Caucasian Legends Part 13

XII. ZESVA

Two hors.e.m.e.n were giving chase to some wild goats. Quickly did their most daring horses run, but still faster did the light little goats save themselves by flight, jumping across narrow gorges with one bound, springing on small plateaus, and in a word as though favored with having wings they seemed to fly through bushes and low shrubs. Now, however, they made for a very high mountain covered with bushes and forests and rapidly found their way among green branches and blooming trees, ascending higher and higher. The pace of the pursuit of the hors.e.m.e.n considerably slowed down as the various plants were every now and then the cause of unexpected delays, while their victims, the goats, were able to catch breath between each long jump and thus got on rather well and without much difficulty.

The comparatively large horses were of course forced to go out of their way in order to avoid knocking up against trees, which barred the trail, and even where the gra.s.s had been smoothed out the animals went rather quietly and the energetic hors.e.m.e.n saw themselves more than once obliged to cut and bend down ma.s.sive branches which formed the chief impediment in the whole undertaking. When after long and renewed attempts they safely reached the summit of the mountain, the goats had completely disappeared, and looking in various directions in order to discover the hiding place of the fugitives, the plucky hors.e.m.e.n cast their glances at that part of the mountain at the foot of which spread itself out like a fairyland the perfectly magnificent valley of Alazana. And how beautiful she looked on this rare sunny day, all shining with soft sweet rays, separated from each other by a large number of various colored shades, one more perfect and exquisite than the other.

Now she would seem to take a bath in some pale, rosy waves, produced by an unknown marvellous battery of light, then again she so dazzled in precious gold and finally blazed with emeralds and the branches of its quite innumerable vineyards. There was also the sea of cl.u.s.ters, which could be distinguished through its little fruit garden, and like gigantic flower bushes they concentrated in themselves an amazing variety of flowers from the very most conspicuous to the darkest and palest. In astonishment did the hunters stop. Till then none of the Toushines had known about the existence of the highly blessed and favored Kakhitia. Being illuminated and showing all of her blinding beauty, she indeed seemed to them a perfect paradise and attracted forever their exultant glances. And the hunt and goats and everything else was forgotten. They stood there in perfect adoration of this unusual perfection of beauty and being unable to resist any longer the force which drew them nearer and nearer to the happy land, they descended into the gorge of Pankisse. On the River Bazzarisse-Tskali they chanced to come upon a detachment of Tartar frontier guards, who immediately surrounded the newcomers, and having dealt with them in the most insulting and truly shameful manner, again chased them into the mountains from which they had come. Arriving at home, the indignant Toushines made a halt near that river, where the nation usually a.s.sembled when it was necessary to decide some important affairs. Here did they also announce the facts of their perilous adventure and demand a revenge. Soon by the summons of the Elder there came together not only the Toushines, but also the Pchaves and Khevsourians, called in to give their advice.

They all unanimously decided to take terrible revenge for the insult inflicted on their countrymen. The Pchaves and Khevsourians promised their a.s.sistance and with general consent the whole army was divided into two parts. One division was to conceal itself in the gorge of Pankisse, while the other should direct itself towards the Baktrionan fortress, which was situated to the east of Alazana and was in those remote times considered a very powerful fortification. Nowadays we can judge of it only by its ruins, which, however, all testify its past grandeur and mightiness. It was impossible to cross the river otherwise than over the bridge, which the sly Tartars covered with ashes in order to always find out the exact number and direction of new arrivals. But this ingenious slyness was not long hidden from the searching eye of Zesva, the valiant leader of the detachment. He ordered to stop the horses near the outer gates and, riding at full speed across the bridge, he succeeded in hiding himself in a valley before the Tartars found time to appear. The latter, guiding themselves by the direction of the traces, started in pursuit of their antagonists, but with every step getting farther and farther away from those to capture which was their intense desire. In the meantime the night came on and, profiting by the darkness, the Toushines reached the foot of the very fortress without being noticed by anyone. Having ordered his warriors to rest, Zesva, without breaking the silence, took up a hammer, covered it with cow-hair felt, unloaded from his horse a very large maprasha (i.e., a pair of sacks tied unto the steed) filled with strong iron tusks and knocked the first great nail into the battlements of the fortress, and standing upon it and reaching as high as possible he made a second one stick, and thus he continued until he had made himself a kind of ladder of iron hooks to the tip-top of the high rampart wall, whence he jumped down and in a flash threw open the heavy gates.

