On a certain calm night a band of horsemen, about twenty in number,
moved along the right bank of the Valadinka in the direction of the
Dniester. They went very slowly, the horses almost dragging one foot
after the other. A short distance in front of the others rode two, as
it were an advance guard; but evidently there was no cause for guarding
or being on the watch, since for a whole hour they had been talking
together instead of looking at the country about them. Reining in their
horses every little while, they looked at the party behind, and one of
them called out at this moment: "Slowly there! slowly!" And the others
went still more slowly, scarcely moving.
At last the party, pushing out from behind the eminence which had
covered them with its shadow, entered the open country, which was
filled with moonlight, and then it was possible to understand the
reason of their careful gait. In the centre of the caravan two horses
abreast carried a swing tied to their saddles, and in this swing lay
the form of some person. The silver rays lighted its pale face and
closed eyes.
Behind the swing rode ten armed men. From their lances without
bannerets, it was evident that they were Cossacks. Some led
pack-horses, others rode by themselves; but while the two riders in
front seemed to pay not the least attention to the country about them,
those behind glanced around on every side with unquiet and alarm. And
still the region seemed to be a perfect desert.
Silence was unbroken save by the noise of the horses' hoofs and the
calling of one of the riders in front, who from time to time repeated
his warning: "Slowly! carefully!"
At length he turned to his companion. "Horpyna, is it far yet?" he
inquired.
The companion called Horpyna, who in reality was a gigantic young woman
disguised as a Cossack, looked at the starry heavens and replied,--
"Not far. We shall be there before midnight. We shall pass the Enemy's
Mound, the Tartar Valley, and right there is the Devil's Glen. Oh, it
would be terrible to pass that place between midnight and cockcrow!
It's possible for me, but for you it would be terrible, terrible!"
The first rider shrugged his shoulders and said: "I know the devil is a
brother to you, but there are weapons against the devil."
"Devil or not, there are no weapons," answered Horpyna. "If you, my
falcon, had looked for a hiding-place through the whole world for your
princess, you could not have found a better. No one will pass here
after midnight unless with me, and in the glen no living man has yet
put foot. If any one wants soothsaying, he waits in front of the glen
till I come out. Never fear! Neither Pole nor Tartar will get there,
nor any one, any one. The Devil's Glen is terrible, you will see for
yourself."
"Let it be terrible, but I say that I shall come as often as I like."
"If you come in the daytime."
"Whenever I please. And if the devil stands in my road, I'll seize him
by the horns."
"Oh, Bogun, Bogun!"
"Oh, Dontsovna, Dontsovna, don't trouble yourself about me! Whether
the devil takes me or not is no concern of yours; but I tell you
this,--take council with your devils when you please, if only no harm
comes to the princess; but if anything happens to her, then neither
devils nor vampires will tear you from my grasp."
"Oh, they tried to drown me once when I lived with my brother on the
Don, another time the executioner was going to cut my head off in
Yampol,--I didn't care for that. But this is another thing. I will
guard her out of friendship for you, so that no spirit will make a hair
of her head fall, and in my hands she is safe from men. She won't
escape you."
"And, you owl, if you talk this way, why do you prophesy evil? Why do
you hoot in my ear, 'Pole at her side! Pole at her side!'"
"It was not I that spoke, but the spirits. But now perhaps there is a
change. I will prophesy for you to-morrow on the water of the
mill-wheel. On the water everything is clearly visible, but it is
necessary to look a long time, you will see yourself. But you are a
furious dog; if the truth is told, you are angry and wish to kill one."
Conversation was interrupted, and only the striking of the horses' feet
against the stones was heard, and certain sounds from the direction of
the river, like the chirping of crickets.
Bogun paid not the least attention to these sounds, though they might
astonish one in the night. He raised his face to the moon and fell into
deep thought.
"Horpyna!" said he, after a while.
"What?"
"You are a witch; you must know whether or not it is true that
there is an herb of some kind that whoever drinks of it must fall in
love,--lubystka, is it?"
