Hero Tales and Legends of the Serbians Part 10

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 n.o.ble charger. Both steeds bore on their backs bags filled with 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-G.o.d, thou Royal Prince Marko! Leave me not thus!' But I would not stay my flight.

"Then and there, O my mother, I sinned before G.o.d! 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-G.o.d, 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 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, tw.a.n.ged 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-G.o.d! 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 ta.s.sels to hang from thy knees to thy hoofs; thy mane shall I intertwine with threads of gold and adorn it with rare pearls. But, 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 G.o.d 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-G.o.d. "For G.o.d'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-G.o.d rode straight to 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.

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 n.o.ble 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! G.o.d 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 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 feared him exceedingly and was anxious only for his speedy departure.

PRINCE MARKO AND MOUSSA KESSEDJIYA [37]

"Moussa Arbana.s.s [38] 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 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 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,"