Byliny Book: Hero Tales of Russia

by Marion Chilton Harrison

Ilyá then got upon his good steed, and took with [[61]]him his hero’s weapons. His club of steel took he, and his grooved spear, his sharp sabre also, and his whip for the journey. And Ilyá set out from the town of Kiev and rode through the open plain, and up to the Tartar army. And when he came near and saw that great host, and heard the shouting of the men and the neighing of the horses, he began to lose heart. And when the old Cossack, Ilyá of Múrom rode through the free and open plain, he could not find out where the army ended. He leapt up a high hill, looked round on all sides and looked down upon the Tartar army; he could see no end or limit to it.

He came down from that high hill and rode on through the free and open plain, and he leapt up another high hill and looked towards the western side and saw some white tents standing, and by the tents stood heroes’ horses. He hastened down from that high hill and rode through the freedom of the open plain, and he came to the white tents. And when Ilyá got down from his good horse near the white tents, there stood the heroes’ horses. They were standing by a white linen cloth, and on the cloth millet and spring corn were scattered.

Ilyá let the silken bridle hang loose on the neck of his good hero horse and urged on his horse to the white linen, saying:

“Pleasant indeed would it be to taste it, if the heroes’ horses will allow him upon the white linen cloth to share the millet and spring corn.” [[62]]

His good horse stood by the linen cloth and began to eat the millet and spring corn, and the old Cossack, Ilyá of Múrom went to the white tent. In the tent were twelve heroes, and the heroes were all Russian, and they sat there eating bread and salt, and they were about to dine.

And Ilyá went into the tent and said:

“A good appetite to you, Heroes of Holy Russia, and to thee, Samson, my dear godfather!”

“Come here, my dear godson!” said his godfather. “Come, old Cossack, Ilyá of Múrom. Sit down and eat with us.”

And he stood up on his nimble feet to greet Ilyá of Múrom. And they greeted each other and kissed each other, and he made Ilyá sit at their table to eat bread and salt with them. Twelve heroes were they, and Ilyá was the thirteenth. They all ate and drank, and when they had dined they came away from the oaken table and made their prayer to God.

Then the old Cossack, Ilyá of Múrom, spoke and said: