquerable and terrible foe, whose mere name was enough to strike terror into the heart of the best and bravest. He went on to describe the warlike character of the invincible rebel of the Padishah, and finished by assuring Banovitch that neither his sharp sword, nor his poisoned spear, nor his steed would avail to protect him, for the terrible Vlah-Ali [124]would surely seize him alive in his iron grasp, break his limbs to pieces and pluck out his eyes.

Strahinya laughed aloud when he heard all this; “O my brother,” said he, “thou aged dervish! Thou needest not warn me against one warrior, only do not bring upon me the Sultan’s whole army! Since thou goest to water thy horses every evening and every morning at the River Sitnitza, thou must know where the fords are, and thou couldst save me from riding my steed into muddy depths!”

At this the dervish repeated his oath, and exclaimed:

Banovitch crossed the river, and rode without haste to mount Goletch. He was still at the foot of the mountain when the morning sun shone out upon the field of Kossovo, making the tents and the soldiers’ armour gleam.

The Faithless Wife

What was the mighty Vlah-Ali doing when dawn came? The Turk’s custom was to seek slumber only at sunrise. “How very dear to him was his new slave, Strahinya’s wife,” recites the bard, “may be understood when I tell that he had closed his eyes with his head on her ivory shoulder.” The faithless woman was not sleeping; through the door of the tent she gazed over the sleeping camp. Suddenly she roused her new lord and pointed in [125]terror to the figure of an advancing horseman in whom she had recognized her true husband.

At first the Turk laughed at her fears and said that it was only an ambassador from the Sultan. “Verily,” said he, composing himself again to rest, “Strahinya will not dare to come near the tent!”

Presently his companion again roused Vlah-Ali and told him that the horseman was no messenger from Amouradh, but her own husband, Banovitch Strahinya himself, and she warned Vlah-Ali that he was in peril of his life.

Upon this, the mighty Vlah-Ali leapt to his feet, girded on a long silken sash, fastened in it a sharp gleaming yataghan, quickly belted on his shining sabre, and was soon firmly seated in his saddle.

The Combat

A moment later Banovitch came up, and a fearful contest began between the two champions—heroes of almost equal renown, though not equal in strength. Strahinya addressed his opponent with reproachful and taunting words, and Vlah-Ali replied in equally offensive terms. But they did not fight only with words. Banovitch spurred Dyogo and furiously cast his spear, which the mighty Turk, stretching out his hands, caught and broke into pieces. “O Strahinya,” he shouted derisively, “thou callest me a poltroon, indeed! Dost thou know to whom thou didst speak? Here is no woman of thy Serbian land whom thy threats might alarm; thou hast here to deal with the mighty Vlah-Ali who fears neither the Sultan nor his Grand Vizir, yea, not even the countless horde which they command! One and all, they are to me but a swarm of ants!” Speaking thus, he alertly reined in his sturdy horse and sent his spear whistling through the air. So [126]straight it went to Strahinya’s breast that he surely would have been stricken had the just God not helped him. Dyogo, accustomed to duels, knelt swiftly in the nick of time, so that the Turk’s weapon flew over Banovitch’s head and struck against a rock behind him, breaking into three pieces. Their spears being thus destroyed, the fierce warriors next grasped their heavy clubs, and rushed to close quarters. Their blows fell thick and fast until Vlah-Ali struck Strahinya so violently that he was stunned and fell forward upon Dyogo’s neck. Again the true God stood by Strahinya; his beloved grey steed, trained for such a struggle, moved his head and his neck so cleverly that he threw his master back into the saddle. Strahinya, in his turn, now struck his adversary’s shoulder with great force, but the mighty Turk sat unshaken, although by this time his horse’s legs were sunk in the black earth up to the knees.

And so the battle went on until the combatants broke each other’s clubs, when they took to their sharp sabres, hoping to decide the combat very soon. But lo! Banovitch’s sabre was not a common one; two strong smiths had spent a week in shaping it and in smelting the finest of fine steel for its blade. The Turk made a swift slash at his foe, but Strahinya caught the gleaming steel on his own blade, and the sabre was instantly severed above the hilt. This pleased Banovitch greatly, and, fiercely pressing the Turk, he now tried to hack off his adversary’s arms. But the heroes were well matched; Vlah-Ali guarded his head most deftly with the remaining stump of his sabre, and, bit by bit, he broke away his adversary’s weapon, until once more the two were on equal terms. They now dismounted, and grasping each other firmly, they heaved and wrestled with all their strength. [127]

Finally Strahinya, feeling that he was almost spent, called upon his wife to take the other part of the Turk’s sabre and to settle the contest by striking either his head or that of Vlah-Ali. Thereupon Vlah-Ali called out: “My darling! O thou wife of Strahinya! Strike me not, but rather strike Banovitch as thou canst never again be dear to him; he will blame and scorn thee for ever and ever. But thou shalt be always most dear to me. I will escort thee to Yedrenet, thirty maids shall there be to wait upon thee: to carry thy robes and wide sleeves. With sweet-meats will I feed thee and will cover thee with golden ducats from head to foot!”

Women may easily be misled by fair words: and so the wife of Strahinya sprang forward and picked up a piece of the sharp blade, wrapping it carefully in fine silk, for she feared it might wound her hand. Then she ran swiftly to the fighting heroes, and taking all care not to hurt Ali, she violently struck the head of Banovitch, and cut through the golden crest and the white helmet. The blade but slightly gashed Strahinya’s head, but down rushed the blood over his face fast and thick and all but blinded him.

At this bitter moment, Strahinya thought of his faithful Caraman and called to him twice. The dog rushed furiously at the faithless woman and held her fast,3 whereupon she was much terrified and screaming loudly, she threw the blade afar and seized the dog by its ears. The Turk, alarmed and distracted, turned round to see what had happened. So encouraged was Strahinya at this new proof of his dog’s intelligence and faithfulness, that new strength came to him and seizing the opportunity [128]he threw his adversary on the ground and slew him with his teeth “as wolves slaughter lambs.” Then he carried away his wife (whom the intelligent Caraman had left unhurt) to her father’s castle.

The return of the Falcon

When Youg Bogdan and his sons saw Strahinya covered with blood, they were greatly astonished that there should be a Turk valiant enough to wound a hero such as Strahinya. But Strahinya narrated to them the shameful conduct of his wife, and the story made Youg Bogdan so incensed that he commanded his sons to pierce their sister with their swords. But the ever chivalrous Strahinya protested, exclaiming: “O my brothers-in-law, ye nine Yougovitch! Why, O brothers would ye cover yourselves with shame to-day? On whom would ye draw your blades? Since ye are, O brothers, so blood-thirsty and so courageous, where were all your knives and your bright sabres when I went to the field of Kossovo? Why did ye not accompany me then, and exhibit your bravery before the fierce Turks? Why did ye not then prove yourselves to be my friends? I will not let ye kill your sister; without your help I could have slain her myself. She is but a frail and easily misguided woman! But I shall not kill her: on the contrary she will henceforth be dear to me as ever.”

The bard ends his poem:

(“Few are the heroes fit to be compared with Banovitch Strahinya!”) [129]

Militza tells the Tsar

“O thou one and indivisible God! Mayest thou be glorified!”.... Tsar Lazar sat at supper, and with him sat the Tsarina Militza, sorrowful and depressed. This unusual aspect of his beloved consort alarmed the Tsar, and he asked her tenderly: “O Militza, thou my Tsarina! If I put a question to thee, wouldst thou answer me with the truth? Why art thou so gloomy, so sorrowful and pale to-night? Is anything thou desirest lacking in our castle?” The Tsarina replied: “O Tsar Lazar, thou Serbian golden crown! Verily whensoever thou speakest to me I answer but the truth. Nothing is lacking in our palace; but truly a great misfortune has befallen me, for the Zmay of Yastrebatz is accustomed, ever since last year to come to my tower each night to embrace me.” Tsar Lazar, astounded, said: “Listen to me, O Tsarina Militza! When thou hast retired to thine apartment in the white tower to-night and thy magic lover hath come, ask him if there be any besides God whom he fears, and if there is to be found on this earth a hero whom he deems superior to himself!”

Soon after supper the Tsar went to his narrow and many-storied tchardack,2 and the Tsarina retired to her tower. And it was seen how the mountain Yastrebatz glowed [130]suddenly as if on fire, and how out of the flames flew the Zmay straight over the level plain of Kroushevo to the Tsarina’s tower.

When he entered the Tsarina’s apartment he took off his fairy garment and looked tenderly upon the fair woman. The Tsarina affected to welcome her lover, and after a time she said: “I pray thee, O Zmay of Yastrebatz, since thou comest so daringly to my tower, tell me is there any besides God whom thou dreadest? and lives there in the whole world any hero whom thou deemest superior to thyself?” Thereupon the Zmay answered in surprise: “Keep silent, O Militza! (or mayest thou remain speechless for ever!) Surely thou askest me this question because thou hast been instructed by Lazar!”

But Militza swore to him, saying: “No, not so! May I perish if I speak not the truth! I ask thee because I see thou art such an excellent hero.”

When the Zmay heard this he trusted to the false oath (less dangerous it would have been for him if a viper had bitten him!) and spoke in this wise: “O Militza, dearest Tsarina! Since thou askest me truly, truly shall I answer thee. On the whole of this earth I dread none but God; neither is there hero whom I fear, save only that on a plain called Sirmia there is a village known as Koopinovo, and in that village lives a Zmay-Despot Vook; him I fear, for I have known him ever since our foolish childhood. We often used to play together on the summit of the high mountain Yastrebatz, and Vook would always get the better of me in our contests. It is Vook only whom I dread, for he is the champion Zmay on this earth.”

As the Zmay pronounced the last of these words, Danitza—the morning star—appeared on the horizon and the Zmay instantly took flight to his castle. [131]

The Tsarina hastened to Lazar’s tchardack and informed him of what she had learnt from the Zmay. Hearing the story the Tsar decided to write in ‘slender characters’ a message to Zmay-Despot Vook telling what he had learned beseeching him to come to Kroushevatz and kill his detested enemy the Zmay of Yastrebatz. For rendering that service Vook should receive three tovars of ducats and the kingdom of Sirmia to be his for life.

Vook as Champion

The message duly reached the hands of Zmay-Despot Vook, and, having perused it he considered for a while as to what he should do. He loved the friend of his childhood, but he could not condone his shameful conduct. Finally he decided to battle with the Zmay of Yastrebatz, so he saddled his black steed, presented to him by the veela, and that very night he reached the plain of Kroushevo; there he alighted; spread his tent in the wheat-fields of Lazar and drank cool wine.

Meantime the sun rose and as the Tsar slowly paced his balcony, he suddenly noticed a tent in his fields, and a strange and very wonderful knight within it. He immediately called the Tsarina and pointed out to her what he saw. Militza exclaimed that this must be none other than Zmay-Despot Vook, for he much resembled her magic lover the Zmay of Yastrebatz.

The Tsar immediately sent a messenger to the stranger bidding him come at once to the palace, where a noble feast awaited him. But Vook sent word that he desired to remain in his tent and he requested that the Tsarina should not close fast the doors of her apartments that night but should quietly await the coming of the Zmay of Yastrebatz and leave the issue to her new protector. [132]

Upon receiving Vook’s reply the Tsar ordered a fine repast to be prepared and taken to his tent, not omitting a large quantity of red wine.

The day passed uneventfully, and when night came the fair Militza retired. As usual Mount Yastrebatz burst into its customary light, and its lord flew from the flames straight to the Tsarina’s tower and stole into her chamber, where he doffed his magic garment. Suddenly he heard the voice of Zmay-Despot Vook saying: “Thou who hath presumed to embrace the Serbian Tsarina, come forth this instant from the white tower!”

Greatly alarmed, the Zmay of Yastrebatz cursed the Tsarina thus: “Lo, Militza, may God destroy thee! Thou hast betrayed me to Lazar!”

Saying this he donned his magic garment and made haste to depart. Instead of as usual, directing his flight to his castle on Yastrebatz, he ascended straight into the clouds. Vook pursued him very closely and coming up with him at an extreme height, he struck him violently with his heavy club and broke both his wings. Down fell the Zmay of Yastrebatz, swift as a stone to the earth, where he lay writhing like a snake and moaning piteously—“May a similar misfortune befall every hero who entrusts his mistress with his secrets!” He had not a long time in which to indulge his bitter reflections for Vook was following and the instant he alighted he struck off the head of the Zmay. Then he went to Lazar and threw the head upon the ground before him. The Tsar was so terrified at the mere sight of the ghastly object that he was seized suddenly by a severe fever. But he gave the promised gold to Vook as well as an imperial decree empowering him to rule independently over Sirmia for the remainder of his life. Moreover, he promised [133]that should Vook ever be without gold, he need but apply to the Tsar, and he should have his needs supplied. The bard ends: “And they long lived happily, always helping each other, as fellow-countrymen should do; and the glory of the hero became a tradition; we now remember the anniversary of the slaying of the Zmay of Yastrebatz as the happiest day in the year!” [134]

The Ballad

This ballad from which the King of Montenegro—Nicholas Petrovitch—drew inspiration for his drama The Empress of the Balkans is undoubtedly the finest Serbian national poem ever composed and chanted in Montenegro. To render it satisfactorily in its poetic form into another language, compact as it is of intensely national characteristics, metaphors and other figures of speech, religious conceptions, customs and superstitions, would be impossible for even the greatest of our poets.

A French proverb says quand on n’a pas ce que l’on aime, ou aime ce que l’on a, and the hope may here be expressed that the philosophic English reader will make the best of the following prose version, such as it is, of a most interesting national poem.

The Story

Ivan Tzrnoyevitch1 sailed across the Adriatic to Venice, in order to pay a visit to the doge and to ask his daughter in marriage for his son Maximus. He remained there three years, during which he spent three tovars of gold and upon his departure at the end of this period he arranged to return the following year with his son and with one thousand, or more, guests for the marriage festivities. The doge and his two sons, as well as a hundred of the doge’s high dignitaries, accompanied Ivan to his galley and the Montenegrin prince repeated [135]his promise to come again the next year with his guests and with his son, than whom, he averred, no finer hero or handsomer youth could be found in any gathering of one thousand Montenegrins or one thousand Venetians. The doge, exceedingly pleased to have for his son-in-law such a fine hero, embraced Ivan, saying: “I thank thee, my friend, for such words! How happy I am to have gained such a dear son-in-law, whose equal should in vain be sought among thousands! I shall love him more than the sight of my eyes; and shall prepare precious gifts for him: horses and falcons, helmets with golden crests and round him cloaks to wrap such as he may be proud to wear. But if he be not as handsome as thou hast said; woe to thee!”

After this Ivan sailed for Zablak. As he neared his castle he felt very happy and urged on his steed Zdral the sooner to reach home. His faithful consort perceived him from afar, and at once gave orders to the servants to make the necessary preparations for the arrival of their lord. She judged from the gay appearance of her husband that he must have succeeded in his mission.

When Ivan arrived in the courtyard of his castle, some of his servants helped him to alight from his steed, others took off his armour and arms, and his son Maximus brought him a silver settle that he might be seated and rest. Ivan turned to thank his son, but behold! A misfortune had befallen him! During his father’s absence Maximus had been stricken with small-pox—that terrible scourge!—and his once handsome face was so pitted and seamed that it was now horrible to look upon. The bard assures us that it was hardly possible to find an uglier fellow than Maximus had become. [136]

The prince immediately recollected his boast to the doge, that there could not be found amongst thousands a handsomer youth than his son, and he felt very sad; his long moustache drooped down on to his shoulders,2 and, with eyes fixed on the ground he sat silent and gloomy. His consort saw with concern her husband’s despondency and she endeavoured to raise his spirits. Gathering up the folds of her flowing robe and the ends of her long sleeves, she came close and, bending, kissed his hand. “Pray, my lord,” she said, “why art thou so sad? Hast thou, perhaps, not been successful in thy mission? Hast thou not betrothed the doge’s daughter to our son? Is she perhaps not fair enough to become thy daughter-in-law? Dost thou regret the three tovars of gold which thou hast spent?”

Thereupon Ivan roused himself and replied that it was quite another misfortune which was troubling him. He told how he had successfully betrothed the doge’s daughter, and that she was so beautiful that even the veele could not be compared with her; that it was not the thought of the gold he had spent that tormented him—for his castle was heaped up with treasure, and the abstraction of three tovars of ducats had hardly affected the size of the store. No, the real cause of his misfortune was that he had promised the doge to give him for his son-in-law a youth who was the handsomest to be found amongst thousands, and that if he were to present his son Maximus as he now was, the doge would surely be angry and a war would ensue.

When the princess heard this, she reproached Ivan with having gone so far away for a bride, when he could have [137]found in Montenegro itself a much finer maiden whose family would be worthy of an alliance with his own. Prince Ivan was persuaded that he had acted unwisely, and he decided to abandon the betrothal, and forbade his friends to congratulate him.

The Message from the Doge

Nine years elapsed, and it seemed that the betrothal had been forgotten by all, and that the doge’s daughter, having heard nothing from Ivan, had surely wedded another prince. But one day a message from the doge arrived, in which he reproached the Montenegrin prince with having allowed nine years to pass without sending a word to his daughter—who, “from only a bud, had developed into a beauteous rose.” He further requested Ivan to write to his still patient daughter, and to tell her plainly what he had decided with regard to the proposed marriage; for if he did not now deem his son worthy of such a precious maiden, he must at once tell her so, that a prince deserving of her might be found.

The prince was seized with great grief as he read the doge’s message. What could he say or do? After pondering long he sought his princely consort and addressed her in this wise: “O my sweet-eyed darling! I pray you counsel me now what to do! Shall I despatch a message to the maiden and tell her that she is at liberty to seek another in marriage, or how otherwise shall I write?”

The princess was a wise woman, and she advised her husband prudently:3 “O my lord, thou Tzrnoyevitch [138]Ivo! Has ever any man been counselled by a wife? This has never been and never shall be. For we women have long hair, but little brains. But as thou hast asked for my opinion, I will venture to say that it would be a sin before God, and before the world a shame, to deprive a maiden of happiness by releasing her from a suitably arranged betrothal. Listen to me, dear lord! What an insignificant reason alarms thee! If the small-pox has damaged thy son’s visage, thy distant friends should make allowance for such misfortune resulting from illness—for who is exempt? Furthermore, if thou dreadest a conflict when thou comest to Venice, I would remind thee that thou hast dungeons full of pure golden ducats; in thy cellars there is old wine in abundance; thy granaries are overfilled with wheat and other grain; consequently thou art well able to gather a great number of svats. Thou hast promised the doge to go thither with one thousand svats, but why shouldest thou not take two thousand chosen heroes and equerries with thee? When the Venetians see with how great a force thou journeyest, they will not dare to attack thee, even if thy son were blind. Therefore, gather the svats, and hasten to bring the bride. O my lord, lose no more time in vain musing.” At these bold words, the prince expressed his great satisfaction in a burst of laughter. He immediately inscribed a missive and despatched it by a speedy courier. Its contents ran thus: “O my friend, thou Doge of Venice! Thou could’st hear, if thou didst but listen, the roaring of my thirty cannons, which I am about to fire from my fortress! O friend, do not lose a single moment, but send at once galleys to meet me, my son and all our svats. Farewell!” Ivan then sent to Milosh Obrenbegovitch, inviting him to be the stari-svat and to attend with as many chosen heroes [139]as he could possibly find within the provinces of Antivari and Dulzigno. He wrote also to his cousin, Captain Yovan, inviting him to come to the wedding with as many of his friends as possible. Couriers were sent to other friends, who received Ivan’s invitation gladly, and before long the plain of Zablak was studded with their innumerable tents. One morning Ivan noticed Captain Yovan, the bride’s leader, pacing sadly the ramparts of the castle, and casting frequent glances at the spearmen, equerries and standards in the encampment below. Prince Ivan would not suffer anybody to be unhappy in the midst of his festive preparations, and so asked Captain Yovan the cause of his gloom. Yovan said, that if he might speak of what was lying upon his heart, he would counsel the prince to prepare a great feast for those numberless Montenegrins encamped before his castle, after which couriers should be sent throughout the camp telling all to return home that their fields should not be ruined by neglect. Thus the land would not be deprived of defenders against their persistent foe, the Turk, who might attack the country at any moment while they were away. Then Yovan went on to relate to the prince how the previous night he had seen in a dream the sky suddenly covered with dark clouds; from those clouds a thunderbolt had fallen upon his princely castle and razed every single stone of it to the ground; a fire had then broken out and consumed the beautiful capital Zablak. When the castle fell a tower had struck Maximus but without doing him serious hurt. “Nevertheless,” continued Yovan, “if there be any truth in dreams, Maximus would either perish or be severely wounded in Venice, and if I should be offended by a Venetian, all my followers, five hundred men of Podgoritza, would die in my defence.”

[140]

Prince Ivan laughed heartily when Yovan had ended, and said that his good friend owed his bad dreams to the fact that his pillows were either too high or too low. Then saying, “dreams are false, but God is true,” he turned away to give orders to fire thirty guns from the fortress as the signal for departure.

When the cannon roared, especially the two famous guns Krgno and Zelenko, the whole valley quaked, the black mountains resounded and the water of Zetina was stirred to its depths. Some equerries were shaken from their steeds and those standing fell on their knees on the grass, for it is no light matter when siege-guns roar!

The Wedding Procession sets out

The svats started on the journey in the best of spirits; some urged and raced their coursers, others were drinking and singing gay wedding songs as they marched. In their midst rode Prince Ivan on his courser Zdral, with two proud falcons on his shoulders; on his right rode Maximus, and on his left Milosh Obrenbegovitch. Prince Ivan glanced often at his companions, and involuntarily drew a comparison between the two. All at once he ordered a halt and spake aloud, saying: “Listen, O my brothers, ye glorious svats! I have a plan to propose, and hope that you will think it good. We are on the point of embarking, O brothers, and will soon arrive in Venice. But look upon my son Maximus, how much spoilt is his appearance by horrible disease; he is unquestionably the ugliest of us all! Alas! when I was in Venice nine years ago I praised him as the handsomest youth to be found amongst one thousand Montenegrins; yea, even amongst one thousand Venetians. Therefore, O brothers, I am very sad this morning, and have no [141]pleasure in the thought of meeting the doge. Hear that the Venetians may attack us, so great will be their disappointment. But behold! O ye my valiant svats! We have here with us a hero whose equal in manly beauty must be vainly sought amongst us, as also amongst the proud Venetians. I speak of Voïvode Milosh Obrenbegovitch. Let us, then, take off the plumed helmet from the head of my son and place it upon Milosh’s head, and thus make him the bridegroom for the time being, until we have peacefully gained possession of the maiden!”

The svats were greatly impressed by Ivan’s scheme, but they hesitated to speak, fearing to hurt the feelings of Maximus, who was a spirited youth and might resent the proposal. But Voïvode Milosh said graciously: “O Ivan, our lord! Why dost thou make vain appeal to the svats? Rather give me thy hand as a sign of firm faith that the plan does not in any way offend thy noble son. Swear to me by the true God that thou hast suggested this after an understanding with thy son, and I will in return pledge my honour that I shall obtain the bride for Maximus without a fight. You shall consent, however, to cede to me as my reward for playing a false part all the presents that may be given to me as the bridegroom, and I shall not be expected to divide them with anybody, but shall retain them all for myself!”

Ivan burst into laughter, and exclaimed: “O Milosh, thou Serbian Voïvode! As to the presents thou namest, I give thee my faith, firmer and harder than stone itself, that nobody shall seek to have a share in them with thee! Only secure the bride and honourably escort her till we reach our city of Zablak, and I promise to give thee two bootfuls of golden ducats, a golden cup to hold nine litres of wine, a mare ‘Bedevia,’ the mother of [142]studs like my Zdral, and I shall girdle on thee a sabre worth thirty purses of golden ducats.”

So they all agreed, and having placed the distinctive hat and ornaments of the bridegroom on the head of Voïvode Milosh they resumed their journey, and after some tossing upon the waters of the Adriatic they reached Venice without misadventure.

There came large numbers of people curious to see the Montenegrins and especially to discover for themselves if Maximus was really the fine and handsome prince that they had heard he was.

When the Venetian princes heard from their servants that their future brother-in-law was really as handsome as his father had described him nine years earlier, they came eagerly with outstretched arms to embrace and welcome him. They showed him the apartments in their palace which had been prepared for the princely guests, and all were lodged in comfort.

The wedding festivities lasted for three days and then came the hour of departure. At the sound of cannon the svats assembled in the great courtyard awaiting the commands of Prince Ivan, and his noble son. They felt uneasy when they saw the gate of the palace closed, and on each side of it two Moorish and two Venetian soldiers standing with drawn swords the blades of which, and even their own arms, were covered with blood. Their uneasiness became alarm when after some time they saw no sign of their prince and the bride and bridegroom. They were beginning to murmur loudly when suddenly they heard the sound of horses’ hoofs on the marble pavement and they saw Voïvode Milosh trying to curb his destrier with his bit as he spurred him gently in order to make him bound and prance. [143]

The Wedding Gifts

Behind Milosh rode his two brothers-in-law bringing gifts. The elder of them led a black steed without a single blemish, bearing a silver saddle adorned with heavy gold, upon which sat the fair bride holding a grey falcon. “Accept, O my dear and noble Maximus,” said the prince, “this fair maiden, together with her black steed and her grey falcon as a token of our love, for thou art in truth the pride of thy brothers!”

Milosh bowed deeply over his horse’s neck as he thanked the prince for his gracious words and accepted the bride with the gifts which she brought. The second brother now bestowed upon the bridegroom a sabre in a golden scabbard, saying: “Wear this, O brother, and be proud of it!” Next came the father of the bride. What a beautiful present he placed in his hands! A helmet in the crest of which shone a precious stone dazzling like the sun so that one could not look at it long. But the gift which was given to him by the mother of the bride was more magnificent than all! This gift was a shirt of pure gold, which was neither woven nor twined, but had been made entirely with fingers; in its collar, representing a viper (‘and a viper will finally bite him’) there was fixed a brilliant diamond shedding forth such a blaze of light that he would never need a candle when he went to visit his bride in her bed-chamber. All the svats were astonished at the magnificence of the present.

Now came the aged brother of the doge, Yesdimir, with his beard reaching to his waist, walking slowly and supporting himself with a golden staff. Bitter tears streamed from his eyes. He wept, it is true, with good reason. Seven wives he had had in turn during his long [144]life, but no sons or daughters had been born to him. Therefore he bestowed all his affections upon his niece, whom he looked upon as a daughter, and who took in his heart the place of the children he had once hoped to be blessed with, and now that the beloved maiden was to depart to a far-away land he was greatly grieved. He had some ‘wonder’ folded under his arm, and as he approached the svats, he called the bridegroom by name. The latter appeared at once and the venerable lord laid upon the young man’s shoulders a magnificent cloak which reached from his shoulders down to the grass. Indeed when Milosh remounted his horse, the cloak concealed not only himself, but also his steed down to its very hoofs. How precious it was! and oh! that it might never be the cause of anything but happiness to the hero! It was said that thirty purses of gold had been spent on its lining alone, and what a sum of money the cloth itself must have cost! Prince Maximus watched and saw with envious eyes how Voïvode Milosh received the presents which were intended for him, the real bridegroom. When the large gateways of the courtyard were opened, the svats, passing out in procession, received from the doge’s servants each a piece of precious silk and a box containing various presents, and then they sailed away in galleys.

Soon they arrived on the field of Zablak, where they had met on starting out for their journey, and where they were now to separate. Prince Maximus had ridden a little ahead with his ten brothers-in-arms in order to hasten and communicate the joyful news to his mother and Voïvode Milosh, being aware that Prince Maximus was out of sight, spurred forward his courser and coming up with the bride and the dever, he boldly took the hand of the noble maiden. The bride, thinking in her innocence that he was Prince [145]Maximus, removed her veil and stretched out her hands to the pretended bridegroom.

The Princess learns of the Deception

Those who were near feigned not to have noticed the incident, but Prince Ivan himself happened to see what had occurred and it troubled him, and he rode up and addressed the bride thus: “Touch him not with thy hands, O my dear daughter-in-law! or may they be struck with a palsy! Veil thine eyes! or may thy sight for ever fail thee! How canst thou act so in the presence of all the svats? Dost thou see that hero riding his black steed, and holding his lance? Dost thou see his shining shield and his face disfigured by small-pox? That is my son Maximus, whom I praised to thy father—when I asked your hand for him—saying that there was no handsomer youth than he to be found amongst thousands. But I was afraid to present my son with his ugly face to you and to your father, and so we had recourse to a stratagem and made Voïvode your groom temporarily in order to succeed in bringing thee away in peace. For acting so Milosh is entitled to all the presents which were assigned to the bridegroom!”

To the noble maiden her father-in-law’s words came as a thunderbolt. She halted her horse and refused to go any farther, saying: “O my dear father-in-law, thou Prince Ivan! Thou hast caused thine own son’s misfortune by having made Milosh the alleged bridegroom. Why hast thou done so? May the true God give thee thy deserts for that! What matters it if his face is pitted? All are subject to disease, and might have to suffer even worse consequences. If his face is damaged, his eyes are certainly bright and his heart is as sound as ever. If thou hadst considered thy son to be still too young to be [146]my husband, thou shouldest have told me so, and I would have waited in my father’s palace for another nine years—but even then I would certainly never have caused you to blush with shame before your own nobles in Zablak. Now thou hadst better give up the presents to their rightful owner, thy son Maximus, else I shall not go a step further, even if thou shouldest threaten to put out my eyes.”

Hearing this firm speech, Prince Ivan was greatly disturbed, and he called friends and Voïvodes to counsel him as to what he should do. But none of them dared say one word, for they well remembered the arrangement made before sailing across the sea.

Milosh’s Offer

Voïvode Milosh saw that no one would speak, and he spurred his steed and addressed Prince Ivan in this wise: “O Ivan, thou our lord! Where is thy firm faith? If it fails now, may you yourself live to be betrayed! Hast thou not given me thy word that the wedding gifts should be mine intact? But now you frame a plan to break thy faith! Since thou art so little to be depended on, I agree—for the sake of peace among our brothers and svats—to give up the first two presents: I return to your son the fair bride and her steed with all its gold and silver trappings. In justice, and according to impartial judgment, I should be fully entitled even to marry the fair maiden—for she was presented to me by all, her parents and her brothers—but I shall say no more about that, and simply cede to you these two presents, together with the grey falcon. Here! I return to your son even the golden scabbard and the bright sabre, but I shall never consent to yield the helmet, the cloak, and the [147]golden shirt; for I am determined to carry them to my own land, and show them to my friends and brothers, who, I am certain, will be proud of them. I swear by my faith in the true God that I shall not give up these three presents.”

All the svats, moved by Milosh’s fairness, agreed to the offer, and thanked him for his noble sacrifice for the sake of peace, but they were strongly opposed by the bride, who could not reconcile herself to the loss of the precious gifts, and especially the golden shirt. So she called aloud for Prince Maximus. This alarmed Prince Ivan very much, and he tried to quieten the maiden in these words: “O my sweet daughter-in-law, thou Venetian maiden! Do not call my son, for we have done him great injustice. Prince Maximus has a high sense of honour and is a brave man. I dread a fight above everything, and our festivities may so easily turn into mourning. I possess in Zablak a dungeon full of golden treasure, which I shall present to thee, and thou canst do with it whatever pleases thee!”

But the maiden was not easy to persuade, and she once more called Prince Maximus, who came with all speed to the scene. “O Maximus, thou only son of thy mother!” began his bride, “may she lose thee! May the warriors make a handbier of thy lance and with thy shield may they cover thy tomb! May thy visage blush with shame on the day of judgment, as it does to-day at the contest with Voïvode Milosh! Why didst thou agree to yield to another the presents which rightly belong to the bridegroom? I care nothing for all the other presents, let Milosh take them away, and may a torrent take him away with them! but I cannot suffer the loss of the golden shirt, which I made for thee myself, and which took me three years to make, with three maidens assisting me. I [148]nearly lost my sight before I finished working at this shirt, and all the time I was thinking of thee. Thou hadst better recover the shirt from Voïvode Milosh at once, for I swear by the name of the true God that otherwise I will not take a step forward; but I shall rein back my steed, and, when I reach the sea-coast, I shall pluck a leaf of aloe and shall scratch my face with its thorns till blood flows; then I shall write and send a message by my falcon to my aged father, beseeching him to call to arms all his force, to come and conquer and pillage thy Zablak and repay thee thus with mourning for thy shameful conduct!”

The Violence of Maximus

The moment Prince Maximus heard this, he reined back his black courser, spurred it so vehemently that the skin of his courser’s stifle-joint burst and blood besprinkled its hoofs. The frantic animal sprang the height of three lances in the air and the length of four lances forward, so that he sped like lightning. Milosh burst into laughter, saying: “God be praised! What was suddenly the matter with that boy!” But his mirth was short-lived, for Prince Maximus now turned his horse straight toward Milosh furiously throwing his lance at his head.4 He struck Milosh so vigorously that both his eyes burst and he fell from his steed. Maximus rushed in and cleft his head asunder; then he took his bride from her leader and sped into the castle.5

When Voïvode Milosh’s warriors saw their chief fall, they [149]fiercely attacked the followers of Prince Maximus, and a fight ensued from which but very few returned home.

Maximus becomes a Turk

Prince Maximus, it is said, was so disgusted with what had occurred that he wrote to the doge, inviting him to invade Zablak with a large force and to conquer Montenegro; as for him, he would go to Istamboul and embrace Islamism. This he did.

Now a brother of Milosh, namely, Yovan Obrenbegovitch, suspecting that Maximus’s intention was to obtain from the Sultan a great force with which to conquer Montenegro, decided to go to the Sultan for the same purpose. But it was his intention, should he also succeed in obtaining an army from the Sultan, to use it, not against his fatherland, Montenegro, but against Prince Maximus. On their way to Istamboul the two men met and they appeared together before the Sultan, who, knowing well who they were and deeming that they could be usefully employed in his service against the Christians, like many other malcontents from Christian courts, received them most kindly. They adopted the Mohammedan religion and were given Turkish names: Voïvode Yovan was called Mehmed-Bey Obrenbegovitch, and Prince Maximus, Scander-beg Ivanbegovitch. Having served as faithful Turks for nine years, the Sultan, pleased with their conduct, granted them both vizirates: to Mehmed-bey Obrenbegovitch he gave as fief the plain of Ducadyin, and Scander-beg (Prince Ivan’s son) he granted Scutari on the River Boyana. [150]

Doushan sends Theodor to Ledyen

King Michael of Ledyen had a beautiful daughter, Roksanda, and when Tsar Doushan asked her hand in marriage the king immediately consented. The betrothal was arranged by means of couriers, and Doushan had not seen the princess; he therefore summoned Theodor, his counsellor of State: “Listen to me, my trusty Theodor!” said he, “thou shalt go to the white city Ledyen to King Michael, and thou shalt ask him to fix the date for the wedding festivities. Thou shalt also settle with him other customary preliminaries and satisfy thyself that the peerless Roksanda is a fitting tsarina for our Serbian lands.” Theodor promised to fulfil his mission faithfully and, having made the necessary preparations, he set out for the Venetian province. When he arrived at the white city Ledyen the king welcomed him courteously and lavished hospitality upon him for a full week.

Then Theodor spoke to the king in this wise: “O my master’s friend, thou gallant King Michael! My tsar has not sent me here only that I should drink thy wine; he desires that I should arrange his marriage; tell me, when shall my master come? what time of the year will suit you best to receive him? how many svats shall he bring with him when he comes to take from thee the beautiful maiden Roksanda? My master also instructed me that I should desire of thee to be permitted the happiness of seeing the fair princess.”

To this the king answered: “O my friend, Theodor! take my greetings to the tsar and tell him that he is at liberty to bring with him as many svats as he may please; [151]also tell him that he may come for the maiden whenever he may choose; but request him in my name that under no circumstances shall he bring with him his nephews the two Voïnovitchs, Voukashin and Petrashin, for indeed I have heard that they are very quarrelsome when in their cups, and I fear that they may disturb the harmony of our festivities. As to the princess, she shall come to thee at due time and receive at thy hands the ring of thy master, as is the well-established custom.”

The Princess Roksanda

At nightfall Theodor was conducted into an unlighted room and while he wondered when the candles would be brought, lo! the princess stood before him, shrouded in the thick gloom. Theodor was grieved at the trick played upon him, but he did not despair. He had with him the magnificent ring of his august master; it was so richly studded with precious stones that as he produced it the whole room was lighted up and the rays shone upon the maiden, who seemed to the ambassador more beautiful than the white veela herself. Theodor presented the betrothal ring and gave the princess also one thousand ducats; her brothers then conducted her back to her apartments.

Next morning Theodor took leave of the king and set out upon his homeward journey; when he arrived at Prisrend the tsar asked eagerly: “O my trusty Theodor! Didst thou see the maiden Roksanda and didst thou give her my ring? What greetings dost thou bring me from King Michael?”

And Theodor answered: “Yea, my Lord, I saw thy bride and presented her with thy ring; but words fail me to describe the enchanting beauty of the Princess Roksanda! [152]Vain would it be to search for her equal throughout Serbia! And fair and well spoke King Michael: Thou canst go for the maiden whensoever thou choosest, and thou mayest take as many svats as thou pleasest. But the king prays this one thing of thee: that thou shouldest under no circumstances take with thee, the Voinovitchs, thy two nephews, for they are lovers of the wine-cup and are quick to take offence; they may enter into drunken quarrels, and it may be difficult to settle their disputes in a peaceable manner.”

When he heard this the tsar struck his knee with his right hand, and exclaimed: “Alas! May God help me! Has the ill fame of my nephews spread as far as that! By my unshakable faith, I shall, immediately after the wedding festivities, have them both hung on the gates of their castle Voutchitrn that they may not any longer bring shame to my name throughout the world.”

The Procession Starts

Soon afterward the tsar proceeded to call his svats together and when they had all assembled they presented a brilliant spectacle. The wedding procession rode on its way through the field of Kossovo and as it passed by the walls of the castle Voutchitrn, the two youthful Voinovitchs looked upon the cavalcade and spoke sadly to each other thus: “Our uncle must be angry with us, otherwise he would surely have invited us also to join his wedding party? Some churl must have uttered ill words against us. May a hundred evils befall him who has done so! Our tsar is going to the Venetian land and has not a single hero in his train, neither has he any close relative who might be depended upon in case of dire misfortune. The Venetians are known from ancient times [153]to be very cunning and sly and they may kill our glorious tsar! And yet to accompany him uninvited is more than we dare do.”

Thereupon their aged mother spoke thus: “O my children, ye two Voïnovitchs! Ye have a brother in the mountains, Milosh-the-shepherd; though the youngest, he is the greatest hero of ye all and will find some way to uphold the honour of our name. The tsar has never heard about him. I counsel you to send him a message and bid him come to the castle Voutchitrn, mention not the true reason but tell him that his mother, being aged, may die at any moment and that she wishes to give him her blessings. Tell him to make haste if he would find his mother alive!”

This advice seemed good to the two brothers. They wrote a missive and dispatched it with haste to the mountain Shar where Milosh-the-shepherd tarried with his flocks.

As Milosh read the message his countenance changed and he shed bitter tears. His grief was observed by thirty shepherds who were around him: “O Milosh, our valiant chieftain!” they exclaimed, “Many messages have reached thee, but never yet have we seen thee shed tears when thou didst read them. Whence came this letter and what evil tidings does it bring? Tell us quickly, we beseech thee!”

Milosh sprang to his feet and addressed his shepherds in this wise: “Hearken, O shepherds, my dearest brethren! This message comes from the castle: my mother is on her death-bed and she summons me that she may give me her blessing, that damnation should not fall upon my soul. I must hasten to her side and while I am absent from the mountain I charge ye to watch well the sheep.” [154]

When Milosh came near to his white castle, his brothers saw him from a tower and sallied out to meet him; their aged mother also followed. Milosh was astonished to see her and said reproachfully: “Why, O brothers dear, do ye make misfortune when there is no reason, and when all is well with ye! May the Almighty forgive your deception!” And his brothers answered: “Come within, dear brother, there is nevertheless great misfortune!”

The young men embraced each other and Milosh kissed his mother’s hand. Then his brothers related the story of their uncle’s betrothal and how he was proceeding to the Venetian land without having invited his two nephews to ride in the wedding procession, and they besought him in this wise: “O, our dear brother Milosh! Go thou with the tsar, yea, although thou art not invited. Misfortune may befall, and haply thou shalt succour your uncle. Thou canst go and come back again without making thyself known to anyone!”

Milosh was no less eager than his brothers, and he answered gladly: “I will go, O my brothers! Indeed how could I do otherwise? If I were not willing to help our dear uncle, whom else should I be willing to aid?”

Thereupon his brothers began to make all the necessary preparations. Peter went to the stables to saddle his steed Koulash, while Vankashin remained to see that Milosh was fittingly attired. He first put on him a fine shirt which was embroidered with gold from the neck to the waist; downward from the waist it was woven of white silk. Over the shirt he placed three thin, elegant ribbons; then a waistcoat adorned with thirty golden buttons; then a golden cuirasse weighing some fifteen pounds. And in all details he attired him with garments worthy of a prince. Finally he hung upon his broad [155]shoulders a coarse Bulgar shepherd’s cloak, which entirely enveloped him, and placed on his head a Bulgarian fur-cap with high point, thus making him look so like a black Bulgar that his own mother would not have recognized him. The brothers now fetched a warrior’s lance and mace and the trusty sword of their old father Voïn. Then Peter brought forward Koulash, upon whom he had fastened a bear’s skin in order that the tsar might not recognize the well-known steed.

Milosh Joins the Procession

Milosh was now ready to set out, and as he took leave of his brothers they counselled him thus: “When thou comest up with the wedding-guests they will ask thee who thou art and whence thou comest. Thou shalt answer that thou art coming from the Karavallahian land, where thou hast been serving a Turkish lord, Radoul-bey, who would not pay thee thy wages, wherefore thou art looking for a more generous master. Say, moreover, that having received chance tidings of the tsar’s wedding, thou has ridden to join thyself to the servants of the party, not for any wages, for thou wilt gladly serve for a piece of bread and a glass of red wine. Thou must, meantime, hold firmly the reins of thy steed, for Koulash is accustomed to go in the line with the tsar’s own chargers, and he may betray thee!”

When the brothers had made an end of their counsel Milosh took leave of them and of his mother and turned his steed in the direction of the wedding party, and he came up with them in the mountain Zagoryé. Upon seeing the stranger the svats hailed him: “Whence are thou coming, little young Bulgar?” And Milosh answered from afar as his brothers had counselled. Then the svats welcomed him readily, saying: “Mayest thou be happy with us, [156]little young Bulgar! We are always glad to have one more in our company!”

The princely company, all aglow with the brilliant colours of the resplendent uniforms, their lances and cuirasses gleaming in the sun, rode on until they came to a valley. Now Milosh had a bad habit, acquired in the mountain Shar while watching his sheep, to slumber toward mid-day, and as his Koulash stepped proudly on he fell into a deep sleep and his hand suddenly relaxed on the rein. No sooner did Koulash feel the curb loosen than he arched his neck and flew like an arrow from a bow through the ranks of the cavalcade, overturning horses and riders, till he reached the horses of the tsar, when he ranged himself in line with them and fell into the same slow, measured pace.

By this time the whole procession had fallen into disorder, and a crowd of Lale1 would have fallen upon the innocent cause of the commotion, had not Doushan intervened to protect him, saying, “Do not strike this youthful Bulgarian, he is a shepherd, and shepherds have a habit of dozing toward noon while watching their sheep; do not be violent, but awaken him gently.” Thereupon the svats awakened Milosh, shouting: “Rise, O foolish young Bulgarian! May the Almighty spare thy old mother who could not give thee a better understanding but thou must needs venture to join the company of the tsar!”

The Leap of Koulash

Milosh awoke with a start, and saw the tsar looking upon him with his deep black eyes, and lo! his Koulash was in the royal line! Not a moment did he pause, but, gathering the reins firmly in his hand, he spurred his steed [157]sharply. Koulash for one brief instant quivered from head to heel, then with a frantic bound he sprang into the air the height of three lances; for the length of four lances sideways did he spring, and as for the number of lengths covered by his leap onward, no one could number them! Fire issued from his mouth and tongues of blue flame came out from his nostrils! Twelve thousand svats beheld with awe and admiration the wonderful leap of the Bulgar’s steed, and exclaimed as one man: “Father of Mercies, what a mighty wonder!” Then some said to others: “O that so good a horse should be possessed by such a fellow! We have never before seen such a marvel.” Others said: “There was, indeed, one charger like this in the stables of our tsar’s son-in-law and now is possessed by his nephews the brothers Voïnovitchs.”

Among the heroes who admired the steed were Voutché of Dyakovitza, Yanko of Nestopolyé and a youth from Priepolyé; these spake one to another thus: “What a beautiful steed that Bulgar has! There is not its equal to be found in this wedding cavalcade, not even our own tsar has one like it. Let us fall behind and seek an opportunity to deprive him of it.”

As they reached Klissoura the three horsemen were far behind the other svats, and Milosh was also riding alone in that place. Then the heroes came near to him and addressed him in seeming courtesy: “Listen to us, thou youthful Bulgar! Wilt thou exchange thy horse for a better one? We shall give thee also one hundred ducats as a bargain-gift, and moreover we shall give thee a plough and a pair of oxen that thou mayest plough thy fields and feed thyself in peace for the rest of thy days!”

But Milosh answered: “Leave me alone, O ye three mighty horsemen! I do not wish for a better horse than [158]the one I have already; for did ye not see that I cannot keep even this one quiet? As to your bargain-gift, what should I do with so many ducats? I do not know how to weigh them, neither am I able to count as high as one hundred. What should I do with your plough and your oxen? My father has never used a plough on his fields and yet his children have never known hunger!”

The Fight for Koulash

At this answer the three horsemen said angrily: “Thou hadst better consider our proposal, O haughty Bulgar, lest we take thy horse by force!” To this menace Milosh answered: “Truly, by force men take lands and cities, and much more easily can three men by force take from me my steed! Therefore I prefer to exchange it, for I am unable to travel on foot.” Saying this, Milosh made a pretence to give up his Koulash peaceably, and inserted his right hand under his coarse cloak. They thought he intended to take off his spurs, but they were greatly mistaken, for in a flash out came his six-angled club, and before they had gathered their wits Milosh gave Voutché a gentle tap that tumbled him over and over three times in succession. Milosh then addressed him ironically: “May thy vineyards in thy peaceful estate of Dyakovitza be as fertile as thou art brave!”

Seeing what had befallen his companion, Yanko was in full flight, but it took scarce a moment for Koulash to reach the flying steed, and Milosh let fall upon the shoulders of his rider such a blow that he, too, was hurled to the ground, where he turned over four times ere finding anchorage. “Hold on! O Yanko!” scoffed Milosh, “May the apple-trees in thy peaceful estate bear as abundant fruit as thou art brave to-day!” [159]

There now only remained the young man from Priepolyé who by now had fled to some distance. But his horse’s speed could not avail against the swiftness of Koulash, and Milosh soon reached him and with his warrior club gave him a tap that tumbled him over and over no less than seven times. Whether he could hear or not Milosh called aloud: “Hold fast, O young man from Priepolyé! And when thou goest back to thy Priepolyé, I give thee leave to boast before the fair maidens there of how thou hast to-day taken away by force a Bulgar’s steed!”

This done, Milosh turned his charger and soon reached the wedding cavalcade. In due course the procession arrived at the white city of Ledyen, and the Serbians put up their white tents beneath its walls. The equerries gave the horses barley, but none did they give to Koulash. When Milosh saw this he took in his left hand a nose-bag and went from horse to horse, taking with his right hand from each a handful until he had filled the bag of his trusty Koulash. Next he went to the principal wine-keeper and prayed that he would give him a glass of wine. But the keeper of the wine refused, saying: “Go away, thou black Bulgar! If thou hadst brought thy rough Bulgarian wooden cup, I might perhaps have poured in it a draught; but these golden cups are not for thee!” Milosh turned on the churlish wine-keeper a dark look and followed it with a tender blow on his cheek that sent three sound teeth into his throat. Then the man, thoroughly cowed, besought Milosh thus: “Stay thy hand, O mighty Bulgar! There is wine in abundance for thee, even if our tsar should thereby go short.” But Milosh paid no attention to the fellow, and proceeded to help himself. Then, as his spirits mounted with the generous wine, day dawned and the sun began to shine. [160]

The First Test

As Milosh stood drinking in the fresh beauty of the early morning a page of King Michael called loudly from a tower of the royal castle: “Listen, O Serbian Tsar Doushan! Behold, in the valley beneath the walls of the city is the champion of our king! Thou must fight a duel with him, either thyself or by a substitute. If thou dost not overcome him thou shalt not go from this place safely, neither shalt thou take back with thee so much as one of thy wedding-guests! Still less shalt thou take with thee the princess Roksanda!”

Doushan heard the haughty message and sent a strong-voiced crier among the wedding-guests. Here and there he stood shouting loudly the tsar’s message: “Has any mother given birth to a fearless hero who will take up the challenge in our tsar’s stead? To him who is brave enough to fight the champion the tsar will grant nobility.” But alas! when the crier had gone through the camp no hero had come forward to claim the honour of doing battle for the tsar.

When Doushan heard this, he struck his knee with his right hand, exclaiming: “Woe is me! O mighty Creator! If I had now my darling nephews, the two Voïnovitchs, I should not lack a champion.” The tsar had hardly ended his lamentation when Milosh, leading his steed, appeared before the tsar’s tent. “O my Lord, thou mighty tsar!” said he, “have I thy leave to fight this duel?”

The tsar answered: “Thou art welcome, O youthful Bulgar! But, alas, there is slender likelihood that thou canst overpower the haughty hector of the king. If, however, thou dost succeed, verily I will ennoble thee!”

Milosh leaped to his saddle, and as he turned his fiery [161]Koulash from the tsar’s tent, he carelessly threw his lance on his shoulder with its point turned backward. Seeing this, Doushan called to him: “Do not carry, O my son, thy lance so! Turn the point forward, lest the proud Venetians laugh at thee!” But Milosh answered: “Attend, O my tsar, unto thine own dignity, and be not anxious concerning mine! If need arise I shall easily turn my lance correctly; if not, I may just as well bring it back in this wrong wise!”

As Milosh rode on through the field of Ledyen, the ladies and maidens of Ledyen looked upon him, and, laughing, they exclaimed: “Saints in heaven! a marvel! What a substitute for a Serbian emperor! The young man has even no decent clothes upon him! Be merry, thou hector of the king, for hardly shalt thou need to unsheath thy sword!”

Meantime Milosh reached the tent in which sat the champion of the Venetian king. Before the entrance he had stuck his lance deep into the ground, and to this he had tethered his grey steed. Milosh addressed the hector thus: “Rise up! thou little white Venetian gentleman, we will fight together for the honour of our masters!” But the hector answered angrily: “Away with thee, thou ugly black Bulgar! My sword is not for such as thee! I would not soil my steel on such a ragged fellow!”

This remark made Milosh very angry, and he exclaimed: “Rise up, haughty Venetian! Thou hast indeed richer attire; I shall take it from thee, and then who will have the finer feathers?”

At this the hector sprang to his feet and mounted his grey charger, which he caused to prance and curvet across the field. Milosh stood quietly looking on until suddenly the Venetian fiercely hurled his lance straight to the breast of [162]Milosh. The wary Serbian received it on his golden-headed club and jerked the weapon over his head, breaking it into three pieces as he did so. This sleight-of-hand alarmed the hector and he exclaimed: “Wait a minute, thou ugly black Bulgar! My lance was faulty, wait till I get a better one!” With this he put spurs to his steed, but Milosh shouted after him: “Stop, thou white Venetian! Thou shalt not escape me!” And with this he spurred his Koulash after the cowardly hector and pursued close to the gates of Ledyen. Alas for the fugitive, the gates were closed! For a moment the hector paused irresolute and this moment was his last. Milosh let loose his unerring lance; it whistled though the morning air and the hector was transfixed to the gate. Then Milosh alighted from his steed, struck off the Venetian’s head and threw it in Koulash’s nose-bag. Next he caught the grey steed and rode with him to the tsar. “Here, O mighty tsar,” said he, “is the head of the king’s hector!”

Doushan was overjoyed at his prowess and gave him much gold. “Go, my son,” said he, kindly, “drink some good wine, and presently I shall make thee noble!”

The Second Test

Milosh had hardly seated himself at his wine when a page again called loudly from the royal castle: “Behold, O Serbian tsar! In the meadow below thou mayest see three fiery horses saddled, on the back of each there is fastened a flaming sword with point upward. If thou wouldst go in peace from here taking with thee the king’s daughter, thou must thyself or by deputy leap over these flaming swords.”

Again the tsar sent a crier throughout his camp. “O [163]Serbians,” he cried, “has not any mother given birth to a hero who will venture to leap over the three horses and the flaming swords fixed on their backs?”

Again he traversed the entire camp, taking care that his words should come to the ear of every svat, but again no hero came forward to offer himself. Then as the tsar was anxiously meditating on the problem he looked up and, lo! Milosh again stood before him. “O glorious tsar!” said he, “Have I thy permission to essay this feat?” And the tsar readily answered: “Thou mayest surely go, my dear son! But first take off this clumsy Bulgarian cloak! (may God punish the stupid tailor who made it so!)” But Milosh said: “Sit in peace, O mighty tsar, and drink thy cool wine! Do not be anxious concerning my coarse cloak. If there be a heart in the hero his cloak will not be in his way: if a sheep finds her wool too heavy for her there is no sheep in her nor any wool!”

So saying he rode down to the meadow of Ledyen where stood the three steeds tethered side by side fiercely pawing the ground. The young man dismounted from his Koulash and stationed him several paces from the third steed, by his side, then patting Koulash gently on his proud neck, he said: “Thou shalt stay here quietly until I come again to the saddle!” He passed over to the first steed and went on a little distance, then turned, and dancing first on one foot then on the other, he ran like a swift deer and, leaping high, jumped over the three steeds, over the flaming swords, and alighted safely on the saddle of his own Koulash. This done he gathered the reins of the three chargers and rode with them in triumph to the Serbian tsar. [164]

The Third Test

Very soon the page of the Venetian king came again to the tower of the royal castle and proclaimed: “Hearken, thou tsar of the Serbs! Under the topmost tower of this castle is a slender lance whereon a golden apple is stuck; twelve paces distant is set a ring: thou must shoot an arrow through the ring and transfix the apple—thou or thy deputy!”

This time Milosh would not wait for the crier to do his errand, but straightway went to the tsar and obtained his permission to essay the task. Then, taking his golden bow and arrow, he went to the place indicated, fixed his arrow on the bow string, and the shaft sped straight through the ring to the heart of the apple which he caught in his hand as it fell. Again the tsar bestowed upon him golden ducats beyond number.

The Fourth Test

No sooner was this wonderful exploit completed than the royal page again proclaimed from the castle turret: “Behold, O tsar of the Serbs! The two royal princes have brought out in front of the king’s palace three beautiful maidens, all exactly alike and attired in similar robes. The king bids thee guess which of the three is the princess Roksanda. Woe to thee if thou touchest other maiden but Roksanda! Thou shalt not have the princess for thy bride; neither shalt thou go out with thy head upon thy shoulders; still less shall thy guests leave this place!”

When Doushan heard the message he summoned immediately his councillor Theodor and commanded: “Go, Theodor, and tell which is Roksanda!” But Theodor declared that he had seen her but for so brief a time that [165]it would be impossible that he should be able to choose between three maidens all exactly like the one he had seen by the light from his master’s ring.

Hearing this the tsar, in despair, struck his knee with his hand, exclaiming: “Alas! alas! After performing many wonderful exploits, must we return without the bride and be the shame of our people?” Just then Milosh, who had become aware of the tsar’s difficulty, entered into the imperial presence and spake thus: “Have I thy leave, O tsar, to try to guess which of the maidens is the princess Roksanda?” And the tsar answered joyfully: “Indeed thou hast, O darling son of mine! But slender is the hope that thou shalt guess rightly, since thou hast never seen the princess before!”

Thereupon Milosh answered: “Be not fearful, my glorious Lord! When I was a shepherd in the mountain Shar watching twelve thousand sheep, there have been born in a night three hundred lambs and I have been able to recognize and tell which sheep was dam to each lamb. How much easier will it be to choose Roksanda by her resemblance to her brothers!”

“Go, go then, my darling son! May God help thee to guess rightly! If thou art successful I shall grant thee the whole land of Skender that thou be its lord for thy lifetime!”

Milosh went forth through the wide field until he came to the place where the three maidens stood waiting. With a swift and sudden motion he swept the coarse fur-cap from his head and threw from off his shoulder his heavy cloak, revealing the scarlet velvet and the golden cuirasse which had been hidden underneath. Truly he shone in the verdant field like the setting sun behind a forest! Milosh now spread his cloak on the grass and cast upon it rings, [166]pearls, and precious stones. Then he unsheathed his finely-tempered sword and addressed the three fair maidens thus: “Let her who is the princess Roksanda gather her train and sleeves together and collect these rings, pearls, and precious stones! If any but Roksanda should dare to touch these beautiful things, I swear by my firm faith that I shall instantly cut off her two hands, yea, even as far as her elbows!”

