He lamented loudly the fate of Marko
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.
[1] An instrument which emits droning monotonous sounds, and which resembles in many points the hurdy-gurdy. In olden times, in Serbia, this instrument was played by minstrels thirty years of age or more; younger men played the flute, violin, and a kind of bagpipes.
[2] In order to illustrate how firmly rooted is that belief throughout Serbia, the author quotes from his article (condensed): “How a Fourteenth Century Serbian Prince achieved a Miraculous Victory in the Late War,” The International Psychic Gazette, May 1913.
“... When we arrived on the 15th of November last year, at Skoplye (Uskub), the Serbian officers gave a comparatively sumptuous banquet at their barracks in honour of Surgeon-General Bourke and the two units of the British Red Cross, on which occasion the aged General Mishitch related to us the following incident from the battle of Prilip, fought a few days previously.
“... Our infantry was ordered to make a forced march on the eve of that battle, which is unique in the history of warfare. They were to wait at the foot of the mount of Prilip on which stood the Castle of Marko for the effect of our artillery, which was superior both in numbers and quality to that of the Turks. They were especially cautioned against storming the fort before they received the order from their commander-in-chief. This was necessary, for our soldiers had won recently several battles at the point of the bayonet, and were convinced that there was nothing that would frighten the Turks more than the sight of the shining bayonets of the Serbian troops. They knew well that the mere exclamation of Bulgarians, Na noge! put the Turks to flight at Kirk-Klissé and Lülé Bourgass.
“During the early morning the infantry kept quiet, but at the first cannon-shots we noticed an effervescence among our troops, and soon afterward we heard them shouting frantically and saw them running like wolves straight to the castle of the Royal Prince Marko. I could hear the voice of our Captain Agatonovitch, commanding them to stop and await the General’s order. When the immediate commanders saw that discipline proved futile, they essayed in vain to appeal to the soldiers’ reason, assuring them of certain death if they would not await at least the effect of our artillery. Our warriors, deafened by the roaring of the Turkish siege-cannon and mitrailleuses, ran straight into the fire, and appeared to fall in dozens! The sight was horrible. I was unable to stop my soldiers. My blood froze, I closed my eyes. Disastrous defeat! Demoralisation of other troops! My own degradation was certain!
“In a little while our artillery ceased firing, lest they should kill their own comrades, who were now crossing bayonets with the Turkish infantry. A few minutes later we saw the Serbian national colours fluttering on the donjon of Kralyevitch Marko’s castle. The Turks were fleeing in greatest disorder. The Serbian victory was as complete as it was rapid!
“When we arrived on the scene a little later, a parade was ordered. After calling together the troops we found our loss had been comparatively insignificant. I praised my heroes for their brave conduct, but reproached them bitterly for their disobedience. At my last admonishing words, I heard from thousands of soldiers in majestic unison: