Zakhar Berkut/Chapter I
Chapter I
It was the year 1241, when the Spirit of Spring had spread her magic mantle of fresh verdure over the hills and broad-backed, gently sloping mountain ranges of the Tukholian region in the Carpathian section of ancient Rus (Ukraine).[1]
One glorious day of this spring the woodland slopes of Mt. Zelemenya echoed with shouts and bellowing blasts of the huntsmen’s horns.
Tuhar Wolf (Wowk), the new boyar of Tukhlia, had organized a big game hunt to celebrate the beginning of his rule in the region for just recently king Danilo of the principality of Halich had granted him full tenure over this section of luxuriantly grassy downs and mountain woodlands.
As soon as he had chosen a site and built himself a house, he arranged a hunting expedition as a way of self-introduction to the boyars[2] of surrounding communities.In those days to undertake a hunt for big game was not just a means of pleasantly passing away the time but a grim and bloody risk, hazardous to life and limb. Bison, bears and wild boars are truculent, malignant brutes. Seldom did anyone ever succeed in killing one of them with a bow and arrow. Even deer were not bagged without a struggle. The actual kill most often had to be made by facing the animal and plunging a spear into its heart with all one’s might. If the spear missed its mark, the life of the hunter became greatly endangered, especially if he was unable at the crucial moment to find momentary refuge from which to launch a renewed attack with a hunting knife or a strong, long-handled battleaxe.
Therefore it was not surprising to find that Tuhar and his company prepared for the hunt as if for a siege of war, with a supply of ammunition, bows and arrows, a coterie of servants, provisions of food and even a reputable sorcerer who knew how to heal wounds.
Nor was there anything unusual in that Tuhar and his guests were themselves as fully armed as warriors except for steel helmets and armor which would have been too burdensome to manage on their trek through the jungle growth and over fallen timber of the mountainside. The only remarkable aspect of this expedition was the presence of Tuhar’s daughter, Peace-Renown (Meroslava), who not forsaking her father even in this adventure, ventured to join his company of hunters.
The Tukholian citizens, seeing her riding boldly and proudly among her father’s guests, like a straight young willow tree among the oaks, followed her mounted form with approving eyes and spoke thus to one another: “What a girl! She’d make a fine young soldier, and probably a better man than her father!”
This was no mean compliment for Tuhar Wolf was a man as physically solid and strong as a giant oak, broad of shoulders, brawny, and with a thick growth of black beard and hair so that he might well himself have been mistaken for one of the hairy Tukholian bears which he was bound to hunt down. But such a daughter as his Peace-Renown was also hard to find. Aside from her high rank of birth, her beauty, her loveable, kindly disposition, which a number of her contemporaries could no doubt be found to possess in equal degree (though not many could surpass her at that) there was one respect in which none would ever rival her and that was in her free-spirited nature, her initiative, the high degree of muscular development and dauntless courage, manifest only in those young men brought up under the direst stress of circumstances requiring from them an unremitting struggle with relentless nature.
It was apparent that from the outset, Peace-Renown had been permitted the greatest personal freedom, that her upbringing had been masculine in nature and that within the pleasingly formed feminine body dwelt a forceful and valiant spirit.
She was Tuhar’s only child, her mother having died at her birth. Her nurse, an old peasant woman, had trained her from earliest childhood in the performance of practical, everyday tasks. And when she grew older, her father, to assuage his loneliness, took her everywhere with him. To satisfy her impulsive, zealous nature, he taught her the use of all the implements of warfare in the art of self-defense, to bear discomforts without complaint and to face danger without flinching. The greater the difficulties which presented themselves, the more audacious she grew in overcoming them, the stronger she developed physically and the more self-reliant mentally. Despite all this, Peace-Renown never for a moment was unfeminine. She was sweet of nature, good of heart and demure. All this, combined with her training, made a most harmonious and charming combination, so that whoever saw her and heard her speak, could never forget her. Her walk, her lovely voice made them recall to memory the best moments of their lives, their youth; just as the first breath of spring brings memories to an old man of his young love.
The big game hunt was in its third day. Many deer and bison had been killed by the arrows and spears of the boyars. Near the bank of a noisy mountain stream, in a glade deep within the forest, the huntsmen had pitched their tents. Smoke rose high from huge campfires where upon iron racks hung great steaming kettles and where the meat of the game was being turned by the servants as it broiled and baked, to feed Tuhar’s company of guests.
Today, the last day of the hunt was to be devoted to the most important and most dangerous of all, the hunt for bears. At the top of a steeply sloping hill strewn with broken branches and fallen timber and densely forested with sturdy beech and pine trees, separated from the rest of the terrain by deep ravines and gorges, was the ancient breeding ground of the mighty Bruin. There, Maxim Berkut, their mountain guide, assured them could be found the dens of the female bears from which they brought forth their offspring to instill terror into the entire community, on visiting its peaceful pastures.
Although some daring shepherds occasionally killed one or two beasts with their bows and arrows and spears, or managed to lure them into a trap, the number of bears was too great for such infrequent killings to insure the community against their ever-present menace.
It was no wonder that when the new boyar, Tuhar Wolf, announced to the inhabitants of Tukhlia that he was staging a bear hunt and asked them to lend him a guide, they not only sent him their very best young mountaineer, Maxim, son of Zakhar, their most prominent citizen and respected leader, but also a troop of young mountaineer archers, equipped with bows and arrows and javelins to lend assistance to the boyar and his company in the hunt. Tuhar’s plan was to surround the hillside breeding ground with his company and to rid it once and for all of its savage inhabitants.
From earliest morn the encampment was alive with the excitement of preparation. The servants had been stirring about long before dawn getting ready the provisions of food and filling the guests’ wooden canteens with a thirst-quenching drink of fomented honey. The Tukholian youths also prepared themselves by sharpening their knives and wooden arrows, drawing on durable moccasins and filling the compartments of their lunch baskets with roast meat, dumplings, bread, cheese and other food enough to last them the entire day.
Not until this day did Maxim Berkut assume the full responsibility of the expedition. He neither hurried nor tarried, nor did he neglect to oversee every detail of the preparations. Everything had its time and place. Whether among his fellow mountaineers, the older and more experienced boyars, or the servants, Maxim moved about calmly, unobtrusively, giving orders confidently as if he considered them all his equals. His friends were just as free with him as he with them, laughing and joking with him at the same time carrying out his instructions promptly and happily as though they were doing everything on their own initiative without being told. The company of boyar warlords, accustomed to sly, derisive laughter on the one hand and to toadying servility on the other, were in their ways neither as free nor as readily given to jollity, nevertheless, they respected Maxim’s guidance and judgment and carried out his instructions without question.
Although the proud and arrogant boyars may have resented the presence of a common peasant “lout” who ordered them about as if they were his equals, it was demonstrated to them almost at every turn that his instructions were both sensible and necessary.
The sun had not yet risen when the huntsmen left their encampment. The mountains slept, wrapped in their blanket of hushed tranquillity; dreamy mists enveloped the dark green, pointed crowns of the pine trees. Drops of dew hung like acorns among dense, many-pointed leaves; on the ground trailing garlands of climbing vines twisted and twined themselves around the roots of storm-uprooted trees, among the brambles of wild raspberry and blackberry bushes and intertwined themselves with the thick and fibrous shoots of wild hop vines. From the steep, darkly yawning gorges, rose a thick, grayish vapor, indicating that at their base flowed swift mountain currents. The air was oppressive with the mist and pungent odor of pine cones forcing their lungs to expand to their fullest capacity to catch a breath.
Wordlessly, the company of huntsmen pushed their way through the pathless jungle growth, over fallen timber and treacherous ravines. Maxim Berkut led the company followed by Tuhar Wolf, his daughter, the other boyars and the Tukholian youths in the rear. They proceeded cautiously, ears alert to every sound.
The woodland began to awaken to daytime activity. A woodpecker perched on the top of a giant pine a moment, slid down and pecked upon its bark his announcement of the sunrise. From a distance came the roars of bison and the yowls of jackals. The bears, having fed upon their kill, were drowsing away lolling on the soft, mossy beds of their dens at the bottoms of ravines and gorges, hidden beneath the screens of forest debris. A tribe of wild boars grunted at the bottom of a gulch, no doubt cooling their snouts in some icy torrent.
The company had made its toilsome way for an hour or more along the tangled thickets of the primeval forest. Their breathing was labored and difficult, they wiped their brows constantly of the trickling rivulets of perspiration, doing their best to keep up with their guide, Maxim, who kept glancing backward. At first he had objected to allowing Tuhar’s daughter to accompany them on this most dangerous trip, but Peace-Renown was firmly insistent. It was the first time she had been on such an extensive hunting trip and so she was unwilling to give up her plans to accompany them on its most exciting expedition. None of Maxim’s arguments concerning the difficulties to be encountered on the way, the perils of the undertaking, the ferocity and cunning of animals maddened by shots that failed to hit their mark, availed to dissuade her. “All the better! All the better!” she had replied to everything, showing Maxim the intrepid ardor in her eyes, smiling up at him her sweet and utterly disarming smile so that Maxim, as if bewitched, ceased to press the matter further. Her father too, had at first opposed her wishes but in the end, as usual, gave in to her pleas.
Maxim was not a little amazed at her efficiency, rivaling that of the boyars, in surmounting the various obstacles which presented themselves in their path. He watched, astounded at how nimbly she leaped over fallen timber, her sure-footedness along ledges of steeply yawning gorges, how deftly she slid under tangled masses of forest litter and withal so unconsciously, naturally, that to Maxim it seemed as if she floated along propelled by magic, unseen wings. Observing her, he continued to marvel, “What a wonderful girl! What a wonderful girl! Why, I’ve never in my life seen anyone like her!”
At length they arrived at their destination. The breeding ground of the Bruins was a steep hill heavily timbered with giant beech and pine trees, strewn with huge boulders, logs and dried branches, accessible only from its southern side. It was closed off at its western, northern and eastern sides by sheer walls of rock which seemed as if they had been sliced off the giant Mt. Zelemenya and moved a few feet away from it. Beneath these walls of rock roared and foamed the icy waters of a narrow mountain stream.
These natural barriers on its three sides made the work of our huntsmen all the easier. All they needed to do was to spread themselves out not too far apart, forming a flanking line along its southern side and in that formation to slowly ascend the hillside. The beasts, not having any other outlet, would eventually fall into their hands and be killed.
Having arrived at this strategic point, Maxim advised the company to stop a few minutes to sit down or lie down and rest before tackling their hard and dangerous task. The sun had already risen but the surrounding hill-tops and the branches of the giant pines obscured it from their view. After a short period of rest, Maxim began to arrange the hunters into a double row covering the entire width of the pass. At the narrower entrance of the corridor the men would stand five paces apart from each other, but as the sloping course widened on its ascent, the hunters would be forced to move further apart. The only matter which troubled Maxim was the question of what to do about Peace-Renown who persisted in demanding that she be given a separate place in the line rather than be forced to stay at her father’s side.
“What!” she cried. “Am I not as good as any of your Tukholian youths?” her lovely face flushing rosily under Maxim’s regard. “You assign them individual posts but choose to ignore me—that is unfair! Besides, it would certainly bring disgrace upon my father if the two of us should be stationed at one position in the line. Isn’t that so, father?” she questioned eagerly, persuasively. Tuhar Wolf did not have the heart to deny her.
Maxim began to repeat his exposition of all the hazards to be encountered. But all his arguments proved futile. She swept them all aside by answering, “Am I not strong? Do I not know the uses of the bow and arrow, the javelin, spear and battle-axe? Just let any one of your youths try to match his skill against mine and we’ll see who’ll be the winner!”
Finally Maxim had to give in. Nor could he carry in his heart the least resentment against this amazing and charming girl. He wanted to place her in the least dangerous position, but he could not do so for the simple reason that they were all equally dangerous. Having assembled his company, his final command was: “Let us now pray to whatever God each knows and then we’ll sound our horns all together. This will herald our presence here and alarm the beasts. Then we’ll ascend the pass until we reach the portion where it begins to widen. There my fellow Tukholians will guard the entrance so that no beast shall enter it, while you Boyarins, will ascend to the summit, right up to the breeding lairs of the female bears!”
In a minute woodland glades and hillsides reverberated with the bellowing blasts of the hunters’ horns. For a long moment the sound rolled, detonating over the forests and in the mountain ranges. The woodland was rudely wakened. A blue-jay screeched in terror over the pine trees. A frightened giant eagle flapped his wings and soared into the sky. A beast crunched among the broken branches and fallen logs, seeking shelter. When the din of the horns had died away, the huntsmen began their blocking ascent of the pass. Their hearts raced in anticipation of a possible surprise attack and a fight to the finish. They kept a straight formation as they advanced. The first row was composed of the boyars followed by the mountaineers. Maxim led the entire company, guiding their way, cautiously alert to every sound and sign of bear tracks. But the mighty king of the primeval forest fastness, the bear, had not yet shown himself.
They had now arrived at the narrowest part of the corridor beyond which it spread itself into a steep, upward inclining expanse. Here at Maxim’s order they paused once more and blew upon their horns, sending their fearful, thunderous sound into the dim-lit dens and harbours of the bears. Suddenly there was a rustling and snapping of dry twigs nearby, behind a huge pile of thick, half-rotten, giant pine logs.
“Attention!” cried Maxim, “The beast is approaching!” Hardly were the words out of his mouth when, through an opening between two great logs, a shaggy head appeared and two brown eyes, half-curious and half-afraid, peered at Tuhar Wolf, who stood at his place in line just about ten paces away from it.
Tuhar was an old soldier and an experienced huntsman. He was not frightened by this sudden, unexpected encounter. Without uttering a word, he pulled out a heavy, iron arrow, placed it in his bow and stepped back a pace to take aim..
“Aim for his eye, Boyarin!” whispered Maxim from behind him.
An apprehensive moment of silence; an arrow whistled and the beast howled and fell back. Although he disappeared from view behind the pile of fallen timber, his pain-maddened roars did not cease.
“After him!” cried Tuhar Wolf and pushed his way through the opening where the bear had disappeared. At the same time two of the boyar huntsmen had climbed atop the pile of timber and held their javelins in readiness to aim at the beast. Tuhar Wolf, standing just at the opening, shot another arrow at the bear who roared even louder and turned to run away, but his eyes filled with blood so that he could not see his way out and kept bumping into trees as he ran.
A javelin thrown by one of the boyars struck him between the shoulder blades; however, it failed to down him. The savage howls of the wounded beast increased in volume. In desperation, he reared up on his hind legs trying to wipe away with his hairy paws the blood from his eyes which continuously overflowed them, clawing and tearing at the leafy branches before him, throwing them to the ground. But to no avail, one eye was completely shattered by the arrow and the other kept filling up with blood. He wheeled around blindly and approached Tuhar again, who cast his bow aside and, ducking behind the up-turned root of the fallen tree, unhooked his poleaxe from his belt grasping it in both hands. When the bear feeling blindly for the familiar opening between the logs appeared there, he swung the axe down on its head with all his might, splitting the skull in half, its bloody brain spattering him; and the still beast’s carcass fell to the ground with a thud.
Joyously the horns announced their first victory. They dragged the beast out into a clearing, skinned him and then pressed further into the jungle. The sun had risen high into the heavens, diffusing its rays between the branches like skeins of golden silk. The huntsmen proceeded now in a more confident manner, complimenting themselves upon their intrepidity, strength and prowess.
“Although I am just a wolf, one of the lesser beasts,” joked Tuhar boastfully, “I can still do justice to a Tukholian bear.”
Maxim, listening to this ostentatious speech, could not understand himself why all at once he should feel so sorry for the Tukholian bear.
“Very stupid of the bears,” he remarked at last, “to defend themselves singly. Now if only a few of them got together, it’s doubtful whether even a whole pack of wolves could do anything to them.”
Tuhar glanced at him angrily, but made no attempt to answer. The huntsmen pressed on, climbing over fallen timber, leaping from stump to stump, often falling into piles of heaped up, dusty dry branches and touchwood.
In the middle of this primeval fastness of giant forest growth, piled up brushy tangles and rock fragments, they found the bear trails, narrow but well trodden from centuries of use, thickly strewn with the bleached bones of sheep, goats and other domesticated animals.
Maxim now kept to the rear of the company of boyars, constantly making sure that each man maintained his position, examining the narrow paths for signs of fresh tracks, urging on and helping those who were tired. He alone showed no signs of fatigue.
Peace-Renown observed him with a mingling of wonder and admiration whenever he chanced to pass by her. Although she had certainly seen many brave and sturdy young men, she had never met anyone like Maxim who combined within his person not only the robust vigor of a peasant worker but also the intelligence and capabilities of a leader.
There was a sudden crackling of dry twigs and out from behind a pile of branches jumped a grizzly. At first he ran on all fours, but perceiving his enemies, he reared up on his hind legs, seized a storm-uprooted sapling in his forepaws and swinging it around him advanced menacingly, growling intermittently. Directly in front of him in the line of march were two mountain boyars who had been the most loudly boastful, anxious to show off before the company how much they knew.
Seeing the dreadful enemy so close to them, they trembled and blanched with dismay, but were ashamed to run and hide. They had to face the situation no matter what the outcome might be. Two arrows from two bows shot out at once. One missed, whistling by the bear’s ears and the other struck the beast’s side, not wounding as much as enraging him.
Taking a mighty leap into the air, the bear flung his weapon, the beech tree, at one of his assailants, just missing him and striking a tree near-by a glancing blow.
Without pausing even a moment to give the hunters time to reflect on their next move, the bear lunged towards the one who stood in the center of his beaten path. A javelin gleamed in the trembling hand of one of the boyars as he made ready to throw it.
“Don’t!” warned Maxim commandingly, running towards them, followed by Tuhar Wolf and another boyar. “Don’t throw it, but get ready to defend yourself with a spear at closer range.”
However, his warning went unheeded. The boyar threw the javelin at the beast. The distance was not great enough to make a forceful blow, his hand had trembled weakly therefore it was not surprising that the weapon, striking the beast’s right shoulder, did not inflict a mortal wound.
The bear seized a log, broke it in half and with a harsh roar threw himself to the attack upon his adversary. The hunter already held a sharp, double-edged sword called a “bear stiletto”, prepared to meet the assault by plunging it into the beast’s heart. But the sword point slipped upward along the bony ribs, finding its mark near the shoulder while the beast embraced the boyar in a fateful hug. A horrible cry escaped the lips of the unfortunate victim, his bones crunched between the teeth of the bear.
The whole shocking scene had been enacted so quickly, so unexpectedly, that before Maxim and the two men with him could reach him to lend their assistance, the boyar already lay on the ground drawing his last torturous breaths, while the bear stood over him, fangs bared, howling ferociously with rage and pain from the wounds he had sustained in the battle. A chill shiver crept up the spines of the boyars at the dreadful horror of the scene holding them all rivetted to the spot except Maxim who quietly placed an arrow within his bow fashioned of flexible bone, took a couple of paces in the direction of the bear, aimed an instant and let the arrow find its mark in the grizzly’s heart. With a last piercing howl, suddenly cut oft as if by a knife, the beast toppled over on the ground and lay still.
The hills did not echo and reverberate with the joyous sound of victory over this kill. The boyars, forsaking their original positions, gathered around the scene of the misfortune. Toughened warriors though they were, accustomed to see men die before their eyes, they could not restrain a horrified gasp of consternation at the sight of the bloody, clawed and mangled body of their comrade. Peace-Renown put her hand to her heart and averted her eyes.
The Tukholian youths improvished a stretcher out of broken branches and twigs, placed the body upon it and also dragged the beastly carcass after them. An onerous silence gripped the company of huntsmen. A great puddle of blood glistened moistly in the sunlight reminding all that only a few minutes before there had stood a living human being hale with the vigor of life and filled with ambitious hopes for the future, who now was but a formless mass of bloody flesh.
The greater part of their desire to continue the hunt had left the boyars. “To blazes with those cursed bears,” said some. “Let them live and die here, for all we care! Why should we risk our lives for them?”
But Tuhar Wolf and particularly Peace-Renown and Maxim insisted upon finishing the task they had begun. Finally the boyars agreed but none seemed at all anxious to return to their posts.
“Permit me, gentlemen,” spoke up Maxim, “a few words before we start again. Since my friends, the Tukholian youths, are guarding the entrance to the pass they will not allow any beast to leave or enter. Therefore it will not be necessary for us to keep at any great distance from each other. Also I think it would be best to divide ourselves into two separate companies and skirt along the edge of the gorge. In that way we’ll drive all the animals into the center and with the aid of the Tukholian youths, in a more closely knit line, we’ll surround the beasts and shoot them all down at once.”
“Yes, yes, that’s best!” cried some of the boyars without noticing the sardonic smile which momentarily played about Maxim’s lips. The company then divided itself into two groups, one led by Tuhar Wolf and the other by Maxim. Peace-Renown, without being able to explain to herself just why she made the choice, joined the second group under Maxim’s leadership. Perhaps she thought it was for the sake of adventure, for Maxim made it plain that the second line of march was the more perilous one.
Once again the horns bellowed and the two groups separated. The huntsmen advanced singly and in pairs, sometimes coming together in groups and at times separating completely from each other, seeking outlets and pathways, for to proceed entirely in groups was impossible. They were now nearing the top of the hill whose rocky summit was barren of all growth. Just below the summit barring their path was a piled-up wall of boulders, fallen trees and broken branches. To get past this was the hardest and most hazardous part of their journey upwards. In one place the debris was piled as high as a tower.
Logs, branches, twigs, rocks and tangled masses of leaves formed the natural wall of a fortress. Maxim crept along the ledge of the abysmal gorge, catching hold here and there of the moss and infrequent growth among the rocks, seeking a pass which would lead them into the fortified, woodland fastness. But the boyars, who were not accustomed to such inconvenient and death-defying paths, continued on along the wall of the rampart hoping to find some break in it.
Peace-Renown stopped and hesitated as if something held her near Maxim. Her bright, intelligent eyes surveyed the towering mass, searching for even the smallest opening which might permit a passage through it. In a moment she was audaciously scaling the barrier of sharp rocks and timber. Standing at its top, she looked around her imperiously. The boyars were now some distance away, Maxim was not in sight and before her there stretched an utterly impassable confusion of rocks, branches, twigs, tangled vines and uprooted trees. But wait! A short distance away she noticed a giant pine log spread bridge-wise over the impassable area, seemingly presenting a safe way to reach the summit.
Without further reflection upon the advisability of her move, she started in its direction and setting her feet upon the log, once more glanced backward haughtily. Proud of her discovery, she raised her handsomely-wrought horn to her coral lips and blew upon it triumphantly, its sound rolling over the woodland necropolis, detonating down into the ravines, crashing against distant mountain tops, echoing, re-echoing, until it lost itself in some dark jungle of underbrush. In a moment from some distance away came the answer of her father’s horn and then of the other boyars. Peace-Renown paused, balancing herself on the log. It was a very ancient and dried-out one and from beneath it, within the impenetrable confusion of twigs, branches, logs and rocks, there seemed to come to her ears a faint sound as of a crunching of teeth and a low murmuring. She listened again more attentively, but she heard nothing. Reassured, she set her feet upon the log and proceeded confidently. Hardly had she taken five steps along it when the dry punkwood cracked and snapped under her and the daring girl went down with it among the branches, twigs and stones.
She landed on her feet without having let go any of her weapons. Grasped firmly in her strong hands, she held a silver pointed spear. Slung over one shoulder was a powerful bow and over the other a pouch filled with arrows and tucked behind the handsome leather belt which seemed as if it had been poured around the slim girlish waist, was a battle-axe and a stilleto with an intricately carved bone handle.. Falling unexpectedly into the dim cavern did not frighten her, she lost little of her self-composure, nevertheless, she began at once to look about her for some way out. At first she could distinguish nothing in the murky blackness but as her eyes accustomed themselves to the dimness, they encountered a sight which would make anyone’s blood freeze, for barely five paces away from her, in a den, lay a huge female bear and her young, glaring menacingly at her unexpected guest. Peace-Renown gasped in dismay. Should she try to fight the fearful beast herself or seek some means of escape and summon help? But it was not easy to find an outlet. All around her protruded the sharp points of twigs, trunks of trees and rocks. Although it might not be entirely impossible after a hard struggle to climb over them, within reach of the savage beast it was a dangerous risk. Peace-Renown definitely decided against launching an attack upon the beast, to defend herself only if it proved to be absolutely necessary and to at once blow upon her horn the call for help.
Before its sound had died away, the she-bear jumped up and, snarling, advanced towards the girl. There was no time for the bow and arrow, the beast was too close. She grasped her spear in both hands and, planting her shoulders squarely against the rock behind her, she held it out in front of her towards the bear. Distracted by the twinkle of the metal the beast paused. The two enemies stood face to face a long moment, neither moving her eyes from the other. Peace-Renown had no intention of starting the attack. The bear sought with her eyes some means of getting at her enemy. Suddenly she picked up a stone in her forepaws and reared upon her hind legs to take aim. At that same instant Peace-Renown with all the strength she possessed cast the spear, striking the beast between its forepaws. With a howl she toppled over on her back, bathed in blood. But it was not a mortal wound and in a moment the beast was up on her feet again. The blood streamed from her, but without heeding the pain, she lunged once more towards Peace-Renown who now fully realized her perilous predicament. The infuriated beast made straight for her, fangs bared in a horrible grin.