The three beautiful maidens were terrified, and two of them looked meaningly at their companion who stood in the middle. This was the princess, and after a moment’s hesitation Roksanda gathered her silky train and sleeves and began to collect the rings, pearls, and precious stones. The two other maidens were about to flee, but Milosh took them gently by their hands and escorted all three to the presence of the tsar, to whom he presented princess Roksanda together with one of her companions who might be her lady-in-waiting; the third maiden, however, he retained for himself. The tsar kissed Milosh between his fiery eyes, still not knowing who he was or whence he came.

The Departure of the Serbians

The masters of the ceremonies now called aloud: “Get ready, all ye svats! It is high time we should hurry homeward!” And the svats made ready for the journey, and soon they set out, taking with them the beautiful princess Roksanda.

As they departed from the gates of the city, Milosh approached the tsar and said: “O my lord, thou Serbian Tsar Doushan, listen to me! There is in the city of Ledyen a terrible hero named Balatchko the Voïvode; I know him and he knows me. Balatchko has three heads: from one of them issues a blue flame, from [167]another rushes a freezing wind. Woe to him against whom these are directed! But if a hero withstands them it is not difficult to slay Balatchko when his wind and flame have left him. The Venetian king has been training him these seven years, for it has been his intention to make use of him to annihilate the royal wedding-party and to rescue princess Roksanda, supposing that thou shouldst succeed in obtaining possession of her. Now it is certain that he will send him to pursue us. Go thou thy way and I will remain behind with three hundred well-chosen heroes, to stop the monster from pursuing thee.” Therefore, while the svats went on with the beautiful Princess Roksanda, Milosh, with his three hundred comrades, remained in the verdant forest.

The svats had hardly struck their tents when King Michael summoned Voïvode Balatchko. “O Balatchko, my trusty servant,” said he, “canst thou rely upon thy valour and go out against the tsar’s svats to bring back my daughter Roksanda?”

And Balatchko replied: “My lord, thou King of Ledyen! First tell me, who was that valorous hero who achieved the great feats to which thou didst challenge the Serbian tsar?” The king of Ledyen answered him: “O Balatchko, our trusty servant! He is no hero; he is only a youthful black Bulgarian.” And Balatchko replied: “Nay, thou art mistaken; no black Bulgar is he. I know him well; he is the Prince Milosh Voïnovitch himself, whom not even the Serbian tsar was able to recognize through his shepherd’s disguise. Truly he is no ordinary hero, and not to be lightly esteemed by any warrior, however fearless.” Nevertheless the king insisted: “Go thou against the svats, O Voïvode Balatchko! If thou dost regain the princess, I will give her to thee for wife!” [168]

The Contest with Balatchko

Hearing this promise, Balatchko saddled his mare Bedevia and went in pursuit of the svats, accompanied by six hundred Venetian cuirassiers. When they reached the forest they saw Koulash standing in the middle of the main road and Milosh on foot behind him. Balatchko addressed the prince, saying: “O Milosh, evidently thou hast waited for me!” With this he loosed his blue flame, which, however, only singed Milosh’s furs; whereupon, seeing that he had not greatly harmed the hero, he breathed his freezing wind upon him. Koulash tumbled over and over in the dust three times, but the wind did not affect his master. Exclaiming: “There is something thou didst not expect!” Milosh hurled his six-cornered mace and it gave Balatchko a gentle knock that tumbled him out of his saddle. Then Milosh threw his lance and transfixed the fellow to the ground, after which he cut off all three of his heads and threw them in Koulash’s bag. This done, he mounted his steed and led his three hundred Serbians against the Venetian cuirassiers and cleft three hundred heads, the survivors being put to flight. He then hurried on and soon came up with the tsar, at whose feet he cast the three grim heads of Balatchko. The tsar rejoiced to hear of his victory and gave him one thousand ducats; then the procession resumed its march to Prisrend. In the middle of the plain Kossovo, Milosh’s way to the fortress of Voutchitrn lay to the right, and he came to the tsar to take leave of him. “May God be with thee, my dear uncle!” said he. Only then did the tsar come to know that the seeming Bulgarian was none else than his nephew Prince Milosh Voïnovitch! Overwhelmed with joy he exclaimed: “Is it thou, my dear Milosh? Is it [169]thou, my dearest nephew? Happy is the mother who gave thee birth and happy the uncle who has such a valiant nephew! Why didst thou not reveal thyself before? verily I should not have excluded thee from my company.”

Woe to him who overlooks his own relatives! [170]

The Tsarina’s Forebodings

As they sat at supper together one evening the Tsarina Militza spoke thus unto Tsar Lazarus: “O Lazarus, thou Serbian Golden Crown! Thou art to go to-morrow to the battlefield of Kossovo together with thy dukes and servants, but, alas! thou wilt leave in the palace none who can carry to thee my missives and bring thine from Kossovo to me. Thou takest also with thee my nine brothers Yougovitchs; I pray thee, leave me at least one of my brothers that I may swear1 by him!”

And the tsar returned answer: “O my lady, thou Tsarina Militza! Which one of thy brothers wouldst thou best like me to leave at home.” Thereupon the tsaritza said: “Leave me, I pray, Boshko Yougovitch!”

To this the tsar assented: “O my lady, Tsarina Militza! When the morrow dawns and the sun begins to rise and the gates of the fortress are opened, thou mayest walk out to the main gate whence the whole army will defile with the ensigns—all cavaliers with warrior-lances, headed by Boshko Yougovitch, who will be carrying the flag adorned with a golden cross. Greet him in my name and tell him that I give him leave to remain with thee at our white castle and to yield his flag to whomsoever he may choose!”

Accordingly, when the morrow dawned and the sun shone, the fortress-gates opened and Tsarina Militza appeared [171]at the main gate of the city, and lo! the mighty army was preparing to defile with, in the van, the glorious cavaliers headed by Boshko Yougovitch. Boshko was in the act of mounting his brown horse, a splendid creature, caparisoned with golden trappings; the dropping folds of the flag fell upon his shoulders and over his steed’s back. Upon the flag pole was fixed a golden apple and from the great cross hung golden thustles which were knocking gently against Boshko’s shoulders.

Tsarina Militza approached her brother and flinging her tender arms around his neck addressed him in her sweet voice thus: “O my darling brother, our tsar has presented thee to me, and desires that thou shalt not go to Kossovo in the war. His charge to thee is: that thou shalt give thy flag to whom thou choosest and remain at Kroushevatz that I may have a brother to swear by!”

But Boshko Yougovitch answered: “Go back, O sister dear, to thy white castle! I would not return, neither would I give up from my hands this flag for the price of Kroushevatz.2 How could I suffer my comrades to say: ‘Look at the coward Boshko Yougovitch! He dares not go to Kossovo, to shed his blood in the cause of the Holy Cross and his orthodox faith!’” Saying this he disengaged himself from his sister’s embraces and leapt into his saddle.

Lo! there now comes the aged Youg-Bogdan at the head of a line of his seven other sons! The tsarina endeavoured to stop each one in turn, but in vain. Voïn Yougovitch, the eighth brother, was last in the line; he like the rest of his brothers would not listen, and as he [172]passed on, the poor tsarina fell down at the feet of the horses and swooned. The glorious Lazarus saw his loving consort fall, and understanding the cause of her grief, he shed tears. Glancing quickly right and left he beheld Golouban, his trusty servant, and called to him: “O Golouban, my faithful servant! Dismount from thy charger, and take the tsarina gently in thy heroic arms to her slender tower. God and I will hold thee excused from service in the war, do thou remain at our white castle near the tsarina!”

Hearing this Golouban turned pale, and tears poured down his cheeks as he dismounted from his Laboud.3 He took the tsarina in his arms and carried her into her slender high tower as the tsar had commanded; but this done he could not resist the desire of his heart to go to Kossovo, so he hurried back to his charger and spurred him swiftly on after his comrades.

News of Battle

Next day, when morning dawned, lo! two ill-omened ravens from the battlefield of Kossovo alighted upon the white tower of the glorious Tsar Lazarus. One spake to the other: “Is this the home of the famed prince, Lazarus? Is there no living soul in the castle?”

One only within the castle heard this. Tsarina Militza walked out upon the balcony of her tower and besought the two black ravens thus: “For the sake of all that ye hold dear, O ye two dark ravens! Whence do ye come? Do ye not fly from the field of Kossovo? Saw ye there two mighty armies? O tell me! Have they met together? Which of them is victorious?”

Thereupon the two ravens answered: “Evil overtake us [173]if we do not speak truth to thee, O fair empress Militza! We fly indeed from the level plain of Kossovo! Yea! There we did see two mighty armies; there did we see two tsars perish!4 Of the Turkish horde but few remain in life; of the Serbs, those who live are covered with wounds and blood!”

The Trusty Miloutin

The ravens had hardly spoken when the tsarina perceived a horseman approaching whom she recognized. His left arm hung helpless; he was covered with seventeen wounds; blood ran over his steed. The tsarina called to him in accents of terror: “Alas, alas! Is it thou, my trusty Miloutin? Hast thou then betrayed thy tsar on Kossovo the level field?”

But Miloutin answered slowly and with pain: “Help me, O my lady, to alight from my brave steed! Bathe my face with cooling water and refresh me with rosy wine, for heavy wounds have overwhelmed me!”

And the tsarina went to him and helped him to dismount from his bloody steed, bathed his face with some cooling water and brought wine unto his dried lips. When she had thus restored him somewhat, she spake again: “What dreadful thing has happened, O thou trusty servant, in Kossovo that level field? Where perished the glorious Prince Lazarus? Where perished the aged Youg Bogdan? Where perished the nine Yougovitchs? Where perished Voïvode Milosh? Where perished Vouk Brankovitch? Where perished Ban Strahinya?”

Thereat the warrior groaned heavily: “All remain on [174]Kossovo, O my lady! Where the glorious Prince Lazarus perished, there were broken many, many lances, both Turkish and Serbian, but more Serbian than Turkish: defending, O my lady, their beloved lord, their lord the glorious Prince Lazarus. And thy father, O lady, perished in the first onset. Thy nine brothers perished too—faithful did they abide to one another. Till all perished, there mightest thou have seen the valiant Boshko, his flag fluttering in the breeze as he rushed hither and thither, scattering the Turks like a falcon amongst timid doves. There, by the streamlet Sitnitza, where blood was running above a hero’s knees, perished Ban Strahinya.

“But our heroes did not die alone! Twelve thousand Turks lie prone upon the plain. Sultan Mourat5 was slain by Voïvode Milosh. May God forgive all his sins! The hero has bequeathed to the Serbian race a memory of noble deeds that shall be recounted by the bards as long as men live and Kossovo stays. As for the traitor Vouk, accursed be she who gave him birth! He betrayed our tsar on Kossovo, leading astray, O my lady! twelve thousand fierce cuirassiers of our people! Accursed for ever be his progeny!”

Historical Note

The bards invariably throw all responsibility for the great calamity to the Serbian arms, inflicted upon them in that celebrated battle on Kossovo, upon Vouk Brankovitch, who was one of the sons-in-law of Tsar Lazarus. Some of our historians are convinced that there is a great deal of truth in this licencia poetica, and they point to the fact that the mediæval history of Serbia contains many instances of such malcontents as Vouk Brankovitch who, [175]seduced by fair promises from cunning Turkish statesmen, went to Stamboul to become useful tools in the hands of Ottoman generals, who were thereby aided in their conquests of the Slavs of the Balkans. But the truth is that our calamity was due mainly to the disobedience of the Serbian Lords who ruled almost independently over Bosnia and Herzegovina. These lords failed to comply with Tsar Lazarus’ mobilisation proclamation, and it was due to this that the Serbian army was considerably smaller than the Turkish.

Be this as it may, the defeat which the Serbians sustained in that memorable battle left a very deep impression upon the nation, and Serbians have believed ever since that it was solely due to this disaster that the Serbian empire was crushed by the Turk. This feeling persisted in the hearts of the oppressed Serbians through four centuries and was manifested in repeated insurrections against their oppressors in the beginning of the last century under the leadership of two Serbian princes, George Petrovitch, grandfather of the present King Peter I Karageorgevitch, in the year 1804, and Milosh Obrenovitch in 1815. But another century had to pass ere the opportunity came for a decisive battle by which satisfaction could be obtained for the battle on Kossovo. This opportunity offered on the famous field of Koumanovo in 1913, where perished more Turks than did Serbians five centuries ago. Only then was Serbia happy! The present writer went through the Balkan Campaigns of 1912–1913, and was a witness of glorious deeds and feats of arms by his countrymen which, relatively speaking, by no means yield to those of their mediæval ancestors led by Milosh Obilitch, Marko Kralyevitch, Ban Strahinya, and others. It was an imposing sight when the victorious [176]Serbian army returned to Belgrade at the conclusion of the war. The soldiers entered through numberless triumphal gates, over some of which were huge inscriptions: “For Kossovo: Koumanovo” and “For Slivnitza: Bregalnitza.”

The untiring Serbian bards have now turned their attention to the exploits of modern heroes at Monastir, Koumanovo, Perlep (Prilip), Scutari (Skadar), &c., and they will thus immortalize for the delight of future generations the final triumph of the Serb over the oppressor of his race, from whom he has wrested the empire of his valiant ancestors—if not in its entirety as under the rule of Tsar Doushan the Powerful, yet as it was in extent in the time of Tsar Lazarus.

What Tsar Lazarus lost, therefore, has now been virtually regained by his brave countrymen under the wise leadership of our present King Peter I. [177]

The Veela’s Warning

Dawn had not appeared, neither had Danitza2 yet shown her face when from the heights of the mountain Avala by Belgrade a veela called aloud upon Demitrius and Stephan, the two brothers Yakshitchs: “O ye brothers Yakshitchs! Ill fate hath this morn brought to ye! See ye not that the mighty Turk has made ready to assail the glorious town Belgrade from three sides? Hearken! I will tell ye the pashas by name. The Vizier of Tyoopria is come with forty thousand troops; the Pasha of Vidin leads an army of thirty thousand; and the Pasha of Novi Bazar has brought with him twenty thousand fierce Yanissaries! If ye will not believe, climb ye to the top of your towers and look over upon the broad field of Belgrade!”

Hearing this adjuration Demitrius looked out, and saw, indeed, all that the veela had said. If rain had fallen from the skies, no drop would have fallen on the ground, so thick was the multitude of Turks and their horses! He was seized with terror at the sight, and, without pausing a moment, he ran to his stable, saddled his steed, [178]and, unlocking the main gates of the fortress, rushed out, leaving the keys in the gate. He did not slacken rein until he reached a great forest, and by this time the sun was already high in the heavens. Dismounting from the saddle he seated himself on the banks of the cooling river Yahorika, and soliloquized thus: “Alas, Demitrius, mayst thou perish! To whose care hast thou left thy only brother Stephan?”

Overcome with remorse for his cowardice he would have returned to Belgrade, but it was too late. The Turks had already entered the city through the open gates. There was none to oppose them, and after indulging in outrage and pillage they had carried away many captives, among whom was Stephan Yakshitch. Him they did not behead because of his unusual beauty, and because they were well acquainted with his heroism, the fame of which was known far and near. They brought Stephan to the presence of the Vizier of Tyoopria, who was so pleased to see him that he ordered his hands to be freed, and gave him back his horse and arms. He also held a great feast and accompanied it with the firing of innumerable cannon. After this the Vizier of Tyoopria returned with the whole army in triumph to Stamboul, where he brought his distinguished prisoner into the sultan’s presence.

Stephan and the Sultan

The mighty Padishah was seated on his sidjadé,3 and after presenting Stephan the vizier took a seat near by. Stephan made a profound obeisance and kissed the slipper and the knee of the sultan. The sultan then invited him to a seat near to him and spake thus: “O heroic Stephan Yakshitch! If thou wilt become a Turk! (may Allah favour [179]thee!) I will make thee my Grand Vizier of Bosnia in the City of Travnik! Thou shalt have seven other viziers to obey thy orders; I will give thee in marriage my only daughter, and will care for thee as for my own son!”

To this Stephan answered firmly: “O Great Padishah! Thou mighty ruler of the world! I shall never turn Turk and renounce the Holy Cross. Yea, even if thou offered me thy own throne! I am ready to give my life for the holy Christian faith!”

At these bold words the sultan was very angry, and gave orders that Stephan should be executed. But Stephan had a good friend in the Vizier of Tyoopria, who at this juncture prayed the sultan not to give way to his wrath. “Do not, in the name of Allah, O my Padishah,” said he, “have so valorous a young man beheaded! I have given him my word of honour that thou, O Sultan, will not take his life! Deliver him to me for ransom! I will give thee as many golden ducats as he weighs on thy balance, and will keep him safely in my castle at Tyoopria where, I give thee my firm faith, I will make him love the creed of Mohammed.”

The sultan graciously acceded to his vizier’s request and Stephan departed with the Turk to his province.

Stephan at Tyoopria

When the vizier came to Tyoopria he invited Stephan to participate in all the luxury of his castle, and during one whole year he endeavoured by courtesy and kindness to convert the Serbian prince to the Mussulman faith. Then, as all his efforts had failed, he called together his hodjas4 and kadis,5 as well as all the noblemen of his [180]district, and these men spoke to Stephan thus: “O Stephan, the vizier has ordered us to convert thee unto the true faith; if thou wilt submit to us in this thing he will give thee in marriage his only daughter—she is more beautiful than the white veela herself—and he will have thee to be appointed the Grand Vizier of Novi Bazar. But if thou refused to become a Turk, his djelat6 will cleave thy head asunder.”

Thereupon Stephan answered: “I thank ye, venerable hodgas and kadis! But I would rather lose my life for the sake of our holy faith and the law of our Lord Jhesu, than live to become a Turk!”

The vizier turned sadly away and ordered his djelat to behead Prince Stephan. But again Stephan’s good fortune befriended him. The Grand Vizier of Novi Bazar came to the Vizier of Tyoopria and implored him not to behead the young man. “Dost thou not remember,” said he, “that thou didst promise that his life should not be taken from him? ’Twere better to deliver him to me on ransom: I will give twice his weight in golden ducats, and I declare solemnly that when I have him in my province of Novi Bazar, I shall not fail to induce him to embrace Islam!”

The Vizier of Tyoopria agreed to his friend’s offer and Stephan was thus a second time delivered from death.

Stephan at Novi Bazar

Arriving at Novi Bazar the vizier summoned his servant Hoossein. “Listen, Hoossein, my trusty servant!” said he. “Take thou this dearly bought prisoner, and conduct him through the donjons, until thou comest to the twelfth; there leave him and shut the twelve doors [181]behind thee carefully, so that he shall see neither the sun nor the moon. Methinks he will soon be willing to adopt our Mussulman faith!”

Hoossein did as he was commanded, and Stephan remained a prisoner for half a year, when the vizier took pity on him. Summoning his only daughter Haykoona, he said to her: “My darling daughter, my pure gold! Hearken to thy father’s words! Go back to thy tower, open thy golden cupboards, and adorn thyself with thy richest apparel. Put on thy prettiest dress of rosy silk adorned with velvet ribbons and golden threads, and cover all with thy gold-woven cloak. In thy right hand take a golden apple and under thy arm take this bottle; in it is a beverage prepared from forest plants and flowerets. It is called ‘water of oblivion’; I have been told that he who washes his face with it and drinks of it must hate his relatives and his religion. Take ye these to the lowest seraïs and open the twelve doors, closing carefully each of them in turn after thee. When thou comest to Prince Stephan give him this wonderful bottle. He will surely bathe his face with its contents and drink: then he will forget his faith, embrace Islam and marry thee!”

The Turkish maiden could have wished for no greater good fortune, for ever since she first saw the handsome Serbian prince she had felt strange pains. In her dreams she saw nobody but him, and in the daytime she was consumed with fevers.

Stephan and the Vizier’s Daughter

Therefore she complied with her father’s wish with alacrity, and when she reached Stephan she greeted him tenderly: “Hail, O Serbian Hero! May God be with [182]thee!” And the chivalrous prince returned the greeting: “May God help thee, O peerless Haykoona!”

The beautiful maiden then said: “O Prince Stephan, I value thee more than my black eyes! I sorrow to see thy face thus darkened and thy life so miserable in the prison-donjons of my father. Take this bottle of cooling water; bathe thy heroic visage with the liquid and drink a little of it!”

The hero took the bottle from those beauteous hands; but he was wise! Without hesitation he shattered it against the stony wall, taking great care that not a drop of the liquid should besprinkle him. The Turkish maiden flushed with anger, but a moment later she composed herself, and casting upon the prince a tender glance, she said to him sweetly: “Do, I pray thee, become a Turk and marry me! I love thee more than my black eyes.”

But Stephan answered: “I beseech thee, in thy Allah’s name, speak not so, O Princess Haykoona. I shall never turn Turk and forget my Christian faith! Yea, I am ready always to give my life for it!”

The beauteous lady turned aside impatiently, but her anger soon passed, and again looking tenderly at the young prince, she exclaimed with sudden passion, “Kiss me, O my beloved!”

But Stephan was proof against temptation, and he answered sternly: “O Turkish lady, may misfortune attend thee! Thou knowest that my faith forbids that a Christian should kiss a Turk! The skies above would burst asunder and stones would fall upon our heads!”

The vizier’s daughter really loved the prince, and although it was not easy for her haughty spirit to brook such a refusal of her advances, she presently spake again in this wise: “O Prince Stephan, truly I love thee more than my [183]own eyes! I would not for the entire wealth of this world be baptized, but if thou wilt promise me thy love and wilt marry me I will even embrace the Christian faith! Let us take much gold from my father’s treasury and flee together to thy glorious Belgrade.”

Hearing this, the young prince sprang joyfully to his feet and opened his arms to the beauteous maiden. He was by no means insensible to her charms, and he exclaimed with fervour: “Thou hast my princely promise that I shall love thee and be faithful to thee—as it is the duty of a true knight so to be. May the Lord Jhesu in Heaven be my witness!”

Then the vizier’s daughter opened the twelve doors one after the other and the young couple soon stood in the glorious fresh air under the sky, which was bespangled with silver stars, and radiant with the light of the moon.

From the vizier’s treasury they took three tovars of gold, and from his stables his two best horses. And the maiden gave Stephan a sabre studded with large diamonds—it was worth half of Novi Bazar—saying: “Take this sword, my darling lord: that thou mayest not be compelled to give way to inferior heroes, if we should be molested on our way!”

Then they mounted the horses and urged them swiftly away: in one night they put a distance between them and the vizier’s castle which a caravan could not cover in less than three days and three nights. At dawn of the next day they reached Belgrade, and Prince Stephan immediately summoned twelve monks, who baptized the fair Turkish maiden, after which the young couple were happily united. [184]

The Ending of the Ballad

The bard finishes his ballad with the following stereotyped ending very usual with Montenegrins:

“This happened once upon a time; let us, O brethren, pray of God to grant our holy Vladika7 good health! Amen, O God, to whom we always pray!”

Serbian bards did not as a rule end in this manner, but contented themselves with wishing good health to their audiences.

Historical Note

During the long course of the imposition of Ottoman dominion upon the suffering Christian races of the Balkans there were always at the courts of the Christian princes malcontents whom the cunning Turkish statesmen easily seduced from their allegiance to their rightful lords, and to whom they extended hospitality in Constantinople, often overwhelming them with riches and honours. In return they have rendered most important services to the sultans in their many campaigns, being, of course, well acquainted with the strategic dispositions of their countrymen, and often with important state secrets. Sometimes such traitorous men have served the Turk in their own country by sowing the seed of dissatisfaction with their rulers among the peasantry, assuring them that they would be better off under Ottoman rule. The influence of such renegades prevailed upon the peasantry in Bosnia and Herzegovina, at the time of the Battle of Kossovo (1389), [185]to rise against their rulers, and they did not participate in that memorable battle.

Very few instances of such treachery, however, occurred in Montenegro, which has been from the earliest times the home of the noblest of Serbian aristocrats and heroes, and where the adoption of the faith of Islam, no matter for what reason, or from what motive, was considered as the greatest cowardice of which a Christian could be guilty. [186]

The Message to Vidossava

King Voukashin1 of Skadar on Boyana2 wrote a book3 and dispatched it to Herzegovina, to the white city of Pirlitor4 opposite the mountain Dourmitor. He wrote it secretly, and secretly he dispatched it to the hands of beauteous Vidossava, the lonely consort of Voïvode Momtchilo. These were the words in the book:

“Hail Vidossava, Momtchilo’s consort! Why dost thou dwell in the midst of ice and snow? When thou lookest up from thy castle walls thou seest Mount Dourmitor adorned with ice and snow, yea, even in summer as in mid-winter; when thou lookest down, lo! thither rushes thy turbulent River Tarra carrying on its waves wood and stones. There are no fords, neither are there bridges to span it; around it are only pine-trees and fragments of rock. Why shouldst thou not give poison to thy husband or betray him unto me? Then mightest thou fly to me on this level sea-coast in my white city on Boyana. I will gladly espouse thee and thou shalt become my queen. Thou shalt spin silk upon a golden spindle, sit upon silk cushions and wear velvet embroidered with gold. And how glorious is this city of Skadar on Boyana! When thou lookest upon the fertile slopes above the walls thou wilt see innumerable fig-trees and olive-trees, and vineyards [187]full of grapes; when thou lookest beneath, behold! the plain will be white with nodding wheat, and green with the verdure of the meadows. Through the meadows green-limpid Boyana is flowing; in its stream are all kinds of fish which thou wilt have served fresh at table when thou dost so desire.”

Vidossava’s Treachery

When Vidossava had read the book she wrote a reply in fine characters: “My Lord, thou King Voukashin! It is not an easy task to betray Voïvode Momtchilo, still less is it easy to poison him. Momtchilo has a sister, by name Yevrossima, who prepares his dishes and partakes of each before him. He has nine brothers and twelve first cousins who pour wine into his golden cup; they always drink before him of each draught. Also, O king! Voïvode Momtchilo possesses a steed named Yaboutchilo; it has wings and can fly any distance its master wishes. Nor is this all! My spouse has a sword adorned with diamonds as big as a maiden’s eyes; with this, he fears no one but God. But attend to me, O King Voukashin! Gather a numberless army together; bring thy heroes to the lake, and hide there in the woods. It is Momtchilo’s custom to hunt each Sunday morning; he rides out with his nine brothers and his twelve cousins, and attended by forty guards from his castle. On the eve of next Sunday I will burn off Yaboutchilo’s wings; the jewelled sword I will dip in salted blood that Momtchilo may not be able to unsheath it: thus thou shalt be able to vanquish him.”

When this book reached King Voukashin’s hands, his heart rejoiced and he assembled a large force and marched to Herzegovina. He marched to the lake by Momtchilo’s castle, where he hid in the neighbouring woods. [188]

On the eve of Sunday, Momtchilo retired to his bed-chamber to rest upon the silken cushions, when lo! his consort came to him. She did not lay on the cushions, but stood by her spouse and her tears fell upon his head. Feeling the warm tears upon his knightly cheeks, the Voïvode looked up and said: “O Vidossava, my faithful consort! What great trouble afflicts thee, that thou shouldst shed tears upon my head?”

And Vidossava answered: “My Lord, thou Voïvode Momtchilo! I have no trouble but for thee! I have heard tell of a marvel which I have not seen with my own eyes. It is said that thou hast a wondrous winged steed but I cannot believe the story. It is some evil portent, and I fear thou wilt perish!”

The Winged Horse

Momtchilo was usually cautious, but this time he fell into the trap. “Vidossava, my dear consort,” said he, tenderly, “if that be all thy trouble I will easily console thee. Thou shalt see the wings of my steed Tchile:5 when the first cocks crow go down to the new stables, Tchile will then unfold his wings, as thou wilt see.”

Saying this, he composed himself once more to slumber. But not so Vidossava. She watched to hear the first rooster’s crow, and at the sound she sprang to her feet, lit a lantern and a candle, took some fat of mutton and some tar, and hurried to the stables. And behold! she saw Yaboutchilo unfold a pair of wings which reached down to his hoofs. Vidossava anointed the pinions with the fat and tar and set fire to them with the flame of her candle. What did not burn she bound tightly under the belt of the steed. This done, she, the youthful one, went [189]to the armoury and dipped Momtchilo’s favourite sword into salted blood. Then she returned to her consort’s chamber.