Like a rushing stream did the Toushines make their way into the fortress, while the first rays of the rising sun were falling upon the grim old fortifications. The Tartars, half asleep, ran out into a field, but in vain for now they were met by the Pchaves and Khevsoures, who had ventured out from the gorge of Pankisse. The Tartars, surrounded on all sides, were exterminated to the last one and the field of honor of Allavanne, on which the glorious fight had taken place, was from now on known under the name of "Gatzvetila"

(from the word "gatsveta"--"they are killing").

The magnanimous and lion-hearted Zesva handed out all the rich booty of this ever-memorable day to his faithful allies, i.e., the Pchaves and Khevsoures, while Gatzvetila became the common property of all Toushines. Nowadays this historic spot is known under the designation, "Field of Allavanna." Some people pretend that this name comes from the Georgian word "ali," i.e., "flame," as on this field, after the fire of the battle, the Tartar blood went on smoking for a long time; others say this name originates from the Kshtinskian words "al" = vladyka and "va" = here. This latter supposition, it seems to me, must be nearer in approaching the truth, as Allvani was one of the country palaces of Tamara, the ruins of which were not kept, although traditions confirm the existence of a palace on the above-mentioned field.

XIII. THE TALE OF MIKHIAN

A LEGEND

A wonderfully gorgeous reception was being prepared at the Turkish Court. The Sultan had taken it into his head to brilliantly celebrate and entertain the all-famous hero-prince Solagge, a Mikhian by descent, who had just arrived in his domains. At the door the Vizir met the guest with open arms and explained to him what a fortunate concurrence of circ.u.mstances it had been that had granted Turkey the chance of beholding him within their borders. Solagge wanted to reply, but the Vizir, without listening to him, continued his pompous speech and thus obliged his guest to hold his tongue. The Vizir had received instructions from the Sultan to seek out means under pretense of friendship and veneration in order to have the famous hero perish, and so the sly Ottoman official proposed that he should fight a duel with an Arab giant and boxer, promising in reward for victory the position of a Pasha of Achaltsisk. Solagge refused the reward, not wishing to abandon little Mikhia, to serve which he had devoted his whole life, but the duel he accepted, and so the Vizir personally brought him a rare and expensive horse with a golden saddle, gold stirrups, etc., saying: "Here you have a steed worthy of a future Pasha of Achaltsisk." On a Friday the whole town came together on a well-known square. Proudly did the Arab rival parade on his foaming horse. Solagge reverently bowed to him, but the former, instead of replying, simply rushed at his antagonist with a hatchet in his hand.

Notwithstanding the perfectly unexpected attack, Solagge all the same succeeded in repelling him, but a second and even a third hatchet came flying after the first. The clever Mikhian missed their aim and without trouble succeeded in protecting himself against all of them and was soon on the point of attacking his enemy. Like a regular tornado he pounced down upon his rival and at full gallop let his own hatchet fall on him. He cut the Arab through and through and threw him off his horse to the ground. Wishing to speedily arouse the dissatisfaction of the people, the moullahs (i.e., priests) surrounded the corpse, read aloud the Khoran and filled the air with their hideous mournful lamentations and cries. But the nation, greatly delighted over the daring exploit of Solagge, remained perfectly insensible to their never-ceasing weeping and howling.

With great signs of distinction was Solagge conducted into the palace, where the Sultan, after a most friendly and hearty reception and pleasant congratulations, rewarded his excessive chivalry with gold and precious stones and again offered him the position of a Pasha of Achaltsisk, but Solagge refused even a second time.

"Remember thy wonderful strength and the extraordinary mightiness which thou wilt be able to dispose of!" said the Sultan.

"O Sovereign!" replied the famous hero, "I sincerely thank thee for the honor thou bestowest upon me and the extreme confidence which thou hast in me, but know thou then that being inspired by the mercy of G.o.d with that serene strength which hath drawn unto me thine elevated attention, I nevertheless do not feel the least need in obtaining any other power, whatever it may be, besides the one which gives me the love of my fellow-citizens."

And Solagge remained true to his word and pa.s.sed his whole life in poor Mikhia, protecting the slighted, punishing the lawless, and never died, for even down to our days he lives with boundless glory in national songs and legends, blessed and adored by every generation, as a shining example of courage and uncorrupted and sincere love for his native land.