There was only one way to escape, by climbing unto the ledge of rock protruding just above her shoulders. With a swift movement, she stood upon the narrow ledge of rock. Her heart slowed its mad beating, now she felt a little safer, for if she was attacked here, she thought it would be easier to ward off the beast from her superior position. Hardly had she time to ascertain what the beast was up to, when she noticed it approaching her from the other end of the ledge of rock, emitting savage rasping snarls from blood-smeared fangs. Cold beads of perspiration stood out upon her forehead. Peace realized that now the fateful moment had arrived when upon that narrow ledge of rock she must fight to the finish the battle for her life and that the victor would be the one who managed to hold his place upon the rock.
The she-bear was almost upon her. Peace-Renown tried to ward her off with the spear, but the bear, grasping it in her teeth, wrenched it from her hand with so much force that Peace-Renown almost lost her balance; then flung the weapon off into a pile of twigs.
“Now, I will surely have to die!” the thought flashed momentarily and disappeared, for she had not lost courage yet! She raised the battle-axe, grasped firmly in both hands, confidently ready to put up a vigorous battle. The beast slid ever closer to her. Peace-Renown felt its hot breath upon her cheek. A shaggy paw lifted, ready to strike, with its long sharp claws aimed for her chest. In a moment her mauled and mangled, bloody body would be forced off the ledge, for the battle-axe was too short to reach its mark beyond those huge, hairy paws.
“Help!” screamed panic-stricken Peace-Renown, her blood congealing with the horror of approaching death. Over her head, just in the nick of time, gleamed the shining point of a javelin and found its mark in the throat of the threatening beast which like a leaden maul now toppled off the rocky ledge.
On a crag of the rampart, just above her head, there appeared the glad, sun-reddened face of Maxim. One glance from the eyes of the grateful girl gripped his heart. Not a word passed between them for there was no time. The bear was still very much alive and howling ferociously, she sprang to her feet again. With a leap she was beside her young who, not understanding the meaning of the struggle, played and tumbled joyously within their lair. Having sniffed them over, she set herself to the attack again.. But this time Peace-Renown was prepared. Raising the battle-axe she swung it down with a mighty blow that cleaved the she-bear’s head open. The beast’s carcass jerked spasmodically from side to side a moment and then lay still.
In the meantime Maxim had climbed down and stood beside Peace-Renown. Tears of gratitude sprang to the girl’s eyes and without uttering a word, she clasped and squeezed the hand of her rescuer warmly.
Maxim became confused, embarrassed, his face flushed and lowering his eyes, he stuttered, “I heard. . . your urgent call for help. . . but did not know where you were. . . Thank God I got here in time!”
Peace-Renown stood there holding the handsome young man’s hand a long minute looking up into his candid, sunburned and ruddy-cheeked, pleasant face. At the moment she felt nothing more than pure gratitude towards him for having saved her life. But when Maxim, taking courage, squeezed her small though strong hand in turn, then Peace-Renown felt a swift, sweet something steal into her heart and a shy blush deepened the rosy bloom of her lovely face. She lowered her eyelids and the words of thanks which had been ready upon her lips died away and in their stead a deep blush spread becomingly over her face.
Maxim was the first to break the spell. In the honest clean-cut young man’s heart there was born a happy and irrevocable resolve. With it returned all his former self-composure. Raising the horn to his lips, he blew upon it joyously, announcing the victorious kill. From behind the wall of ruins the horns of Tuhar and the other boyars came in answer. Agile as a squirrel, Peace-Renown scaled the bank of ruins from which she had fallen and from that vantage point, related to the entire company how Maxim had come to her rescue. With not a little difficulty, Tuhar and other boyar huntsmen climbed upon the wall. Tuhar embraced his daughter and held her for a long time. And perceiving blood upon her clothing, exclaimed, “My child, my child, my dear one, to think that you were in such awful danger!” and kept embracing her again and again as if he were afraid to let her go.
Then he climbed down to where Maxim was busying himself preparing to skin the bear. The cubs, not yet recognizing their natural enemy in man, continued their joyous romping around in the den, like puppies. They allowed themselves to be petted and seemed not at all afraid of human begins. Maxim caught them in his arms and set them down at the feet of Peace-Renown and her father.
