Who was Malusha? Controversies surrounding Prince Vladimir: how the Baptism of Rus' actually took place Son of the housekeeper
From the times of the ancient Slavs to the modern Russians, we are overcome by the same worries - love and disappointment, immense joy and life tragedies, hopes and the collapse of these hopes, immense happiness over the birth of a child and grief for the innocently killed. Gone are the days when we were ruled by immoral and cruel rulers, when slaves were dumb commodities, and serf girls were considered by their owners solely as females for their carnal satisfaction. Much has remained in the past, but the essence of the Russian person as a whole has remained unchanged. The question involuntarily arises: does a person have a choice of life path? And it turns out that this is not always the case - most often he is forced to adapt to the life situation that has developed around him.
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The given introductory fragment of the book Slave Malusha and other stories (Boris Kokushkin, 2017) provided by our book partner - the company liters.
Slave Malusha, housekeeper of Princess Olga, mother of Grand Duke Vladimir Red Sun
The horses beat the ground with their hooves. In the forests and bushes along the sides of the road, night birds were screaming, somewhere on Podol, and then on the Mountain roosters crowed, and from afar, from the Dnieper region, a multi-voiced quail call was heard.
And no one noticed, and no one cared, that some old woman in a dark scarf was hurrying after the sleigh with the body of Prince Vladimir.
That night Malusha did not sleep. The monastery had long known that not far from them, in his mansion, Prince Vladimir was seriously ill; Bishop Anastas, who visited him the day before, ordered the priests and brethren to serve a prayer service for the health of the great sick Prince Vladimir, and they prayed in the church until late in the evening.
Malusha understood what was happening: Prince Vladimir, her son, was dying, there was no wife, no sons, not a single soulmate near him, everyone was so distant, strangers...
S. Sklyarenko. "Vladimir"The elder of the Virt family was dying. Even in the morning he felt weakness in his chest, but did not attach any importance to it and went out into the yard to correct and sharpen his furrow for autumn plowing. But suddenly his heart pounded with such force that he lost consciousness and fell on the grass.
Here, helpless, his son Korzh saw him returning from a hunt, carried the old man’s skinny body into the hut in his arms and laid him on his father’s bed, on which stale straw was laid.
The old man lay silently and only breathed heavily with his slightly open mouth, blackened in the gray thickets of his beard and mustache. But his eyes were open, and he slowly turned the pupils of his eyes, looked around the log walls of his painfully dear home, where he was familiar with every crack in the tree, every twig - of course, he, together with his father Ant and his brothers, then still undergrowth, was chopping log house and erected this spacious hut. At that time, Ant was still in power and believed that there should be enough space for the whole clan.
But only after his death everything turned out differently. The grown-up Oster and Kozhema got married and wished to live separately from their older brother, having previously divided their property and land. There were no disputes during the division - the brothers were accustomed by their father to mutual assistance and support for each other, which they religiously observed throughout their still short lives.
Korzh sat near the dying old man’s bed and looked at his father with pity. But then Wirt turned his gaze to his son, as if asking him something. He understood him and, putting his hand on the old man’s weak, limply outstretched hand, said quietly:
– Vita and Malusha went after their brothers.
The man's eyelids closed briefly, as if to let him know that this was exactly what he wanted to know from his son. Korzh silently looked into his father’s face and with his free hand drove away the fat, annoying fly that was stubbornly trying to land on the dying man’s head.
- How is he? asked Oster.
“It seems to be moving away,” Korzh quietly answered him.
Everyone sat around the elder’s bed, and Korzh told them how it all happened.
- Maybe I should call the sorcerer? - Oster suggested, but Korzh just waved his hand.
Vita, paying attention to the dying hearth, told Malusha to throw some brushwood, which she quickly did. The flaring fire cast reflections on the walls of the hut, from which Wirth’s face seemed pink, as if coming to life.
After some time, Vita got up and slowly, trying not to make noise, began setting the table for the evening meal. Praskeva and Rada joined her, taking out the food they had brought with them from their bundles.
After everyone was seated at the table, Korzh, as the eldest, broke off a piece of the flatbread and threw it into the fire. Then he scooped up a spoonful of stew and also splashed it onto the fireplace. The flame hissed, but rose almost immediately. This meant that the souls of the deceased ancestors of the clan, living under the hearth, accepted the gift. Therefore, it was possible to start eating.
Malusha, like her father, also broke off a small piece of flatbread, left the table and, sitting on a block of wood at the head of her dying grandfather, placed the bread in his palm and bent his fingers. The old man’s hand trembled slightly, and an unexpected tear flowed from the corner of his eye, which Malusha wiped away with her palm.
The adults watched the girl in silence, and her mother approached her daughter, hugged her and gently stroked her brown hair.
In the morning, when the sun was just beginning to rise above Podol, Korzh sighed for the last time, shuddered and froze forever. His soul rushed to the distant ancestors of his family in order to henceforth remain with them forever.
After standing for a short time at the bed of the deceased, the sons silently left to dig a grave - according to the custom of the family, the deceased must be buried before sunset. The women began to collect the clothes of the deceased, which he should have taken with him on the long, irrevocable journey.
Wirth, as if anticipating his imminent death, made the crust for his own funeral last summer and kept it under a canopy near the barn.
The men, who returned in the afternoon, immediately set about preparing for the funeral. The deceased was dressed in fresh leggings and sat at the head of the sleigh, with his hands on his knees. A crust with a cover was placed at the feet. People were in a hurry: it was necessary to perform all the required ceremonies before dark, so that Wirth’s soul would not get lost in the darkness.
The whole family gathered at Korzh’s house. The women wept, commemorating the virtues of the deceased. The procession set off towards the family graveyard, located on a high ravine above the Dnieper.
Korzh walked ahead of everyone, as a new elder, and raised his black banner high. Behind him, two horses dragged a sleigh with Wirt, followed by men in white robes, constantly beating their swords against their shields. And after them came crying women in dark clothes.
The procession stopped near the grave. Under the continuous crying of women and the roar of swords, the men lowered the crust with the deceased into the deep and spacious grave, and next to it they placed the shield, sword, spear, bow and tool that belonged to the former elder. They placed two pots at his feet - one with wine, the other with honey - they will be useful to Virt on the long journey.
At the same time, Vita, Praskeva and Rada, who remained at home, were roasting a pig on the fire. When the relatives returned from the graveyard, they had everything ready for the funeral meal.
People returning from the funeral washed their hands to cleanse them, after which Korzh began the funeral feast. He threw a piece of pig meat into the fire and splashed some wine. Seeing that the fire had accepted the sacrifice, he filled the glasses with wine and distributed them to his relatives.
After drinking the intoxicating drink and eating torn pieces of meat, they spoke one by one, remembering with kind words Wirth, who had left them.
At the end of the funeral feast, Oster turned to Korzh:
- From now on, you will be the elder of the clan with the rights of the eldest. Rule us as Father Virt, Grandfather Ant and his father Uleb did when they left us.
Wirt silently put his hands to his chest and bowed low to his relatives...
The next day, as soon as it was dawn, the new elder and his wife went to the temple to worship the gods of the family.
Arriving at the place, he anointed the idol’s lips with a piece of specially set aside lard from the funeral pig, poured wine on the ground in front of him and, bowing low, said:
- Great Perun! Accept a sacrifice from us in honor of the glorious Virt who has left us. Accept his soul and give it rest. Help me rule my family the way the illustrious Uleb, Ant and Virt did...
The prince's mansions were located in the middle of the Mountain, around which the farmsteads of the governors, thousand and tiuns were widely scattered, behind which were built the unprepossessing huts and dugouts of the gridnas, smerdas, and artisans. From all the others living on Podil, the Mountain was separated by a wall of sharpened logs and a ditch, across which was thrown a single wooden bridge, rising at night and descending at dawn.
There was a battle going on in the square in front of the prince's mansion - young boys, among whom were the very young princes Vseslav and Svyatoslav, learned the rules of sword fighting under the supervision of the experienced warrior Asmus, Svyatoslav's uncle.
A woman slightly above average height came out onto the high porch of the tower and watched the fighters for some time, noting with satisfaction the courage and bravery with which her son, the son of the glorious Igor, his heir, fought. She gave some order to the tiun who approached her and, looking at her son again, returned to the tower.
It was twilight in the chambers of the tower, despite the bright sun outside the window. On the benches along the wall sat the princesses Prekrasa and Milana - widows, like her, the first and second wives of the late Prince Igor.
Seeing the woman enter, the women fell silent, burying their heads in knitting, which they began unknown when and the end of which was not foreseen in the near future.
- Let's get busy, crows. “Look at how you were blown away from a trifle, like overripe kneading,” Olga reproached them. – As long as you don’t mind engaging in idle talk!
- Don’t give orders! - Beauty began to soar, but at that moment Uncle Asmus burst into the room, leading the reluctant Svyatoslav by the hand. The boy's face was covered in blood, which he wiped off with his sleeve.
- What's happened? – Olga asked sternly.
Svyatoslav was silent and only snorted resentfully. His teacher answered for him:
“I gave the command to stop the battle, and when everyone lowered their shields and swords, Vseslav suddenly hit Svyatoslav in the face with his sword.
Beautiful, Vseslav’s mother, laughed loudly, but Olga looked at her so much that she abruptly stopped laughing and silently went outside to check on her son.
Svyatoslav did not cry, but only clenched his small fists.
“Denka,” Olga shouted to the boy’s nanny.
When she ran into the chambers, the princess ordered her to wash, apply a plantain leaf to the wound and bandage her son.
When the girl and the prince came out, she turned to Asmus and sharply ordered:
- Flog the little beast!
He bowed silently and left. And after a while, Beautiful, disheveled and red with rage, burst into the room and screamed at Olga.
“Why did you order my son to be punished?” Are you jealous that he is older and will become a prince?
– She punished not for her son, but for the meanness of your offspring. If you continue to stand up for him, I will order you to be evicted to Lyubech.
Knowing the tough character of her rival and remembering the power that Olga had gained after the death of Igor, Beautiful fell silent and, angrily grumbling something under her breath, sat down next to Milana.
In the evening, before going to bed, Olga looked into Denka’s little room, where Svyatoslav’s bed was located. The girl was telling something to the boy, and he was listening to her with interest.
“Bring us some cold kvass,” Olga sent the girl out.
And when she came out, she asked her son:
-What were you talking about so interestingly?
“She told me about her aunt’s campaign to Constantinople. It turns out that her father was also on this trip.
- Yes, I know about it. That’s why I took her in,” the mother answered. “He died in a battle with the Khazars when they were returning from a campaign.
- Mother, how did you meet your aunt? – asked the boy.
- You're interested? – she was surprised.
- But he is a prince, and you are a commoner.
- Well done, you're starting to think. And everything happened hastily and by chance. He walked with a small army through our settlement. Here we had to cross the river. I was in charge of transportation. That's how we met. He took me with him. And then you were born...
At this time, Denka entered the small room with a pot of kvass. The princess drank a little and, kissing her son, left. And Svyatoslav asked the nanny:
- Why is everyone afraid of mom?
– She is fair and makes everyone work, and not be lazy, like Prekrasa and Milana. She thinks more about the state, and not about herself, like many of those around her...
The days ran monotonously one after another. Like days, months and years flashed by imperceptibly in constant work...
The monotony of life of the Korzh family was broken only by the polyudia that Prince Brazd conducted for them. The reason for such raids was increasingly the quarrels that arose between the smerds: somewhere neighbors quarreled over a trifle and it came to the spilling of the soup, someone did not divide the land due to the fact that heavy autumn and spring rains washed away the dividing line. Sometimes it came to the point of murder. In this case, the culprit was taken to the Mountain, and, depending on the degree of guilt, the teller either imposed a fine or dragged him to the cutting. The murderers were taken to Princess Olga herself, and only she decided what to do with the criminal.
Most often, the murderer was subjected to death according to the ancient custom: an eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth. And Olga herself made the decision not on the spur of the moment, but with the consent of the governor and boyars.
Korzh tried not to wait for polyud, but took measures ahead of time, and at the same time delivered tribute to his prince. At the same time, Korzh explained: it is better to deliver the tribute yourself than to wait for the arrival of the sneaker, who will certainly add a considerable portion for himself to the usual tribute.
However, the little people did not always heed the admonitions of the elders of the family and even little by little dabbled in theft in the princely domains - they would take a bird on other people’s hangings, then they would secretly get boron in the ruts, an animal in the forests, and early in the morning they would strain out fish in the princely rivers with nets...
“Oh, they’ll get caught one day, there won’t be any trouble,” Korzh grumbled.
- Dad, why do they do this? – ten-year-old Malusha asked him.
The father usually stroked his daughter’s head and said:
– Yes, human greed does not give them peace. They don’t understand that no matter how much you steal, you still won’t get enough, but will only fall under the hot hand of the prince. And then there is trouble for the whole family.
– Why are some people rich and others poor? – my daughter continued to ask.
“That’s the way our gods have it.” And it is not for us to break the commandments they established.
– Is Princess Olga good or bad? – Malusha did not let up.
“You’re so meticulous,” the father chuckled.
- Well, it’s true! – the daughter did not lag behind.
“You see, Mala,” Korzh answered, slightly thoughtful. - Of course, she acted too cruelly with the Drevlyans who killed Prince Igor. It would be understandable if she punished with death those who executed him. But why was it necessary to destroy the inhabitants of Iskorosten, including old people, women and small children, and burn the city? Although Igor himself was not entirely right. Well, I received the tribute and go in peace! No, greed overwhelmed him. It seemed that more could be taken... And then Olga calmed down - she realized that after this the Drevlyans could not pay tribute for several years. There was no one or anything to do with it. Now, you see, we are not at war with anyone, we are only fighting off the rare raids of the Pechenegs. She rules wisely and fairly, nothing bad can be said here.
“It’s good that we’re not fighting now,” Malusha sighed.
“I know, good,” the father agreed.
– Why do people take other people’s things?
“You see, everything comes from wars,” the father said quietly. “After the battle, the victors take everything they liked from the defeated; they take weapons and purses from the killed, and even take away good things for a fee. And when they take the fort, the theft begins, when they take away everything in the houses that they liked - patterns, worms, pavoloks, they will also take pins with moonlights...
- How are the Pechenegs?
- Consider it so. And the princes use the loot to hire new warriors to carry out new raids.
- How is Sveneld and his Varangians?
– Yes, that’s how it turns out: during raids, warriors are used to taking other people’s things without asking, and they can’t stop in the world - they secretly take from their own.
- This is not good.
- Of course, it’s not good.
Their conversation was interrupted by Vita, who addressed her daughter:
- Run, wash your hands, we’ll have dinner now.
When Malusha jumped out of the threshold and began splashing around at the washstand, Korzh said to his wife:
- The girl is growing up. Look, what a smart, big-headed girl...
“It’s about time,” Vita answered. - The years are flying by...
Princess Olga sat in solitude with the Greek priest Gregory, who had recently settled in Kyiv. Olga complained to him that the mob had completely dissolved, the little people were not at all afraid of the prince’s wrath.
Neither punishments nor harsh sentences can stop robbery. Tati are not afraid even of the wrath of the pagan gods.
- Your gods are like grains of sand in a barren desert. Whoever they came up with - Ovsich, and Sventovit, and Kryshen, and Belobog, and Vetrich, and Ozernich, and Dozhdich, and Pchelic, and Plodich, and Zernich, and Ledich, and Studich, and Pticich... All of them are nearby, at hand. And you can punish them.
“Yes, sometimes they beat idols if something is wrong,” Olga added.
“You see,” the priest continued. - What kind of god is this, whom you can not be afraid of and even beat?
– In Byzantium, when I was there, Emperors Constantine and Vasily convinced me to accept their teaching. And the Persians are fussing, trying to believe in their faith...
– Where are they, the Persians? – Grigory clasped his hands. - At the edge of the earth. They don't even have the face of Allah! Who should I pray to? To the invisible spirit? And their teaching is strange, incomprehensible... And as for the Byzantines... Did they bring little grief to the Rusyns? And they have a grudge against Prince Igor, your husband, for taking their capital and forcing them to pay a huge ransom.
– Yes, these Byzantines shed a lot of our blood. Our grandfathers and great-grandfathers also said that they, together with the Polovtsians, went to battle with the Rusyns.
I like the rituals and your teaching, that’s why I was baptized into your faith. But how can you convey your teaching to our people if your writing is somehow strange - you use signs that not all of us understand.
– That’s why I brought two monk brothers to you – Cyril and Methodius. It’s not your place to write with wonderful features and cuts. Kirill took over the post and is now writing the Slavic alphabet. As soon as they create it, they will begin to translate Christian books into the new Slavic language.
- How soon will the alphabet be ready? – Olga asked.
– I was with him the other day. He works without straightening his back. He himself understands that the matter cannot be delayed. Be patient, mother, everything will work out. But what about the princes, they don’t want to be baptized?
“The trouble is with them, they’re stuck and they’re stuck!” They don’t want to accept the new faith.
- What's wrong? Many boyars, governors and thousands have already adopted the new faith...
“Very stubborn,” Olga waved her hand. – Especially Vseslav. I start talking to him about faith, and he spits. And Svyatoslav just chuckles. Take it away already, it’s difficult to find control over them. Have you tried talking to them yourself?
“I tried,” Grigory sighed. “I don’t know what else can be done to reason with them.” They laugh mockingly and send me to preach to old women and old men.
At that moment, horse tramping was heard from the side of the square, and after a while a wild female scream.
- Lord, what else happened there? – Olga stood up.
Grigory also stood up and, following the princess, began to go down the stairs into the courtyard.
There was already a crowd there, the grooms were leading away the saddled horses. Seeing the princess, the crowd parted, and Olga saw Vseslav lying on the ground. His head rested on Uncle Churila’s lap, his throat, arms and chest were covered in blood. Beauty howled over her son.
Svyatoslav and his uncle Asmus stood right there, heads bowed low.
- Who is it? – the princess turned to Asmus.
- Hot... I chased a fox in the forest and ran into my throat on a protruding broken branch. We galloped up, and he was already dead.
- Why didn’t they hold it? – Olga continued to inquire.
“Stop him,” Asmus waved his hand. - And they warned, and shouted, but to no avail! Churila even managed to grab the horse’s bridle, and the prince hit him so hard with the whip that he almost knocked out his eye.
Olga looked at Uncle Vseslav; indeed, a deep scar was bleeding across his cheek, running almost from the very eye to the ear.
“Bury the pagan today,” Olga ordered her neighbor boyar.
- On the fire or in the ground? - he asked.
“Into the ground, on the Mountain,” she threw. - While the fire is being prepared, the day will end...
When Olga dressed in mourning clothes and was already leaving the porch of the tower, the priest stopped her:
“You’re a Christian, and they’re burying a pagan there!”
- They are burying the prince. What will my subjects think if I don’t show up for the funeral?
“We should have baptized our little people a long time ago,” Grigory grumbled.
“Until the whole people are baptized, I cannot stand against old customs, even if they are pagan. Go away, don't bother me...
A few days after Vseslav’s burial, Olga called Churila:
“Pick up a smart teller and come to me,” she ordered.
When he appeared, the princess ordered:
- Take people and urgently build a small tower in Lyubech.
- For whom? – he asked.
“You build quickly and well, and the rest is none of your business,” the princess snapped.
He bowed and the very next day with a band of black workers left for Lyubech.
In the middle of the herb, the teller returned, reported to the princess that the tower had been laid out with faith, and was rewarded with a good payment for his diligence.
Summoning Churila, Olga ordered:
– Pick five swordsmen. Take Beauty to Lyubech and stay with her. Yes, so as not to let her go anywhere from there.
“And if…” Churila began, but the princess abruptly said:
- Then - in zhazhel!
Having learned that she was being sent to Lyubech, Beauty screamed from morning to evening, tore out her hair, and blamed Olga for everything.
“Lord, have pity on the sufferer,” Gregory prayed. - Why is she suffering so much, poor thing?
“He’s not screaming because he’s being taken away,” the princess grinned. - Because her plan did not come true.
– What kind of idea? – the priest asked curiously.
“She hoped that over time Vseslav, as the eldest of Igor’s children, would become a prince and she would rise above everyone. And with his death, all her hopes collapsed, and then she was removed from Kyiv.
“Why are you removing her, she is not your rival,” the priest continued.
– She became embittered. He can do any dirty trick. And it will be calmer this way. Why did you come?
- Yes, there is nothing worse than an angry woman. To avenge her wrong, she will do anything to satisfy her revenge.
Olga turned to Gregory and looked at him sternly. He realized that he reminded her of revenge for her husband, and, trying to hush up his mistake, he immediately said ingratiatingly:
– Father Kirill made the Slavic alphabet, asked you to look and find out if anything needs to be altered?
“Well, let’s go, let’s see what your Byzantine from Thessaloniki has come up with,” Olga nodded. -Did you see it yourself?
“I saw, I saw,” Gregory muttered, heading towards the cells of Cyril and Methodius.
Life is not smeared with honey - whether in winter or summer, there is always enough work. So you have to turn around from sunrise to sunset.
On a winter evening, by the light of a torch, Vita sorted through the medicinal herbs dried in the summer and taught her daughter:
- This is scrofula. It grows in forests, in ramen places, and in aspen forests. The leaves, look, tiny, only a span long. And this is a harsh one, it must be collected near the waters, it is a cubit high, reddish, the leaves are like Christmas trees. This is sham, leaves with a tongue, looking like cabbage...
“Are you making her into a witch?” – Korzh, who was sitting next to him, grinned, whittling out a handle for a hoe.
“The housewife should know everything and help her family when they are sick,” Vita said instructively.
“You’re making a point,” the husband agreed and, putting the finished cutting aside, suggested: “Shouldn’t we have a dinner?”
Malusha quickly jumped up and said cheerfully:
- I will cook.
The nimble girl quickly began arranging the dishes on the tabletop.
“She’ll be a good housewife,” the father praised his daughter.
“Yes, there are trees curling around her,” Vita smiled.
“Oh, what are you saying, mom,” Malusha blushed.
- And who was the guy who saw you off after the get-togethers? – the mother did not let up.
- Yes, this is Hore, neighbor. “He had to return home past our hut,” the daughter justified herself.
“Whip bast,” the mother continued to laugh at her daughter, but Korzh, seeing her daughter’s embarrassment, came to her rescue:
– What do they do at gatherings now?
Malusha looked at her father with gratitude and began to tell:
- The Unotki spin yarn, the Unotki play the Guslitsa or flute, we sing songs and laugh.
-What kind of songs? “Sing,” Korzh asked.
- This is what they sang:
Introduction has arrived
The winter in the house is covered with snow,
The horses were harnessed to the sleigh,
It led me down the path,
Connected to the shore
Chained to the ground
The snow froze
Small guys
red girls
Sat on the sled,
Rolled down the mountain on a piece of ice...
Or, when the carnivores begin to scare the devils, we sing:
You're rolling, witches,
For mosses, for swamps,
For rotten decks,
Where people don't fight,
Dogs don't bark
Chickens don't sing, -
That's the place!
“And we sang the same songs, and they also frightened us,” Vita responded.
- Was it scary? – asked her daughter. - It’s dark when there’s a ray of light. And suddenly one of the Unoshes screams like an owl... Creepy!
A misfortune happened in this kind and peaceful family on one of the warm spring days.
Having heated the bathhouse, Vita and Malusha were the first to go there to wash. Out of habit, Vita took off the amulet that had been given to her by her husband’s father, Ant. Young Ant was Oleg’s warrior when he was still reigning in Novgorod, and in one of his campaigns against the Zyryans he obtained this trifle.
He was also on that famous campaign to the Dnieper, when the prince, by deception and cunning, destroyed the local rulers, Askold and Dir, taking Kyiv from them. Here Ant got married, and here his sons were born. And when the eldest son got married, he gave his daughter-in-law this amulet, which she accepted with gratitude, strung on a linen thread and constantly wore on her chest.
Leaving her daughter alone in the hut, Vita returned to her husband’s bathhouse. The girl looked at the amulet for a long time and decided to try it on herself, putting it on her neck. When her parents came from the bathhouse, she asked:
- Mother, can I wear it a little?
“Darn, vilify,” answered Vita, steamed from the bathhouse spirit.
The next morning, when the sun had barely risen from behind the forest and the morning dew had not yet disappeared, Vita went into the forest to collect medicinal herbs.
Korzh and Malusha weren’t worried – this wasn’t the first time Vita had gone for herbs, and they went about their usual household chores.
But when the sun began to go behind the Mountain, Korzh and Malusha became worried.
“She left the amulet with me,” the girl almost cried.
“I didn’t want to wake you up when I left,” her father answered absently.
The work was getting out of hand. Finally, Korzh dropped everything and said to his daughter:
- Has any trouble happened? We have to go look...
- I'm with you, father! – Malusha perked up.
- Where are you going, sit at home, wait.
– Maybe she went to uncles Oster or Kozhem to chat with Praskeva or Rada? – Malusha threw after him.
“I’ll go see them,” the father responded and left, closing the door behind him.
Malusha, left alone, walked excitedly from corner to corner. Holding the amulet in her hand, she turned to all the gods whose names she remembered, asking them to help find her mother.
Korzh returned alone when the rising moon looked into the mica window and competed with its light with the dim light of a burning splinter. From her father’s sad face, Malusha realized that her mother had not been found.
“We went into the forest with Oster and Kozhema, but didn’t find them,” he briefly answered his daughter’s silent question. - Go to bed, it’s late.
“Why did I just ask for this amulet?” the girl began to cry, took the trinket from her neck and put it on the tabletop.
Korzh sat down on the bench next to his daughter, hugged her and silently stroked her head.
“It’s okay, it’ll be found,” he weakly consoled her. - You will definitely find it...
Unbeknownst to herself, Malusha fell asleep, and Korzh carefully carried her to the bed, and he sat down near the window. Sleep did not come to him...
Early the next morning, as soon as the rare clouds in the sky began to lighten, all the adult members of the clan gathered near the elder’s home. Even the Rada came with a baby in her arms.
All the people began to discuss where to look for the missing Vita. The trouble was that no one saw in which direction she went to get the herbs. Finally, they decided that she could not have gone far; they needed to look for her in the forest closest to the village.
The Rada was about to go along with everyone, but Korzh stopped her:
-Where are you going with the sucker? It’s better to stay with Malusha, I’m afraid that she might follow us.
At the edge of the forest, people lined up in a chain and walked, constantly calling out to each other and shouting Vita's name.
When the night dew began to finally disappear, cries were heard along the chain: “We found it!”
In a hole overgrown with tall bushes and undergrowth, Korzh’s wife lay. Her clothes were torn, her face and chest were covered in blood. Deep scratches cut across the head and cheeks. Large and small bear tracks clearly stood out on the rumpled grass.
“I came across a mother bear with her cub,” Oster said quietly.
“She’s hungry and angry after hibernation,” Kozhema agreed. - And even with a teddy bear...
Having cut out poles from the undergrowth, the men built a stretcher and, placing the body of the dead woman on it, headed to the village.
According to pagan rites, Vita was buried on the same day. As the body was lowered into the grave, it began to rain. And the relatives returning from the funeral were covered by a real downpour.
“Even the gods are crying for Vita,” someone said in the crowd...
In Princess Olga's little room, located on the second floor of the tower, the mother ruler and priest Gregory tried to persuade young Svyatoslav to accept the Christian faith. The young man, who had a noticeable dark mustache, was mocking and adamant.
“You pray to the image of Christ painted on a wooden board,” he mockingly grinned and addressed mainly the priest. – So we turn to wooden or stone idols. Where is the difference? You have come up with a fairy tale about his life, but we also have our own thoughts about our gods.
“Christ is a holy man who accepted suffering for all people,” the priest insisted. “He is merciful and ready to forgive the sins of all who have repented...” “Your Christ is a weak man,” Svyatoslav waved him off.
- Why do you think so? – the mother intervened in the conversation.
“He did not fight for his faith, but allowed himself to be killed.” And he allowed it not just anyhow, but in the company of two criminals. And then,” Svyatoslav turned to Gregory, “look at the faces of the saints that you bring from your Greece. Looking at them makes me want to cry. And our gods are cheerful and, like Christ, at the same time merciful. You have prayers that are difficult for people to understand and boring, but we have:
Glory to Perun - the Fire-haired God!
He sends arrows at his enemies,
He leads the faithful along the path.
He is honor and justice for soldiers, righteous
He is a golden moon, merciful!
Or here's another:
Only one clear sun warms.
How beneficial it is to us! -
Svetovid! We worship you
Raising your name.
How great, how great is Svetovid,
Walking in troubles to console people!
King of the stars, we worship you,
We stand before you!
“We’re talking seriously, and you’re joking,” the mother reproached her son.
“You don’t understand that you can’t force an entire people to do what is disgusting to them,” the prince persisted. – In every home you will see our gods. Even you, mother, have the goddess Mokosh embroidered on your towel.
- How stubborn and capricious you are. “Everything like his father,” his mother reproached him. - You get angry over trifles...
“How can I not be angry, looking at you,” Svyatoslav flared up. “Instead of thinking about expanding the principality and increasing its power and wealth, you think about only one thing: how to make this messenger of Christ happy.” One thing on my mind is to convert the people to the alien faith of Christ. Come to your senses, mother!
- How do you talk to your mother and princess, you're going away! – Gregory was about to throw up his hands, but Olga stopped him:
-What are you up to?
– The Vyatichi are the last Slavic tribe that pays tribute to the Khazars. These wild steppe dwellers give us no peace either. We must go after the Vyatichi, force them to pay tribute to us. Let's take their warriors and go to the Khazars. Think about it, mother...
Olga took a long look at the crumpled shield, sword, spear and helmet of the late Igor hanging on the wall and finally, as if waking up, she said to her son:
- Tell Asmus to find Brazd. Let him call him, and both of them come to me.
Svyatoslav silently bowed to his mother and left.
“Go, Gregory, pray for me,” she turned to the priest.
As he left, he said:
– Svyatoslav grew up. He speaks not like a blow, but like a mature husband...
Olga, clasping her hands in excitement, nervously walked around the room, and then stopped in front of her husband’s armor and looked at it for a while.
After a while, Asmus and Brazd appeared at the door.
“Hello, princess,” they bowed to Olga.
“The gardener,” Olga nodded towards the bench standing next to her chair. – What can you say about Svyatoslav?
“Serious guy,” Asmus began, but Olga interrupted him:
- He is thinking about a campaign against the Vyatichi, and then against the Khazars. Is he ready for military affairs?
– He wields the sword as if it were his right hand. “He handles the horse deftly... He sits firmly in the saddle, he’s cocky, he’s not timid physically... He’s capable of fighting,” said Asmus.
“Ryndy, honor, komonniki, gridni and others love the prince, - together with them at the fireplace he eats dried horse meat, sleeps with his warriors on the grass, putting a felt blanket under him, and a saddle under his head...” Brazd listed.
“That’s not what I’m asking about,” Olga interrupted him. – Is he ready to lead the squad?
Asmus and Brazd looked at each other and nodded at the same time.
“There are always experienced warriors next to him,” Brazd began, but the princess stopped him and waved her hand, dismissing the serving husbands.
The very next day, Olga summoned ostentatious men to the People's Chamber of the prince's mansion, each of whom leaned on a high staff, and hryvnias hung on the dark fields. The commanders had their swords. Here, senior and junior boyars stood on the sidelines.
The princess went up to the chamber, accompanied by her son Svyatoslav, governor Sveneld, thousand field guard Lyubomir and larnik Merkusha.
Olga sat down in a chair located near the far wall of the chamber, Svyatoslav and Brazd were located to the right and left of her, and a larder with clean scrolls quietly perched in the corner.
- Hello, governors, boyars, men! – the princess greeted her subjects.
“And you be healthy, princess,” they answered in a discordant chorus, bowing.
“Tysyatsky Lyubomir says that the Pechenegs crossed the Itil River and began to harass our forward outposts,” Olga began the conversation. – Have you heard about this?
“Tell us, Svyatoslav, what are you up to,” the princess turned to her son.
“Once again the Pechenegs give us no rest,” he began. – I think this way: we should go against the Slavic brothers Vyatichi, free them from the Khazar tribute and together with them go against the Pechenegs, and then against the Khazars, who also do not give us peace.
The governors, boyars, princes, and thousands began to chatter at once, bending towards each other. Their conversation was reminiscent of the loud rustling of leaves in the wind.
After waiting some time so that those present could think about and discuss the proposal, Olga addressed everyone:
- What do you say, men and boyars? Where is Prince Stavr of Chernigov?
“I’m here, mother,” he stood up and walked over to Olga’s chair.
– In your lands, Prince Stavr, the Pechenegs have appeared. Why did he allow them? – the princess asked sternly. “They passed through the entire Seversk region, saw them near Lyubich and Ostrom. How could you let this happen?
“We weren’t expecting them, mother princess,” the Chernigov prince began to justify himself. “They came like a snowstorm in winter.”
– Why weren’t the screens prevented? – Olga did not lag behind.
“They weren’t walking through a field.” The guard is on the mountain, and they were sneaking through the ravines...
- So why didn’t they think of guarding the ravines? Didn’t you think that you are protecting not only the northerners, but also Kyiv?
“There aren’t enough people to put guards everywhere,” Stavr continued to justify himself. - It’s hard for little people to work these days...
“And you give them land, let everyone protect themselves on their own land, and become a spade for us,” Olga stood her ground.
- Where can I get free land, mother? – the prince clasped his hands. - All the land belongs to you.
After thinking, Olga addressed the audience:
- What are we deciding, men and boyars?
“We need to give Chernigov land to the Smerds,” scattered voices rang out. - Let them harrow from the cursed Pechenegs.
– Does everyone agree?
“We agree... All... Together... United,” sounded from all sides.
“So we decide,” Olga concluded. - Shall we let Prince Svyatoslav go on the campaign, as he understands?
- The prince has planned the matter...
- It's time to punish the damned...
- We stayed too long...
“So we decide,” Olga said firmly. - Let's finish polyudye, let's start collecting warriors.
Autumn painted the compressed fields with gold and began to color the trees in the forest. The smerdas rejoiced - the harvest was more successful than ever.
Korzh, with the help of the grown-up Malusha and his brothers, managed the harvest before the rains, which had already begun to occasionally sprinkle the ground and meadows. Indeed, there was something to rejoice at: there was plenty of hay for the cow, horse and ox, there should be enough barley and rye until the new harvest, and it was possible to give the prince his share without any pretense...
On one of these days, horsemen appeared in the village of Korzha. “Who could it be,” thought Korzh, shielding his eyes from the sun with his palm. “It seems a little early for polyhumans...”
In the horsemen who had come closer, he saw an old acquaintance of the thousand's Lyubomir. He, riding closer, dismounted from his horse and exclaimed:
- Is it you, glorious Korzh?
He hugged Korzh by the shoulders and kissed him three times.
-Who is this beauty? – he asked, nodding at Malusha, who was standing right there.
“Daughter Malusha,” Korzh announced proudly.
- Good, oh, good! - continued Tysyatsky, openly admiring the girl. - How old are you, beauty?
“I met the thirteenth spring,” she answered, embarrassed.
- Bride! Rest assured, have you already looked at the groom? – Lyubomir completely plunged Malusha into embarrassment, causing her cheeks to blush deeply.
“She doesn’t think about suitors yet,” Korzh answered. “There’s no time, the harvest had to be collected, and there’s a lot of work around the house.” My wife was killed by a bear.
- Oh, what a disaster! – Lyubomir sympathized with the man. “That’s why your temples are covered in snow.”
Then he turned to the girl:
“But your father and I fought with Prince Igor at Iskorosten.”
“That’s right, but it can be shameful to remember,” Korzh answered.
“Don’t even think about it if it’s like that,” Lyubomir waved him off. -Will you invite me to the hut?
“Oh, please,” the owner invited.
“I’ll get the honey now,” Malusha fluttered up and was the first to dive into the house.
“Really, your daughter is beautiful,” Lyubomir stroked his mustache. - Many people will dry up looking at her
“That’s enough, I completely embarrassed the girl,” Korzh waved him off.
“Okay, let’s talk about serious things,” Lyubomir changed the conversation. – The Pechenegs are increasingly visiting the Chernigov lands. The other day, Princess Olga gathered nearby governors, princes and other men.
– What was the conversation about? – Korzh poured intoxicating honey into the ladles.
“Prince Svyatoslav wooed us to go against the Vyatichi, and then, with their help, against the Pechenegs and Khazars.
“He swung wide,” Korzh shook his head. - Won't the ports burst?
– Don’t joke, this is a serious matter. The decision has been made,” Lyubomir frowned.
- And when?
- Yes, once we finish polyudye, let’s go on a hike. Have you forgotten how to fight yet?
Korzh was silent for a moment, then said quietly:
“Your hands haven’t forgotten how to hold a sword.” But I just don’t know what to do with Malusha. You can, of course, leave her with her brothers’ wives, but they have enough worries of their own. Will you take Oster and Kozhem too?
- I’ll take it, I’ll need some good ones.
- That's it...
- Wait a minute. Let’s place Malusha with the princess for the duration of the campaign. She probably remembers you.
-Does he remember?
- How can I not remember! We fought next to Prince Igor to the last, until we were disarmed. And then we brought his weapons and body.
– The memory is not very happy...
At this time, a hawker galloped up to Korzh’s house and shouted out the open window:
- Lubomir! The tribute has been collected, the convoy has already been sent.
“Well, okay,” Lyubomir stood up and began to say goodbye. “Soon the gridneys will come for the warriors and will tell you how the princess disposed of Malusha.”
When Tysyatsky left, Malusha said with alarm:
- Oh. I'm afraid to go to the princess...
- Don't be afraid. Although she is strict, she is fair. She won't eat you.
At this time, his brothers Oster and Kozhema rode up to Korzh’s hut on horseback.
- What kind of army are they gathering for? – Oster said alarmedly.
“The prince decided to go against the Vyatichi, and with them against the Pechenegs and Khazars,” answered the elder brother.
- At once for everyone? – Kozhem was amazed.
“No,” Korzh grinned. - In queue. What is there to interpret here: they don’t ask us, the forced ones.
“That’s true,” agreed Oster. “They’ll drive you like cattle, and they won’t ask.” So it's time to prepare weapons and horses.
- Oh-ho-ho! – Kozhem sighed. - How will the Rada cope with the child?
“Rod will help,” his older brother reassured him.
“I’ll tell Praskeva to keep an eye on them,” said Oster. - Okay, let’s go around the yards...
They had barely finished pouring the grain of the new harvest into the chests, put the last hay into the stacks and haylofts, and straightened out the sheds for the cattle, when three grids appeared in the village. They stopped at the dwelling of the elder of the clan, one of them dismounted and tapped the hilt of his whip on the frame of the narrow window.
Korzh came out to the knock and, seeing a gridny with fiery red hair and a short beard, exclaimed:
- No way, Vogul!
- Hello, old man! – he laughed.
“If I’m old, why did you come for me?” – Korzh smiled in response.
The old comrades hugged and kissed three times.
Vogul waved to the remaining grids, and they galloped along the end, pounding their swords against their shields.
“Lyubomir ordered us to bow,” said Griden.
Korzh looked at him expectantly.
- He talked to the princess. She remembered you and spoke flatteringly. He remembers, he remembers...
- Oh well! – Korzh hurried him.
Vogul laughed and put his hand on his comrade’s shoulder.
“She takes your daughter as an assistant housekeeper.” Melania began to grow old, unhurriedly. Olga had been thinking about replacing her for a long time. Consider it all worked out.
After a short silence, Vogul squinted slyly and asked:
- They say, your daughter is very Basque!
– What’s your interest, old man? – Korzh laughed.
Gradually, villagers began to flock to Korzh’s hut, dressed in different clothes: some with a spear, some with a sword, in assorted helmets, leading horses of the same assorted colors. Next to them walked mothers, wives, sisters, and children, clinging to them.
Korzh, dressed in polished chain mail, wearing a helmet, with a sword on his side, with a spear and shield, looked like an epic hero. He gave his hand to Malusha, and she, grabbing the stirrup, then her father’s hand, flew up and seemed to have grown to the pommel of the saddle in front of her father.
“Well, with the help of Perun, let’s move,” Vogul simply commanded.
Dividing in pairs, the detachment moved forward, leaving behind sobbing women and old men. Having driven away from the village, Vogul, who was riding ahead with Korzh, looked back and said mockingly:
- What an army! When the Pechenegs see it, they will either run away in fear or die of laughter.
While we were driving through familiar places, Malusha listened to the conversation of the adults.
But as soon as unfamiliar places began, she forgot what her father and Vogul were talking about, and looked around the surroundings with curiosity.
For a short time they drove through the lowlands of Obolon, where squalid huts and dugouts lay. Vegetable gardens began to appear on both sides of the road, separated from each other by a palisade. As my father said, these gardens belonged to the princes, and were cultivated by the statutory smerds.
Malusha looked with surprise at the three mountains visible ahead, on which the forest had been partially cut down or burned out, and in the cuttings the golden stubble shone with gold and the rare dwellings of people darkened.
Finally, the roofs of the princely towers turned golden ahead. Below, surrounding the Mountain with a ring, the dark courtyards of the boyars and governors were crowded, and inside these courtyards the huts of service people were visible - artisans, serfs, slaves.
At the very foot of the Mountain, going towards the Dnieper, the huts and dugouts of the common people, the children, were crowded together like swallows’ nests. Here, in the middle of this village, on a small platform there stood a wooden statue of Volos, around which a crowd of people was bustling and fussing.
-What is that there? – Malusha asked her father. - Do they pray at all?
“No,” he grinned. – They have no time for Volos now. This is a big bargain.
The road went uphill, like a slithering snake, to the only gate in the stockade on the Mountain. The horses' hooves were already clattering on the wooden flooring of the drawbridge...
At the sight of the formidable armed men at the gate, the girl shrank and pressed closer to her father.
“Don’t be scared,” Korzh reassured his daughter. - Nobody will hurt you here.
One of the guards, seeing the girl hiding behind the shield, shouted:
- Look, good people! We haven’t even gone on a campaign yet, and this warrior is already dragging the Polonyanka!
The gridneys standing next to him burst into laughter, which completely confused the girl.
There were several buildings scattered across the wide courtyard, and near one of them, gridneys in full regalia were huddled together. Seeing the arrivals, one of them separated and approached the riders. It was the thousand-year-old Lyubomir.
Those who arrived got off their horses and stopped in confusion, not knowing what to do next. Addressing them, Lyubomir ordered:
– Sit in the grid, there’s enough room for everyone.
Having warmly greeted Korzh and Malusha, he said:
“You, Korzh, settle down with your people, and I’ll take Malusha to introduce her to the princess.” Let's go, beauty!
Malusha looked at her father in confusion, but he slightly nudged her, grinning:
- Go, go, I’m here, next to you...
The girl slowly followed the thousand, constantly looking back at her father. They climbed the steps of the prince’s mansion, and, entering it, Lyubomir held Malusha:
“Wait here, I’ll rebuke the princess.”
- Go upstairs.
Malusha's heart began to pound with fear and her mouth became dry.
“Come on, come on, don’t be shy,” the thousand man encouraged the girl.
When they reached the second floor, he opened the door he had just come out of and slightly pushed Malusha inside.
The room she found herself in was quite large, with many windows letting in a lot of light. Near one of the windows stood the princess, dressed in a red dress that the girl had never seen, with a pattern around her neck. The same red worms were worn on her feet.
Malusha lowered her eyes and bowed to the princess from the waist.
Having carefully examined the girl, Olga said:
– She’s pretty, but she’s too young.
“She was left without a mother and ran the entire household at Korzh’s,” Lyubomir stood up for the girl.
“Click the housekeeper,” the princess ordered the thousand.
When he came out, the princess asked:
- How old are you, duckling?
“Fifteenth,” the girl barely squeezed out.
- What can you do?
- I cook, sew, embroider, rinse for a fee...
- What ailments are there?
Malusha looked at the princess in surprise and shook her head negatively.
- Well, yes. At this age, what illnesses can there be,” Olga said thoughtfully.
At that moment, the housekeeper Melania entered the room and bowed low.
“You were grieving that your girls are not very efficient,” the princess turned to her. - Here's your assistant. Put her to work.
“I’m listening,” the housekeeper bowed and looked at the girl carefully.
“Go,” Olga released them.
Leaving the princess, the women almost collided with Prince Svyatoslav. He stopped them and, turning to Melania, asked:
- Who is she?
“The princess has sent a new assistant,” she answered.
- The name of? – the prince turned to the girl.
“Mala, Malusha,” she muttered.
Svyatoslav took Malusha by the chin, raised her head and looked carefully into her eyes. Then he turned and went to his mother.
“Male,” Melania said quietly after him and, turning to the girl, added:
- Beware of him, try not to catch his eye.
The housekeeper led Malusha to the far end of the mansion, where a kitchen and servants' closets were attached to it.
In the center of a fairly spacious outbuilding, a fire was burning on stone masonry; something was being cooked on red coals in clay forges, emitting a pleasant smell unfamiliar to Malusha. A slender and beautiful girl, whose name, as it turned out, was Praskena, was stirring the brew with a wooden spoon. The fire was maintained by a nondescript little man with a piebald beard and shaggy hair on his head.
The housekeeper immediately put Malusha to work, forcing her to fetch water from a spring flowing nearby, wash several forges, a trough, wooden bowls, and spoons. Malusha also had to sweep away the rubbish from the refectory, clean the huge refectory table with debris, and wash the benches that stood next to it.
Melania checked her work from time to time and nodded her head with satisfaction. Noticing this, Malusha tried to complete the work assigned to her with even greater diligence.
When the work in the refectory was completed and everything in it was sparkling clean, Melania turned to the girl:
- Watch how I carry out and arrange the food.
Meanwhile, the housekeeper took a wooden spoon and began to taste the brew from the boiling gornets.
Through the half-open door to the refectory, one could see how princes, governors, and boyars began to enter the room and sit around the table...
It was as if the key holder had been replaced - she straightened up and became stricter. In a whisper, she began to urge the girls to ladle the soup into bowls, throw pieces of meat into them and place the bowls on a huge silver tray. Ladles of honey infusion were placed on another dish.
Melania carried the trays one by one to the refectory, and meanwhile the girls prepared a new set of dishes.
Finally, after the benches rattled in the refectory and everyone who was there left the room, it was time to rest. Tired Melania sat down near the fireplace, putting her hands on her knees. Praskena, the old stoker and Malusha were able to eat themselves, taking the remains of the stew from the mountaineers.
In the evening, when it was time to go to bed, Melania took Malusha into her closet, laid her down on the chest and said:
- You will sleep here.
And she sat down on her bed and sat for a long time, massaging her tired hands.
“I’m starting to get tired,” she said quietly. “Soon, apparently, I won’t be able to carry heavy trays.” I'm afraid to drop...
– Why doesn’t Praskena help you? – the girl asked.
After a short silence, the housekeeper answered:
- Where can she go? She is not idle... The prince tried. Young and early...
But Malusha no longer heard her. Tired from the day's unusual work and new impressions, she slept soundly.
She thought she had just fallen asleep when she felt someone touch her shoulder.
“Get up, girl, it’s time to get to work,” the housekeeper woke her up.
Malusha opened her eyes. A sliver of light was burning in the room; the mica window was completely dark.
A hard and hectic life began in the prince's palace...
In the first hour after the morning meal on the second floor of the prince's tower, in the People's Chamber, the governors, boyars, princes and thousands were deciding the issue of the upcoming campaign against the Vyatichi.
“Speak, Prince Rakita,” Olga turned to the oldest prince, who had already participated in the campaigns of her husband, Prince Igor.
The old prince stood up and, turning to the princess, slowly spoke:
– The Vyatichi have long been stubborn and do not want to pay tribute to Kyiv. It's high time to bring them to reason. The Polovtsians have also been destroying our borders for centuries, and they have suffered a lot from them. And the Khazars don’t give us peace. They need to be taught a lesson. But I’m just afraid that a campaign against everyone at once is necessary. Don't overstrain yourself. We will destroy a lot of people...
- What do you offer? – Olga stopped him.
- Don’t fight the Vyatichi, but give them kuna and thereby torture them. Why lose warriors in vain?
– What do you say, Prince Stavr of Chernigov? “You are neighbors with the Vyatichi, and the Polovtsians also visit your domain,” the princess asked with mockery.
Prince Stavr frowned, stood up and, restraining himself, said:
- Prince Rakita speaks. This year has been a bad year for the Vyatichi people, and for us too - Khora got angry and burned many crops to pieces. Kuna for them now is like a blessing from heaven. But it’s hard to keep track of the Pechenegs - without carts, they gallop around like demons: they appear, act like bastards and disappear...
– Does everyone agree to go to the Vyatichi with kuna, and not with swords? – the princess turned to her subjects.
Those present nodded their heads in unison.
- Tysyatsky Lyubomir, how are you preparing the trip? – she turned to the boy standing next to her.
“Now corrals have been sent out throughout the villages to gather the army. Vices are being committed. Weapons are forged in the writhes...
- Why vices? - Prince Svyatoslav jumped up from his seat, but Olga sat him down with a stern look.
“Continue, Lyubomir,” the princess turned to Lyubomir.
– Now we are recruiting the best people, gathering the hunters, children.
“Let me tell you, princess,” Svyatoslav turned to his mother.
Olga smiled, nodded her head and waved her hand, allowing Lyubomir to take his seat.
“Lyubomir, preparing vices, has in mind an army against cities,” Svyatoslav began passionately. “But we decided not to fight the Vyatichi, who have cities, but we will fight the steppe people - the Polovtsy and the Khazars. Yes, and the steppe people have cities. But why should we go to distant Sarkel? In these bare steppes, far from Kyiv, we will simply be killed. Lyubomir is preparing carts and convoys... We don’t need them. We must fight like the steppe inhabitants - with quick, unexpected attacks. Attack when we are not expected, quickly leave before the main enemy forces arrive. Hit him from unexpected sides, hit him piece by piece.
That’s why we don’t need a big army, we don’t need horseless howls, we don’t need untrained wretched little people. We take everything with us in toroki...
Everyone was silent, pondering Svyatoslav’s words. Experienced warriors, accustomed to chopping in an open field on foot, shook their heads in doubt: how much can you swing a heavy sword while sitting on a galloping horse? Standing on solid mother earth is much more familiar. And then I came up with something... It’s somehow unusual...
Svyatoslav, as if reading their thoughts, continued:
– A large foot army is good in a field with the same enemy on foot or when capturing Detinets. The Polovtsians and Khazars do not fight on foot. And the foot warriors will hold back the warriors at a slow pace.
“It’s more common to fight physically,” one of the princes said. - From time immemorial it has been like this...
“So we lost a lot of people,” Svyatoslav responded.
- So, you’ll take only the komonniks? – the princess clarified.
“Yes,” the prince answered briefly. – We will move along forest paths behind the scenes, feeding on pressure.
- What are we deciding, boyars, princes, governors? – Olga addressed those present.
“Good... He thinks sensibly... We agree,” voices were heard.
- Shall we give hryvnia, kun, rezanov from the treasury? – the princess asked again.
“We’ll give it... What would it be like without them... Good,” everyone agreed with her again.
On one of the days of preparation for the campaign, Olga, who was in the small room on the first floor of the tower, became an involuntary witness to the conversation that her son was having with Asmus, Churila and Lyubomir, sitting on a bench under the window. Asmus said:
– Your father very cleverly used the forehead, the spies...
“And we will do the same,” answered the prince.
“The old howls explained to me how the Magyars fight,” Asmus Churil continued the story. “They always kept horse patrols ahead, and the camp was surrounded by guards at night. Before the attack, they showered the enemy with a cloud of arrows, and then swooped down like falcons. If the enemies held out, they began to feign flight. When they were being pursued, they turned around at once and attacked the extended detachment of pursuers in a heap. An ambush detachment, hidden from the enemies, helped in this battle.
In the morning, when the sun seemed to be playing with nature, now hiding behind light clouds, now peeking out from behind them, we began getting ready for the hike.
The advanced detachment of komonniks and gridneys gathered in the courtyard of the prince's tower. Women and children were milling around here, seeing off their relatives.
Malusha stood next to her father and uncles and tried to give one of them a rather voluminous bowl of food.
“That’s what the steppe people do,” Asmus noted.
“We will also lure them into an ambush,” Svyatoslav concluded.
- Well, where do we put it, garden head? - Korzh persuaded her. Still, it will spill, and the bowl will break...
“Well, at least have a drink now,” Malusha asked.
“Give it to me,” her uncle Oskol reassured the girl, grinning.
He drank a little and handed the vessel to Kozhema. Korzh also took a sip, so as not to offend his daughter.
And then he handed the kuhol to other Komonniks, and they, drinking a little, passed it around in a circle. Soon the empty vessel was returned to Malusha.
“Don’t be too sad,” Korzh hugged his daughter. - How does the housekeeper treat you, does she offend you?
“She is very kind to me, and Praskena and I get along well.”
“That’s okay, that’s good,” her father stroked her shoulders. - Wait and don’t cry.
- How not to cry? – Malusha clung to her father. “I’m left alone, leave me.”
“Well, sometimes you can cry a little,” Oster said kindly. “They say it helps.”
“Praskeva and Rada cried so much that their tears haven’t dried up yet,” Kozhema joked.
“It’s all a joke to you, but what about us?” – the girl waved him off.
“Just listen to Melania in everything,” the father taught. – She, I heard, is a strict woman, but kind.
“She treats me like a daughter,” Malusha looked at her father. “They say that she has no one in the whole wide world.”
Svyatoslav and Princess Olga slowly descended from the porch of the princely mansion and, lagging behind them, walked the Greek priest Gregory.
Immediately the bell led a white saddled horse to the porch. Without saying a word, the prince bowed to his mother at the waist and, jumping into the saddle, raised his right hand with a drawn sword.
- Sit down! – Asmus shouted loudly, immediately settling down next to Svyatoslav.
Stretching his hand forward, the prince touched the horse.
At this command, the riders carefully and slowly moved towards the gate. The mourners clung to the stirrup in the hope of spending at least one more moment with their relatives. But the gate, like a sieve, squeezed out the mourners, and now the horses’ hooves began to knock on the wooden decking of the bridge.
Below on Pochayna it was dark from the crowded people, over whom towered the Komonniks, led by Churila.
Suddenly, someone touched Malusha’s elbow. She shuddered and turned around. It was Praskena.
“Come on, the housekeeper is calling,” she said.
As soon as the girls entered the room where the food was being prepared, Malanya ordered:
- Let's hurry up, girls. Soon the governors and boyars will come to eat, but we are not ready yet.
And as if in passing she asked Malusha:
– Did you see off your relatives?
“I saw you off,” she sighed. “Only they didn’t take enough to eat with them, but drank it all together.”
- Well, okay, okay. Are the bowls washed here?
“Both the bowls and spoons have been washed for a long time,” answered Praskena.
“Go and see if everything is okay in the refectory,” Melania turned to Malusha.
At this time, Praskena, leaning over the fire, grabbed her stomach and groaned.
“Eh, girl, don’t leave me here,” exclaimed the housekeeper. “Come on, sit by the door, get some fresh air, and Malaya and I will handle this.”
In the evening, when all the work was finished and it was time to go to bed, Melania suddenly strictly punished Malusha:
- Go wash the floor in the refectory.
“So I’ve already swept it bare,” Malusha answered in bewilderment.
“And I said wash it, but with grime,” Melania snapped harshly.
Malusha was even frightened: the housekeeper had never spoken to her in such a tone before. Not daring to disobey, she poured water into the bucket and went out.
Left alone, Melania asked Praskena:
– Maybe you should go to Grandma Barnikha? She, they say, helps to unwind...
- It's too late. I ran to her. She doesn’t want to take a sin on her soul at this time.
- Why didn’t I notice? She's wrapped up, apparently quite old...
“I was taking too long.”
- So maybe he...
- No, it’s moving.
- That's the problem. What will happen now?
“I don’t know,” Praskena cried.
- Do you have any relatives?
- Mom and two sisters take my place.
“Well, okay, okay,” the old woman began to calm the poor thing. - Go to bed, the morning is wiser than the evening, we’ll think of something.
When Malusha returned to the housekeeper’s closet, she was already sitting on her bed in her underwear and leisurely combing her thin, gray hair.
Noticing the elderly woman’s condition, the girl asked:
- Something happened:
- No no. “Lie down,” she answered.
Days rolled by days, week after week... Malusha was already drawn into monotonous and hard work, she was trusted to go with Melania to the refectory, set out bowls of brew and clear away empty dishes.
One day, when the princes, boyars and other people feeding from the princess, having had their fill, dispersed, Olga called the housekeeper and asked:
- For some reason I don’t see Prasken. Is she healthy?
Melania was silent, head down.
- Well! – the princess shouted at her menacingly.
The old woman trembled as if struck, and, without raising her head, quietly answered:
“It’s difficult for her to carry heavy trays of brew.” She is not idle...
- And who is this sensualist? – Olga asked in anger.
Melania trembled with fear, knowing the formidable character of the ruler.
- Did you swallow your tongue? – the princess had already screamed.
“Prince Svyatoslav,” the housekeeper muttered barely audibly.
- Soooo! – Olga began to cool down. - Okay, go.
Through the loosely closed door, the girls heard the princess screaming and sat in the corner, silent, like mice. Praskena cried silently.
- Oh, what will happen now? – Malusha stroked her friend on the back. - What will happen?
“I don’t know,” Praskena answered through tears and began to sob loudly.
Melania came in, somewhat bent, even shorter and older, and sat down next to them, clasping her overworked hands, all covered in bulging veins, between her knees.
After a long silence, she sighed heavily and said with a groan:
- This is a woman’s share of a slave... And you can’t refuse, and you yourself find yourself to blame... I, too, was young and not bad-looking. Prince Igor also liked it. Raped...
The girls froze, listening to the difficult memories of the housekeeper.
- And what? – Praskena asked quietly.
“I lost my baby from hard work...
Apparently the memories greatly upset the woman. She stood up and, without looking at Malusha and Praskena, said:
- Wash the dishes, tidy up the refectory...
Shuffling her feet like an old man, she went into her closet, tightly closing the door behind her. And through the thin door, heavy sobs of an elderly woman began to be heard from time to time.
For several days nothing special happened and it already seemed that everything would calm down on its own and nothing bad would happen for Praskena.
Melania and Malusha, understanding Praskena’s condition, tried to do the hardest work for her. But this did not calm the unfortunate girl: more and more often she cried quietly, despite the friendly attitude of her friends.
Princess Olga, too, was no longer interested in the pregnant slave and it seemed that she would leave everything as before and no punishment would affect Prasken.
All the more unexpected was the ruler’s decision to remove the unfortunate woman from the princely court.
But one day, when the morning was just dawning and the opposite bank of the Dnieper appeared opposite the Mountain, after finishing the morning meal, a tiun came to the women and conveyed the princess’s order to take Praskena to a distant village to her mother.
- When will they pick her up? – Melania asked.
“The horse is already being harnessed,” he answered. - So let him get ready.
Melania silently nodded her head and said to Praskena:
- Get ready, girl. This is apparently your fate.
Praskena slowly sank to the floor and began to sob.
- Well, what are you, what are you! – Melania stroked the girl on the head. - Tears of sorrow will not help. - Such is the fate of us slaves.
Malusha stood aside, frozen with grief and powerlessness. Tears were streaming down her cheeks.
“Help me collect it,” the housekeeper turned to her.
Malusha rushed about, not knowing what to do.
“Don’t fuss,” Melania stopped her. “Put her washed clothes in the chest.” Prepare a couple of layers of bread and dried meat. Pour some food into the bowl...
The women barely had time to gather Praskene’s things and food when a cart appeared from behind the mansion. Tiun was sitting on a horse nearby.
- Well, are you ready? - he asked. - Move, we need to get to the place before darkness.
Malusha and Melania helped Praskena get up. The unfortunate girl buried her head in the housekeeper’s chest and began to sob more than ever.
“Well, well,” she reassured her. – People live everywhere, you won’t get lost...
Malusha also clung to her friend and cried quietly, drenching Praskena’s sundress with tears.
- How long have you been there? - Tiun became angry.
“Well, go, go,” Melania released the unfortunate woman. - Go and don’t despair. Everything will be alright.
Praskena climbed onto the cart, where an armful of hay was thrown.
“Here, the princess passed it on,” Tiun bent down to her from his horse and handed over a small bundle. - These are cut here, they will be useful for the first time...
Princess Olga was nervous. She constantly walked along the windows of the People's Chamber and occasionally stopped near the armor of her late husband.
“Lord,” she thought to herself, “not a single soul mate nearby, not a single reliable person. Everyone thinks only about themselves, about their well-being. Gregory? And this one thinks only about his own thing - to baptize all Russians, not realizing that it is not so easy to break the age-old belief in idols, and that rebellion is not far away. And this despite the fact that all the time we have to wait for raids by either the Pechenegs, or the Khazars, or the Byzantines, or the Magyars... And their princes look like wolves - everyone wants to become independent from Kyiv.
They reported that under the late Vseslav, some princes secretly met and agreed on something. Did they not want to put Vseslav at the head of the principality? But, thank God, he is no longer there...
My rivals are behind me just waiting for me to stumble. Well, okay, I hid Beauty safely, she’s not scary. But the quiet Milana... It is not in vain that they say: in still waters there are devils. It’s not for nothing that she makes eyes at the boyars and princes. Or is it young flesh playing?
No, you need to bring one of the faithful and reliable people closer to you. From the nobles? No, each of them is eloquent and submissive, but in his thoughts he only thinks about how to rise above the others. Or maybe from commoners? So they have no weight..."
Seeing an old stoker walking through the yard, dragging an armful of firewood into the kitchen, she shouted to him:
- Send me the housekeeper.
He silently nodded his head and hastened to carry out the princess’s orders.
Soon a breathless Melania entered the Crowded Chamber.
- Did you call, mother? – she asked.
– Did you send it to Prasken?
- Yes, it’s still three days ago. And they brought back two young girls to help me.
– What is Malusha like? Is it too tart? Performer? Have you noticed anything prejudiced?
- Pure, immaculate soul. Bright, kind, “ready to sacrifice the last for others,” the housekeeper answered after thinking. “I wish I had a daughter like that.” And she’s so helpful...
“Send her to me,” the princess ordered. - He will be in my service.
“As you order, mother,” Melania bowed. - When should I send it?
“But once we have dinner, let him come to me.”
The housekeeper bowed and left. And already in her household she said to Malusha:
“The princess ordered you to be with her.” Be careful, girl: the princess has a tough temper.
- Oh, what will happen? - she was scared.
– You are not accustomed to cunning and deception. So everything will be fine. The princess brought you closer, now you will be in charge of me too.
- Like this? – Malusha jumped up in bewilderment.
- You will be closer to the princess.
- Make arrangements! – the girl exclaimed. - I consider you like a mother. My dear one died...
“Thank you, girl,” the old woman was touched. “And you became like a daughter to me.” I didn't have to have my own children.
The women hugged each other, wetting each other's clothes with their tears. Finally Melania pulled away and said tenderly:
- Why are we saying goodbye to you as if we were parting forever? Are you going to drop in on the old lady for tea? Do not forget?
- But who refuses their mother? – Malusha was amazed.
- Well, okay, okay. Let me help you comb your hair, otherwise it would be awkward to appear disheveled in front of the princess. She really doesn't like mess...
When lunch and all the preparations were completed, the housekeeper patted the girl on the head and slightly pushed her towards the exit:
- Well, go, daughter. God bless you!
The princess had a lot of worries in her service: she had to take care of her clothes, from time to time take them out of the chests and air them, wash them, make the bed for bed and tidy up after bedtime, comb the mistress’s hair, carry out various errands...
Malusha was not intimidated by work. At first, out of habit, she was tired, but then she got used to it and calmly got up before dark, almost with the first roosters.
From time to time she would drop by the old housekeeper, at least for a short time, to support the old lady or just to chat. And every time Melania treated her new daughter to something tasty.
On one of the quiet, calm days, when no urgent matters were foreseen, Princess Olga was sitting in one of the rooms on the first floor, quietly talking with the priest Gregory. Malusha was in the far corner wiping down the benches and window sills.
Suddenly, outside the window, the clatter of hooves was heard on the wooden flooring of the drawbridge, and the negotiations of the gate guards began to be heard. But it was impossible to make out what they were talking about. Soon the conversation died down, and the dull clatter of a horse came from the direction of the yard.
- Malusha, look, who did it bring? – the princess turned to the girl.
Malusha, without saying a word, immediately ran out of the tower and almost immediately returned back.
“A messenger from Prince Svyatoslav,” she said excitedly.
“Call him here,” the princess ordered.
Malusha ran outside again and returned with a dusty komonnik.
“I’ll go to my place,” Grigory began, but Olga stopped him:
- What secrets are there, sit down. “Speak,” she turned to the guard.
He bowed and began to tell:
- The prince ordered to say that they reached the Vyatichi without any special difficulties...
- No special ones? – Olga interrupted him. - So something happened on the way?
- So, small skirmishes with forest thieves. In one of them, the prince was rescued by the guard Korzh and his brothers - they blocked the prince from arrows with their shields, and then chopped them down with swords. After this, the prince ordered them to be with him all the time. Now he sleeps at a rest stop surrounded by them.
Hearing this, Malusha turned to the narrator and blushed. Olga also turned to her and smiled slightly.
- What, the Vyatichi agreed to pay us tribute? - she asked howling.
“At first they were afraid of the Polovtsians, but when the prince offered them a joint campaign against them and promised to leave a small squad for protection, they agreed to march together.
“Your son turned out to be a good negotiator,” the priest noted.
Olga didn’t answer him and continued to torture the guard:
- So they went against the Polovtsians?
The Komonnik hesitated, lowering his eyes.
– When they began to prepare for the campaign, the Vyatichi decided to pray to their gods.
- Idols? – asked Grigory.
In response, the messenger only nodded his head.
“Don’t delay,” Olga demanded.
“While they were praying, a griden from the patrol galloped up and warned that the Polovtsians had appeared. We fought them off, but four gridnas from the patrol were killed...
- And then? – Olga asked impatiently.
- Three days later, Svyatoslav with his squad and the Vyatichi with their weapons went against the Polovtsians. I was sent to you, princess.
- One? – Olga raised her eyebrows in surprise.
“No, three,” answered the guard. “I left two of them at Pochaina - there’s no point in them hanging around the prince’s court in vain.”
“Okay, go for now,” the princess released him.
The next morning, boyars, princes and thousands gathered in the People's Chamber. Olga gave them the news from Svyatoslav.
“The prince has reached the chief,” Olga told them. – From now on, the last Slavic tribe will pay tribute to us, and not to the wild steppe inhabitants. This is of great benefit to Kyiv, and therefore to you and me.
Those present began to whisper, discussing the good news. After waiting for the whispering to subside, the princess continued:
“It’s impossible to know how the Vyatichi howls will behave.” Therefore, I believe that it is necessary to send help to the prince - a barrier must be left in the steppes beyond the Itil River; without help, it will be difficult for the prince to cope with the Khazars. What do you think?
After some thought, boyar Skor stood up.
- Everything turned out fine with the Vyatichi. This is good,” he agreed. – The Polovtsians should also be warned. But why should we fight the Khazars? Last summer they didn't bother us much. We will only destroy people in vain...
Voivode Sveneld interrupted him:
– The enemy must be beaten when he is not ready for a raid. Then it's easier to defeat him.
“You Varangians should just wave your swords,” Skor soared. - And our little people will lay their heads!
“I’m ready to set out with my people even tomorrow,” Sveneld cut him off. “I’m ready to send two squads with Jarl Svarg.”
“Well, here you go,” Skor did not lag behind.
“You, boyar, are accustomed to being cunning and cunning,” Prince Rakita intervened in the dispute. – You reason not like a deliberate husband, but like a local man. You think only about your own benefit, and not about the whole society...
“You shouldn’t, prince, reproach me,” Skor flared up.
“Prince Stavr needs to assign his guards,” Prince Rakita intervened in the conversation. - Taxes from the Vyatichi will go through his lands. He will appoint a wash, a good part of which, as always, he will keep for himself...
– Don’t count other people’s goods! - the Chernigov prince flared up.
The princess raised her hand, calling everyone to calm, and after silence had established in the room, she said quietly:
- Be ashamed, men. You start quarrels, as if at a bargaining. That's not what you're worrying about. We cannot help Svyatoslav, otherwise our entire army will remain in the Khazar steppes. Let every boyar, governor, every prince allocate five dozen komonniks.
- Eka! - exclaimed the Chernigov prince Stavr. - Where can I get these five dozen? Last time the prince was given...
“Perhaps I should ask Sneld to find your little people?” – Olga interrupted him.
- Why do I need a Varangian? – Stavr was scared. “It’s not enough yet to let foreigners into our lands!” We'll handle it ourselves.
“So we’ve agreed,” the princess concluded, getting up from her chair and making it clear that the reception was over.
When everyone had left, Olga went into her little room and ordered Malusha:
- Call the housekeeper to me, and then bring the kvass. I’ll lie down for now, I’m tired...
Malusha flew like an arrow to carry out the order.
Returning with kvass, she almost collided with Melania as she left Princess Melania. She looked at the girl and smiled mysteriously.
Soon the housekeeper returned, carrying something wrapped in ubrus.
“Take it,” the princess turned to Malusha. - This is for you. Melania, help her get dressed.
- Oh, what is this? – exclaimed the amazed girl.
“Come on, let’s go, I’ll help you,” the housekeeper smiled. - You'll see...
Soon Malusha, dressed in embroidered clothes - a gift from the princess - burst into Olga's chambers, fell to her knees and, crying, began to kiss her hands.
- Here you go! Instead of joy there are tears,” the princess said with feigned severity. - Wear it, otherwise, don’t be afraid, there won’t be any change. Now both of you go and give it a rest.
The women left, but Malusha continued to cry.
- Well, why are you paying for something new? – the housekeeper hugged the girl. - You should be happy...
- Yes, I’m happy. The guard who arrived there said that the priest and his uncles saved the prince from the thieves. The prince brought them closer to him...
“You see how everything is shaping up,” Melania continued to reassure her named daughter. - Well, rejoice, but I need to run - I need an eye on new cooks...
A few days later, Kyiv sent a new squad to help Svyatoslav.
At a time when the birds that had flown in from the south were building nests and beginning to hatch their chicks, Svyatoslav’s howls were returning to Kyiv. The commanders sent ahead warned about their arrival, saying that they had managed to capture rich booty, captured Polovtsians and Khazars. For this occasion, the residents of Podol dressed in their best clothes, everyone was excited: many in Svyatoslav’s squad had fathers, brothers, sons...
The guards on the walls and towers of the Mountain carefully peered into the distance, trying to be the first to spot the arrivals. And so, when the day was already ending and hopes of their return today seemed to have faded, shouts were heard from the watchtower:
- They're coming howl! I see the squad! They're coming back!..
Now the news spread not only throughout the Mountain, but throughout Pochayna. Sounds of beatings were heard from Podol and Perevesische, people who had gathered to retire poured out of their homes, torches flashed...
The approaching komonniks and gridneys moved in a dense human corridor, many of them stopped and dismounted from their horses near their huts, dugouts, or the homes of their relatives or simply acquaintances.
Along the road winding upward to the Mountain, the princely grids rose, ahead of which Prince Svyatoslav rode on a white horse, surrounded by close warriors.
Malusha, standing behind the princess on the steps of the prince's mansion, saw her father as the head of the column entered the gate. Korzh rode slightly behind Svyatoslav.