Momtchilo’s Dream

At daybreak Momtchilo awoke and spake thus to Vidossava: “Vidossava, my beloved spouse! I have had this night a strange dream: there appeared suddenly a cloud of fog from the accursed land of Vassoye and wrapped itself round Dourmitor. I rode through the cloud with my nine darling brothers and twelve first-cousins, together with my forty guards. In that fog, O my darling Vidossava! we lost sight of each other, never to meet again! God alone knows what this dream means, but I have a presentiment that some evil will befall us soon!”

Vidossava endeavoured to reassure her lord. “Do not fear, my darling lord!” she said; “dreams are false, God is true!”

The Ambuscade

Momtchilo attired himself for hunting and walked out from his white tower to the courtyard, where his nine brothers, twelve cousins, and forty guards awaited him. His spouse led to him his Yaboutchilo; he sprang to the saddle, and without more ado rode with his followers to the hunt. All unsuspecting, they reached the lake, when suddenly a great force surrounded them. Momtchilo grasped his sword, but, alas! he was unable to unsheathe it. Then he exclaimed bitterly: “Hark, my beloved brethren! My consort Vidossava has betrayed me; give me a sword!”

Speedily his brothers obeyed; they gave him the best [190]sword they had. Then Momtchilo said again: “Listen, my beloved brothers: ye shall attack the wings of the army and I will storm it in the centre.”

God adored, what a mighty wonder! ‘Would that some from among ye, brethren,6 could have been there to see: how Voïvode Momtchilo wielded his sword and cleared his way through the press of his foes!’ Howbeit, more were crushed by Yaboutchilo than by the hero’s sword! But, alas! a sad misfortune had befallen him: when he had gained clear of the foe his brothers’ nine black steeds followed after him; but their saddles were empty!

When Momtchilo saw this his heroic heart burst from great sorrow for the loss of his nine beloved brothers: his sword-arm dropped limp at his side, and knowing that he could fight no more, he spurred Yaboutchilo, intending that he should unfold his wings and fly to his castle.

But, alas! for the first time his charger did not respond to the spur. Then Momtchilo spake reproachfully thus: “O Yaboutchilo, may wolves devour thee! Many times hast thou flown from here merely in pastime, and now when I am in sore straits thou wilt not fly!”

And the steed answered, neighing: “My Lord, mighty Voïvode Momtchilo! Do not curse me, nor try to force me further. To-day I cannot fly! May God punish thy Vidossava! Last night she burnt the pinions of my two wings. What did not burn she tied tightly under my belt. O my beloved master! thou hadst better escape as thou mayest. I cannot help thee!”

When Momtchilo heard this, tears fell down his heroic [191]visage. He alighted heavily from his well-loved Yaboutchilo; after a last caress he gathered himself together, and in three leaps he found himself before the portals of his castle. And lo! the massive gates were closed and locked.

Brother and Sister

Seeing this, Momtchilo called aloud upon his sister: “O Yevrossima, my darling sister! Stretch down to me a roll of linen that I may climb the castle wall and escape ere my pursuers come up with me!”

Yevrossima heard the appeal and answered through copious tears: “Alas, my darling brother, thou Voïvode Momtchilo! How can I drop down to thee a length of white linen, seeing that my sister-in-law, thine own faithless Vidossava, hath bound my hair to a beam?”

But sisters have soft hearts for their brothers,7 and Yevrossima, for the sake of her only brother, jerked her head with such force that she left her hair on the beam; then she seized a length of linen, made one end fast, and threw the other end over the wall from the rampart. Momtchilo seized the linen and quickly climbed almost to the top of the rampart. He was on the point of springing into the fortress when his faithless spouse ran thither swiftly and, with a sharp sword, cut the linen above Momtchilo’s hands.

By this time the forces of Voukashin had come up, and Momtchilo was precipitated upon their swords and lances. Seeing the hero fall, the king hastened to the spot, and with a fierce thrust ran him through the heart. So fiercely did he lunge that the end of the sword penetrated the wall. [192]

The Death of Momtchilo

Voïvode Momtchilo was a rare hero, and he was able to speak these last words to King Voukashin: “My last request to thee, O King Voukashin, is that thou shouldst not marry my faithless Vidossava, for she will betray thee also. To-day she hath betrayed me to thee; to-morrow she will deal with thee in like manner! Far better would it be to marry my dear sister Yevrossima, the loveliest of maidens. She will always be faithful to thee and will bear thee a hero like unto myself.”

This spake Voïvode Momtchilo, struggling with pale death: this he said and his soul flew heavenward.

The gates of the castle were now opened, and the faithless Vidossava came out to welcome King Voukashin. After she had greeted him she led the way to her white tower and gave him a seat at her golden table. She offered him fine wines and many lordly dishes. Then she went to the armoury and brought Momtchilo’s armour and weapons. But, marvellous to relate! Momtchilo’s helmet, which fitted him closely, fell down to King Voukashin’s shoulders. One of Momtchilo’s top-boots was big enough for King Voukashin’s two feet. Momtchilo’s golden rings were too large for three of King Voukashin’s fingers together. Momtchilo’s sabre was one whole yard too long when King Voukashin tried it on his belt!

The Punishment of Vidossava

Seeing all this, King Voukashin exclaimed: “Alas! Woe is me! May God forgive me! What a faithless monster this youthful Vidossava must be to betray such a hero, whose equal would be vainly sought throughout the [193]whole world! How could I, the wretched one, expect such a woman to be faithful to me?”

So saying, he called loudly to his servants, who took Vidossava and bound her fair limbs to the tails of four horses and drove them from the castle Pirlitor. Thus, dreadful fate! she was torn to pieces alive.

Then the king pillaged Voïvode Momtchilo’s castle and led away Yevrossima to his palace at Skadar on Boyana. Later, he deserved her love and married her, and she bore unto him Marko and Andrias. Truly Marko inherited the heroism of Voïvode Momtchilo, and thus his uncle’s prediction was fulfilled.

Historical Note

Primitive as may be the customs illustrated in this ballad of the fourteenth century, it is undoubtedly worthy of a place in my collection. It was taken down by Vouk St. Karadgitch from the lips of the Serbian bard, and I cannot sufficiently express my regret for my inability to convey in English the beautiful and audacious similes and the eloquent figures of speech which adorn the original.

The French mediæval troubadour rarely chose as his theme the faithlessness of women; probably because incidents like the one described in our ballad were either unknown or too common to be considered interesting. But if the Serbian bards did not, excepting in this rare instance, sing of the fickleness and treachery of the weaker sex, it was that Serbian public opinion could not suffer the contemplation of faithlessness on the part of either husband or wife. No doubt the bard, wandering from one monastery to another, found in some chronicle a few facts concerning the marriage of King Voukashin which he elaborated much as did the French troubadour who dealt [194]similarly with the slender historic fact relative to the battle at Ronceval. The public opinion of the epoch is reflected in the barbarous punishment which the bard, moved by his austerity, inflicts upon Vidossava. It is interesting to note that in my researches I have not found one ballad in which faithlessness on the part of a husband occurs.

In the ballads concerning the royal Prince Marko we see that he was always chivalrous toward women, especially toward widows and oppressed maidens, irrespective of their social position or their religion. He is willing to succour Turkish maidens, for whom he is ready to jeopardize his life. In the ballad entitled “The Captivity and Marriage of Stephan Yakshitch” the bard tells of advances made to Stephan by a passionate Turkish maiden, which he repels with indignation at the mere idea of an alliance between a Christian and a Mussulman woman. King Voukashin might have corresponded with Voïvode Momtchilo’s wife previous to her marriage, but if so it must have been rather a political attachment than an affair of the heart. [195]

The Bard begins!

Merciful Creator! Does it thunder, or is the earth quaking? Or can it be the tempestuous ocean hurling its waves against the shore?2

Nay! It is not thunder, neither is the earth quaking, nor is the stormy ocean beating upon the shore!

Lo! the saints are dividing among themselves the treasures of Heaven, of Earth and of Sea: Saint Peter and St. Nicholas, St. John and St. Elias; with them, too, is St. Panthelias.

Suddenly there comes Beata Maria, tears streaming down her white face.

“Dear sister ours,” spake St. Elias, “thou Beata Maria! What great misfortune hath befallen thee that thou shouldst shed tears down thy cheeks?”

Thereupon, amid her sobs, Beata Maria said: “O my dear brother, thou Thunderer Elias! How could I refrain from shedding tears, since I am just come from India—from India, that accursed country? In that degraded land there is utter lawlessness: the common people do not respect their superiors; children do not obey their parents; parents crush their own children under their feet (may their cheeks blush at the divan3 before [196]the very God of truth!) A koom prosecutes a brother koom before the judge and bears false witness against him—thus losing his own soul, and damaging one who has acted as a witness at his wedding or baptism; brother challenges brother to duels; a bride is not to be entrusted with safety to the care of a dever, and, alas! even more dreadful things have I seen!”

The Thunderer Elias returned answer: “O sister dear, thou Beata Maria! Wipe those tears from thy tender face! When we have divided these treasures we will go to the divan unto our Almighty creator. Him we will pray, the Truthful One, that He may, in His Infinite Grace, grant us the Keys of the Seven Heavens, with which we may lock them. I will seal the clouds that no drop of rain may fall therefrom, neither abundant rain nor soft dew. Also, the silvery moonbeams shall not shine at night. Thus for three full years there shall be a heavy drought, and neither wheat nor wine shall grow, yea, not as much as is needful for the Holy Mass.”

Beata Maria was comforted, and wiped away the tears from her milk-white face. And the saints turned again to the division of the treasures: Peter chose wine and wheat and the Keys of the Heavenly Empire; Elias chose the lightning and thunder; Panthelias, great heats; John chose brotherhood and koomhood as well as the Holy Cross; Nicholas chose the seas with the galleys upon them.

The Wrath of God

Then one and all went to divan with the Almighty, to Whom for three white days and three obscure nights they prayed incessantly. They prayed and, indeed, their prayers were heard: God gave them the Keys of the Heavens. [197]

They locked the Seven Heavens; they affixed seals upon the clouds and lo, for full three years, there fell no drop of rain, neither rain nor silent dew! Neither shone the silvery moonlight, nor did wine grow or wheat spring up from the parched ground,—not even as much as is requisite for the needs of Holy Church.

Behold! The black earth cracked; the living dropped in it. God sent an awful plague which smote both old and young, severing those who were dear to each other. The small remnant who remained alive bitterly repented and turned to the Lord God in whom they truly believed, and who now blessed them.

And God’s benediction which He gave to those people yet remains: there should be winter and summer once in each year!

As it was long ago, so it is nowadays.

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I. The Building of Skadar (Scutari)1

The following poems are reprinted here from Sir John Bowring’s Servian Popular Poetry, London, 1827. These translations will serve to give to English readers some idea of the form of the national decasyllabic verse from which the matter of the greater part of this book is taken.

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II. The Stepsisters

III. The Abduction of the Beautiful Iconia

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I. The Ram with the Golden Fleece

Once upon a time when a certain hunter went to the mountains to hunt, there came toward him a ram with golden fleece. The hunter took his rifle to shoot it, but the ram rushed at him and, before he could fire, pierced him with its horns and he fell dead. A few days later some of his friends found his body; they knew not who had killed him and they took the body home and interred it. The hunter’s wife hung up the rifle on the wall in her cottage, and when her son grew up he begged his mother to let him take it and go hunting. She, however, would not consent, saying: “You must never ask me again to give you that rifle! It did not save your father’s life, and do you wish that it should be the cause of your death?”

One day, however, the youth took the rifle secretly and went out into the forest to hunt. Very soon the same ram rushed out of a thicket and said: “I killed your father; now it is your turn!” This frightened the youth, and ejaculating: “God help me!” he pressed the trigger of his rifle and, lo! the ram fell dead.

The youth was exceedingly glad to have killed the golden-fleeced ram, for there was not another like it throughout the land. He took off its skin and carried the fleece home, feeling very proud of his prowess. By and by the news spread over the country till it reached the Court, and the king ordered the young hunter to bring him the ram’s skin, so that he might see what kind of beasts were to be found in his forests. When the youth brought the skin to the king, the latter said to him: “Ask whatever you like for this skin, and I will give you what you ask!” [214]But the youth answered: “I would not sell it for anything.”

It happened that the prime minister was an uncle of the young hunter, but he was not his friend; on the contrary, he was his greatest enemy. So he said to the king: “As he does not wish to sell you the skin, set him something to do which is surely impossible!” The king called the youth back and ordered him to plant a vineyard and to bring him, in seven days’ time, some new wine from it. The youth began to weep and implored that he might be excused from such an impossible task; but the king insisted, saying: “If you do not obey me within seven days, your head shall be cut off!”

II. A Pavilion neither in the Sky nor on the Earth1

Once upon a time there lived a tsar, who had three sons and one daughter. The latter was kept in a cage by her father, for he loved her as he loved his own eyes. When the girl grew up she begged her father’s permission to go out one evening with her brothers, and the tsar granted her wish. No sooner had she left the palace than a dragon flew down, seized the princess and, despite her brothers, disappeared with her into the clouds. The princes hastened to tell their father what had happened, and they implored him to let them go in search of their sister.

Thereupon their unhappy father gave each of them a horse and other necessary equipment for a long journey, and they started out upon their quest. After journeying a long way, they sighted in the distance a pavilion, which was neither in the sky nor on the earth, but was hanging midway between. When they came underneath this, it occurred to them that their sister might be hidden in it, and they began to consider how best they might reach it. [221]Finally they decided that one of them must kill his horse, cut its hide into strips, make a thong, and, fastening one end to an arrow, shoot it from the bow so strongly that it should strike deeply into the framework of the pavilion, thus making a way up which they could climb.

The two younger brothers proposed to the eldest that he should kill his horse, but he refused. Neither would the second brother consent to do so; then the youngest brother, seeing that it could not be helped, killed his horse, made its hide into a lengthy thong, fixed one end to his arrow, and shot straight up to the pavilion, where the arrow stuck firmly.

Next they had to discuss who should climb up the thong; again the two elder brothers refused, so it fell to the youngest to perform this exploit. Being very agile, he soon reached the pavilion; wandering from one room to another, he finally came to an apartment where, to his great joy, he saw his sister sitting with the sleeping dragon’s head on her knee. When the princess beheld her brother, she feared exceedingly for his life, and implored him to escape before the dragon awoke.

III. Pepelyouga

On a high pasture land, near by an immense precipice, some maidens were occupied in spinning and attending to their grazing cattle, when an old strange-looking man with a white beard reaching down to his girdle approached, and said: “O fair maidens, beware of the abyss, for if one of you should drop her spindle down the cliff, her mother would be turned into a cow that very moment!”

So saying the aged man disappeared, and the girls, bewildered by his words, and discussing the strange incident, approached near to the ravine which had suddenly become interesting to them. They peered curiously over the edge, as though expecting to see some unaccustomed sight, when suddenly the most beautiful of the maidens let her spindle drop from her hand, and ere she could recover it, it was bounding from rock to rock into the depths beneath. When she returned home that evening she found her worst fears realized, for her mother stood before the door transformed into a cow. [225]

A short time later her father married again. His new wife was a widow, and brought a daughter of her own into her new home. This girl was not particularly well-favoured, and her mother immediately began to hate her stepdaughter because of the latter’s good looks. She forebade her henceforth to wash her face, to comb her hair or to change her clothes, and in every way she could think of she sought to make her miserable.

One morning she gave her a bag filled with hemp, saying: “If you do not spin this and make a fine top of it by to-night, you need not return home, for I intend to kill you.”

The poor girl, deeply dejected, walked behind the cattle, industriously spinning as she went, but by noon when the cattle lay down in the shade to rest, she observed that she had made but little progress and she began to weep bitterly.

Now, her mother was driven daily to pasture with the other cows, and seeing her daughter’s tears she drew near and asked why she wept, whereupon the maiden told her all. Then the cow comforted her daughter, saying: “My darling child, be consoled! Let me take the hemp into my mouth and chew it; through my ear a thread will come out. You must take the end of this and wind it into a top.” So this was done; the hemp was soon spun, and when the girl gave it to her stepmother that evening, she was greatly surprised.

Next morning the woman roughly ordered the maiden to spin a still larger bag of hemp, and as the girl, thanks to her mother, spun and wound it all her stepmother, on the following day, gave her twice the quantity to spin. Nevertheless, the girl brought home at night even that unusually large quantity well spun, and her stepmother [226]concluded that the poor girl was not spinning alone, but that other maidens, her friends, were giving her help. Therefore she, next morning, sent her own daughter to spy upon the poor girl and to report what she saw. The girl soon noticed that the cow helped the poor orphan by chewing the hemp, while she drew the thread and wound it on a top, and she ran back home and informed her mother of what she had seen. Upon this, the stepmother insisted that her husband should order that particular cow to be slaughtered. Her husband at first hesitated, but as his wife urged him more and more, he finally decided to do as she wished.

IV. Animals’ Language

The universality of folk-lore is curiously illustrated in the following tale which is strikingly like a story native to the negroes of Western Africa. In this the hero is granted, as a boon by the King of the Animals, the gift of understanding animal language; he is warned that if he divulges to any that he possesses this gift he will die on the instant; he is made rich by the possession of it; he laughs at a conversation between animals which he overhears; his wife demands to know the cause of his laughter. To this point the two stories are identical, but in the West African tale the man divulges the secret and pays the penalty with his life, whereas the Serbian conclusion is very much less tame, as will be seen.

A wealthy peasant had a shepherd, who served him for a great number of years most honestly and faithfully. One day, as he drove his sheep through a forest to the pasture, he heard a hissing sound, and wondered what it could be. Listening carefully he went nearer and nearer to the spot whence the sound came, and he saw that the forest was on fire and that the hissing proceeded from a snake that was surrounded by flames. The shepherd watched to see what the poor creature would do in its trouble: and when the snake saw the shepherd, it exclaimed from the midst of the flames: “O shepherd, I pray of you, save me from this fire!” Then the shepherd reached out his crook and the snake entwined itself swiftly round the stick, round his arm, on to his shoulders and round his neck.

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When the shepherd realized what was happening he was seized with horror, and cried out: “What are you about to do, ungrateful creature! Did I save your life only to lose my own?” And the snake answered him: “Have no fear, my saviour! But take me to my father’s house! My father is the king of the snake-world.”

The shepherd endeavoured to move the snake to pity and prayed it to excuse him, for he could not leave his sheep. Thereupon the snake said to him: “Be comforted, my friend! Do not trouble about your sheep; nothing amiss will happen to them, but now do hasten to my father’s house!” So the shepherd went with the snake round his neck through the forest, till he came at length to a doorway constructed entirely of serpents. When they came near the gate, the shepherd’s guide hissed to its servants, whereupon all the snakes instantly untwined themselves, leaving a way open for the shepherd, who passed through unmolested. Then the snake said to its preserver: “When we come before my father he will surely give you, as reward for your kindness to me, whatever you may wish: gold, silver and precious stones; but you should not accept anything of that kind. I would advise you to ask for the language of animals. He will undoubtedly be opposed to your wish, but finally he will yield.”

They now entered the apartments of the king, who, with evident relief, inquired: “My son, where have you been all this time?” The reptile then told all about the fire in the forest and of the kindness of the shepherd, who had saved his life. At this the snake-king turned with emotion to the shepherd: “What reward can I give you for having saved the life of my son?” he said. The shepherd answered: “I desire nothing but the power of [232]understanding and speaking the language of animals.” But the monarch said: “That is not for you, for if I give you that power, and you should impart the secret to another, you will instantly die. Therefore choose some other gift.” But the shepherd insisted: “If you wish to reward me, give me the language of animals: if you do not care to gratify my wish, no more need be said; I bid you farewell!” And indeed he turned to go, but the king, seeing his determination, stopped him, exclaiming: “Come here, my friend! Since you so strongly desire the language of animals, the gift shall not be withheld; open your mouth!” The shepherd obeyed, and the snake-king blew into his mouth, and said: “Now, blow into my mouth!” The shepherd did as he was told, and the snake-king blew a second time in the shepherd’s mouth, and then said: “Now you have the language of animals. Go in peace; but be sure not to impart your secret to another, else you will die that very moment!”

The shepherd took leave of his friends and as he returned through the woods he heard and understood everything the birds, plants and other living creatures were saying to each other. When he reached his flock and found all his sheep safe as had been promised, he lay on the grass to rest.

V. The Stepmother and her Stepdaughter

Once upon a time there was a girl who lived with her stepmother. The woman hated her stepdaughter exceedingly, because she was more beautiful than her own daughter, whom she had brought with her to the house. She did her utmost to turn the poor girl’s own father against her, and with such success that he soon began to scold and even to hate his own child.

One day the woman said to her husband: “We must send your daughter away. She must go into the world to seek her fortune!” And he answered: “How can we [236]send the poor girl away? Where could she go alone?” But the wicked stepmother replied: “To-morrow you must take her far into the woods, leave her there and hurry home, or I will no longer live with you.”

The unfortunate father at length gave way, and said: “At least prepare the girl something for her journey, that she may not die of hunger.” The stepmother therefore made a cake, and gave it to the girl next morning as she was leaving the house. The man and his daughter trudged on until they were right in the depth of the woods, and then the father stole away and returned home.

The girl, alone in the woods, wandered all the rest of that day in search of a path, but could not find one. Meanwhile it grew darker and darker, and at length she climbed a tree, fearing lest some wild beast should devour her if she remained through the night on the ground. And indeed, all night long the wolves howled under the tree so ravenously that the poor girl, in her nervous terror, could hardly keep from falling.

Next morning she descended the tree and wandered on again in search of some way out, but the more she walked the denser grew the forest, and there seemed to be no end to it. When it grew dark again, she looked about for another suitable tree in the branches of which she might safely pass the night, but suddenly she noticed something shining through the darkness. She thought it might, perhaps, be a dwelling, and she went toward it. And indeed, she came soon to a large fine house, the doors of which were open. She entered, and saw many elegant rooms, in one of which was a large table with lights burning on it. She thought this must be the dwelling of brigands, but she had no fear at all, for she reasoned with herself: “Only rich people need fear robbers; I, a poor [237]simple girl, have nothing to be afraid of; I shall tell them that I am ready to work for them gladly if they will give me something to eat.”

VI. Justice and Injustice

There was a king who had two sons, one of whom was cunning and unjust, and the other good and just. In due time the king died, and the unjust son said to his brother: “As you are younger than I, you cannot expect me to share the throne with you, so you had better go away from the palace. Take these three hundred tzechins3 and a horse to ride: this is to be your share of [241]the inheritance.” The younger brother took the gold and his horse, and reflecting he said: “God be praised! How much of the entire kingdom has fallen to me!”

Some time later the two brothers met by chance on a road, and the younger saluted the elder thus: “God help you, brother!” And the elder answered: “May God send you a misfortune! Why do you for ever mention the name of God to me? Injustice is better than justice.” Thereupon the good brother said: “I wager that injustice is not better than justice!”

So they laid as a wager one hundred tzechins and agreed to accept the decision of the first passer-by whom they should happen to meet. Riding on a little farther they met Satan, who had disguised himself as a monk, and they requested him to decide their contest. Satan immediately answered that injustice is better than justice; so the just brother lost one hundred tzechins. Then they made another wager in the same sum, and again a third; and each time the Devil—differently disguised on each occasion—pronounced for injustice. Finally the good brother lost even his horse; but he was quite unconvinced and he reflected: “Ah, well! I have lost all my tzechins, it is true, but I have still my eyes, and I shall wager my eyes this time.” So they made the bet once more, but the unjust brother did not even wait anybody’s arbitration, he took out his poniard and pierced his brother’s eyes, saying: “Now, let justice help you, when you have no eyes!”

The poor youth said to his cruel brother: “I have lost my eyes for the sake of God’s justice, but I pray you, my brother, give me a little water in a vessel that I may wash my wounds and take me under the pine-tree, near the spring!” The unjust brother did as he was asked and then departed. [242]

VII. He Who Asks Little Receives Much

Once upon a time there lived three brothers, who instead of much property had only a pear-tree. Each would watch that tree in turn, whilst the other two went away from home to work for hire. One night God sent His angel to see how the brothers lived, and, should they be in misery, to improve their position. The angel came disguised as a beggar, and when he found one of the brothers watching the tree, he went forward and asked him for a pear. The youth plucked some of the fruit from his own part of the tree, handed them to the beggar, and said: “Accept these pears from my share of the tree, but I cannot give you those belonging to my brothers.” The angel took the fruit, thanked the youth, and disappeared.

The next day it was the turn of the second brother to watch the fruit, and the angel, again in the semblance of a beggar, came and asked for a pear. This brother likewise gave from his own part of the tree, saying: “Take these, they are my own; but of those belonging to my brothers I dare not offer you.” The angel took the fruit gratefully and departed.

The third brother had a similar experience.

When the fourth day came, the angel disguised himself as a monk, and came very early so that he could find all three brothers at home, and he said to the youths: “Come with [244]me, I shall improve your state of life,” whereupon they obeyed without question.

Soon they arrived at a river where the water was flowing in torrents, and the angel asked the eldest brother: “What would you like to have?” He answered: “I should like all this water to be changed into wine and to belong to me.” The angel made the sign of the cross with his stick, and lo! wine was flowing instead of water, and that very moment there appeared on the banks of the streamlet many barrels, and men filling them with wine; in one word, there was a whole village. Then the angel turned again to the young man and said: “Here is what you wished; farewell!” and he continued his journey with the others.

The three went on till they came to a field where they saw numbers of doves, and the angel asked the second brother: “Now, what is it that you would like?” And he answered: “I should like all these doves to be changed into sheep, and to be mine!” The angel again made the sign of the cross in the air, and lo! sheep instead of doves covered the field. Suddenly there appeared many dairies; maidens were busy milking the sheep, others pouring out the milk, others again making cream. There was also a slaughter-house, and men busy, some cutting the meat into joints, others weighing it, others again selling the meat and receiving the money for it. Then the angel said: “Here is all you wished for; farewell!”

The angel now proceeded with the youngest brother, and having crossed the field he asked him what he would like to have. The young man answered: “I should consider myself the happiest of men if God were graciously pleased to grant me a wife of pure Christian blood!” Thereupon the angel replied: “Oh, that is rather difficult to find; in the whole world there are but three such women, two of [245]whom are married. The youngest is a maid, it is true, but she is already sought in marriage by two wooers.”

Journeying on, they came to a city where a mighty tsar dwelt with his daughter. She, indeed, was of pure Christian blood. The travellers entered the palace and found two princes already there with their wedding apples4 laid upon a table. Then the young man also placed his apple on the table. When the tsar saw the newcomers he said to those around him: “What shall we do now? Those are imperial princes, and these men look like beggars!” Thereupon the angel said: “Let the contest be decided thus: the princess shall plant three vines in the garden, dedicating one to each of the three wooers; and he on whose vine grapes are found next morning, is to be the one whom the princess shall marry!” This plan was agreed to by all, and the princess accordingly planted three vines.

When the next morning dawned, lo! grapes hung in clusters on the vine dedicated to the poor man. So the tsar could not refuse his daughter to the youngest brother. After the marriage, the angel led the young couple to the forest, where he left them for a full year.

VIII. Bash Tchelik or Real Steel

There lived once a tsar who had three sons and three daughters. When old age overtook him and the hour came for him to die he called his children to him, and desired his sons to give their sisters to the first wooers who might ask them in marriage. “Do as I tell you,” added the dying tsar, “or dread my curse!”

Shortly after the tsar had passed away there came one night a fearful knocking at the palace gate, so that the whole building shook, and a great roaring, screaming, and blowing was heard; it seemed as if the palace was assailed by some awful tempest. All the courtiers were seized with unspeakable fear, and suddenly a voice from outside was heard: “O princes, open the door!” Thereupon the eldest brother exclaimed: “Do not open!” The second brother added: “Do not open for anything!” But the youngest brother said: “I must open the door!” and he sprang to the door and flung it open. As he did so something came in, but the brothers could see only a bright light, out of which proceeded these urgent words: “I have come to ask your eldest sister in marriage, and to take her away this moment; for I have no time to lose, neither shall I come a second time to demand her! Answer quickly, will you give her or not? That is what I must know.” [248]

The eldest brother answered: “I will not give her. I cannot see you, and do not know who you are or even whence you came. To-night is the first time I have heard your voice, and you insist upon taking my sister away at once. Should I not know where I could visit my sister sometimes?”

The second brother also said: “I will not consent that my sister should be taken away to-night!”

But the youngest brother protested, saying: “If you will not give her, I will. Do you not remember our father’s words?” Thereupon he took his sister by the hand,5 and presented her to the invisible wooer, saying: “May she be a loyal and dutiful wife!”