“Well, here is your quarry,” he said. . . “Perhaps you will welcome these guests in your home.”
The gathered company of boyars cheered by the capture, admired the cubs but viewed the carcass of the dead beast fearfully, examining its wounds and marvelling at the endurance and intrepidity of the girl who dared to engage such a huge beast in the struggle.
“Oh, no!” laughed Peace-Renown, “Without the help of this gallant young man I would be the one now, lying there, like the bloody beast. I owe him the greatest debt of gratitude for saving my life!”
Tuhar Wolf seemed to be somewhat displeased with what his daughter was saying. Though she was certainly very dear to him and his joy at finding her safe and sound was profound, still he would very much have preferred if a boyar’s son had saved her life instead of this common, Tukholian peasant lad and that despite the fact that the peasant youth had pleased Tuhar very much. To this proud boyar who had risen to the privileged rank in the favor of his king, it was hard to humble himself now before the peasant in order to thank him for ing saved his daughter’s life. But there was nothing else to do. Strict discipline in the duty of politeness was so strongly entrenched in the boyar’s training that even Tuhar Wolf could not break away from its tradition. Therefore, taking Maxim by the hand, he led him in front of the company of huntsmen and said, “My lad, my dearest and only child, my daughter, Peace-Renown, has told us that you have just saved her life. I have no reason to doubt but what she says is true. Please accept a father’s deep-felt thanks for your valiant deed. I do not know how we are to reward you for this, but you can be sure that whenever you are in need of help, Tuhar Wolf will do his best to repay the great debt he owes you.”
Maxim was perturbed by this unaccustomed praise before all the guests. He had neither expected nor wanted any thanks. Therefore he felt confused not knowing whether to make the usual trite reply or exactly what answer he should make. Finally he said simply, “You have nothing to thank me for, Boyarin! I did only that which anyone else in my place would have done. May your daughter Peace-Renown live long and happily, but I do not feel that any special reward is due me!”
He then turned and called to some of his Tukholian friends with whose help the bear was soon skinned and the cubs carried to the spot from which the company had agreed to start on their way back to camp after the hunt.
The sun neared its zenith spreading its hot, golden beams over the Tukholian mountainside; pine cones warmed by the sun suffused their heady perfume throughout the woodland and arrogantly fanning the air only now and again with his outspread wings, floated a hawk, high over the panorama, in the ocean of brilliant azure sky.
Perfect tranquillity pervaded all of nature. Only from one side of the giant Mt. Zelemenya echoed the sound of horns and shouts of the huntsmen. The hunt was at an end, although it had not been wholly successful.
At the head of the company of huntsmen, the Tukholian mountain youths carried, slung on a pole, three large bear skins and the pair of cubs in a bag. The servants brought up the rear, carrying upon the improvised stretcher the already stiff, bloody body of the boyar who had perished in the savage clutches of the bear.
Under Maxim’s expert guidance they reached their encampment without undue loss of time. The entire company planned to return home as soon as they were finished with their noonday meal. They were a long distance from home, but Maxim promised he would show them the shortest route to Tukhlia and from there to the home of Tuhar Wolf.
The Tukholian youths left as soon as they were finished with their dinner. Maxim remained with the boyars until the servants had broken up camp, took down the tents, packed away all the cooking utensils and hunting supplies. Then the company of boyars also set out upon the trail home, with Maxim in the lead.
- ↑ Ancient Greek writers called the land “Rhos” and later Latin writers, “Rutheni”. In Ukrainian documents of old, the land is called “Rus” (pron. Roosh), this being the name of the dynasty as for instance the name Hapsburg or Hohenzollern.
Ukraine possessed the name Rus before the 10th century while the Muscovite or, as it is called today, the Russian nation did not have its beginning until the middle of the 13th century. The name Russia and the term Russian did not come into existence until the second half of the 18th century when the Muscovite government, in order to get its people to accept the name of another land, Rus, as their own, added on the the “sia”, thus creating a new name.
Ethnographically the plains of Rus or Ukraine once stretched in a wide belt of about 600 miles along the Black Sea and the Sea of Azov, from the lower Danube and the Carpathian Range in the West, crossing the rivers Don and Volga and reaching to the Ural mountains in the East. - ↑ Boyar: A member of an aristocratic order, next below that of the ruling princes; one of a privileged class.