Svyatoslav and his neighbors rode up to the porch of the tower and slowly dismounted from his horse. He was strikingly different from the one who went on the campaign. A red basket was thrown over his shoulders, his hand lay on the top of the sword. The bell immediately accepted the reins of his horse.
Approaching the first step of the porch, the prince stopped and bowed low to his mother. Then he rose higher and, approaching the princess, took the sword out of its sheath and laid it at Olga’s feet.
“Accept, princess, the obedience of the Vyatichi and our devotion to you,” he solemnly said.
From behind the shoulders of the princess's retinue, Malusha looked with delight at her father, then at her uncles, then at the prince, and saw that her relatives were also looking at her with surprise and joy.
Malusha really wanted to run to them, but she could not disrupt the ceremony of welcoming the arriving warriors. And only after the princess and prince began to enter the tower, she ran up to her family for a moment and pressed herself to her father’s chest.
- Well, you are quite a bride! - Uncle Kozhem praised her.
“How much you have matured, how prettier you have become,” Uncle Oster also admired.
-Where do you get something like this for a fee? – the father was surprised.
“The princess gave it to me,” the girl smiled.
“Well, run, otherwise the princess will get caught,” Korzh pushed her. - He will start to get angry. “I’ll see you later,” Svyatoslav told us to be in the grid.
All the boyars, princes, governors, thousands gathered in the People's Chamber... Malusha did not enter the chamber, but sat down on a bench near the open door.
Quite a long time passed, and finally those invited to the meeting began to leave the room. The last to appear at the door were Svyatoslav and the princess.
Seeing Malusha dressed up, Svyatoslav turned to his mother and asked:
- Who is she? I don't recognize...
“Malusha, Korzh’s daughter,” she answered briefly.
– Korzh’s daughter? – Svyatoslav raised his eyebrows. - Pretty...
“You can go see your father,” Princess said to Malouche, and the girl immediately took off, heading towards the grid.
- Look, she’s so smart! – Svyatoslav admired.
Olga didn’t answer, she just knitted her eyebrows angrily.
The Gridneys, seeing the beautiful girl, shouted in discord:
- Come, beauty, to us, we will love you!
- Come to me, duck, I’ll show you something...
But Oster and Kozhem stopped them:
– This is Korzh’s daughter and our niece. Whoever offends her will have to deal with us.
The Gridneys, although they had managed to drink some intoxicating wine, did not dare to quarrel with the brothers close to Svyatoslav.
Father and daughter retired to the side.
-Are you not being offended? – Korzh asked.
“No, everything is fine,” she answered, caressing her father. “The princess over there even took me into her service and gave me a new one for a fee.
“Basque,” the father praised.
- Aren’t you hurt? – Malusha asked worriedly. - Everything is fine?
“I brought you something,” Korzh squinted slyly.
He pulled out a bundle from somewhere and handed it to Malusha.
- What is this? – she asked.
- Turn it around and take a look.
Malusha untied the rag and saw beautiful tights.
- Oh, is this for me? – the girl exclaimed.
- To you, Mala, to you.
-Where did you get these?
- At the Polovtsian. He apparently took it from someone for his wife.
-What are they like, Polovtsians? Scary?
“Wild,” the father answered after thinking. “They’ll be little sprouts like us, they’ll swoop in in a flock, but their bodies will be rather weak.” As soon as they run away without looking back... Their eyes are narrow, like slits. Are they scary? There is no point in yawning with them - you will immediately grab the arrow. They shoot deftly.
- And the Khazars? – Malusha asked.
- The same as the Polovtsians. Well, all of them...
- Well, that’s how the prince judges. It's not for us to decide. I think it will let me cool down.
- How did you save the prince? Tell…
- And this is known?
- The Komonnik, whom you sent from the Vyatichi, said.
- Yes, the forest thugs fired at us. Well, we chopped them up. You’d better tell me: are you sure you’re not bullied here?
- No, no... Only Princess Milana is wandering around in some kind of evil way, everything is wrong with her.
- He remembers how Princess Olga sent Beauty away. And he gets angry because of a trifle.
A young griden, Vogul, approached them and asked Korzh:
- So this beauty is your daughter?
- Yes, you see how imperceptibly she turned from a small chick into a dove.
“Truly a dove,” Griden confirmed. “The servants said that she had a very kind and affectionate disposition.
Malusha blushed from the praise and tried to hide behind her father.
“Don’t be timid, beauty,” Vogul did not lag behind. – In modern times, such ahat and lala are not often found.
“There are rumors that you will be sent to the villages.” This time there is a rest. We won't fight.
- How long? - Korzh responded.
“And here other heads are worried about us,” Vogul answered and, bowing to Malusha, walked away.
– Is it true that you are going home? – looked at Father Malush.
“I haven’t heard anything like that from the prince yet,” he answered. - But no one is waiting at home...
Tears appeared in the girl's eyes.
“Well, well, that’s enough,” her father began to reassure her. – Don’t be fooled by the new one, it’s paid. The princess treats you kindly, she’s well-fed, healthy, and that’s okay...
“I remembered my mother,” she said through tears.
“What can you do here, apparently this is her fate.” Now go, otherwise the princess will get angry and get angry. I'm next to you, we'll see you again.
Malusha wiped her tears and shook her head in agreement.
- I will go?
- Go, go...
As soon as Malusha left, Vogul approached Korzh and asked:
- Why were you crying?
- Mother remembered. She died before our time. The bear broke.
“Trouble,” he sympathized.
At this time, alarmed female screams were heard from the back of the tower.
- What happened there? – Vogul asked alarmedly and, together with Korzh, ran in that direction.
At the porch of the door to the kitchen, two young maids, housekeepers, stood and sobbed.
“There,” through tears they pointed into the kitchen. - There…
The men went inside and in the twilight they saw Melania lying on the floor. She moaned weakly and tried to stand up, leaning on her elbow.
Vogul picked up the old woman in his arms, carried her to her closet and laid her on the bed. She lay helplessly and somehow pitifully looked at the men around her, the young assistants and the stoker, looking from one to the other. Her lips moved slightly, but she apparently could not speak.
Malusha, sent by the princess to find out what was the matter, came running to the noise. Seeing Melania lying, she threw herself on her knees in front of her and began to cry. The father put his hand on his daughter's shoulder and silently stroked her.
“We need to call the old sorceress or the sorcerer,” he said slowly.
“I’ll run away immediately,” Vogul responded and jumped out.
“Go and tell the princess, otherwise she’ll get angry that you’ve been gone for a long time,” Korzh said to his daughter.
Malusha stood up and, nodding her head, silently left.
After a short time, Princess Olga entered the closet and, going up to the couch, took the housekeeper by the hand. Tears appeared in Melania's eyes.
“Call the sorceress,” said the princess, looking at the sick woman.
“They’ve already sent it,” Korzh answered with a bow.
The princess looked at him for a long time, but said nothing. Then she turned to Malusha:
- Take the keys. The matter is familiar to you.
After that, she turned and left.
Confused, Malusha froze, not knowing what to do. But her father nodded and hugged her, and she began to calm down little by little.
“Don’t go yet,” she asked her father.
“I’ll stay,” he answered briefly.
In order not to jostle in the cramped space, Vogul, Korzh and Malusha went out into the fresh air. The girl was crying quietly.
“Well, that’s enough, that’s enough,” her father reassured her.
“She was like a mother to me,” the girl sobbed. - She doesn’t have any relatives...
The sorcerer who came out of the closet said quietly:
- The unfortunate thing has given up...
“Come on, elder, I’ll take you,” Vogul grabbed the old man by the arm and led him away. Melania was buried modestly and quietly. And Malusha began a new life...
After the evening meal, Malusha asked the princess for permission to go to the celebration of Ivan Kupala and received consent.
When the sun began to set, young people gathered on the banks of the Pochayna River. It was noticeable that some of the Unoshi had taken some intoxicating honey beforehand. They walked near the ducks, who were collecting flowers from which they wove wreaths, and sang holiday songs. Giving these wreaths to those who liked them, the girls sang:
Wear it, my friend,
Wear it, my friend,
Don't fold
Don't fold
Love me,
Love me,
Don't leave
Love me.
At the other end of the clearing, the girls sang their song:
– Saint Ivan,
Why are you shy?
- Oh, my God,
Lyady field.
– Saint Ivan,
What are you talking about?
- Oh, my God,
Sow barley!
– Saint Ivan,
What is barley for?
- Oh, my God,
Brew beer!
Brew beer
Marry sons
Give away daughters
Pasag divide.
Malusha was having fun with everyone and quite unexpectedly saw Prince Svyatoslav next to her, dressed in simple clothes.
“Give me a wreath, beauty,” he turned to the girl with a smile.
- Eh, no! On Midsummer's Day, a wreath is given only to honorees.
- Am I not fit to be an honorary officer?
- You are a prince, I am a slave.
– On this holiday, I am the same as everyone else. Aren't you afraid of witches and witches? They go out hunting that night.
In response, Malusha sang mischievously:
You're rolling, witches,
For mosses, for swamps,
For rotten decks,
Where people don't fight
Dogs don't bark
Chickens don't sing, -
That's the place!
It's starting to get noticeably darker. With noise and jokes, the carnivores began to collect dry dead wood. Soon the surroundings were illuminated by the flames of the fire.
Everyone huddled around him, and when the flames died down a little, the youth began to jump over the fire - it was believed that on this night the flame cleanses from all the sins accumulated over the year.
At midnight the young people began to leave in pairs into the darkness of the forest. Svyatoslav took Malusha by the hand and called:
“Come on, I’ll show you a clearing with beautiful flowers.”
Succumbing to the general mood, the girl, not expecting a catch, followed him.
Vogul stood to the side and bit his lips - he understood why they were taking her away. But he could not resist the prince, and he understood that, according to ancient custom, on Midsummer’s Day, any girl had the right to leave not with her honoree, but with any son.
And in the princely mansion, the Greek priest Gregory asked the princess what was happening on the night of Ivan Kupala, and, spitting and swearing, headed to his little room. By candlelight he wrote on parchment: “When the very feast of the Nativity of the Baptist comes, then on that holy night not all the city will be in turmoil, and there will be a frenzy of tambourines and sniffles, and the hum of strings, and all sorts of inappropriate Sotonin games. With splashing and dancing, the wives and maidens and the nodding of their heads and their lips are unpleasant to the cry, all the nasty demonic songs, and the wobbling of their spine. And their feet jump and trample; The same is the great fall for men and youths, the same is for the whispering of women and girls, their prodigal gaze, and the same is for the wives of husbands, defilement and corruption for virgins.”
After the holiday of Ivana Kupala, Malusha’s life changed. Almost every time Princess Olga came out of the heated bathhouse with her new courtyard girl, and Malusha lingered to tidy up the bathhouse, Prince Svyatoslav made his way into her...
Princess Olga spent the autumn and winter in Byzantium and returned to Kyiv in early spring along with the ambassadors of the Byzantine Emperor Nikephoros.
Together with the princess, they convinced Svyatoslav to pacify the Danube Bulgarians. Svyatoslav, being a born warrior and beginning to independently govern the state, agreed and began to prepare for the campaign. Unlike his mother, he did not need the advice of boyars, governors, princes and made all decisions independently.
And again, on Podol, on Pochayna, on Pereveishte, komonniks, taken from near and far villages, began to gather. Malushi's uncles Oster and Kozhe-ma also arrived here, reporting that Korzh had been left at home because his wounds, received in battles with the Khazars, hurt.
Vogul also had to go on a campaign, and in anticipation of separation from the young housekeeper, he tried to see her as often as possible.
During one of these meetings, he convinced the girl:
- Why does Prince Svyatoslav need you? He'll play around with you and leave you. You are no match for him...
“I understand: a slave is no match for a prince.” But what can I do?
– Do you like him?
-Young, strong, beautiful...
- There is life ahead. He gets married and leaves you. How will you live?
– I don’t know... I understand everything, but...
-Can’t you refuse?
Malusha lowered her head and was silent.
“Yes, that’s how it is,” Vogul sighed. - Prince - you can’t cross him... But you know, I’m always next to you. You’re so sweet to me, I can’t bear it, how sweet...
Malusha began to cry.
This time the long trip did not take place. Messengers from the southern borders reported that the Pechenegs had begun to move and had destroyed several villages. Therefore, Prince Svyatoslav sent his army against them. Taking a detachment of reliable commanders, Svyatoslav rushed to the southern borders of the state...
By autumn the army returned to Kyiv.
Malusha, looking up from her work, watched as the howls were drawn into the gates of the Mountain’s fence.
A prince rode ahead, holding a pinto horse by the reins, on which some woman was sitting. The girl’s heart sank from imminent misfortune.
She covered her mouth with her hand so as not to scream. The prince, meanwhile, drove up to the porch of the tower, without even looking at her...
Malusha turned and ran around the corner of the barn so that no one would see her tears. “Threw it, threw it! - she sobbed. - Became unlovable...”
It was here that Vogul found her, following the girl as soon as he entered the tower courtyard.
“Well, that’s enough, that’s enough,” he hugged her shoulders. “You can’t wash away grief with tears.” This is how it should have ended...
-Who did he bring? – Malusha asked through tears.
- Polovtsian princess. He said that he would take her as his wife.
- And what about me?
-You are a slave, not free. I played around with you, and waking up...
- Why, why so and so?
- Prince! “Everything is allowed to him,” Vogul spat angrily. – When we returned and spent the night in the steppe, I wanted to kill him...
- Kill? – the girl shuddered.
- Yes, for what he did to you.
Kozhema approached them.
Malusha wiped her tears and asked:
-Where is Uncle Oster?
“I stayed in the steppe,” he answered reluctantly. - The Pechenezh arrow got it. What a grief...
- What will happen to Praskena now?
“I don’t know... We’ll help somehow,” Kozhema answered. - We won’t leave you in trouble.
“They attacked at night,” Vogul intervened in the conversation. “The foot soldiers crept up and beat many by the light of the fire. It’s good that the guards were still awake and managed to forestall them. In the morning we found them in the steppe and killed them, but this did not help our beaten ones.
At this time, shouts were heard from the kitchen calling for Malusha.
“Oh, it’s time to eat soon, but I’ve been chatting here,” she came to her senses.
“Wait a minute,” Kozhema detained her. - I'm leaving for the village. What should I tell my father?
– Tell me that everything is fine with me, don’t worry. I'm worried about him...
“I’ll look after her,” Vogul said when Malusha ran away. - Let Korzh be in peace.
“I don’t like that Svyatoslav doesn’t take his eyes off her,” Kozhema said thoughtfully.
“There’s nothing you can do about it,” Vogul said, sighing. - He is a prince, and we...
It is not in vain that people say: when trouble comes, open the gate. This happened with Malusha.
As was customary, the housekeeper brought dishes during the meal and made a change of dishes. But more and more often she caught the hostile glances of the Polovtsian princess, intercepted by the prince from the steppe people. This was all the more unpleasant because Svyatoslav’s wife increasingly glanced at Malusha’s swelling belly. Under these glances, the girl felt as if she had done something shameful, her face was covered with crimson spots.
The insightful Olga looked at these exchanges with alarm and one day called Malusha to her.
“Prepare a replacement for yourself,” she said briefly.
Malusha stood confused, not understanding what she had done wrong to her mistress. Then she fell to her knees and barely squeezed out:
– Have I done something wrong? Excuse me…
“You run the house well, I’m pleased with you,” answered the princess. “But there’s no place for you in the mansion.” Look how the Polovtsian Strena looks at you, and Princess Milana has not loved you for a long time. I feel they will sing together soon. And I have to go to Byzantium for a long time on business. These witches will eat you... You will be calmer with your father...
- What should I do? – Malusha raised her eyes to the princess.
“I’ll send you to your father, you’ll be calmer there.”
After a week, on Olga’s orders, Vogul and two guards took Malusha to his native village.
At the time appointed by the gods, Malusha gave birth to a son. Praskeva and Rada helped her in such a sacred rite, taking the baby into their arms. By order of the prince, he was immediately informed of the birth of his son.
At first, Malusha did not pay attention to the fact that Praskeva most often came to help her and her father with the housework. And when she was feeding her son, she began to notice that her father and aunt were embarrassed and tried not to look at each other.
Finally she couldn’t stand it anymore and one day she turned to them:
– Why are you hiding like unaki? Both are lonely, both are in love. We would live together...
– Will it be easier for all of us? – Korzh asked, looking at Praskeva. – If Praskeva doesn’t mind...
She stood with her eyes downcast, not knowing what to say.
“Let it be right for you, like children,” Malusha answered for her.
Suddenly there was a sound of horse tramping, which abruptly ended near their hut.
- Who could it be? – Korzh looked out the window and immediately recoiled. - Fathers of light, the prince himself!
The door swung open and Svyatoslav entered the hut.
“Hello, masters,” he addressed everyone.
They bowed to the guest, and the owner answered for everyone:
- And you be healthy, prince!
Svyatoslav approached Malusha:
- Well, tell me your son.
She tore the child from her breast and handed it to the prince. The little boy who squeaked began to cry, but in the prince’s arms he fell silent and stared at him with his bright eyes.
“Look, I recognized my father,” Svyatoslav said affectionately. – What do you think we’ll call it? The blushing Malusha said:
– We haven’t decided that yet, we think.
– There’s nothing to think about. Vladimir is the ruler of the world. Will it be so, prince? – he turned to his son.
“He’s Robichich,” Korzh said timidly.
“He is the prince’s son, my son,” Svyatoslav said firmly.
Seeing that the prince was admiring the child, Korzh slightly pushed Praskeva towards the door, and they went outside.
- How are you? – Svyatoslav glanced at Malusha. - Is there any need for anything?
- Thank you, we have everything.
“Well, well,” was all he answered. - And you are still as beautiful as before. Malusha was embarrassedly silent, lowered her head, and only glanced furtively at Svyatoslav.
- The princess sent you a greeting. Remembers you.
“She was very kind to me.” Warmth spreads in my chest as I remember her. Near the hut, Korzh was talking with Vogul and other Komonniks, with whom he went on hikes, when the prince’s call was heard.
Vogul perked up and went to the call. Entering the hut, he silently bowed to Malusha, and at the prince’s nod, he took out a package from his bosom and put it on the tabletop. Something rang dully inside him.
Svyatoslav waved his hand, letting go of the grid.
After some time, the prince went outside and turned to Korzh:
- Take care of her, and especially take care of my son. I remember you - I saved a life and was a faithful comrade. And who is this? – he nodded at Praskeva.
– Oster’s wife, who died from Pecheneg arrows when they attacked us at night. Now Malusha and I help with the housework.
“It was a glorious howl, it’s a pity to lose such people,” Svyatoslav patted Korzh on the shoulder. - Well, take care of yourself.
The prince, and after him the komonniks, jumped into their saddles and quickly galloped towards Kyiv.
-What did he give you? - Korzh asked, entering the hut and pointing to the bundle.
“Look,” Malusha said, attaching the baby to her chest.
They had barely completed the spring sowing when a tiun arrived at the village of the Korzha family with several white-washed serfs.
-What are they doing? - people were amazed. - It’s too early for polyud.
- Who knows? – Praskeva shrugged.
“If we were on a campaign, then a griden or a thousand would arrive,” Korzh reasoned.
However, Tiun and his people silently rode through the entire end, without speaking to anyone, and on the hillock, on the outskirts, the slaves began to erect a tent. And the next day, axes began to clatter in the forest and logs began to be pulled down to the mantel.
As an elder of the Korzh clan, he approached the tiun and asked what they were planning to build near their family village?
Tiun, stretched out from the heat, sat in the shade of the tent on the table and wiped the sweat from his face with his sleeve.
Having bowed and identified himself, Korzh spoke carefully:
“Don’t be angry with the scumbags,” they ask: why are the creators timid?
“I’m not told to tell you,” he responded reluctantly, and then ordered him to bring him a cold meal. - Yes, the little people came to help.
Arguing with a tiun is more expensive for yourself! The locals had to bring the prince’s servant both food and intoxicating honey every day. But no matter how cunning people were, no matter how they tortured him, the tiun never told the truth.
The locals understood that they were unable to get rid of the tiun and would not let them go until the end of construction; they worked at full capacity: they had to make it before the harvest. And then there was a new misfortune - Tiun forced him to prepare hay and throw it into stacks.
By autumn the frame was erected. Moreover, tabletops, benches, chests were made and placed in the spacious room...
As soon as the construction was completed, the tiun and his white-washed slaves departed for home, leaving the locals in complete bewilderment.
And after the crops were collected and threshed from the fields, the same tiun came to the upper village. Behind him, horses on carts were carrying the same whitewashed slaves. Near Korzh’s hut the procession stopped, and the tiun, without dismounting from his horse, ordered Korzh who had come out:
- Take the belongings and loads out onto the cart. They ordered your house to be demolished.
- Like this? – the owner asked in bewilderment. - Where are we going?
Standing behind him, Praskeva and Malusha looked in confusion, first at the official, then at Korzh.
“I don’t know anything,” Tiun answered, grinning. - I was told so.
- Who ordered it? – Korzh did not lag behind.
- Grand Duke. And don’t delay me, load your belongings into the cart.
Korzh and Praskeva turned to Malusha. She, hearing Tiun’s answer, turned pale and tears flowed down her cheeks.
– Svyatoslav didn’t tell you anything? - asked the father.
She shook her head negatively.
Meanwhile, Tiun continued to urge them on:
- Let's hurry up, I still have to turn back. The slaves over there will help you.
Nothing to do. Completely upset, Korzh and Praskeva began to take things out and load them onto the cart. Slaves helped lay them down. Malusha froze to the side, holding her son in her arms.
Relatives began to gather near Korzh's house.
- What's happened? – Kozhema asked his brother.
“I don’t understand anything,” he shrugged. “It was ordered to vacate the hut; they will destroy it.”
- Who ordered it?
“He says he’s a prince,” Korzh nodded towards the tiun.
- Wow! Because we saved him from certain death. Maybe you can move to Oster's house? - my brother suggested. - Still, it’s empty...
- Not ordered. It was ordered to collect belongings, tiun will take it where indicated.
After the last thing was taken out, the horses set off along the end of the village.
Almost all of Korzh’s relatives walked silently behind the carts. Rada and her son walked next to Malusha.
Having climbed the hill, the tiun stopped the procession near the newly erected hut.
“Sort out the goods,” he said solemnly. - From now on, this is your home, glorious Korzh.
The elder of the clan stood somewhat confused, not understanding what to do, what to do.
The whitewashed slaves began to unload the carts. When it was all over, the tiun turned to Korzh and said:
“You were ordered to leave one horse and cart and two slaves.” The land from the hut to the forest, two shooting ranges wide, is also yours. Hello, howl, thank Prince Svyatoslav and Princess Olga!
After that, he turned the horse, the slaves, except for the two remaining, jumped onto the second cart, and the procession, led by the rider, moved towards Kyiv.
Korzh looked at his relatives with a blank look, not knowing what to do, what to say.
The Rada was the first to come to its senses. She picked up Malusha and Praskeva and mischievously suggested:
- Let's go, girls, to look at the new home. Look, what a tower!
Korzh's relatives stood, looking after the retreating tiun and comprehending what had happened. Finally Kozhem said:
- Rich gift!
“Yes,” someone in the crowd supported him. – What do you think we should do, Korzh, with the lands – your former and Oster’s? What do you think you can do with the old huts?
“Wait, friends, let me cool down,” the elder waved him off. - Well, the prince did something strange! I have no idea what to do. It all happened too unexpectedly. Let yourself come to your senses...
The changes that occurred in the Korzh family changed the usual way of life in the village. The elder settled the white slaves, donated by Prince Svyatoslav, in his old hut and in the hut of the deceased Oster. They were also given wedges of land that the former owners had cultivated. Soon wives were found for them - widows of soldiers killed in campaigns. But these new settlers were obliged to give a quarter of the harvest to the family barn, the grain from which was distributed, by order of Korzh, to the neediest villagers.
Brother Kozhem took this decision with resentment: he believed that the huts and lands given to slaves should be divided equally between the brothers.
He did not express his dissatisfaction to Korzh, but from his wife Rada his grumbling reached the elder of the family, and he, in order to avoid strife, bought Kozhema a korchain with the money donated by the prince.
Kozhema was already not very willing to take up the handles of the ralo, so with great pleasure he set about the new task and soon became perhaps the most famous craftsman in the area, even able to apply niello on the tops of swords.
Stan, one of the whitewash slaves, turned out to be a very skillful crafter; he was especially good at making large and small flats and forges, as well as clay whistles for children.
The family grew rich, and Korzh could be satisfied with the order and prosperity established in the village.
Lately, buffoons have also come to the village, amusing the people with nursery rhymes. Little Vladimir especially liked them, who laughed fervently at the stupid boyars and princes ridiculed by the buffoons.
Prince Svyatoslav from time to time sent some guy to check on how Malusha and his son were doing. Griden usually brought either a small wooden sword with a shield for Vladimir, or a beautiful tailor made of adamask or altabass and an indispensable gift for Korzh.
Each time, Griden put little Vladimir on a horse in front of him, and they raced across the fields and meadows so that the wind knocked tears out of their eyes. The boy laughed with pleasure and shouted:
- More! Hurry up!..
And then, seated on the ground next to his mother, who was worried about him, he looked admiringly at the horse and the grid and asked:
– When will I go alone?
“Ask your grandfather to teach you how to ride a horse,” Griden answered. “He was one of the prince’s best guards.”
At the time when Vogul visited them, Malusha learned from him that the Polovtsian princess gave birth to Svyatoslav’s son Yaropolk, and his second wife, the youngest daughter of the boyar Kryzha, gave birth to another son, Oleg. Vogul calmed the sad girl as best he could:
- What can you do here? He is a ruler, he is allowed a lot, not like us, his subjects. It is important that he does not forget you and Vladimir.
Before leaving, he took Korzh aside and said in great confidence:
“They say in the prince’s palace that Svyatoslav, in a conversation with his mother, Princess Olga, talked about how it was time to take Vladimir in to raise the future prince in him...
– How does it feel to take a child away from its mother? – Korzh exclaimed. - He’s robish...
– Who will ask us? – Vogul sighed.
- What should we do? – the old guard almost groaned.
- All you have to do is come to terms with it. It’s good that he’s being taken to the prince’s mansion; they’ll train him to be a prince, and not a white slave. Hold on, howl. This is our fate - to be forced...
With these words, Vogul mounted his horse and rode away.
- What will I tell Malusha? – the elder of the family groaned, clutching his gray head. - To take away my only grandson, my little blood...
Vogul left, and Korzh sat on the stump of a log for a long time, afraid that his daughter might guess from his appearance that trouble was imminent.
Praskeva came out of the hut and asked:
- Did something happen?
“Call Vladimir here,” he asked instead of answering.
When the boy approached, the grandfather saddled his old horse, on which he went on campaigns against the Vyatichi, Polovtsy, Khazars and Pechenegs. After that, the old man put his grandson in the saddle, took the reins in his hands and, holding the boy for a fee, said:
- Well, get used to controlling the horse. Take a reason...
- Won't he get hurt? – Praskeva became worried. - Suddenly the horse will carry you.
“Where does he belong?” was all Korzh answered.
And then, returning from a walk, he sent the boy to his mother, and he himself, sitting down next to Praskeva on a log, admitted:
“We’re in trouble, Praskeva.” The prince wants to take his son for himself. We need to somehow prepare Malusha.
- Fathers of light! – the woman clasped her hands. - What will happen now? What a grief...
“What will happen will happen,” he sighed. - We can't help here. Okay, let's go to the hut. Keep quiet for now.
In the house, Malusha was fiddling around the stove, little Vladimir was galloping on a wooden horse, planed by his grandfather...
Either from grief, or from time, or from everyday worries, Malusha’s head turned silver. This was no longer the same lively and smart duck that had turned Prince Svyatoslav’s head a long time ago.
Kozhema and Stan, who occasionally came to Kiev to trade their handicrafts, said that Vladimir lives with his brothers in the prince’s mansion, that both Svyatoslav and Olga herself treat him as an equal with other princes, but the princess still favors son Malushi.
There is only one bad thing: the son of the Polovtsian princess Yaropolk is growing up arrogant and quarrelsome and is especially bullying towards Vladimir, calling him robichich.
The other prince Oleg, the boyar's son, grows up quiet and kind, and he gets no less from Yaropolk than Vladimir.
They said that Svyatoslav was endlessly on campaigns - either going against the Bulgarians, or against the arrogant Pechenegs, endlessly attacking the southern borders of the state. And every time his campaign turns out to be successful.
They said that Svyatoslav liked the Bulgarian land so much that he wanted to move the capital from Kyiv to Dorostol, but Princess Olga opposed this, and he had to retreat.