The moment the princess passed over the threshold every one in the palace fell to the ground in terror, so fearsome was the lightning and so loud the peals of thunder. The whole building shook as if about to fall. The storm, however, passed and daybreak came. That morning close search was made to see if any trace could be found of the strange visitant or the way it had gone; but, alas! all their efforts were vain.

The second night, about the same time, a similar noise was heard again round the palace, and a voice at the door exclaimed: “O princes, open the door!”

Seized with fear they dared not disobey. Then the pitiless voice spake again: “Give me your second sister; I have come to ask her in marriage!”

The eldest brother protested: “I will not consent!” The second brother said: “I will not give away our sister!” But the youngest brother was willing. “I will give her!” said he; “have you already forgotten what our father commanded at the hour of his death?” [249]

Thereupon the youngest prince took his sister by the hand and presented her to the unseen visitor, saying: “Take her, may she be loyal and dutiful to you!” So the visitant departed with the princess, and next morning no trace of him could be found.

The third night at the same hour the earth quaked and the palace rocked on its foundations, so mighty was the tumult around it. And again a mysterious voice was heard from without. The princes opened the door, and the unseen presence entered and said: “I come to ask your youngest sister in marriage!” The two elder brothers exclaimed simultaneously: “We will not give our sister by night; we must know to whom we are giving her, so that we may visit her when we wish to do so!” But once more the youngest brother exclaimed: “I will give her, if you will not! Have you, then, forgotten what our father told us? It is not so very long ago!” So saying, he took the maiden and presented her to the invisible power, saying: “Take her with you! And may she bring you joy and happiness!”

IX. The Golden Apple-tree and the Nine Peahens

Once there was a king who had three sons. In the garden of the palace grew a golden apple-tree, which, in one and the same night would blossom and bear ripe fruit. But during the night a thief would come and pluck the golden apples, and none could detect him. One day the king deliberating with his sons, said: “I would give much to know what happens to the fruit of our apple-tree!” Thereupon the eldest son answered: “I will mount guard [268]to-night under the apple-tree, and we will see who gathers the fruit.”

When evening came, the prince laid himself under the apple-tree to watch; but as the apples ripened, he fell asleep and did not wake until next morning, when the apples had vanished. He told his father what had happened, and his brother, the second son, then offered to keep guard that night. But he had no more success than his elder brother.

It was now the turn of the youngest son to try his luck, and, when night came on, he placed a bed under the tree, and lay down and went to sleep. About midnight he awoke and glanced at the apple-tree. And lo! the apples were just ripening and the whole castle was lit up with their shining. At that moment nine peahens flew to the tree and settled on its branches, where eight remained to pluck the fruit. The ninth, however, flew to the ground and was instantly transformed into a maiden so beautiful that one might in vain search for her equal throughout the kingdom.

The prince immediately fell madly in love with his visitor and the fair maiden was not at all unwilling to stay and converse with the young man. An hour or two soon passed but at last the maiden said that she might stay no longer. She thanked the prince for the apples which her sisters had plucked, but he asked that they would give him at least one to carry home.

The maiden smiled sweetly and handed the young man two apples, one for himself, the other for his father, the king. She then turned again into a peahen, joined her sisters and all flew away.

Next morning the prince carried the two apples to his father. The king, very pleased, praised his son, and on [269]the following night, the happy prince placed himself under the tree, as before, next morning again bringing two apples to his father. After this had happened for several nights, his two brothers grew envious, because they had not been able to do what he had done. Then a wicked old woman offered her services to the malcontent princes, promising that she would reveal the secret to them. So on the next evening the old woman stole softly under the bed of the young prince and hid herself there. Soon afterward the prince came and at once went to sleep just as before. When midnight came, lo! the peahens flew down as usual; eight of them settling on the branches of the apple-tree, but the ninth, descending on the bed of the prince, instantly turned into a maiden. The old woman, seeing this strange metamorphosis, crept softly near and cut off a lock of the maiden’s hair, whereupon the girl immediately arose, changed again into a peahen, and disappeared together with her sisters. Then the young prince jumped up and wondering what had been the reason for the sudden departure of his beloved began to look around. He then saw the old woman, dragged her from under his bed, and ordered his servants to fasten her to the tails of four horses and so to destroy her.

But the peahens never came again, to the great sorrow of the prince, and for all that he mourned and wept.

Weeping will not move any mountain, and at length the prince resolved to go through the wide world in search of his sweetheart and not return home until he had found her. As a good son, he asked leave of his father who tried hard to make him give up such a hazardous scheme and promised him a much more beautiful bride in his own vast kingdom—for he was very sure that any maiden would be glad to marry such a valiant prince. [270]

X. The Bird Maiden

There was once a king who had an only son, whom, when he had grown up, he sent abroad to seek a suitable wife. The prince set out on his journey, but, although he travelled over the whole world, he did not succeed in finding a bride. Finally, after having exhausted his patience and his purse, he decided to die, and, that there [281]should not remain any trace of him, he climbed a high mountain, intending to throw himself from the summit. He was on the point of jumping from the pinnacle, when a voice uttered these mysterious words: “Stop! Stop! O man! Do not kill yourself, for the sake of three hundred and sixty-five which are in the year!”

The prince endeavoured in vain to discover whence the voice came, and, seeing no one, he asked: “Who are you that speak to me? Show yourself! If you knew of my troubles, you would surely not hinder me!” Thereupon an old man appeared, with hair as white as snow, and said to the unfortunate prince: “I am well aware of all you suffer; but listen to me. Do you see yonder high hill?” The king’s son answered: “Yes, indeed.” “Very well,” continued the old man, “seated day and night in the same spot on the summit of that hill there is an old woman with golden hair, and she holds a bird in her lap. He who succeeds in securing that bird will be the happiest man in the world. But if you wish to try your luck you must be cautious; you must approach the old woman quietly, and, before she sees you, you must take her by the hair. Should she see you before you seize her, you will be turned to stone then and there, just as it has happened to many young men whom you will see there in the form of blocks of marble.”

XI. Lying for a Wager

One day a father sent his boy to the mill with corn to be ground, and, at the moment of his departure, he warned him not to grind it in any mill where he should happen to find a beardless man.6

When the boy came to a mill, he was therefore disappointed to find that the miller was beardless.

“God bless you, Beardless!” saluted the boy.

“May God help you!” returned the miller.

“May I grind my corn here?” asked the boy.

“Yes, why not?” responded the beardless one, “my corn will be soon ground; you can then grind yours as long as you please.”

But the boy, remembering his father’s warning, left this mill and went to another up the brook. But Beardless took some grain and, hurrying by a shorter way, reached the second mill first and put some of his corn there to be ground. When the boy arrived and saw that the miller was again a beardless man, he hastened to a third mill; but again Beardless hurried by a short cut, and reached it before the boy. He did the same at a fourth mill, so that the boy concluded that all millers are beardless men. He therefore put down his sack, and when the corn of Beardless was ground he took his turn at the mill. When all of his grain had been ground Beardless proposed: “Listen, my boy! Let us make a loaf of your flour.”

The boy had not forgotten his father’s injunction to have nothing to do with beardless millers, but as he saw no way out of it, he accepted the proposal. So Beardless now [284]took all the flour, mixed it with water, which the boy brought him, and thus made a very large loaf. Then they fired the oven and baked the loaf, which, when finished, they placed against the wall.

Then the miller proposed: “Listen, my boy! If we were now to divide this loaf between us, there would be little enough for either of us, let us therefore tell each other stories, and whoever tells the greatest lie shall have the whole loaf for himself.”

The boy reflected a little and, seeing no way of helping himself, said: “Very well, but you must begin.”

Then Beardless told various stories till he got quite tired. Then the boy said: “Eh, my dear Beardless, it is a pity if you do not know any more, for what you have said is really nothing; only listen, and I shall tell you now the real truth.”

XII. The Maiden Wiser than the Tsar

Long ago there lived an old man, who dwelt in a poor cottage. He possessed one thing only in the world, and that was a daughter who was so wise that she could teach even her old father.

One day the man went to the tsar to beg, and the tsar, astonished at his cultivated speech, asked him whence he came and who had taught him to converse so well. He told the tsar where he lived, and that it was his daughter who had taught him to speak with eloquence.

“And where was your daughter taught?” asked the tsar.

“God and our poverty have made her wise,” answered the poor man.

Thereupon the tsar gave him thirty eggs and said: “Take these to your daughter, and command her in my name to bring forth chickens from them. If she does this [288]successfully I will give her rich presents, but if she fails you shall be tortured.”

The poor man, weeping, returned to his cottage and told all this to his daughter. The maiden saw at once that the eggs which the tsar had sent were boiled, and bade her father rest while she considered what was to be done. Then while the old man was sleeping the girl filled a pot with water and boiled some beans.

Next morning she woke her father and begged him to take a plough and oxen and plough near the road where the tsar would pass. “When you see him coming,” said she, “take a handful of beans, and while you are sowing them you must shout: ‘Go on, my oxen, and may God grant that the boiled beans may bear fruit!’ Then,” she went on, “when the tsar asks you, ‘How can you expect boiled beans to bear fruit?’ answer him: ‘just as from boiled eggs one can produce chicks!’”

The old man did as his daughter told him, and went forth to plough. When he saw the tsar he took out a handful of beans, and exclaimed: “Go on, my oxen! And may God grant that the boiled beans may bear fruit!” Upon hearing these words the tsar stopped his carriage, and said to the man: “My poor fellow, how can you expect boiled beans to bear fruit?”

“Just as from boiled eggs one can produce chicks!” answered the apparently simple old man.

The tsar laughed and passed on, but he had recognized the old man, and guessed that his daughter had instructed him to say this. He therefore sent officers to bring the peasant into his presence. When the old man came, the tsar gave him a bunch of flax, saying: “Take this, and make out of it all the sails necessary for a ship; if you do not, you shall lose your life.” [289]

The poor man took the flax with great fear, and went home in tears to tell his daughter of his new task. The wise maiden soothed him, and said that if he would rest she would contrive some plan. Next morning she gave her father a small piece of wood, and bade him take it to the tsar with the demand that from it should be made all the necessary tools for spinning and weaving, that he should thereby be enabled to execute his Majesty’s order. The old man obeyed, and when the tsar heard the extraordinary request he was greatly astounded at the astuteness of the girl, and, not to be outdone, he took a small glass, saying: “Take this little glass to your daughter, and tell her she must empty the sea with it, so that dry land shall be where the ocean now is.”

The old man went home heavily to tell this to his daughter. But the girl again reassured him, and next morning she gave him a pound of tow, saying: “Take this to the tsar and say, that when with this tow he dams the sources of all rivers and streams I will dry up the sea.”

XIII. Good Deeds Never Perish

Once upon a time there lived a man and woman who had one son. When the boy grew up his parents endeavoured to give him a suitable education which would be useful in his after life. He was a good, quiet boy, and above all he feared God. After he had completed his studies, his father intrusted him with a galley laden with various goods, so that he might trade with distant countries, and be the support of his parents’ old age.

XIV. He Whom God Helps No One Can Harm

Once upon a time there lived a man and his wife, and they were blessed with three sons. The youngest son was the most handsome, and he possessed a better heart than his brothers, who thought him a fool. When the three brothers had arrived at the man’s estate, they came together to their father, each of them asking permission to marry. The father was embarrassed with this sudden wish of his sons, and said he would first take counsel with his wife as to his answer.

XV. Animals as Friends and as Enemies7

Once upon a time, a long while ago, there lived in a very far-off country, a young nobleman who was so exceedingly poor that all his property was an old castle, a handsome horse, a trusty hound, and a good rifle.

This nobleman spent all his time in hunting and shooting, and lived entirely on the produce of the chase.

One day he mounted his well-kept horse and rode off to the neighbouring forest, accompanied, as usual, by his faithful hound. When he came to the forest he dismounted, fastened his horse securely to a young tree, and then went deep into the thicket in search of game. The hound ran on at a distance before his master, and the horse remained all alone, grazing quietly. Now it happened that a hungry fox came by that way and, seeing how well-fed and well-trimmed the horse was, stopped a while to admire him. By and by she was so charmed with the handsome horse, that she lay down in the grass near him to bear him company.

Some time afterward the young nobleman came back out of the forest, carrying a stag that he had killed, and was [306]extremely surprised to see the fox lying so near his horse. So he raised his rifle with the intention of shooting her; but the fox ran up to him quickly and said, “Do not kill me! Take me with you, and I will serve you faithfully. I will take care of your fine horse whilst you are in the forest.”

The fox spoke so pitifully that the nobleman was sorry for her, and agreed to her proposal. Thereupon he mounted his horse, placed the stag he had shot before him, and rode back to his old castle, followed closely by his hound and his new servant, the fox.

When the young nobleman prepared his supper, he did not forget to give the fox a due share, and she congratulated herself that she was never likely to be hungry again, at least so long as she served so skilful a hunter.

The next morning the nobleman went out again to the chase; the fox also accompanied him. When the young man dismounted and bound his horse, as usual, to a tree, the fox lay down near it to keep it company.

Now, whilst the hunter was far off in the depth of the forest looking for game, a hungry bear came by the place where the horse was tied, and, seeing how invitingly fat it looked, ran up to kill it. The fox hereupon sprang up and begged the bear not to hurt the horse, telling him if he was hungry he had only to wait patiently until her master came back from the forest, and then she was quite sure that the good nobleman would take him also to his castle and feed him, and care for him, as he did for his horse, his hound, and herself.

The bear pondered over the matter very wisely and deeply for some time, and at length resolved to follow the fox’s advice. Accordingly he lay down quietly near the horse, and waited for the return of the huntsman. When the young noble came out of the forest he was greatly surprised [307]to see so large a bear near his horse, and, dropping the stag he had shot from his shoulders, he raised his trusty rifle and was about to shoot the beast. The fox, however, ran up to the huntsman and entreated him to spare the bear’s life, and to take him, also, into his service. This the nobleman agreed to do; and, mounting his horse, rode back to his castle, followed by the hound, the fox, and the bear.

The next morning, when the young man had gone again with his dog into the forest, and the fox and the bear lay quietly near the horse, a hungry wolf, seeing the horse, sprang out of a thicket to kill it. The fox and the bear, however, jumped up quickly and begged him not to hurt the animal, telling him to what a good master it belonged, and that they were sure, if he would only wait, he also would be taken into the same service, and would be well cared for. Thereupon the wolf, hungry though he was, thought it best to accept their counsel, and he also lay down with them in the grass until their master come out of the forest.

You can imagine how surprised the young nobleman was when he saw a great gaunt wolf lying so near his horse! However, when the fox had explained the matter to him, he consented to take the wolf also into his service. Thus it happened that this day he rode home followed by the dog, the fox, the bear, and the wolf. As they were all hungry, the stag he had killed was not too large to furnish their suppers that night, and their breakfasts next morning. Not many days afterward a mouse was added to the company, and after that a mole begged so hard for admission that the good nobleman could not find in his heart to refuse her. Last of all came the great bird, the kumrekusha—so strong a bird that she can carry in her claws a horse with his rider! Soon after a hare was [308]added to the company, and the nobleman took great care of all his animals and fed them regularly and well, so that they were all exceedingly fond of him.

XVI. The Three Suitors

In a very remote country there formerly lived a king who had only one child—an exceedingly beautiful daughter. The princess had a great number of suitors, and amongst them were three young noblemen, whom the king loved much. As, however, the king liked the three nobles equally well, he could not decide to which of the three he should give his daughter as wife. One day, therefore, he called the three young noblemen to him, and said, “Go, all of you, and travel about the world. The one of you who brings home the most remarkable thing shall be my son-in-law!”

The three suitors started at once on their travels, each of them taking opposite ways, and going in search of remarkable things into far different countries.

A long time had not passed before one of the young nobles found a wonderful carpet which would carry rapidly through the air whoever sat upon it.

Another of them found a marvellous telescope, through which he could see everybody and everything in the [317]world, and even the many-coloured sands at the bottom of the great deep sea.

The third found a wonder-working ointment, which could cure every disease in the world, and even bring dead people back to life again.

Now the three noble travellers were far distant from each other when they found these wonderful things. But when the young man who had found the telescope looked through it, he saw one of his former friends and present rivals walking with a carpet on his shoulder, and so he set out to join him. As he could always see, by means of his marvellous telescope, where the other nobleman was, he had no great difficulty in finding him, and when the two had met, they sat side by side on the wonderful carpet, and it carried them through the air until they had joined the third traveller. One day, when each of them had been telling of the remarkable things he had seen in his travels, one of them exclaimed suddenly, “Now let us see what the beautiful princess is doing, and where she is.” Then the noble who had found the telescope, looked through it and saw, to his great surprise and dismay, that the king’s daughter was lying very sick and at the point of death. He told this to his two friends and rivals, and they, too, were thunderstruck at the bad news—until the one who had found the wonder-working ointment, remembering it suddenly, exclaimed, “I am sure I could cure her, if I could only reach the palace soon enough!” On hearing this the noble who had found the wonderful carpet cried out, “Let us sit down on my carpet, and it will quickly carry us to the king’s palace!”

Thereupon the three nobles gently placed themselves in the carpet, which rose instantly in the air, and carried them direct to the king’s palace. [318]

The king received them immediately; but said very sadly, “I am sorry for you: for all your travels have been in vain. My daughter is just dying, so she can marry none of you!”

But the nobleman who possessed the wonder-working ointment said respectfully, “Do not fear, sire, the princess will not die!” And on being permitted to enter the apartment where she lay sick, he placed the ointment so that she could smell it. In a few moments the princess revived, and when her waiting-women had rubbed a little of the ointment in her skin she recovered so quickly that in a few days she was better than she had been before she was taken ill.

The king was so glad to have his daughter given back to him, as he thought, from the grave, that he declared that she should marry no one but the young nobleman whose wonderful ointment had cured her.

XVII. The Dream of the King’s Son

There was once a king who had three sons. One evening, when the young princes were going to sleep, the king ordered them to take good note of their dreams and come and tell them to him next morning. So, the next day the princes went to their father as soon as they awoke, and the moment the king saw them he asked of the eldest, “Well, what have you dreamt?”

The prince answered, “I dreamt that I should be the heir to your throne.”

And the second said, “And I dreamt that I should be the first subject in the kingdom.”

Then the youngest said, “I dreamt that I was going to wash my hands, and that the princes, my brothers, held the basin, whilst the queen, my mother, held fine towels for me to dry my hands with, and your majesty’s self poured water over them from a golden ewer.”

The king, hearing this last dream, became very angry, and exclaimed, “What! I—the king—pour water over the hands of my own son! Go away this instant out of my palace, and out of my kingdom! You are no longer my son.” [323]

The poor young prince tried hard to make his peace with his father, saying that he was really not to be blamed for what he had only dreamed; but the king grew more and more furious, and at last actually thrust the prince out of the palace.

So the young prince was obliged to wander up and down in different countries, until one day, being in a large forest, he saw a cave, and entered it to rest. There, to his great surprise and joy, he found a large kettle full of Indian corn, boiling over a fire: and, being exceedingly hungry, began to help himself to the corn. In this way he went until he was shocked to see he had nearly eaten up all the maize, and then, being afraid some mischief would come of it, he looked about for a place in which to hide himself. At this moment, however, a great noise was heard at the cave-mouth, and he had only time to hide himself in a dark corner before a blind old man entered, riding on a great goat and driving a number of goats before him.

The old man rode straight up to the kettle, but as soon as he found that the corn was nearly all gone, he began to suspect some one was there, and groped about the cave until he caught hold of the prince.

“Who are you?” asked he sharply; and the prince answered, “I am a poor, homeless wanderer about the world, and have come now to beg you to be good enough to receive me.”

“Well,” said the old man, “why not? I shall at least have some one to mind my corn whilst I am out with my goats in the forest.”

So they lived together for some time; the prince remaining in the cave to boil the maize, whilst the old man drove out his goats every morning into the forest.

One day, however, the old man said to the prince, “I think [324]you shall take out the goats to-day, and I will stay at home to mind the corn.”

This the prince consented to very gladly, as he was tired of living so long quietly in the cave. But the old man added, “Mind only one thing! There are nine different mountains, and you can let the goats go freely over eight of them, but you must on no account go on the ninth. The veele live there, and they will certainly put out your eyes as they have put out mine, if you venture on their mountain.” The prince thanked the old man for his warning, and then, mounting the great goat, drove the rest of the goats before him out of the cave.

Following the goats, he had passed over all the mountains to the eighth, and from this he could see the ninth mountain, and could not resist the temptation he felt to go upon it. So he said to himself, “I will venture up, whatever happens!”

XVIII. The Biter Bit

Once upon a time there was an old man who, whenever he heard anyone complain how many sons he had to care for, always laughed and said, “I wish that it would please God to give me a hundred sons!”

This he said in jest; as time went on, however, he had, in reality, neither more nor less than a hundred sons.

He had trouble enough to find different trades for his sons, but when they were once all started in life they worked diligently and gained plenty of money. Now, however, came a fresh difficulty. One day the eldest son came in to his father and said, “My dear father, I think it is quite time that I should marry.”

Hardly had he said these words before the second son [329]came in, saying, “Dear father, I think it is already time that you were looking out for a wife for me.”

A moment later came in the third son, asking, “Dear father, don’t you think it is high time that you should find me a wife?” In like manner came the fourth and fifth, until the whole hundred had made a similar request. All of them wished to marry, and desired their father to find wives for them as soon as he could.

The old man was not a little troubled at these requests; he said, however, to his sons, “Very well, my sons, I have nothing to say against your marrying; there is, however, I foresee, one great difficulty in the way. There are one hundred of you asking for wives, and I hardly think we can find one hundred marriageable girls in all the fifteen villages which are in our neighbourhood.”

To this the sons, however, answered, “Don’t be anxious about that, but mount your horse and take in your sack sufficient engagement-cakes. You must take, also, a stick in your hand so that you can cut a notch in it for every girl you see. It does not signify whether she be handsome or ugly, or lame or blind, just cut a notch in your stick for every one you meet with.”

The old man said, “Very wisely spoken, my sons! I will do exactly as you tell me.”

Accordingly he mounted his horse, took a sack full of cakes on his shoulder and a long stick in his hand, and started off at once to beat up the neighbourhood for girls to marry his sons.

The old man had travelled from village to village during a whole month, and whenever he had seen a girl he cut a notch in his stick. But he was getting pretty well tired, and he began to count how many notches he had already made. When he had counted them carefully over and [330]over again, to be certain that he had counted all, he could only make out seventy-four, so that still twenty-six were wanting to complete the number required. He was, however, so weary with his month’s ride that he determined to return home. As he rode along, he saw a priest driving oxen yoked to a plough, and seemingly very deep in anxious thought about something. Now the old man wondered a little to see the priest ploughing his own corn-fields without even a boy to help him; he therefore shouted to ask him why he drove his oxen himself. The priest, however, did not even turn his head to see who called to him, so intent was he in urging on his oxen and in guiding his plough.

The old man thought he had not spoken loud enough, so he shouted out again as loud as he could, “Stop your oxen a little, and tell me why you are ploughing yourself without even a lad to help you, and this, too, on a holy-day!”

Now the priest—who was in a perspiration with his hard work—answered testily, “I conjure you by your old age leave me in peace! I cannot tell you my ill-luck.”

XIX. The Trade that No One Knows

A long while ago there lived a poor old couple, who had an only son. The old man and his wife worked very hard [341]to nourish their child well and bring him up properly, hoping that he, in return, would take care of them in their old age.

When, however, the boy had grown up, he said to his parents, “I am a man now, and I intend to marry, so I wish you to go at once to the king and ask him to give me his daughter for wife.” The astonished parents rebuked him, saying: “What can you be thinking of? We have only this poor hut to shelter us, and hardly bread enough to eat, and we dare not presume to go into the king’s presence, much less can we venture to ask for his daughter to be your wife.”

The son, however, insisted that they should do as he said, threatening that if they did not comply with his wishes he would leave them, and go away into the world. Seeing that he was really in earnest in what he said, the unhappy parents promised him they would go and ask for the king’s daughter. Then the old mother made a wedding cake in her son’s presence, and, when it was ready, she put it in a bag, took her staff in her hand, and went straight to the palace where the king lived. There the king’s servants bade her come in, and led her into the hall where his Majesty was accustomed to receive the poor people who came to ask alms or to present petitions.

The poor old woman stood in the hall, confused and ashamed at her worn-out, shabby clothes, and looking as if she were made of stone, until the king said to her kindly: “What do you want from me, old mother?”

She dared not, however, tell his Majesty why she had come, so she stammered out in her confusion: “Nothing, your Majesty.”

Then the king smiled a little and said, “Perhaps you come to ask alms?” [342]

Then the old woman, much abashed, replied: “Yes, your Majesty, if you please!”

Thereupon the king called his servants and ordered them to give the old woman ten crowns, which they did. Having received this money, she thanked his Majesty, and returned home, saying to herself: “I dare say when my son sees all this money he will not think any more of going away from us.”

In this thought, however, she was quite mistaken, for no sooner had she entered the hut than the son came to her and asked impatiently: “Well, mother, have you done as I asked you?”

At this she exclaimed: “Do give up, once for all, this silly fancy, my son. How could you expect me to ask the king for his daughter to be your wife? That would be a bold thing for a rich nobleman to do, how then can we think of such a thing? Anyhow, I dared not say one word to the king about it. But only look what a lot of money I have brought back. Now you can look for a wife suitable for you, and then you will forget the king’s daughter.”

When the young man heard his mother speak thus, he grew very angry, and said to her: “What do I want with the king’s money? I don’t want his money, but I do want his daughter! I see you are only playing with me, so I shall leave you. I will go away somewhere—anywhere—wherever my eyes lead me.”

Then the poor old parents prayed and begged him not to go away from them, and leave them alone in their old age; but they could only quiet him by promising faithfully that the mother should go again next day to the king, and this time really ask him to give his daughter to her son for a wife. [343]

In the morning, therefore, the old woman went again to the palace, and the servants showed her into the same hall she had been in before. The king, seeing her stand there, inquired: “What want you, my old woman, now?” She was, however, so ashamed that she could hardly stammer, “Nothing, please your Majesty.”

The king, supposing that she came again to beg, ordered his servants to give this time also ten crowns.

With this money the poor woman returned to her hut, where her son met her, asking: “Well, mother, this time I hope you have done what I asked you?” But she replied: “Now, my dear son, do leave the king’s daughter in peace. How can you really think of such a thing? Even if she would marry you, where is the house to bring her to? So be quiet, and take this money which I have brought you.”

At these words the son was more angry than before, and said sharply: “As I see you will not let me marry the king’s daughter, I will leave you this moment and never come back again;” and, rushing out of the hut, he ran away. His parents hurried after him, and at length prevailed on him to return, by swearing to him that his mother should go again to the king next morning, and really and in truth ask his Majesty this time for his daughter.

So the young man agreed to go back home and wait until the next day.

On the morrow the old woman, with a heavy heart, went to the palace, and was shown as before into the king’s presence. Seeing her there for the third time, his Majesty asked her impatiently: “What do you want this time, old woman?” And she, trembling all over, said: “Please your Majesty—nothing.” Then the king exclaimed: [344]“But it cannot be nothing. Something you must want, so tell me truth at once, if you value your life!” Thereupon the old woman was forced to tell all the story to the king; how her son had a great desire to marry the princess, and so had forced her to come and ask the king to give her him to wife.

When the king had heard everything, he said: “Well, after all, I shall say nothing against it if my daughter will consent to it.” He then told his servants to lead the princess into his presence. When she came he told her all about the affair, and asked her, “Are you willing to marry the son of this old woman?”

XX. The Golden-haired Twins

Once upon a time, a long, long while ago, there lived a young king who wished very much to marry, but could not decide where he had better look for a wife.

One evening as he was walking disguised through the streets of his capital, as it was his frequent custom to do, he stopped to listen near an open window where he heard three young girls chatting gaily together.

The girls were talking about a report which had been lately spread through the city, that the king intended soon to marry.

One of the girls exclaimed: “If the king would marry me I would give him a son who should be the greatest hero in the world.”

The second girl said: “And if I were to be his wife I [354]would present him with two sons at once—the twins with golden hair.”

And the third girl declared that were the king to marry her, she would give him a daughter so beautiful that there should not be her equal in the whole wide world!

The young king listened to all this, and for some time thought over their words, and tried to make up his mind which of the three girls he should choose for a wife. At last he decided that he would marry the one who had said she would bring him twins with golden hair.

Having once settled this in his own mind, he ordered that all preparations for his marriage should be made forthwith, and shortly after, when all was ready, he married the second girl of the three.

Several months after his marriage the young king, who was at war with one of the neighbouring princes, received tidings of the defeat of his army, and heard that his presence was immediately required in the camp. He accordingly left his capital and went to his army, leaving the young queen in his palace to the care of his stepmother.

Now the king’s stepmother hated her daughter-in-law very much indeed, so when the young queen was near her confinement, the old queen told her that it was always customary in the royal family for the heirs to the throne to be born in a garret.

The young queen (who knew nothing about the customs in royal families except what she had learnt from hearing or seeing since her marriage to the king) believed implicitly what her mother-in-law told her, although she thought it a great pity to leave her splendid apartments and go up into a miserable attic.

Now when the golden-haired twins were born, the old [355]queen contrived to steal them out of their cradle, and put in their place two ugly little dogs. She then caused the two beautiful golden-haired boys to be buried alive in an out-of-the-way spot in the palace gardens, and then sent word to the king that the young queen had given him two little dogs instead of the heirs he was hoping for. The wicked stepmother said in her letter to the king that she herself was not surprised at this, though she was very sorry for his disappointment. As to herself, she had a long time suspected the young queen of having too great a friendship for goblins and elves, and all kinds of evil spirits.

When the king received this letter, he fell into a frightful rage, because he had only married the young girl in order to have the golden-haired twins she had promised him as heirs to his throne.

So he sent word back to the old queen that his wife should be put at once into the dampest dungeon in the castle, an order which the wicked woman took good care to see carried out without delay. Accordingly the poor young queen was thrown into a miserably dark dungeon under the palace, and kept on bread and water.

St. Peter and the Sand

A townsman went one day to the country to hunt and came at noon to the house of a peasant whom he knew. The man asked him to share his dinner, and while they were eating, the townsman looked around him and noticed that there was but little arable land to be seen. There were rocks and stones in abundance, however. Surprised at this, the townsman exclaimed: “In the name of all that is good, my friend, how on earth can you good people of this village exist without arable land! and whence these heaps of rocks and stones?” “It is, indeed, a great misfortune!” answered the peasant. “People say that our ancestors heard from their fore-fathers that when our Lord walked on this earth, St. Peter accompanied Him carrying on his back a sack full of sand. Occasionally our Lord would take a grain of sand and throw it down to make a mountain, saying: ‘May this grain multiply!’ When they arrived here St. Peter’s sack burst and half of its contents poured out in our village.”

Why the Serbian People are Poor

The nations of the world met together one day on the middle of the earth to divide between themselves the good things in life. First they deliberated upon the methods of procedure. Some recommended a lottery, but the Christians, well knowing that they, as the cleverest, would be able to obtain the most desirable gifts, and not wishing to be at the mercy of fortune, suggested (and the idea was instantly adopted by all) that each should express [363]a wish for some good thing and it would be granted to him. The men of Italy were allowed to express their wish first, and they desired Wisdom. The Britons said: “We will take the sea.” The Turks: “And we will take fields.” The Russians: “We will take the forests and mines.” The French: “And we will have money and war.” “And what about you Serbians?” asked the nations, “What do you wish for?” “Wait till we make up our mind!” answered the Serbians; and they have not yet agreed upon their reply.

The Gipsies and the Nobleman

A very rich and powerful nobleman was one day driving through his vast estates. From afar four Tzigans1 noted that he was alone, and greedily coveting his fine carriage horses, determined to deprive him of them. As the carriage approached, they rushed on to the road, respectfully took off their hats, knelt before him, and one of them began to speak, saying: “O how happy we are to have an opportunity of manifesting to you, O most gracious lord, our deep gratitude for the noble deeds and many acts of kindness with which your late and generous father used to overwhelm us! As we have no valuable presents to offer you, allow us to harness ourselves to your carriage and draw you home.” The haughty nobleman, proud of his father’s good deeds, was pleased to assent to this unusual form of courtesy. Two gipsies thereupon detached the horses, harnessed themselves to the carriage and drew it for some distance. Suddenly, however, they cut themselves loose and ran back to the [364]two other rascals who by this time had got clear away with the horses.

Why the Priest was drowned

A few peasants and a priest were once crossing a river. Suddenly a tempest arose and overturned the boat. All were good swimmers except the poor priest, and when the peasants regained their boat and righted it, which they did very soon, they approached the struggling preacher and called to him to give them his hand that they might save him; but he hesitated and was drowned. The peasants went to impart the sad news to the priest’s widow who, hearing it, exclaimed: “What a pity! But had you offered him your hands, he would surely have accepted them, and thus his precious life would have been saved—for it was ever his custom to receive.”

The Era from the other World2

A Turk and his wife halted in the shadow of a tree. The Turk went to the river to water his horse, and his wife remained to await his return. Just then an Era passed by and saluted the Turkish woman: “Allah help you, noble lady.” “May God aid you,” she returned; “whence do you come?” “I come from the Other World, noble lady.” “As you have been in the Other World, have you not, perchance, seen there my son Mouyo, who died a few months ago?” “Oh, how could I help seeing him? He is my immediate neighbour.” “Happy me! How is he, then?” “He is well, may God be praised! But he could stand just a little more [365]tobacco and some more pocket-money to pay for black coffee.” “Are you going back again? And if so, would you be so kind as to deliver to him this purse with his parent’s greetings?” The Era took the money protesting that he would be only too glad to convey so pleasant a surprise to the youth, and hurried away. Soon the Turk came back, and his wife told him what had transpired. He perceived at once that she had been victimized and without stopping to reproach her, he mounted his horse and galloped after the Era, who, observing the pursuit, and guessing at once that the horseman was the husband of the credulous woman, made all the speed that he could. There was a mill near by and making for it, the Era rushed in and addressed the miller with: “For Goodness’ sake, brother, fly! There is a Turkish horseman coming with drawn sword; he will kill you. I heard him say so and have hurried to warn you in time.” The miller had no time to ask for particulars; he knew how cruel the Turks were, and without a word he dashed out of the mill and fled up the adjacent rocks.

Meantime the Era placed the miller’s hat upon his own head and sprinkled flour copiously over his clothes, that he might look like a miller. No sooner was this done than the Turk came up. Alighting from his horse, he rushed into the mill and hurriedly asked the Era where he had hidden the thief. The Era pointed indifferently to the flying miller on the rock, whereupon the Turk requested him to take care of his horse while he ran and caught the swindler. When the Turk was gone some distance up the hill our Era brushed his clothes, swiftly mounted the horse and galloped away. The Turk caught the real miller, and demanded: “Where is the money [366]you took from my wife, swindler?” The poor miller made the sign of the cross3 and said: “God forbid! I never saw your noble lady, still less did I take her money.”

After about half an hour of futile discussion, the Turk was convinced of the miller’s innocence, and returned to where he had left his horse. But lo! There was no sign of a horse! He walked sadly back to his wife, and she, seeing that her husband had no horse, asked in surprise: “Where did you go, and what became of your horse?” The Turk replied: “You sent money to our darling son; so I thought I had better send him the horse that he need not go on foot in the Other World!”

A Trade before Everything

Once upon a time a king set out in his luxurious pleasure-galley accompanied by his queen and a daughter. They had proceeded a very little way from the shore when a powerful wind drove the galley far out to sea, where at last it was dashed upon a barren rock. Fortunately there was a small boat upon the galley, and the king, being a good sailor, was able to launch this frail bark, and he rescued his wife and daughter from the waves. After long tossing and drifting, good fortune smiled upon the wanderers; they began to see birds and floating leaves, which indicated that they were approaching dry land. And, indeed, they soon came in sight of shore, and, as the sea was now calm, were able to land without further adventure. But, alas, the king knew no trade, and had no money upon his person. Consequently he was forced to offer his services as a shepherd to a rich landowner, who gave him a hut and a flock of sheep to tend. [367]In these idyllic and simple conditions they lived contentedly for several years, undisturbed by regrets for the magnificence of their past circumstances.

One day the only son of the ruler of that strange country lost his way while riding in the neighbourhood after a fox, and presently he beheld the beautiful daughter of our shepherd. No sooner did his eyes fall upon the maiden than he fell violently in love with her, and she was not unwilling to receive the protestations of undying affection which he poured into her ears. They met again and again, and the maiden consented to marry the prince, provided her parents would approve the match.

The prince first declared his wish to his own parents, who, of course, were greatly astonished at their son’s apparently foolish selection, and would not give their consent. But the prince protested solemnly that his resolution was unshakable; he would either marry the girl he loved or remain single all his days. Finally his royal father took pity on him, and sent his first adjutant to the shepherd secretly to ask the hand of his daughter for the prince.

The Condition

When the adjutant came and communicated the royal message, the shepherd asked him: “Is there any trade with which the royal prince is familiar?” The adjutant was amazed at such a question. “Lord forbid, foolish man!” he exclaimed, “how could you expect the heir-apparent to know a trade? People learn trades in order to earn their daily bread; princes possess lands and cities, and so do not need to work.”

But the shepherd persisted, saying: “If the prince knows no trade, he cannot become my son-in-law.”

The royal courier returned to the palace and reported to [368]the king his conversation with the shepherd, and great was the astonishment throughout the palace when the news became known, for all expected that the shepherd would be highly flattered that the king had chosen his daughter’s hand for the prince in preference to the many royal and imperial princesses who would have been willing to marry him for the asking.

The king sent again to the shepherd, but the man remained firm in his resolution. “As long as the prince,” said he, “does not know any trade, I shall not grant him the hand of my daughter.”

When this second official brought back to the palace the same answer, the king informed his son of the shepherd’s condition, and the royal prince resolved to put himself in the way of complying with it.

His first step was to go through the city from door to door in order to select some simple and easy trade. As he walked through the streets he beheld various craftsmen at their work, but he did not stay until he came to the workshop of a carpet-maker, and this trade appeared to him both easy and lucrative. He therefore offered his services to the master, who gladly undertook to teach him the trade. In due time the prince obtained a certificate of efficiency, and he went to the shepherd and showed it to him, together with samples of his hand work. The shepherd examined these and asked the prince: “How much could you get for this carpet?” The prince replied: “If it is made of grass, I could sell it for threepence.” “Why, that is a splendid trade,” answered the shepherd, “threepence to-day and another threepence to-morrow would make sixpence, and in two other days you would have earned a shilling! If I only had known this trade a few years ago I would not have been a shepherd.” [369]Thereupon he related to the prince and his suite the story of his past life, and what ill fate had befallen him, to the greatest surprise of all. You may be sure that the prince rejoiced to learn that his beloved was highly born, and the worthy mate of a king’s son. As for his father, he was especially glad that his son had fallen in love, not with the daughter of a simple shepherd, but with a royal princess.

The marriage was now celebrated with great magnificence, and when the festivities came to an end, the king gave the shepherd a fine ship, together with a powerful escort, that he might go back to his country and reassume possession of his royal throne. [371]

A

Adrianople. Equivalent, Yedrenet, 123

Adriatic. Ivan Tzrnoyevitch sails across, to Venice, 134, 142

Adriatic Coast. The Latins, Illyrians, Thracians, Greeks, and Albanians driven by the Serbians toward the, 1

Africa-n, West. A Serbian folk-tale dealing with Animals’ Language; similarity of, to a story native to the negroes of, 230

Ages, Middle. Banovitch Strahinya, one of the finest and most famous ballads composed by Serbian bards of the, 119

Agram (Zagreb). Croatians establish an episcopate at, in eleventh century, 14

Albania. Subdued by Doushan the Powerful, 5;
George Kastriotovitch-Skander-Beg fights for liberty of, 8;
Skadar the capital of Northern, 119

Albanian-s, The. Driven by Serbians toward the Adriatic coast, 1;
spirits of the wood dreaded by, 19;
Arbanass an appellation for, 108

Alexander. Unworthy son of Milan; ascends throne of Serbia, 11;
marries his former mistress, Draga Mashin, but is murdered, 11

Amouradh. A Turkish Grand Vizir; Prince Marko and, 105–108 [372]

Amourath, Sultan (Mourat, corrupted form).
Defeats Knez Lazar on field of Kossovo, 7;
Vlah-Ali independent of, 121;
slain by Serbian hero, Voïvode Milosh, 173

Anecdotes.
Some Serbian popular, 362–369;
“St. Peter and the Sand,” 362;
“Why the Serbian People are Poor,” 362;
“The Gipsies and the Nobleman,” 363;
“Why the Priest was Drowned,” 364;
“The Era from the other World,” 364;
“A Trade before Everything,” 366

Animals.
The king makes war on the;
described in the Serbian folk-tale “Animals as Friends and Enemies,” 313–316

“Animals as Friends and Enemies.”
A Serbian folk-tale, 305–316

Animals’ Council, The.
Described in the Serbian folk-tale “Animals as Friends and Enemies,” 308, 309

Animals, King of The.
Hero in a Serbian folk-tale, 230

Animals’ Language.
A Serbian folk-tale dealing with, 230–235

Anjou, Charles of.
Prince Ourosh maintains friendly relations with French Court of, 119

Antivari.
Ivan Tzrnoyevitch invites all heroes in the province of, to his son’s wedding, 139

Apostles.
The Greek priests and monks prepare the ground for the great Slav, 29;
Cyrillos and Methodius, the two Slav, 29

Apple.
The, a symbolic gift, which a Serbian wooer offers to the maiden of his choice, 245

“Apple-tree, The Golden.”
A Serbian folk-tale, 267–280

Arbanass.
Appellation for Albanian, 108

Archangel Michael.
Death and, 31;
Kolyivo not prepared for, 41

Athos, Mount.
Vasso, the abbot of, finds Marko’s dead body, 118

Austria.
War between Serbia and Bulgaria instigated by, 11

Avala.
A mountain by Belgrade, 177

Azov, Sea of.
Serbians lived to the north-east of, 1

B

“Badgnak.”
The oak tree used at Christmas by the Serbians, 47

“Badgni Dan.”
Serbian equivalent for Christmas Eve, 46

Bajazet.
Son of Sultan Amourath, 7

Balcius.
Latinized form of Baux, in early records, 119;
name changed at the Court at Naples into Balza, 119

Balkan Peninsula.
Incursion of the Serbians into, 1

Balkan Territories.
Kingdoms embraced in, 1

Balkan War.
Mrs. C. H. Farnam’s devotion to the wounded during the, 57, 58;
reference to the feats of arms performed by the Serbians during the, 175

Balkans.
Hero tales of the, express the ideals which have inspired the Serbian race, 12;
explanation of the decay of the ancient aristocracy throughout the, 14

“Balkans, the Empress of the.”
Drama by King Nicholas I Petrovitch of Montenegro, 134

Ballad-s.
Serbian bards improvise, to record deeds of King Nicholas I Petrovitch of Montenegro, 120;
“The Marriage of Maximus Tzrnoyevitch,” the finest and most famous Serbian, 134;
usual ending to ballads by Serbian and Montenegrin bards, 184;
historical note on that of “King Voukashin’s Marriage,” 193, 194;
observation regarding motif of “The Captivity and Marriage of Stephan Kakshitch,” 194;
“The Saints Divide the Treasures,” 195–197;
three Serbian—(1) “The Building of “Skadar” (Scutari), etc., 198; (2) “The Stepsisters,” 206; and (3) “The Abduction of the Beautiful Iconia,” 210 [373]

Balshitch.
Nicholas I Petrovitch, King of Montenegro, and an indirect descendant out of, 120

Balza.
Italianized form of Balcius (Baux), 119

Ban.
The original title of the rulers of Bosnia, 6

Banat.
One of the Serbian provinces in Austria-Hungary

Banovitch Strahinya.
The ballad relating to, one of the finest composed by anonymous bards of Middle Ages, 119;
historical data, 119, 120;
some Serbian historians believe identical with the glorious Strashimir Balshitch-Nemanyitch, 119;
eulogized as “a falcon without equal,” 120;
Dyogo the faithful steed of, 120;
Caraman the faithful greyhound of, 120;
visits Youg Bogdan, 120–121

Banyska (Lord of Little).
Title by which a dervish hails Banovitch Strahinya, 122

Bards.
(1) Serbian. Attention now turned to the exploits of modern heroes at Monastir, Koumanovo, Perlep (Prilip), Scutari (Skadar), etc., 176; usual ending to ballads of, 184; word ‘book’ invariably used by those of fourteenth century when speaking of a letter, 186.
(2) Montenegrin. Stereotyped ending to ballads of, 184

Bash Tchelik (Real Steel).
A Serbian folk-tale, 247–267;
his promise of three lives to the Prince, and his abduction of his deliverer’s wife, 258–267

Basil I, Emperor.
The second conversion of Southern Slavs to Christianity was effected by, 28

Batchka.
One of the Serbian provinces in Austria-Hungary

Baux, Des.
Strashimir Balshitch-Nemanyitch a descendant of the old Provençal family of, 119;
in early records the name is latinized Balcius, 119;
supposition that the Italianized Seigneurs des Baux, who married into royal house of Nemanyitch and who settled in Serbian lands, further changed their patronymic to Balsha or Balshitch, 119

Baux, Hughes de.
A French knight; reference to, 33

Bazar, Relya of.
A Serbian knight;
Bogdan the Bully and, 87–89

Beardless.
A name used as the personification of craftiness and sharpness, applied to man in Serbian folk-tale “Lying for a Wager,” 283

Beata Maria.
St. Elias inquires the reason of her great grief, 195;
St. Elias comforts, 196

Bedevia.
The Moorish chieftain’s mare, 79;
Sharatz and, 79, 80, 81;
Bogdan the Bully’s mare, 87;
name of mare given by Ivan Tzrnoyevitch to Milosh Obrenbegovitch, 141;
Voïvode Balatchko’s mare, 168

Belgrade.
Reference to the triumphal return of the Serbian army to, at the conclusion of the Balkan campaigns, 1912–13, 176;
a veela warns Stephan and Demitrius Yakshitch of the intention of the Turks to assail, 177;
Stephan Yakshitch and Haykoona escape to, 183

Beliefs.
Superstitions of Serbians, and national customs, 13–53

Berlin.
Famous Treaty of, acknowledged the independence of Serbia during rule of Milan, 10, 11;
mention of a Veele ring in Treaty of, 17

Bertrandon de la Broquière, Chevalier.
Told in 1433 that Trajanople had been built by the Emperor Trajan, 27

Bind.
Illyrian god;
a reminder of, in the tradition regarding Prince Ivan Tzrnoyevitch, 25

“Bird Maiden, The.”
A Serbian folk-tale, 280–283

“Biter Bit, The.”
A Serbian folk-tale, 328–340;
the hundred daughters in, 330;
the wedding procession, 333;
the Black Giant in, 334;
the old woman meets the old man in a forest by the river Luckless, 336;
the Black Giant buys the cow, 339 [374]

Blind.
In Serbian Hungary there are schools for, in which national ballads are taught, 55, 56

“Bochtchaluks.”
Serbian equivalent for wedding presents, 32

Bodin, King.
Son of Michaylo;
obtains title from Pope Gregory VII, 3;
restores the Serbia of Tchaslav, and adds Bosnia to his State, 3

Bogdan the Bully.
Marko and, 87–89

Bogdan, Youg.
Aged father-in-law of Banovitch, 120, 121;
castle in Kroushevatz the residence of, 120;
one of his sons-in-law a direct descendant of King Nemanya, 120;
Strahinya returns to, after his slaying of Vlah-Ali, 128

Bogoumils.
Protestants of the Greek Orthodox Church who settled in Bosnia, 4

“Bojitch.”
Equivalent, “the little God.” The Christmas Day church service, 49

Boshko Yougovitch.
One of Tsarina Militza’s nine brothers, 170;
refuses to remain with her while Tsar Lazarus departs to battlefield of Kossovo, 171

Boshnyaks.
Serbians inhabiting Bosnia;
considered to be the most typical Serbians, 13

Bosnia.
King Bodin adds to his State, 3;
Ban Koulin placed on the throne of, 4;
Stevan Tomashevitch king of, 8;
subjugation of, complete by 1463, 8;
the Padishah offers to make Stephan Yakshitch Grand Vizier of, if he will renounce the Holy Cross, 179

Bosnia and Herzegovina.
One of the kingdoms in the Balkan territories, 1;
Serbian calamity on Kossovo due mainly to the disobedience of the Serbian lords who ruled over, 175

Bowring, Sir John.
Quotations of three poems from his Servian Popular Poetry, 198–212

Boyana.
River on which Skadar’s fortress stands, 186, 198

Brankovitch, Dyourady.
Nephew of Vook Brankovitch, 7;
reference to death of, 8

Brankovitch, Vook (Wolf).
The treachery of, against Knez Lazar, 7;
his death, 7;
Tsarina Militza and death of, 173;
responsibility for great calamity to the Serbian army on Kossovo assigned by bards to, 174

Bregalnitza.
Reference to, as a set-off to Slivnitza, 176

Bregovo.
Town of;
Marko and Milosh at, 105

Bride.
The custom with the Serbians for one of her brothers to present the bride to her wooer, 248

Bulgaria.
A province of Serbia under Stevan Detchanski, 5;
war against, by Serbia, 11;
Shishman king of, 94

Bulgars.
Serbians an easy prey to attacks of, 2

Bully, The.
Alternative for Bogdan, 87–89;
Albanian equivalent, Kessedjiya, 108;
his death on the top of Katchanik mountain, 114

Byzantines.
Serbians an easy prey to attack of, 2;
Christianity deeply rooted in the, 14;
Peroon, the Russian God of Thunder, concluded with the, 15

Byzantine Empire.
Incorporates Bulgaria and overpowers Rashka, 3;
Doushan the Powerful subdues almost the whole of the, 5;
Prince Ourosh endeavours to negotiate an alliance between Serbs and French for overthrow of, 119

C

Caraman.
The greyhound of Banovitch, 120, 121;
assists Banovitch against Vlah-Ali, 127

Carpet, The Magic.
Described in the Serbian folk-tale “Animals as Friends and Enemies,” 309–313

Charles of Anjou.
Prince Ourosh through his wife Helen, a French princess, maintains friendly relations with French Court of, 119 [375]

Christ.
Teachings of; translated into Serb language by Cyrillos and Methodius, 2

Christianity.
Conversion of pagan Serbian tribes to, 1;
Paganism and, of Southern-Slavonic races, 14–53;
as early as the eleventh century a number of Croatians converted to, 14;
the new, sapped in Russia by the Enchanters, 24;
indicated by the Cross, 26;
the spread of, 28–32;
Moravians converted to, 29;
superstition stronger in the Balkans than, 30

Christians.
Reference to campaigns between Turks and the, 6;
miseries of, under Turkish rule, 8, 9;
evil spirits and, 19;
Prince Maximus and Yovan Obrenbegovitch to be used in service against, 149;
historical note re the cunning efforts of Ottoman statesmen to seduce malcontents from their allegiance to their rightful lords, 184, 185

Christmas.
Serbian customs at, 46–51

Church.
The Greek Christian, to which all Serbians, including the natives of Montenegro, Macedonia, etc., belong, 30;
reference to the, in the Serbian ballad “The Saints Divide the Treasures,” 197

Cinderella.
See Pepelyouga and Marra, 226–229

Cock, The.
Retort of, regarding the man who had been granted the gift of animals’ language, 235

Constantinople.
Vanquished by crusaders, 4;
dead bodies burnt during siege of, 25;
Cyrillos a professor of philosophy in University of the Imperial Palace of, 29;
Turkish alternative Istamboul, 72

Courtenay, House de.
Helen, wife of Ourosh, a French princess of the, 119

Cow.
The Black Giant buys the; described in the Serbian folk-tale “The Biter Bit,” 339

Croatia.
One of the provinces in Austria-Hungary, 1

Croatians.
A number of, converted to Christianity as early as the eleventh century, 14

Cross, The.
Indicates the presence of Christianity, 26;
the Slava and the sign of, 42, 44;
Christmas customs and the sign of, 47, 48;
Boshko Yougovitch’s devotion to, 171;
Stephan Yakshitch’s devotion to, 179;
St. John chooses, 196;
Christians of the Balkans and the sign of, before and after every meal, 237;
the Serbians when greatly surprised at anything, involuntarily make the sign of, 366

Curse of Christendom.
Marko takes steps to avoid the, 117

Customs, National.
The chief of the Serbians, 31–53;
marriage, 32–40;
Slava (or Krsno Ime), 40–49

Customs, Serbian.
Superstitious beliefs and, 13–53;
a brother to present a bride to her wooer, 248

Cyrillos.
Methodius and, the so-called Slavonic apostles who translated the teaching of Christ into the ancient Slav language, 2, 29

D

Daedalus.
Confused in Serbian legends with Emperor Trajan, 27

Dalmatians.
Sea-going men who pray only to St. Nicholas, 51

Dance Rings (Vrzino kollo).
The Veele and their, 17;
one on Mount Kom in Montenegro called Vilino Kollo, 17

Danitza. The morning star;
its appearance puts Zmay of Yastrebatz to flight, 130;
reference to, in “The Captivity and Marriage of Stephan Yakshitch,” 177

Danube.
Allusion to Sharatz’s swim across the, 91;
Marko drowns part of Voutcha’s army in, 92

Daughters.
The hundred, in the Serbian folk-tale “The Biter Bit,” 330 [376]

Daybog (The Sun God).
Russian equivalent, Daszbog—literally “Give, O God!” 16;
to the Serbians the personification of sunshine, life and prosperity, 16;
remains of idols representing, among Southern-Slavonic nations, 16;
Christmas festivities and, 49

Dead.
Festival in honour of, during Lent, 52

Death.
The Archangel Michael and, 31

“Deeds, Good, Never Perish.”
The Serbian folk-tale, 291–299

Dessimir.
King Vukashin’s trusty servant, 199

“Dever.”
The leader of the Serbian bride, 35

Devil-s (dyavo).
Considered as pagan gods, 19

Diascevastes.
The learned, of Pisistrate’s epoch, 54

Diocletian, Emperor.
References in Southern-Slavonic legends to, 27

“Divan.”
Means, in Serbian, any State gathering. As used in the Serbian ballad “The Saints Divide the Treasures” it means the Supreme Judgment, 195

Djelat (executioner).
Stephan Yakshitch threatened with the, 180

Dobrivoy.
Servant of Theodore of Stalatch, 211

“Doda or Dodola.”
The rite connected with the favourite goddess of Rain, 51, 52

Don, The River.
Serbians lived on banks of, 1

Dourmitor.
The mountain, 186

Doushan the Powerful (Mighty).
Dethrones his father Stevan Detchanski, 5;
vampires and the Code of, 21, 22, 24;
Voukashin’s bad faith toward, 61;
attended by Archdeacon Nedelyko till death, 66;
the marriage of, 150–169;
sends Theodor, Councillor of State, to King Michael of Ledyen, 150;
sues for the hand of Princess Roksanda, 150, 151;
the two Voïnovitchs, Voukashin and Petrashin, nephews of, 151;
Milosh-the-Shepherd joins the wedding procession of, 153, 154;
the four tests undertaken by Milosh-the-Shepherd on behalf of, in order to win the Princess Roksanda, 160–166;
reference to the wresting of the Empire from the Turk by the Serb, until it is in extent almost equivalent to Empire under, 176

Dragomir.
Djoupan of Trebinye, father of Stephen Voïslav, 3

Dragoutin. Son of Ourosh the Great;
deposes his father and becomes king of Serbia, 4;
retires in favour of his brother Miloutin, 4;
assumes title of King of Sirmia, 5;
yields his throne to Miloutin, 5

“Dream of the King’s Son, The.”
A Serbian folk-tale, 322–328

Ducadyin, Plain of.
Given as fief to Mehmed-Bey Obrenbegovitch, 149

Dulzigno.
Ivan Tzrnoyevitch invites all heroes in province of, to his son’s wedding, 134, 139

Dyakovitza.
Voutché of, admires Koulash the steed of Milosh-the-Shepherd, 157

“Dyavo.”
See Devils.

Dyogo.
Faithful steed of Banovitch, 120, 121, 122;
enables Banovitch to escape Vlah-Ali’s spear, 126

E

Earth.
The Saints divide the treasures of, 195–197

Elias, St. (Elijah).
Serbian peasants believe that the god Peroon still lives in person of, 15;
Kolyivo not prepared for, 41;
mention of, in Serbian ballad “The Saints Divide the Treasures,” 195, 196;
lightning and thunder chosen by, 196

Enchanters (tcharobnitzi).
Celebrants of the various pagan rites, 24

Enemies.
“Animals as Friends and,” a Serbian folk-tale, 305–316

Era.
The name given to the peasants of the district of [377]Ouzitze (Western Serbia);
they are supposed to be very witty and shrewd, and might be called the Irishmen of Serbia, 364;
“The Era from the Other World,” a Serbian popular anecdote, 364–366

Europe.
The Turk almost driven from, during the golden rule of King Peter I, 11

F

Falcon, The.
Banovitch eulogized as, “without equal,” 120

Farnam, Mrs. C. H.
Her interest in Vouk’s book of Serbian national poems, 57, 58

Feast.
The Slava, 45, 46

Folk-Lore.
Tales of Serbian, 213–328;
“The Ram with the Golden Fleece,” 213–220;
“A Pavilion neither in the Sky nor on the Earth,” 220–224;
“Pepelyouga,” 224–230;
“Animals’ Language,” 230–235;
“The Stepmother and her Stepdaughter,” 235–240;
“Justice and Injustice,” 240–243;
“He who asks Little receives Much,” 243–247;
“Bash Tchelik” (Real Steel), 247–267;
“The Golden Apple-tree and the Nine Pea-hens,” 267–280;
“The Bird Maiden,” 280–283;
“Lying for a Wager,” 283–287;
“The Maiden Wiser than the Tsar,” 287–291;
“Good Deeds never Perish,” 291–299;
“He whom God helps no one can harm,” 300–305, etc.;
“Animals as Friends and Enemies,” 305–316;
“The Three Suitors,” 316–322;
“The Dream of the King’s Son,” 322–328;
“The Biter Bit,” 328–340;
“The Trade that no one Knows,” 340–353;
“The Golden-haired Twins,” 353–361

Francs.
Serbians an easy prey to attacks of, 2

French. Princess;
Helen wife of Ourosh a, 119;
Court of Charles of Anjou and Prince Ourosh, 119;
Ourosh negotiates an alliance between Serbs and the, 119

Friends.
“Animals as Enemies and,” a Serbian folk-tale, 305–316

Funeral Customs.
Description of, among Slavs, Serbians, etc., 25–27

G

Galicia.
Serbians lived as a patriarchal people in country now known as, 1

George’s Day, St.
Serbian equivalent, Dyourdyev Dan. Strange sorceries practised on, 53

Giants.
Serbian equivalent, Djins: Turkish equivalent, Div.
Those in Bulgarian, Croatian, etc., mythology, we owe to the cycle of mediæval myths, 27;
the nine, in the Serbian folk-tale “Bash Tchelik,” 247, 252, 253, 254, 255;
the Black, in the Serbian folk-tale “The Biter Bit,” 328;
the, in the Serbian folk-tale “The Trade that no one Knows,” 345

Gipsies.
Serbian equivalent, Tzigans, 363;
“The Nobleman and the,” a Serbian popular anecdote, 363;
stealing and selling horses their main occupation, 363

God.
The Veele believed in, and St. John, 17;
Keys of the Heavens given to the Saints by, 196;
the wrath of, 197;
“He whom God helps no one can harm,” a Serbian folk-tale, 300–305, etc.

God-s.
Peroon, the God of Thunder, 15;
Volos, the God of Cattle, 15;
Daybog, the Sun god, 15, 16

Goethe.
One of Vouk’s national ballads was translated by, 55

Goletch.
The mountain of, the dervish declares he would recognize Banovitch Strahinya even on top of, 122;
Banovitch rides to Mount, 124

Goïko.
Youngest of three brothers who built Skadar (Scutari), 198;
his young wife immured in the foundation of Skadar, 198–205 [378]

Golouban.
Tsar Lazarus’ servant who succours Tsarina Militza, 172

“Good Deeds Never Perish.”
A Serbian folk-tale, 291–299

Gooslar.
A Serbian national bard, 50, 63

“Gorsky Viyenatz” (The Mountain Wreath).
The masterpiece of the Serbian poet Peter Petrovitch, 56;
mention of the goussle in, 56

Gospel.
The Slavonic translation of, applies name tcharobnitzi to the three Holy Kings, 24;
Cyrillos translates the, 29

“Goussle.”
A primitive instrument with a single string, found in every Serbian home, 56;
used during Balkans-Turkish War, 1912–13, in reciting poems relating to Marko, 63

Goyko, Voïvode.
Inheritance of the Empire disputed by, 65–71

Great Powers, The.
King Nicholas I Petrovitch of Montenegro obliged to evacuate Skadar by, 120

Greeks, The. Driven by the Serbians toward the Adriatic coast, 1

Greek Nymphs.
The Veele compared with, 17

Gregory VII, Pope.
Bestows title of King upon Michaylo, 3

Guns.
Krgno and Zelenko, Ivan Tzrnoyevitch’s two famous, 140

H

“Hadjis.”
Turkish equivalent for pilgrims, 108

“Haïdooks.” Knight-brigands;
exploits of, sung by professional bards, 55

Haykoona.
Daughter of the vizier of Novi Bazar, 180;
Stephan Yakshitch declines the ‘water of oblivion’ offered by, 181, 182;
confesses her real love for Stephan Yakshitch and enables him to escape, 182, 183

Heaven-s.
The Saints divide the treasures of, 195–197;
the keys of, given by God to the Saints, 196;
the Saints lock the Seven, 197

Helen.
A French princess of the house of Courtenay, wife of Prince Ourosh, 119

Helen, Queen. Serbian alternative, Yevrossima (Euphrosyne);
mother of the Royal Prince Marko, 59

Heraclius, Emperor.
Cedes provinces to the Serbians, 1;
Serbians first adopt Christian faith during reign of, 28

Heroes.
Attention of Serbian bards now turned to exploits of modern, at Monastir, Koumanovo, Perlep (Prilip), Scutari (Skadar), etc., 176

Herzegovina.
Subjugation complete by 1482, 8;
King Voukashin dispatches book (letter) to, 186

Historical Note.
On “Tsar Lazarus and the Tsarina Militza,” 174–176;
On “The Captivity and Marriage of Stephan Yakshitch,” 184, 185;
on “The Marriage of King Voukashin,” 193, 194

Historical Retrospect.
Of the Serbians, 1–12

“Hodjas.”
Turkish equivalent for priest, 108, 179

Homer.
Reference to, 54

Hoossein.
The trusty servant of the vizier of Novi Bazar, 180

Horea Margi.
Capital of the state which the Serbians failed to form in ninth century, 2

Horse-s.
Sharatz, Prince Marko’s wonderful, 17, 57, 61–65, 68, 69, 76;
Koulash, the steed of Prince Voïnovitch, 154, 155, 157–159;
Bedevia, name of the Moorish chieftain’s, 79–81;
Dyogo, the name of the faithful steed of Banovitch, 120, 121, 122, 126;
Bedevia, name of Milosh Obrenbegovitch’s, 141;
Zdral, name of Ivan Tzrnoyevitch’s steed, 135, 140, 142;
Bedevia, name of Voïvode Balatchko’s, 168;
the old woman and her, in the Serbian folk-tale “The Golden Apple-tree and the Nine Pea-hens,” 276–280;
the golden, in the [379]Serbian folk-tale “The Dream of the King’s Son,” 325–328

Human Sacrifices.
Legends regarding, among Russians, Slavs, Serbians, etc., 25

Hungary.
Thousands of Serbian families emigrate to, through tyrannous Turkish rule, 8

Huntsmen.
Prince Marko and the Turkish, 105–108

I

“Ich, Itch, or Ic.”
The characteristic termination of most Serbian family names, 119

Iconia. Daughter of Prince Miloutin;
Theodore of Stalatch abducts, 210–212;
betrothed to George Irene, for Sredoi, 211

“Iconia, the Abduction of the Beautiful.”
A Serbian national ballad from Sir John Bowring’s Servian Popular Poetry, 210–212

Iliad.
Reference to, 54

Illyrians, The.
Driven by Serbians toward Adriatic coast, 1

Immortality.
Serbians believe in Predestination and, 18

India.
Beata Maria relates to St. Elias her recent arrival from, 195.

Irene, George.
Iconia betrothed to, for Sredoi, 211

Irishmen. Of Serbia;
the peasants of the district of Ouzitze (Western Serbia) might be termed the, 364

Islam.
Remnant of Serbians under Turkish rule forced to embrace, 8;
Maximus Tzrnoyevitch threatens to embrace, 149;
Stephan Yakshitch declines to embrace faith of, 181, 182

Issaya.
The deacon of Abbot Vasso, 118

Istamboul.
Turkish equivalent for Constantinople, 72;
Moorish chieftain demands daughter of Sultan at, 72–81;
Moussa Kessedjiya at, 108;
Prince Maximus threatens to go to, in order to embrace Islam, 149

Istria.
One of the provinces in Austria-Hungary, 1

Ivanbegovitch, Scander-Beg.
Turkish alternative for Prince Maximus Tzrnoyevitch, 149

Ivan Kosantchitch. See Kosantchitch.

Ivan Tzrnoyevitch (see Tzrnoyevitch).
Tradition regarding the river of Tzrnoyevitch and, 24, 25

J

Jhesu, Lord.
Stephan Yakshitch prefers to lose his life for the sake of, rather than become a Turk, 180;
Stephan Yakshitch plights his troth to Haykoona in the name of, 183

John, St.
The Veele believed in, 17;
the princess appeals to Prince Marko in name of, 75, 76;
the veela Raviyoyla appeals to Marko by memory of, 104;
mention of, in Serbian ballad “The Saints Divide the Treasures,” 195;
brotherhood and koomhood as well as the Holy Cross, chosen by, 196

“Justice and Injustice.”
A Serbian folk-tale, 240–243

K

Kadi.
Equivalent, Ottoman judge, 179

“Kami” (or bileg).
Term applied in Middle Ages to gravestones still found in large numbers in Herzegovina, Dalmatia, etc., now known as stetyak or mramor, 26, 27

Karadgitch, Vouk Stephanovitch. See Vouk Stephanovitch Karadgitch

Karageorgevitch, Alexander.
Son of Karageorge Petrovitch, 10

Karavallahian Land.
Milosh-the-Shepherd instructed to declare that he hails from the, 155

Kastriotovitch-Skander-Beg, George.
An Albanian chief who fought successfully for the liberty of Albania, 8 [380]

Katchanik.
A defile up which Prince Marko rides to meet Moussa, 112;
Moussa the Bully’s death on mountain of, 114

“Kessedjiya.”
Equivalent, fighter or bully. The nickname of an Albanian chevalier-brigand, Moussa, who rebelled against the Sultan, 108

Keys.
The, of the Heavenly Empire, chosen by St. Peter, 196;
the Keys of the Heavens given by God to the Saints, 196

Keystut. Brother of the Grand Duke Olgerd;
his interment the last recorded instance of a pagan burial, 26

Klissoura.
The wedding procession of Tsar Doushan reaches, 157;
the fight for Koulash at, 158, 159

Knez.
The title corresponding to “Prince,” 6

“Kolatch.”
A special cake eaten on Saints’ days, 41

“Kollo.”
The Serbian national dances, 40, 52

Kollo, Vrzino.
Name applied to the Veele rings, 17

“Kolyivo.” Lit. something which has been killed with the knife;
the Slava cake, 41

“Koom.”
The principal witness at Serbian weddings, 35;
Beata Maria complains of a brother koom bearing false witness against, 196

Koopinovo.
A village on plain of Sirmia, in which Zmay-Despot Vook lived, 130

Kosantchitch, Ivan.
General Voutcha and, 89–94

Kossovo.
Vouk’s national poems dwell on the glory of the Serbian mediæval Empire, lost on fatal field of, 55;
four tabors meet on field of, disputing over the inheritance of the Empire, 65;
the Sultana’s dream concerning, 74;
Marko and the maiden from, 82–86;
Marko, Relya, and Milosh ride out from, 87;
Banovitch hears of encampment of hordes of Turks on field of, 120;
Banovitch seeks and attacks the Turks on field of, 120–128;
Tsar Doushan’s wedding procession rides through field of, 152;
Milosh takes farewell of Tsar Doushan in middle of plain of, 168;
Tsar Lazarus does battle on field of, 170–172;
death of Tsar Lazarus on field of, 172–174;
historical note on battle of, 174–176;
historical note re Ottoman influence upon the peasantry in Bosnia and Herzegovina at the time (1389) of the battle of, 184, 185

Koulash.
Steed of Petroshin Voïnovitch, ridden by Milosh-the-Shepherd to join wedding procession of Tsar Doushan, 154, 155;
the wonderful leap of, admired by Voutché of Dyakovitza, Yanko of Nestopolyé and others, 156, 157;
the fight for, at Klissoura, 157, 158, 159

Koulin, Ban.
Placed on throne of Bosnia, 4

Koumanovo.
Famous battlefield on which in 1913 more Turks perished than did Serbians five centuries ago, 175;
reference to, as a set-off to Kossovo, 176

“Kraly.”
Serbian equivalent for king, 198

“Krgno” and “Zelenko.”
Ivan Tzrnoyevitch’s two famous guns, 140

Kroushevatz.
I. Castle in, the residence of Youg Bogdan, 120;
II. Castle in, the residence of Tsar Lazar, 129; Tsar Lazar beseeches Zmay-Despot Vook to come to, 131;
III. The capital of the vast Serbian Empire during the reign of Tsar Hrebélianovitch at time of famous battle of Kossovo (A.D. 1389), 171; Bosko Yougovitch declares he would not forgo battle of Kossovo for the price of, 171

Kroushevo.
A plain, over which Zmay of Yastrebatz flies toward the Tsarina’s tower, 130;
Zmay-Despot Vook reaches, 131

Kustandil.
Veele ring between Vranya and, mentioned in the Treaty of Berlin, 17 [381]

L

Lale.
The popular appellation of Serbians living in Batchka and Banat, 156

Language, Animals’.
A Serbian folk-tale dealing with, 230–235

Latins, The.
Driven by Serbians toward Adriatic coast, 1

Lazar, Knez.
Elected ruler of Serbia, 6;
makes an alliance with Ban Tvrtko against the Turks, 6, 7;
slain by Sultan Amourath, 7

Lazar, Tsar.
The Tsarina Militza confesses to the embraces of her magic lover, the Zmay of Yastrebatz, 129–133;
Zmay-Despot Vook in the wheatfields of, 131

Lazarus.
I. Of Bethany. Poems recited on the resurrection of, 52.
II. Tsar. The Tsarina Militza and, 170–176; his departure to the battlefield of Kossovo, 170–172; his glorious death, 173, 174; historical note regarding, 174–176; reference to Empire lost by, regained under King Peter I, 176

Ledyen.
Tsar Doushan sends Theodor to King Michael of, 150;
Milosh-the-Shepherd pursues champion of the Venetian king to gates of, 162;
Milosh rides to perform the second test in the meadow of, 163;
Voïvode Balatchko ordered to fight Milosh by the king of, 167

Legends.
Influence on Southern-Slavonic peoples, of Græco-Oriental and Christian myths and, 14;
influence from Greeks and Romans on Southern-Slavonic, 27–30

Love.
Lado, oy, Lado-deh, refrain which is probably the name of the ancient Slavonic Deity of Love, 52

Love.
The, of sister for her brother is proverbial in Serbia, 170

Luckless, The River.
Mention of, in the Serbian folk-tale “The Biter Bit,” 336

“Lying for a Wager.”
A Serbian folk-tale, 283–287

M

Macedonia.
One of the provinces in the Balkan territories, 1

Magyar-s.
Prince Marko and, 92–94

“Maiden, The Bird-.”
A Serbian folk-tale, 280–283

“Maiden Wiser than the Tsar, The.”
A Serbian folk-tale, 287–291

Marko, Krazyevitch.
Pro-claimed himself King of the Serbians;
eldest son of King Voukashin, 6, 59;
aids Turks against the Christians, 6;
killed in battle of Rovina, 6;
endowed with superhuman strength, and presented with a wonderful courser, Sharatz, by a veela, 17;
his guests on his Slava day, 45;
the goussle and exploits of, 57;
Queen Helen mother of, 59;
traditional son of a veela and a Zmay, 59;
the most beloved of Serbian heroes, 59, 60;
virtues of, 59;
tradition extols him as faithful defender of Prince Ourosh, 61;
Serbian belief that he will reappear to reestablish the mediæval Empire, 64;
his supposed appearance at the battle of Prilip (1912), 64, 65;
tells whose the Empire shall be, 65–71;
cursed by his father, 71;
the Moor and, 72–81;
the Sultana’s dream concerning, 74;
wedding tax abolished by, 82–86;
Bogdan the Bully and, 87–89;
General Voutcha and, 89–94;
wedding procession of, 94–100;
the Moorish princess and, 100–102;
the veela Raviyoyla and, 102–105;
the Turkish huntsmen and, 105–108;
Moussa Kessedjiya and, 108–114;
his death, 115–118

Marra.
Alternative, Pepelyouga (Cinderella), 226–229

Marriage.
The customs obtaining at Serbian, 32–40 [382]

Mass, The Holy.
Mention of, in Serbian ballad “The Saints Divide the Treasures,” 196

Maximus Tzrnoyevitch.
See Tzrnoyevitch

Mehmed. Turkish Grand Vizier;
Vlah-Ali independent of, 121

Methodius.
Cyrillos and, the so-called Slavonic apostles who translated the teaching of Christ into the ancient Slav language, 2, 29

Michael. King of Ledyen, father of Princess Roksanda;
Tsar Doushan sues for the hand of Roksanda, 150;
Theodor reports to the Tsar result of his mission to King of Ledyen, 151, 152

Michael, Archangel.
Death and, 31;
kolyivo not prepared for, 41

Michaylo. Son of Stephen Voïslav;
obtains title of King from Pope Gregory VII, 3;
King Bodin son of, 3

Michel (Serbian Mihaylo). Son of Milosh Obrenovitch;
succeeds his father as prince of Serbia, 10

Michel III, Emperor.
Mission of Cyrillos and Methodius to, 29

Middle Ages.
“Banovitch Strahinya,” one of the finest ballads composed anonymously by Serbian bards during the, 119

Mijatovitch, Madame C.
Reference to Serbian Folk-lore, by, 305

Milan.
Succeeds his cousin Michel as prince of Serbia, 10;
war of 1876–8 against Turkey by, 10;
acknowledgment of Serbian independence by Treaty of Berlin during rule of, 10;
his abdication, 11

Milan of Toplitza.
General Voutcha and, 89–94

Militchevitch.
A famous Serbian ethnographist relates incident re a resnik (priest) who read prayers out of the apocrypha of Peroon, 22

Militza, Tsarina.
The Zmay of Yastrebatz and the, 129–133;
deceives the Zmay, 130;
recognizes Zmay-Despot Vook, 131;
Tsar Lazarus and the, 170–176;
as her nine brothers Yougovitchs are to accompany Tsar Lazarus to battle on field of Kossovo she pleads for one brother to be left behind with her, 170;
her brother Boshko Yougovitch refuses to remain behind, 171;
succoured by Golouban, 172;
news of battle brought by two ravens to, 172, 173;
death of Lazarus and her brothers described by Miloutin, 173, 174

Milosh Obilitch.
The Sultan Amourath perishes by the hand of, 7, 175

Milosh Obrenbegovitch, Voïvode.
Ivan Tzrnoyevitch invites to be the stari-svat in connexion with his son’s wedding, 138–149;
Maximus Tzrnoyevitch slays, 148;
Yovan Obrenbegovitch brother of, 149

Milosh Obrenovitch.
Succeeds in re-establishing the Belgrade pashalik, 10;
forced to abdicate, 10;
restored by the Skoupshtina, 10;
his death, 10;
Michel son of, 10

Milosh of Potzerye. A Serbian knight;
Bogdan the Bully and, 87–89;
General Voutcha and, 89–94;
the veela Raviyoyla and, 102–105

Milosh-the-Shepherd.
The mother of the two Voïnovitchs counsels them to send for, 153;
his meeting with his two brothers, 154;
joins the wedding procession of Tsar Doushan, 155;
rides the steed Koulash, 154, 155;
his fight for Koulash, 158, 159;
he undertakes the first test on behalf of Tsar Doushan, in order to win Roksanda, 160–162;
the second test undertaken by, 162, 163;
succeeds in the third test, 164;
succeeds in the fourth test by discovering the identity of Princess Roksanda, 164–166;
his contest with Balatchko, 167–169;
Balatchko slain by, 168;
discloses his identity to Tsar Doushan, 168 [383]

Milosh, Voïvode.
The veela Raviyoyla wounds, 17;
the great Serbian hero who slays the Turkish sultan, Amourath I, 173

Miloutin.
I. Dragoutin, his brother, king of Serbia, retires in favour of, 4; one of the most remarkable descendants of Nemanya, 5; Stevan Datchanski son of, 5.
II. Servant of Prince Lazarus; relates to Tsarina Militza death of Tsar Lazarus and her nine brothers on field of Kossovo, 173, 174.
III. Prince of Ressava; Iconia daughter of, 211–212.

Minister.
The treacherous, in the Serbian folk-tale “Good Deeds Never Perish,” 294

Mirotch.
Prince Marko and Milosh of Potzerye ride across the mountain of, 102

Mission.
Of Cyrillos and Methodius to the Emperor Michel III, 29

Miyatovich, M. Chedo.
Personal friend of King Alexander, 11

Mohammed.
The vizier of Tyoopria undertakes to make Stephan Yakshitch love the creed of, 179

Mohammedanism.
Prince Maximus and Yovan Obrenbegovitch embrace, 149

Moldavia.
Many noble Serbian families take refuge with Christian princes of, 8

Momchilo.
Queen Helen, sister of the adventurous knight, 59

Momtchilo, Voïvode.
Vidossava the lonely consort of, 186;
Yaboutchilo the steed of, 187–191;
King Voukashin marches an army against, 187;
the strange dream of, 189;
falls into an ambuscade, 189;
his valiant fight, 190;
Yevrossima vainly attempts to rescue, 191;
the death of, 192;
his castle pillaged, 193

Montenegro.
Never subdued by Turks, 8;
belief in, that each house has its guardian spirit, 18;
belief in vampires in, 21, 22;
Nicholas I Petrovitch king of, 120;
“The Marriage of Maximus Tzrnoyevitch” the source of the drama “The Empress of the Balkans” by king of, 134;
Vladika Danilo Petrovitch, uncle of the present king of, who first assumed the title of Prince as a hereditary one, 184;
few instances of treachery in, 185

Moor, The.
Wedding tax inflicted by, 82–86

Moorish Chieftain, A.
Prince Marko and, 72–80

Morava.
The river of, 2;
Theodore of Stalatch at, 210

Moravians.
Their conversion to Christianity, 29

Moussa Arbanass.
See Moussa Kessedjiya

Moussa Kessedjiya.
Prince Marko and, 108–114

Mouyo.
His welfare in the Other World described in the Serbian popular anecdote “The Era from the Other World,” 331–333

Mrnyavtchevitch.
Three brothers who built Skadar (Scutari), 198

Mussulman Faith.
The vizier of Tyoopria tries to convert Stephan Yakshitch to the, 179

Mythology.
Giants (djins) in Bulgarian, Croatian, and Slavonian, we owe to the mediæval cycle of myths, 27, 28

Myths.
Influence on Southern-Slavonic peoples of Græco-Oriental and Christian legends and, 14

N

Naples.
Prince Ourosh keeps up friendly relations with French Court of Charles of Anjou in, 119

Naturalism.
Ousted from the Serbians by the doctrines of the Great Master, 29, 30

Nature.
The worship of, by Southern-Slavonic races not adequately studied, 14;
has not yet vanished from the creed of the Balkans, 30 [384]

Nedelyko, Archdeacon.
King Voukashin summons to the field of Kossovo, 66, 67

“Neimar.”
Equivalent, architect, 204

Nemagnitch.
Reference to the glorious dynasty of, 58

Nemanya, Stephan. Grand Djoupan;
created Duke of Serbia by the Byzantine emperor, 4;
Stevan second son of, 4;
one of Youg Bogdan’s, sons-in-law a direct descendant of, 120

Nestopolyé, Yanko of.
Milosh-the-Shepherd’s steed, Koulash, admired by, 157

New Inn.
Prince Marko placed in, to recuperate his strength for his duel with Moussa, 110, 111

Nicholas I Petrovitch. King of Montenegro, an indirect descendant out of Balshitchi;
forced by the Great Powers to evacuate Skadar, 120;
Serbian bards improvise ballads to record deeds of, 120;
source of inspiration of his drama “The Empress of the Balkans,” 134

Nicholas, St.
Power of controlling ocean, etc., attributed by the Serbians to, 51;
mention of, in Serbian ballad “The Saints Divide the Treasures,” 195;
the seas with the galleys upon them chosen by, 196

Nish.
Extreme devotion to the Saints practised at, 46

Novak.
A famous maker of swords, 111;
makes a sword for Prince Marko, 111, 112

Novi Bazar.
The pasha of, one of the leaders in the assault on Belgrade, 177–184;
the vizier of Tyoopria wishes to have Stephan Yakshitch appointed vizier of, 180;
Stephan Yakshitch’s life redeemed by the vizier of, 180

O

Obrenbegovitch, Mehmed-Bey.
Turkish alternative for Yovan Obrenbegovitch, 149

Obrenovitch III, Prince Michel.
The Serbian legend of “A Pavilion neither in the Sky nor on the Earth,” contributed to Vouk Stephanovitch Karadgitch by, 220

Obugagn Greb.
Name borne by the grave of Governor Obuganitch, in Konavla, 27

Odyssey.
Reference to, 54

Ognyena Maria (Mary the Fiery One).
Serbian peasants believe her to be the sister of the god Peroon (St. Elias), 15

Old Serbia.
One of the provinces in the Balkan territories, 1

Oossood.
A veela who pronounced the destiny of Serbian infants, 18

Ottoman Generals.
Mediæval history of Serbia contains many instances of malcontents who became tools in hands of, 174, 175

Ottoman Invasion.
Ourosh and his nobles pave the way for the, 5

Ottoman Statesmen.
Historical note re the cunning efforts of, to seduce malcontents from their allegiance to their rightful lords at the Courts of the Christian princes of the Balkans, 184, 185

Ouglesha.
Inheritance of the Empire disputed by, 65, 70

Ourosh.
Younger son of Doushan the Powerful, 5;
Voukashin’s bad faith toward, 61;
inheritance of the Empire disputed by, 65–71;
Marko blessed by, 71

Ourosh, Prince.
Belonged to the Nemanya dynasty, 119;
Helen (a princess of the house de Courtenay) wife of, 119;
maintained friendly relations with the French Court of Charles of Anjou in Naples through his wife, 119

Ourosh the Great.
Dethrones his brother Vladislav, 4;
dethroned by his son Dragoutin, 4

Ourvinian Mountain.
Prince Marko’s death on, 115–118

P

Padishah (Sultan).
Marko fears his foes will calumniate him to, 107;
Vlah-Ali the rebel of the, [385]123;
Stephan Yakshitch taken before the, 178;
Stephan Yakshitch tempted to abjure the Holy Cross by, 178

Paganism.
The religion and the, of the Serbians, 14–53;
only partially abolished from the Balkans, 30

Palm Sunday.
Serbian festivities on, 52

Panthelias, St.
Mention of, in Serbian ballad “The Saints Divide the Treasures,” 195;
great heats chosen by, 196

Paul.
One of the brothers in the Serbian ballad “The Stepsisters,” 206–210

“Pavilion neither in the Sky nor on the Earth, A.”
A Serbian legend, 220–224

“Pea-hens, The Nine.”
A Serbian folk-tale, 267–280

“Pepelyouga” (Cinderella).
A Serbian legend, 226–230;
alternative name of, Marra, 226–229

Peroon.
The Russian God of Thunder, 15;
name preserved in village “Peroon,” and in plant “Peroonika,” 15

Peter I, King. Son of Alexandre Karageorgevitch;
his glorious rule, 11;
George Petrovitch grandfather of, 175;
Empire lost by Tsar Lazarus regained under, 176

Peter II.
Archbishop of Montenegro, and belief in vampires, 22

Peter, St.
Mention of, in Serbian ballad “The Saints Divide the Treasures,” 195;
wine, wheat and the Keys of the Heavenly Empire chosen by, 196;
“St. Peter and the Sand,” a Serbian popular anecdote, 362

Petrovitch, George. Turkish designation Karageorge (‘Black George’).
A gifted Serbian who led a successful insurrection against the Turks in 1804, 9, 175;
cruelly assassinated by order of Milosh, 10

Petrovitch, Nicholas I.
See Nicholas

Petrovitch, Peter. The popular Serbian poet;
reference to his masterpiece on Gorsky Viyenatz (“The Mountain Wreath”), 56

Petrovitch, Vladika Danilo. Uncle of present king of Montenegro;
first assumed the title of Prince as a hereditary one, 184

Pirlitor. Alternative, Piritor.
The white city opposite the mountain Dourmitor, the walls of the castle of which it is said still exist in Herzegovina, 186;
Vidossava punished by the castle, 193