"Yes, lubystka. But unfortunately for you, lubystka will not help. If
the princess hadn't fallen in love with some one else, then you might
give it to her; but if she is in love, do you know what will happen?"
"What?"
"She will love the other man still more."
"Oh, perish with your lubystka! You know how to prophesy evil, but you
don't know how to help."
"Listen to me! I know other herbs which grow from the earth; whoever
drinks them will be like a stump two days and two nights, knowing
nothing of the world. I will give her those herbs, and then--"
The Cossack shuddered in his saddle, and fixed on the witch his eyes
gleaming in the darkness. "What are you croaking about?" he asked.
"Then you can--" said the witch, and burst into loud laughter like the
neighing of a mare. This laughter resounded with ill-omened echo
through the windings of the glen.
"Wretch!" said Bogun.
Then the light of his eyes went out gradually; he dropped again into
meditation, and at length began to speak as if to himself,--
"No, no! When we captured Bar, I rushed first to the monastery, so as
to defend her from the drunken crowd and smash the head of any man
who should come near her; but she stabbed herself with a knife, and
now has no consciousness of God's world. If I lay a finger on her, she
will stab herself again, or jump into the river if you are not
careful,--ill-fated that I am!"
"You are at heart a Pole, not a Cossack, if you will not constrain the
girl in Cossack fashion--"
"That I were a Pole, that I were a Pole!" cried Bogun, grasping the cap
on his head with both hands, for pain had seized him.
"The Polish woman must have bewitched you," muttered Horpyna.
"Ai! if she has not," answered he, sadly, "may the first bullet not
pass me; may I finish my wretched life on the empaling stake! I love
one in the world, and that one does not love me!"
"Fool!" cried Horpyna, with anger; "but you have got her!"
"Hold your tongue!" cried he, with rage. "If she lays hands on herself,
then what? I'll tear you apart and then myself. I'll break my head
against a rock, I'll gnaw people like a dog. I would have given my soul
for her, Cossack fame. I would have fled beyond the Yagorlik from the
regiments to the end of the earth, to live with her, to die at her
side. That's what I would have done. But she stabbed herself with a
knife, and through whom? Through me! She stabbed herself with a knife!
Do you hear?"
"That's nothing. She will not die."
"If she dies, I will nail you to the door."
"You have no power over her."
"I have none, I have none. Would she had stabbed me,--it would have
been better had she killed me!"
"Silly little Pole! She should have been kind to you. Where will she
find your superior?"
"Arrange this, and I will give you a pot of ducats and another of
pearls. In Bar we took booty not a little, and before that we took
booty too."
"You are as rich as Prince Yeremi, and full of fame. They say Krívonos
himself is afraid of you."
The Cossack waved his hand. "What is that to me if my heart is sore--"
And silence came again. The bank of the river grew wider and more
desolate. The pale light of the moon lent fantastic forms to the trees
and the rocks. At last Horpyna said,--
"This is the Enemy's Mound. We must ride together."
"Why?"
"It is a bad place."
They reined in their horses, and after a while the party coming on
behind joined them. Bogun rose in the stirrups and looked into the
cradle.
"Is she asleep?" he asked.
"She is sleeping as sweetly as an infant," answered an old Cossack.
"I gave her a sleeping dose," said the witch.
"Slowly, carefully!" said Bogun, fixing his eyes on the sleeper; "don't
wake her! The moon is looking straight into her face, my dear one!"
"It shines quietly, it will not wake her," whispered one of the
Cossacks.
The party moved on. Soon they arrived at the Enemy's Mound. It was a
low hill lying close to the river and sloping like a round shield on
the earth. The moon covered the place entirely with its beams, lighting
up the white stones scattered over the whole extent of it. In some
spots they lay singly; in others they formed heaps, as it were
fragments of buildings, ruined castles, and churches. Here and there
stone slabs stuck up, planted endwise in the earth like gravestones in
a cemetery. The whole mound was like a great ruin, and perhaps in other
ages, long before the days of the Yagellons, human life flourished upon
it; now not only the mound but the whole neighborhood as far as
Rashkoff was an empty waste, in which wild beasts alone found refuge,
and in the night evil spirits held their dances.
