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 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 Mourat[5] 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, 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 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.