Pisistrate’s Epoch.
The learned Diascevastes of, 54

Pleiades.
Serbian equivalent, Sedmoro Bratye (‘The Seven Brothers’), 22

Podgoritza.
Captain Yovan’s five hundred men of, 139

Poetry, Epic.
The Serbian national, 54–58

Pogatcha.
The Serbian wedding cake, 38

Polaznik.
A Serbian visitor, 50

Pope, The.
Stevan Tomashevitch fails to get help from, 8

Poretch. The district of;
Milo and Milosh arrive at, 105

Porphyrogenete, Constantine.
According to, the Serbians adopted the Christian faith at two different periods, 28

Potzerye, Milosh of.
Bogdan the Bully and, 87–89;
General Voutcha and, 89–94;
the veela Raviyoyla and, 102–105

Predestination.
Serbians believe in immortality and, 18

Priepolyé.
A youth from, admires Milosh-the-Shepherd’s steed, Koulash, 157

“Priest, The, why drowned.”
A Serbian popular anecdote, 364

Prilip.
Serbian belief that Prince Marko is asleep in castle at, 64;
Prince Marko’s appearance at battle of, in November, 1912, 64;
Archdeacon Nedelyko bids the four tabors appeal to Marko at, 67;
the Sultana’s dream concerning, 74;
Milosh sends a messenger to, 90;
Marko imprisons Voutcha and Velimir in, 93, 94 [386]

Prisrend.
Theodor arrives at, and reports to Tsar Doushan the result of his mission, 151, 152;
Tsar Doushan’s return to, 168

Ptolemy.
Greek geographer, describes the Serbians, 1

Q

Quests.
The, of the three sons in the Serbian folk-tale “He whom God helps no one can harm,” 300–305

R

Rado.
The architect (neimar) who builds Skadar, 200–205

Radool.
One of the brothers in the Serbian ballad “The Stepsisters,” 206–210

Radoslav. Son of Stevan, becomes King of Serbia;
deposed by his brother Vladislav, 4

Radoul-bey.
A Turkish lord, the supposed master of Milosh-the-Shepherd, 155

Ragusa.
Many noble Serbian families find a safe refuge in, 8

“Ram with the Golden Fleece, The.”
A Serbian folk-lore story, 213–220

Rashka.
Name of the independent State that Djoupan Vlastimir attempted to form, 2;
Tsar Siméon invades, to support Djoupan Tchaslav, 2;
overpowered by Byzantine Empire, 3

Rastislav, Prince.
Cyrillos and Methodius entrusted with a mission to Emperor Michel III by, 29

Raviyoyla, Veela.
Prince Marko all but slays the, 17;
the story of Prince Marko and, 102–105

Religion.
Paganism and the, of the Serbians, 14–53;
naturalism and the Serbians, 29, 30

Relya of Bazar. A Serbian knight;
Bogdan the Bully and, 87

Renaissance.
The Serbian poets of Ragusa made frequent reference during the, to nymphs and dryads as ‘Veele,’ 16

“Resnik.”
A proper name in Serbia, etc., which means “the one who is searching for truth,” 24

Ressava.
Theodore of Stalatch wanders by river of, and sees Iconia, 210, 211

Roksanda, Princess. Daughter of King Michael of Ledyen;
Tsar Doushan sues for hand of, 150;
the four tests undertaken by Milosh-the-Shepherd on behalf of Tsar Doushan in order to win, 160–166

Ronceval.
Reference to the French troubadour’s ballad of battle at, in comparison with the method of elaboration employed in connexion with “King Voukashin’s Marriage,” 193, 194

Roumania.
Battle of Rovina in, 6

Rovina.
Marko killed in battle of, 6

Russians.
Funeral customs among the, 26, 27

S

Sacrificial Rites.
The exact terminology of well-known, from translations of the Greek legends of the Saints, 24;
legends of human, among Russians, Polapic Slavs, Serbians, etc., 25

St. Elias (Elijah).
Serbian peasants believe that the god Peroon still lives in the person of, 15;
kolyivo not prepared for, 41;
mention of, in Serbian ballad “The Saints Divide the Treasures,” 195;
comforts Beata Maria, 196

St. George’s Day. Serbian equivalent, Dyourdyev Dan.
Strange sorceries practised on, 33, 53

St. John.
The princess appeals to Prince Marko in name of, 75, 76;
the veela Raviyoyla appeals to Marko by memory of, 104;
mention of, in Serbian ballad “The Saints Divide the Treasures,” 195;
brotherhood, koomhood, and the Holy Cross chosen by, 196 [387]

St. Nicholas.
Power of controlling ocean, etc., attributed by the Serbians to, 51;
mention of, in Serbian ballad “The Saints Divide the Treasures,” 195

St. Panthelias.
Mention of, in Serbian ballad “The Saints Divide the Treasures,” 195;
great heats chosen by, 196

St. Peter.
Mention of, in Serbian ballad “The Saints Divide the Treasures,” 195;
wine, wheat, and the Keys of the Heavenly Empire chosen by, 196

“Saints Divide the Treasures, The.”
Serbian ballad, 195–197;
“The Sand and,” a Serbian popular anecdote, 362

Salonica.
The Slav apostles of, Cyrillos and Methodius two of, 29

Samodrezja.
White church of, on field of Kossovo, 65;
Marko chased by Voukashin round church of, 70, 71

Sand “St. Peter and the.”
A Serbian popular anecdote, 362

Sava.
Youngest son of Grand Djoupan Stephan Nemanya, 4;
becomes first Servian archbishop, 4

Scutari. Modern alternative for Skadar. See Skadar.
Sir John Bowring and the token on the walls of, confirming the story of Goïko’s wife being immured, 205

Sea.
The Saints divide the treasures of, 195–197

Serb-s.
The coming of the, 1;
Prince Ourosh seeks to promote an alliance between the French and, 119

Serbia.
Use of the solecism Servia in English language, 1;
one of the kingdoms in the Balkan territories, 1;
ruled by dynasty founded by Grand Djoupan Stephan Nemanya, 3, 4;
Stevan assumes title of King of, 4;
Bulgaria a province of, 5;
Doushan the Powerful Tsar of, 5;
Knez Lazar elected ruler of, 6;
fresh subjugation of, in year 1813, 9;
Treaty of Berlin acknowledges independence of, 10, 11;
Princess Roksanda’s excellence unmatched throughout, 152;
the love of a sister for her brother is proverbial in, 170

Serbian-s.
Galicia occupied by, prior to their incursion into the Balkan Peninsula, 1;
described by Ptolemy as living on banks of Don, 1;
Heraclius cedes provinces to the, 1;
an easy prey to the Byzantines, the Bulgars, and the Francs, 2;
attempt to form a State on banks of River Morava in ninth century, 2;
nation hindered by internecine strife from becoming a powerful political unit, 3;
church, Sava obtains autonomy of, 4;
archbishop, Sava becomes the first, 4;
lands occupied by the Turks, 6;
struggle between Turks and, 7;
final defeat of, 8;
emigration of, to Hungary, 8;
superstitious beliefs of, and national customs, 13–53;
mixed with the indigenous population of the Balkan Peninsula, 13;
the Boshnyaks considered the most typical, 13;
bards, the Veele glorified by, 16;
national customs of the, 31–53;
national epic poetry, 54–58;
“Banovitch Strahinya” one of the finest ballads composed by anonymous bards during Middle Ages, 119;
the departure of, from Ledyen, bearing Princess Roksanda, 166;
“People, Why Poor,” a Serbian popular anecdote, 362

“Servian Popular Poetry.”
Sir John Bowring’s, quotations of three poems from, 198–212

Shar.
The mountain where Milosh-the-Shepherd tarried with his flocks, 153

Sharatz (Piebald).
Prince Marko’s wonderful courser, 17, 57;
story how Marko became possessed of the wonderful steed, 61–65;
alternatives, Sharin or Sharo, 62;
Marko rides to Kossovo, 68, 69;
prepared for fight against a Moor, 76;
Marko rides, to Istamboul, 76, 77;
Bedevia and, 79, 80, [388]81;
Marko rides, in his conflict with the Moor to abolish his wedding tax, 82–86;
how Marko escaped Bogdan the Bully on, 87;
Marko attacks General Voutcha on, 91–94;
Marko flees from Moorish princes on, 102;
the veela Raviyoyla overtaken by, 103, 104;
Marko pursues the Turkish Grand Vizir on, 106;
Marko rides forth on, to meet Moussa, 112;
Marko returns triumphantly to the Sultan at Istamboul on, 114;
Marko slays and buries, 116, 117

Shishman, King.
Marko and daughter of, 95–97

Siméon. A Bulgarian Tsar;
Rashka invaded by, 2

Sirmia.
I. One of the kingdoms in the Balkan territories, 1; Dragoutin king of, 5.
II. A plain containing village of Koopinovo, in which Zmay-Despot Vook lived, 130.

Sitnitza.
Strahinya beholds supposed tent of Vlah-Ali from the banks of, 122;
Banovitch crosses the river, 124;
Ban Strahinya’s death by the streamlet, 174

Skadar or Skadra. Modern alternative, Scutari;
birthplace of Prince Marko, 59;
the capital of Northern Albania, where Strashimir Balshitch-Nemanyitch reigned (1360–1370), 119;
the capital of Zeta (the Montenegro of modern times), 120;
name derived from the Italian appellation Scodra, otherwise Scutari, 198;
belonged to Serbians from time immemorial, 198;
Serbian ballad “The Building of,” 198–205;
on river Boyana, 186

Skoupshtina, The (National Assembly).
Milosh restored by, 10;
elects King Peter I, 11

Slav-s.
Language, teachings of Christ translated into, by Cyrillos and Methodius, 2;
apostles, Cyrillos and Methodius two of, 29;
explanation of conquest of Ottoman generals over the Balkan, 175

Slava. Alternative, Krsno Ime.
The Serbian tutelary Saint-day, 40–46

Slavonic Races.
Paganism and religion of, 14–53;
influence of Græco-Oriental myths and legends, Illyrian and Roman propaganda, Christian legends and apocryphal writings, on the, 14;
remains of idols of the Sun god ‘Daybog’ among the, 16

Southern Slavs.
At first the Christian faith spread only superficially, 28;
life of, interwoven with superstition, 30–53;
national customs of, 31–53;
allusion to frescoes illustrating duel between Marko and Moussa on tavern walls in villages of, 108

Spirits, Good and Evil.
Serbian belief in, 18, 22

Sredoi. A kinsman of George Irene;
Iconia promised to, for Irene, 211

Stalatch.
A ruined fortress on the banks of the river Morava, 210;
Theodore of, 210

Stamboul.
Mediæval history of Serbia contains many instances of malcontents going to, and becoming tools of Ottoman generals, 174, 175;
return in triumph of the vizier of Tyoopria to, 178

“Steel, True.”
The Serbian folk-tale of “Bash Tchelik” or, 247–267

Stefan Strematz.
The celebrated Serbian novelist, and Slava customs, 46

“Stepmother and her Step-Daughter, The.”
A Serbian folk-tale, 235–240

“Stepsisters, The.”
A Serbian ballad from Sir John Bowring’s Servian Popular Poetry, 206–210

Stevan.
Second son of Grand Djoupan Stephan Nemanya, 3, 4;
on abdication of his father he assumes title of King of Servia, 4;
Radoslav son of, 4

Stevan Detchanski. Miloutin’s son;
by victory at Velbouzd brings whole of Bulgaria under his sway, 5;
dethroned by Doushan, 5 [389]

Stevan Tomashevitch.
King of Bosnia, 8

Stoyan and Stoyana.
Twins whom it was attempted to immure in the foundation of Skadar, 198–205

Strahinya, Banovitch.
Serbian bards improvise ballads to tell story of Nicholas I Petrovitch just as their ancestors recorded exploits of, 120;
Vlah-Ali attacks castle and captures wife of, 120–128;
slays Vlah-Ali and returns to Kroushevatz, 128

Strashimir Balshitch-Nemanyitch.
Some Serbian historians believe identical with Banovitch Strahinya, 119;
a descendant of the old Provençal family of des Baux, 119;
reigned conjointly with two brothers in Skadar, the capital of Northern Albania (1360–1370), 119

Strength.
The secret of Bash Tchelik’s, 266

Strhigna, Ban.
Tsarina Militza and death of, 173

Sublime Porte.
Accepts Milosh as hereditary Prince of Serbia, 10

“Suitors, The Three.”
A Servian folk-tale, 316–322

Sun and Moon.
Serbian beliefs regarding eclipses recall Norse belief of a similar nature, 19

Sun-God.
Pagan sacrifices to, in Serbia, 49

Sunday.
Veela discountenances fighting on, 17, 113, 114

Superstition.
Christianity and, in the Balkans, 30

“Svati” (or svatovi).
Serbian equivalent for wedding guests, 32

Svetchar.
The chief man of the family in connexion with the Slava, 40, 42

Svetopluk, Prince.
Cyrillos and Methodius entrusted with a mission to Emperor Michel III by, 29

Sword.
Novak makes a celebrated one for Prince Marko, 111, 112

T

Tarra.
The river, 186

Tasks, The Three.
Named in the Serbian ballad “The Ram with the Golden Fleece,” 213–220

Tchardack.
A Turkish word signifying a tower provided with balconies, 129

Tchaslav. The Djoupan of a Serbian tribe;
claims the Rashka State, 2;
wrests also the territories of Zetta, Trebinye, Neretva, and Housa, 2, 3

Tchile. Diminutive for Yaboutchilo.
The steed of Voïvode Momtchilo, 186–191

Tekiye.
Allusion to the church at, 93

Theodor. Tsar Doushan’s Councillor of State;
sent to sue for hand of Roksanda, daughter of King Michael of Ledyen, 150;
reports result of his mission, 151, 152;
his inability to undergo the fourth test in order to win Princess Roksanda, 164, 165

Theodore of Stalatch.
Hero in the Serbian ballad “The Abduction of the Beautiful Iconia,” 210–212;
Dobrivoy servant of, 211

Thracians, The.
Driven by Serbians toward Adriatic coast, 1

Thunderer, The.
Appellation for St. Elias, 196

Timok.
River of, crossed by Marko and Milosh, 105

Toasts.
The Slava and, 44

Toplitza, Milan of.
General Voutcha and, 89–94

“Trade, A, before Everything.”
A Serbian popular anecdote, 366–369

“Trade that no one Knows, The.”
A Serbian folk-tale, 340–353

Trajan, Emperor.
Confused in the Balkans with the Greek King Midas, 27;
confused in Serbian legends with Dædalus, 27

Travnik.
The city of, 179 [390]

Treachery.
Vook Brankovitch’s, against Knez Lazar, 7

Treasures, “The Saints Divide the,” 195–197

Treaty of Berlin.
The famous, acknowledged the independence of Serbia during the rule of Milan, 10, 11;
mention of a Veele ring in the, 17

“Tsar, The Maiden Wiser Than The.”
Serbian folk-tale, 287–291

Turk-s.
Reference to campaigns between Christians and, 6;
struggle between Serbians and, 7;
final success of, 8;
almost driven from Europe under glorious rule of King Peter I, 11;
abhorred by the Veele, 17;
defeat of, on battlefields of Koumanovo, Monastir, Prilip, Prizrend, Kirk-Kilisse and Scutari, 54;
sought and attacked by Banovitch on field of Kossovo, 121–128;
Prince Maximus and Yovan Obrenbegovitch become, 149;
Belgrade assailed by a great host of, 177–184;
Stephan Yakshitch resists the temptation to become a, 179–182;
historical note re the cunning efforts of, to seduce malcontents from their allegiance to their rightful lords at courts of the Christian princes of the Balkans, 184, 185

Turkish Atrocities.
Their culmination reached in seventeenth century, 9

Turkish Huntsmen, The.
Prince Marko and, 105–108

Turkish Rule.
The miseries of, 8, 9

Tvrtko, Ban. Of Bosnia;
alliance against the Turks between Knez Lazar and, 6

“Twins, The Golden-Haired.”
A Serbian folk-tale, 353–361

Tyoopria.
I. Vizier of; one of the leaders in the assault on Belgrade, 177–183; Stephan Yakshitch led as prisoner to, 178; kindness of, to Stephan Yakshitch, 178–180; his return in triumph to Stamboul, 178; his wish to make Stephan Yakshitch vizier of Novi Bazar, 180.
II. Castle of, the vizier of Tyoopria offers to retain Stephan Yakshitch as prisoner in, 179.

Tyouprilitch, Grand Vizir.
Undertakes a campaign against Moussa, 108;
Moussa takes prisoner and sends ignominiously bound to Istamboul, 108, 109;
advises Sultan to send for Prince Marko, 109

Tyoupriya.
Modern alternative for Horea Margi, 2

“Tzechin.”
A golden coin worth about ten shillings, 240

Tzigan-s.
Serbian equivalent for gipsies, 36, 363;
their main occupation is stealing and selling horses, 363

Tzrnoyevitch, Ivan.
Sails across the Adriatic to Venice to secure wife for his son Maximus, 134;
sails for Zablak, 135;
Zdral steed of, 135;
invites Voïvode Milosh Obrenbegovitch to be the stari-svat in connexion with his son’s wedding, 138–149;
invites Captain Yovan to the wedding of his son, 139;
Krgno and Zelenko, two famous guns of, 140

Tzrnoyevitch, Maximus.
The marriage of, 134–149;
son of Ivan Tzrnoyevitch, 134;
stricken with small-pox, 135;
Yovan in a dream sees a falling tower strike, 139;
Milosh Obrenbegovitch slain by, 148;
Turkish alternative, Scanderbeg Ivanbegovitch, 149;
Scutari on river Boyana granted to, by Sultan, 149

U

Uglesha-Voïvode.
Second of three brothers who built Skadar (Scutari), 198–205

V

Valahia.
Many noble Serbian families take refuge with Christian princes of, 8 [391]

Vampires.
The belief in, universal throughout the Balkans, 21, 22

Varadin, Fort.
Guns of, signal General Voutcha’s triumph, 89;
Prince Marko on the plain before, 91, 92;
Marko sends Voutcha and Velimir to, 94

Vasso. The igouman (abbot) of Mount Athos;
finds the body of Marko and mourns his death, 118;
Issaya the deacon of, 118

Vassoye, Land of.
Momtchilo dreams that a cloud of fog from, wraps itself round Dourmitor mountain, 189

Veela.
Marko endued with superhuman strength by a, 17;
presented with Sharatz by a, 17;
Raviyoyla a, allusion to incident of Marko and, 17;
Oossood a, who pronounced the destiny of Serbian infants, 18;
Raviyoyla and Marko, 102–105;
Marko calls for aid from his sister-in-God the, 113, 114;
Marko hears the call of the, on the top of Ourvinian mountain, 115–118

Veele or Vile (singular, Veela or Vila).
Minor deities in Serbian superstition identical with the νύμφαι and ποταμὶ mentioned by the Greek historian Procope, 16–18;
Stephan Yakshitch and a, 177;
Skadra’s fortress and the, 198;
the prince and the, in the Serbian folk-tale “The Dream of the King’s Son,” 324, 325

Velbouzd.
Famous battle of, 5

Veless. The city of;
derived name from Russian God of Cattle, Volos, 15

Velessnitza. A village on the lower Danube;
derived name from the Russian God of Cattle, Volos, 15

Velimir. Son of General Voutcha;
Marko and, 91–94

Venetian King.
The four tests put by the, to Tsar Doushan in order to win the Princess Roksanda, 160–166

Venetian Land.
Tsar Doushan journeys to the, 152

Venetians, The.
Their cunning known from ancient times, 152, 153

Venice.
Maximus Tzrnoyevitch’s wedding and, 140, 142

Venice, Doge of.
Marko invites to act as koom the, 96–100;
Ivan Tzrnoyevitch asks daughter of, in marriage for his son Maximus, 134–149

Vidal, Pierre. A French troubadour;
Donna Azalais de Baux his patroness, 33

Vidin, The Pasha of.
One of the leaders in the assault on Belgrade, 177–184

Vidossava. The lonely consort of Voivode Momtchilo;
letter sent secretly to, by King Voukashin, 186;
the treachery of, 187;
destroys wings of steed Yaboutchilo, 188;
her punishment, 192, 193

Vienna.
Vouk Stephanovitch-Karadgitch’s first collection of Serbian national poems published at, 54

Vilindar.
Vasso the Abbot of Mount Athos rides from the white church of, 118;
Prince Marko’s body interred within the white church of, 118

Vladika.
Meaning in Serbian, ‘bishop,’ 184

Vladislav.
Radoslav dethroned by, 4;
Ourosh the Great dethrones, 4

Vlah-Ali.
A haughty chieftain who attacks Strahinya’s castle and captures his wife, 120–128;
independent of the Grand Vizir Mehmed and of Sultan Amourath, 121;
Strahinya seeks out and attacks, 121–128;
his slaying by Banovitch, 128

Vlastela (Assembly of Nobles).
Doushan the Powerful proclaimed Tsar of Serbia in agreement with, 5

Vlastimir, Djoupan (Great).
Attempts to form an independent State, 2

Vo or Voll.
Equivalent, Ox, 15. See Volos [392]

Voïnovitch, Milosh, Prince.
Identical with Milosh-the Shepherd, 168, 169

Voïnovitch, Petrashin.
Nephew of Tsar Doushan, 151;
Doushan swears to hang, 152;
Milosh-the-Shepherd brother of, 153, 154

Voïnovitch, Voukashin.
Nephew of Tsar Doushan, 151;
Doushan swears to hang, 152;
Milosh-the-Shepherd brother of, 153, 154

Voïslav, Stephen.
Ruler of Zetta, son of Dragomir, declares his independence and appropriates Zahoumlye (Hertzegovina), 3

Voïvode.
As a title of nobility corresponds to English ‘Duke,’ 7

Voïvode, Balatchko the.
The contest with Milosh-the-Shepherd, 167–169;
Milosh slays, 168

Volos. The Russian God of Cattle;
derivative appears in the Serbian word vo or voll (‘ox’), 15

Vook, Zmay-Despot.
The Zmay of Yastrebatz and, 130–133;
fear of Zmay of Yastrebatz of, 130;
village of Koopinovo on plain of Sirmia, his abode, 130;
his fight with Zmay of Yastrebatz, 131, 132;
the Zmay slain by, 132;
ruled over Sirmia, 132

Vouk Stephanovitch-Karadgitch.
Serbian national poet, 54, 55;
takes down from lips of Serbian bard the ballad of “The Marriage of King Voukashin,” 193;
records the belief of the Serbian people that no great building can be successfully erected without immuring some human being, 205;
Serbian legend “A Pavilion neither in the Sky nor on the Earth,” contributed by Prince Michel Obrenovitch III to, 220

Voukashin, King.
Defeated by Ourosh on banks of river Maritza, 6;
Prince Marko son of, 59;
Serbian ballads sing of, 60;
the bad faith of, toward Emperor Doushan, 61;
disputes the inheritance of the Empire, 65–71;
curses Marko, 71;
the marriage of, 186–194;
vassal king to the Emperor Doushan the Powerful, 186;
writes a book (letter) to Vidossava and dispatches it to Herzegovina, 186;
on the advice of Vidossava he marches a large force to Herzegovina against Momtchilo, 187–192;
his woe concerning the death of Momtchilo, 192;
weds Yevrossima 192;
Marko and Andrias born to, 193;
historical note on, 193, 194

Voutcha, General.
Prince Marko and, 89–94

Voutché of Dyakovitza.
Admires the steed Koulash, 157

Voutchitrn, Castle of.
Tsar Doushan swears to hang his nephews, the Voïnovitchs, on the gates of the, 152;
Tsar Doushan’s wedding procession passes by walls of, 152;
Milosh takes farewell of Tsar Doushan in order to return to, 168

Voyages.
The three, of the good son in the Serbian folk-tale “Good Deeds Never Perish,” 291–299

Vrzino (or Vilino) Kollo.
Dance rings of the Veele, 17

Vukashin Kraly.
Eldest of three brothers who built Skadar (Scutari), 198–205

W

“Wager, Lying for a.”
A Serbian folk-tale, 283–287

Wedding Procession.
The, in the Serbian folk-tale “The Biter Bit,” 333

Wedding Tax.
Prince Marko abolishes, 82–86

Whitsuntide.
Serbian festivities during, 52

Witch-es (veshtitze).
Female evil spirits, who are irreconcilably [393]hostile to men and children, 20, 21;
the old, in the Serbian folk-tale “The Bird-Maiden,” 281–283

Worship.
Of the sun and moon, 22;
of fire and lightning, 22;
of animals, 22, 23;
of snakes, 23;
of the dragon—that of Southern Slavs contrasted with that of the Hellenes, 23

Wrath of God, The.
Mention of, in Serbian ballad “The Saints Divide the Treasures,” 197

Y

Yaboutchilo (diminutive, Tchile).
The steed of Voïvode Momtchilo, 187–191;
Momtchilo reproaches, 190

Yahorika.
Demitrius Yakshitch rests by river, 178

Yakshitch, Demitrius. Brother of Stephan Yakshitch;
the Veela’s warning to, 177;
his remorse by the river Yahorika, 178

Yakshitch, Stephan.
The captivity and marriage of (a ballad of Montenegro), 177–185;
Demitrius the brother of, 177;
the veela’s warning to, 177;
taken prisoner and led to the presence of the Vizier of Tyoopria, 178;
led to the presence of the mighty Padishah, 178;
the Padishah tempts him to renounce the Holy Cross, 179;
declines the “water of oblivion” offered by Haykoona, 181, 182;
Haykoona confesses her real love for, and enables him to escape, 182, 183

Yanissaries.
The pasha of Novi Bazar in the assault on Belgrade brings twenty thousand fierce, 177

Yanko of Nestopolyé.
Admires the steed Koulash, 157

Yastrebatz, the Zmay of.
The Tsarina Militza and, 129–133;
his fear of Zmay-Despot Vook, 130;
Vook attacks and slays, 131, 132

Yedrenet. Equivalent, Adrianople.
Prince Marko received by the Sultan at, 107, 108

Yelitza.
Sister of Paul and Radool, in the Serbian ballad “The Stepsisters,” 207–210

Yesdimir.
The aged brother of the doge of Venice, 143

Yevrossima (Euphrosyne).
I. Alternative name for Queen Helen, mother of Prince Marko, 59, 67.
II. Sister of Voïvode Momtchilo, 187; vainly attempts to rescue her brother Momtchilo, 191; King Voukashin weds, to whom she bears Marko and Andrias, 193; historical note on, 193, 194

Youg Bogdan.
Aged father-in-law of Banovitch, 120;
visited by Banovitch, 120, 121;
castle in Kroushevatz the residence of, 120;
Strahinya returns to, after his slaying of Vlah-Ali, 128;
Tsarina Militza and death of, 173

Yougovitch-s.
I. The nine brothers-in-law of Strahinya; Strahinya urges them not to slay their sister, 128.
II. The nine brothers of Tsarina Militza, 170–174

Yovan, Captain.
Ivan Tzrnoyevitch invites, to the wedding of his son, 139–149

Yovan Obrenbegovitch.
Brother of Milosh Obrenbegovitch, 149;
meets Prince Maximus, 149;
Turkish alternative Mehmed-Bey Obrenbegovitch, 149;
plain of Ducadyin given as fief to, 149

Yovo.
Infant son of Goïko, 204, 205

Z

Zablak.
Ivan Tzrnoyevitch sails for, 135;
wedding attendants invited by Ivan Tzrnoyevitch encamp on plain of, 139;
Yovan in a dream beholds fire consume the beautiful capital of, 139;
Milosh to escort Maximus’ bride to, 141, 144 [394]

“Zadrooga.”
Designation of Serbian family associations, 13, 14

Zagoryé.
Mountain on which Milosh-the-Shepherd overtakes wedding procession of Tsar Doushan, 155

Zagreb (Agram).
Croatians had established an episcopate at, as early as the eleventh century, 14

Zahoumlye (Herzegovina).
Appropriated by Stephen Voïslav, 3

Zdral.
Steed of Ivan Tzrnoyevitch, 135, 140, 142

“Zelenko” and “Krgno.”
Ivan Tzrnoyevitch’s two famous guns, 140

Zemlyitch, Styepan.
Accompanies the doge of Venice, who acts as Marko’s koom, 96–100

Zeta.
The Montenegro of modern times, Skadar the capital of, 119, 120

Zetina.
Waters of, stirred by explosion of Ivan Tzrnoyevitch’s guns, 140

Zmay.
The Serbian word for dragon, 129;
the, of Yastrebatz, and the Tsarina Militza, 129