The party had scarcely reached half the height of the mound, when the
light breeze which had been blowing hitherto changed into a regular
whirlwind, which began to encircle the mound with a certain gloomy,
ominous whistling; and then it appeared to the Cossacks that among
those ruins were heard heavy sighs, issuing as it were from straitened
breasts, sad groans, laughter, wailing, and puling of infants. The
whole mound began to be alive, to call with various voices. From behind
the stones lofty dark figures seemed to look, shadows of strange forms
glided along quietly among the slabs. Far off in the darkness gleamed
lights like the eyes of wolves. Finally, from the other end of the
mound, from among the thickest heaps and piles, was heard a low
guttural howling, to which other howling responded at once.
"Vampires!" whispered a young Cossack, turning to the old essaul.
"No, werewolves," answered the old essaul, in a still lower voice.
"O Lord, have mercy on us!" said others in terror, removing their caps
and crossing themselves devoutly.
The horses began to point their ears forward and snort. Horpyna, riding
at the head of the party, muttered unintelligible words, as it were a
sort of Satanic Pater-noster. When they had arrived at the other end of
the mound, she turned and said,--
"Well, it is over. We are safe now. I had to keep them back with a
charm, for they were very hungry."
A sigh of relief came from every breast. Bogun and Horpyna rode ahead
again; but the Cossacks, who a little while before had held their
breaths, began to whisper and talk. Each one remembered what had
happened to him when he met ghosts or werewolves.
"We couldn't have passed without Horpyna," said one.
"She is a powerful witch."
"And our ataman does not fear even the werewolf. He didn't look, didn't
listen, only turned toward his princess."
"If what happened to me happened to him, he wouldn't have been so free
from danger," said the old essaul.
"And what happened to you, Father Ovsivuyu?"
"Once, while riding from Reimentarovka to Gulaipolye, I passed near
some mounds at night, and I saw something jump from a grave behind me
on the saddle. I looked; it was a little child, blue and pale!
Evidently the Tartars had taken it captive with its mother and it had
died without baptism. Its eyes were burning like candles, and it wailed
and wailed. It jumped from the saddle to my neck, and I felt it biting
me behind the ear. O Lord, save us! it is a vampire! I had served long
in Wallachia, where there are more vampires than people, but where
there are weapons against them. I sprang from the horse and thrust my
dagger into the ground. 'Avaunt! disappear!' and it groaned, seized
the hilt of the dagger, and slipped down along the edge under the
grass. I cut the ground in the form of a cross and rode off."
"Are there so many vampires in Wallachia, father?"
"Every other Wallachian after death becomes a vampire, and the
Wallachian vampires are the worst of all. They call them brukolaki."
"And who is stronger, father,--the werewolf or the vampire?"
"The werewolf is stronger, but the vampire is more stubborn. If you are
able to get the upper hand of the werewolf, he will serve you, but
vampires are good for nothing except to follow blood. The werewolf is
always ataman over the vampires."
"And Horpyna commands the werewolves?"
"Yes, surely. As long as she lives she will command them. If she had
not power over them, then the ataman would not give her his cuckoo, for
werewolves thirst for maiden's blood above all."
"But I have heard that they have no approach to an innocent soul."
"To a soul they have not, but to a body they have."
"Oh, it would be a pity! She is a beauty. Blood and milk! our father
knew what to take in Bar."
Ovsivuyu smacked his tongue. "There is no denying it; she is a golden
Pole."
"But I am sorry for her," said a young Cossack. "When we were putting
her in the swing she clasped her white hands and begged, saying, 'Kill
me; do not ruin me, unfortunate one!'"
"No harm will come to her."
Further conversation was interrupted by the approach of Horpyna.
"Hei! young men," said the witch, "this is Tartar Valley, but don't
fear; it is terrible here only one night in the year. Right after it is
the Devil's Glen, and then my place."
In fact, the howling of dogs was soon heard. The party entered the
mouth of the glen, running at right angles to the river, and so narrow
that four horses could hardly enter it abreast. At the bottom of this
chasm flowed a rivulet, changing color in the light of the moon like a
snake, and running quickly to the river. But as the party pushed on,
the precipitous and jagged walls receded from each other, leaving a
rather roomy, slightly ascending valley, enclosed at each side with
cliffs. The place was covered here and there with lofty trees. No wind
was blowing. Long, dark shadows of the trees lay on the ground, and in
the spaces flooded with the light of the moon certain white, round, or
prolonged objects gleamed sharply, in which the Cossacks recognized
with terror the skulls and leg-bones of men. They looked around
therefore with distrust, marking their foreheads from time to time with
the cross. Soon a light glimmered in the distance between the trees,
and at that same time two terrible dogs ran up, enormous, black, with
gleaming eyes, barking and howling at the sight of the men and horses.
At the voice of Horpyna they stopped, however, and began to run around
the riders, sneezing and panting.
"They are not what they seem," whispered the Cossacks.
"They are not dogs," said old Ovsivuyu, in a voice betraying deep
conviction.
Just then a cottage became visible behind the trees; back of it a
stable; farther and higher up another dark building. The cottage
appeared strong and well-built, and in its windows a light was shining.
"This is my dwelling," said Horpyna to Bogun, "and up there is the mill
which grinds grain for us; and I tell fortunes from the water on the
wheel. I will tell yours. Your princess will live in the best chamber;
but if you wish to ornament the walls, we can remove her to the other
side immediately. Stop and dismount!"
The party halted, and Horpyna began to cry: "Cheremís, I say!
Cheremís!"
A figure holding a bunch of burning pitch-pine came out in front of the
cottage, and raising the torch, began to look in silence at those
present. It was an old man, an ugly creature, small, quite a dwarf,
with a flat, square face, and slanting eyes, like cracks.
"What sort of devil are you?" asked Bogun.
"Don't ask him," said the giantess; "his tongue is cut out. Come nearer
and listen!" continued the witch; "it is better, perhaps, to carry the
princess to the mill. The Cossacks will fit up her chamber, and drive
nails that would wake her up."
The Cossacks, having dismounted, began to untie the swing carefully.
Bogun watched over everything with the greatest care, and carried the
head of the swing himself when it was taken to the mill. The dwarf
lighted the way in advance with the torch. The princess, put to sleep
by Horpyna with a decoction of somniferous herbs, did not wake; her
eyelids merely trembled a little from the light of the torch. Her face
appeared alive from those red gleams. Perhaps, also, wonderful dreams
soothed the girl, for she smiled sweetly during the journey, which was
like a funeral. Bogun looked at her, and it appeared to him that his
heart would break the ribs in his breast. "My darling, my cuckoo!"
whispered he quietly; and the terrible though beautiful face of the
chief became mild, and flamed with the great light of love, which had
seized him, and was seizing him every moment the more, as fire,
forgotten by the traveller, seizes the wild steppe.
Horpyna, walking at his side, said: "When she wakes from this sleep she
will be well. Her wound will heal, and she will be well."
"Glory be to God! glory be to God!" answered the chief.
The Cossacks began to loosen from six horses great packs in front of
the cottage, and to take out the booty,--rich stuffs, carpets, and
other valuables taken at Bar. A good fire was kindled in the room; and
when some brought in new tapestry, others put it up to the wooden walls
of the room. Bogun not only thought of a safe cage for his bird, but he
determined so to furnish it that captivity should not seem unendurable.
He came soon from the mill and directed the work himself. The night was
passing away, and the moon had already removed its pale light from the
summits of the cliffs. In the cottage were still heard the muffled
blows of hammers. The simple room had become more like a chamber, when
the walls were covered with drapery and the floor carpeted. The
sleeping princess was brought back and placed on soft cushions.
Then all grew silent, except that in the stable for some time yet
bursts of laughter were heard in the stillness like the neighing of a
horse: the young witch was wrestling with the Cossacks, giving them
fisticuffs and kisses.