One day, gridneys came to the village and began to take healthy husbands to the quarters - Svyatoslav was preparing for another campaign. This time, at the request of the Byzantine Emperor Nikephoros, he decided to pacify the Danube Bulgarians.
Without the departed husbands, the village seemed to be orphaned. Laughter became less and less heard, even the children became quiet and huddled around old men, like Korzh, listening to their stories about past campaigns.
The departure of key workers has worsened people's well-being. The strong horses were taken away, so in the spring women and old men had to drag the horse, harnessing three or four at a time. But how much could they plow? Most of the fields remained untouched. Fishing helped a little, but just one fish will not increase your physical strength. It’s good that they took only one person from each family, leaving the carcasses at home.
Everyone in the Korzh family worked - he, Malusha, daughters-in-law Praskeva and Rada, and both whitewashed slaves. And this helped not only to feed themselves, but also to help those who could not make ends meet. Kozhema, by order of the prince, was constantly busy making swords in the korchaina.
During this difficult time, the elder of the Korzh clan struggled in the arable land.
One day, when Praskeva, Rada and Malusha were dragging the plow behind them, they felt that the plow suddenly jumped out of the ground, and the lack of support almost threw them into the arable land.
Turning around, they saw that the old man was lying on the ground, greedily gasping for air.
- Father, what’s wrong with you? – Malusha cried, but the old man only mumbled something; it was impossible to understand him.
Frightened Praskeva ran to the village to call her relatives, but when they came running, Korzh was already dead.
They buried the old warrior next to his father Virt and grandfather Ant. Kozhema assumed seniority in the family.
The night after the funeral, left alone in the spacious hut, Praskeva and Malusha grieved near the bed of the late Korzh. A splinter crackled faintly in the supply, casting faint reflections on the walls.
- How can we live now without a breadwinner? - Praskeva sobbed.
“I hoped for my son to grow up, to feed and take care of his old mother,” Malusha lamented. - I realized that I would start babysitting my grandchildren... And how it turned out: no father, no mother, no one, no little son...
No matter how great the grief, only a person gradually overcomes it and continues to live, from time to time sadly remembering the past and loved ones who have left the mortal world.
A considerable burden of care for the orphaned Praskeva and Malusha was taken on by the grown-up son of Kozhema and Rada Prok and the white slaves with their families, who essentially became members of an ancient family.
It seemed to Malusha that the spring of life, exuding misfortune, had been exhausted by her to the very bottom, despite the fact that she abundantly supported his strength with tears of grief.
But it turned out that this spring still had some strength left and was able to throw out a little more trouble.
Three summers have passed since old Korzh was buried, life seemed to have entered a new direction, Malusha lived only in the memory of her son, who from time to time reminded of himself, sending small gifts, or even a little money from the decrepit princess. Olga.
On one of the gloomy autumn days, when gray clouds, like a feather bed, covered the earth from the sun, a lone horseman rode into the village. He slowly drove along the huts and stopped at Malusha's hut.
Heavily dismounting from his horse, he stood in front of the door for some time, and then knocked softly. The door was opened for him by Praskeva, who looked at the stranger with half-blind eyes.
– Don’t recognize me, Praskeva? – he asked dully.
- Vogul, are you okay? – she asked in surprise.
“I, Praskeva, I,” he nodded. - Where is Malusha?
“Come in, come in, we’re just eating now,” she invited. - Spend some time with us.
Malusha, who was sitting at the table in the semi-darkness, also did not immediately recognize the guest. And only when he was near the window did she recognize him.
- Vogulushka, what fate? – she clasped her hands. -Where have you been until now? Where have you been?
The man approached her and hugged her lightly. After a short pause, he said with a sad smile:
“But you can’t tell everything at once.”
- With grief or joy? – Malusha whispered.
“It’s a long story,” Vogul sighed. -Will you accept the stranger?
“Sit down and eat with us,” Praskeva invited, placing a flat of porridge in front of him. - Rest, cool down from the road.
“Well, tell me what and how,” Malusha hurried him. - How are you, how is Princess Olga, how is Svyatoslav, how is Vladimir? Are they all right?
“Don’t chatter like a magpie,” Praskeva stopped her. - Let the person come to his senses. Let him eat first...
Vogul's story turned out to be long and lasted until the morning.
– When Byzantine ambassadors arrived in Kyiv to ask for help against the Danube Bulgarians, Princess Olga immediately gave them her permission. Of course, she visited their lands more than once, became friends with Emperor Nicephorus and was even baptized there, converting to Christianity. Well, just whistle to Svyatoslav - for him the campaign is life itself.
Everything worked out well for us. The Bulgarians didn’t really resist. We camped in Dorostol. Svyatoslav liked these places so much that he decided to move the capital here from Kyiv.
He ruled there kindly, so much so that the local Bulgarians doted on him. Many of our people lived in their houses, and the Bulgarians were very friendly to us.
- And Svyatoslav? – asked Malusha.
- What about Svyatoslav? A living person. He took several young girls as his servants. So I had fun with them...
But the quiet life did not last long. Emperor Nicephorus died, and John Tzimiskes sat in his place, who disliked Svyatoslav and was afraid that he would go to Byzantium.
He began to gather an army, rebel the Bulgarians and sent his Christian preachers to Dorostol. Many of our people were baptized there in order to get along with the Bulgarians.
- And you? – Praskeva asked.
– All my ancestors believed in our gods. I am not a young man to change my faith. They besieged us in Dorostol. Even women fought on the walls with us. But the forces were unequal. And then Svyatoslav agreed to negotiations.
We were allowed to leave, we were even allowed to keep our weapons.
We had many wounded, so the prince ordered to send them home along with those who converted to Christianity. He didn't like them.
And he led us, a small detachment, against the Pechenegs. He wanted to somehow cover up his defeat from Tzimiskes with a raid on the Pechenegs.
When we walked through the steppe, we saw their patrols, but their kagan did not want to engage in battle with us. We felt that they were not only watching us, but were also secretly following us.
The women listened to the storyteller with bated breath, and he, having taken a sip of his fill, continued:
– We stopped on Khortitsa, an island on the Dnieper, to rest after a long journey. Svyatoslav believed that the channels surrounding the island would protect us from an unexpected raid. Well, we got upset. After all, the prince drove us forward all the time, giving us almost no rest.
In the forest along the outskirts of the island, patrols were posted only on the side where there were no rapids; no patrols were posted there - it was almost impossible to approach from that side.
On the very first night, the Pechenegs crossed to the island and attacked, when it was barely dawn, by surprise...
Vogul fell silent, heavily experiencing the memories of those events. And after a short pause he continued:
“They pressed us to the shore and showered us with arrows. And then we fought more physically. We huddled around Svyatoslav, covering him with our bodies. But he rushed forward with his sword, pushing us aside. Some Pecheneg shot an arrow from close range, and it hit the prince in the throat. That was the end.
The battle ended immediately. Apparently, the Pechenegs needed to kill him. They stopped the battle and allowed us to get into the boats, take the prince’s body and sail away...
Vogul did not say that Svyatoslav’s head was cut off and the Pechenegs kept it.
Malusha began to cry. Praskeva, calming her down, stroked Malusha’s back, which was bent towards the tabletop. Vogul also fell silent.
After Malusha began to calm down, Praskeva asked:
-Where was he buried?
– In Kyiv, on the Mountain. After the death of her only son, Princess Olga completely gave up. I began to pray more often at the icons with the Greek priest...
-Who rules now? – asked Malusha.
- Yaropolk. He disliked everyone who was with his father. He is recruiting new gridneys and komonniks who are loyal to him.
- So you were kicked out of the grid too? – Praskeva asked.
Vogul did not answer, but only lowered his eyes.
-Where are you going now? – Praskeva continued to interrogate.
“I don’t know,” he breathed. - I would like to stay next to you, if you don’t send me away.
Praskeva looked at Malusha and, seeing that she did not mind, simply said:
“If you stay with us, there’s enough room.” Otherwise, without a man, it is unbearably difficult for two women to run a household.
“I would be very happy if Malusha doesn’t mind,” he timidly looked at his old love.
“Stay,” Malusha nodded.
On a fine Indian summer day, horses pulled carts loaded with the last sheaves of harvested barley from the field to the village. Malusha, Vogul and the families of their whitewashed slaves were taking out the last of the harvest.
In the distance, on the road emerging from the forest, a horseman appeared, then a second, a third...
-Who does this mean? – Vogul said in surprise, taking a sickle in his hand just in case.
It soon became noticeable that the front rider was wearing a red embroidered basket. Suddenly, seeing a caravan of carts, he turned sharply and galloped towards them. The slaves, looking at Vogul, also armed themselves with sickles.
Vogul recognized him from afar:
- Mala, this is Prince Vladimir, your son!
- Mother! - the rider shouted. - Mother!
The slaves stopped their horses and, pulling their hats off their heads, bowed.
- Hello, Vogul! – Vladimir Vogul greeted casually, got off his horse and approached Malusha.
She stood with her hands down, tears streaming down her cheeks.
“Mother,” Vladimir pressed himself close to his mother and kissed, kissed her on the cheeks, on the head...
- How did you get here? – that was all she could say.
- Nowadays Yaropolk reigns in Kyiv. He sent Oleg to the Drevlyans, and decided to send me to rule Novgorod. So I’m in a hurry so as not to get caught in the autumn thaw.
- How are you? – the mother asked again, taking his head in her hands and looking him straight in the eyes. “Maybe I could go into the house and taste my mother’s stew.” Don't worry, I've already forgotten the taste of it...
- Really, I can’t. Rumor has it that Novgorod is uneasy. It's easier to put out a fire before it breaks out. Don't be angry, we'll see you again...
Vladimir turned to the nearest guard and nodded to him. He dismounted from his horse, untied the strapped bag and handed it to the prince. Vladimir put the bag on the cart and turned to Vogul:
- Take care of her as you would take care of me...
- Don't worry, prince. “I’ll lay down my bones, but I won’t let anyone offend,” he answered firmly.
Having kissed his mother one last time, Vladimir jumped into the saddle and waved to his army. Soon the riders disappeared in a cloud of dust they had raised.
“Like a dream,” Malusha muttered. - Flashed like it wasn’t there...
“Look, I made a special detour to see you,” Vogul hugged her. - Mother remembers, does not forget. And he gave me a gift...
Since then, Malusha seemed to have become a little younger and cheerful, remembering at every opportunity her Vladimir, who became the Prince of Novgorod...
Vogul also changed, looking at her; sometimes mischievous lights flashed in his eyes when he laughed at the awkwardness of the half-blind Praskeva.
Life rolled along as if on a well-trodden track. Also, at the end of autumn, the tiuns arrived with pludy, as before, Yaropolk took their husbands for campaigns, the grown-up men got married, the ducks got married and gave birth to children.
The gift given to Malusha by her son included rich fabrics and even embroidered worms and clothes, which Malusha shared with Praskeva and Rada, and gave several spools to Kozhema to expand the korchaina. It was not possible to give Vogul a gift; he refused to accept it and advised him to put aside part of the gift for a “rainy day.”
Kozhema continued to work in his korchainka, he was helped by his grown-up son Prok and Vogul, who occasionally came to stretch his bones.
With such assistants, Kozhema could more often travel with goods to auction at Pochaina, leaving his son and Vogul in charge.
After one of these trips, Kozhema retired with Vogul in a korchaina, sending Prok to his mother on a flimsy pretext. Sitting down on a stump of a log, he began to tell the news brought from Kyiv:
“Princess Olga has become completely old, prays endlessly at icons and has completely given the reins of government to Yaropolk. And the prince became completely furious - he dispersed his father’s squad, recruited new warriors and warriors, loyal to himself.
Moreover, in Pochaina they say that he sent thugs to Oleg and they poisoned him. Now he takes tribute from the Drevlyans.
- What a beast! - Vogul exclaimed. - Ruin your brother...
- And that's not it. The other day he sent a large squad to Novgorod...
- What about these? – Vogul was surprised.
- It’s clear that he also wants to destroy Vladimir, and take Novgorod under his control. And Vladimir, they say, got scared and even sacrificed two of Yaroslav’s spies, Fedor and John, as a sacrifice to Perun...
- Like this? – Vogul was surprised.
“And just like that, the smerds stoned them with stones on his orders.” And now, as they said, Vladimir fled to his friends for help...
At this time, either a sob or a groan was heard outside the door... Kozhema and Vogul jumped out and saw Malusha slowly moving away along the path. She walked staggeringly, pressing her hands to her chest and occasionally stopping. And then she began to fall somehow unnaturally...
Vogul jumped up and managed to catch her. Kneeling down, he held her head in his hands. And suddenly, raising his head up and terribly rolling out his crazy eyes, he did not scream, but howled somehow hoarsely like an animal:
Kozhema, leaning against the frame of the crock, pulled the cap off his head and said quietly:
- I'm tired, poor fellow...
II. Malusha the housekeeper. - Rogneda. - Anna is Bulgarian. - Tin-varanga. - Malfreda is a Czech. - Adil. - Preslava. – Ingigerda
After Princess Olga, several female personalities appear in the historical field; but they pass almost unnoticed, not like historical women, but almost like historical shadows, and only some of them, even if they are not clearly enough outlined against the general background of history, are, however, not completely lost in the total mass of events.
These women were: Malka or Malusha, the housekeeper of Princess Olga, the sister of the famous Dobrynya and the mother of Prince Vladimir the Saint, and then some of his wives, such as: Rogneda - the Polotsk princess, the mother of Izyaslav, Yaroslav and Vsevolod; Anna the Bulgarian, Greek princess, mother of Boris and Gleb; Tin the Varangian, mother of Vysheslav; Malfreda the Czech, mother of Svyatoslav; Adil or Adele - mother of Mstislav (Vladimirovich); Preslava or Predslava – daughter of Vladimir; Ingigerda is the daughter of the Swedish king Olov and the wife of Yaroslav.
All that is known about Malka or Malusha is that she was the sister of Dobrynya, the famous “breadwinner” and uncle of Vladimir the Saint, and was the housekeeper for Princess Olga, therefore, according to the social relations of that time, she was considered a “slave.” Although polygamy was common at that time, as an expression of pagan views on marriage, however, when Olga learned about the marriage of her son Svyatoslav with the housekeeper-slave, she angrily sent away Malusha, whom she could not recognize as legitimate or “led” the wife of his son and who, in this exile, gave birth to a son, Vladimir, later an “equal to the apostles” enlightener of the Russian land. “Volodimer was born from Malka, Olgina’s housekeeper,” says the chronicler, and Volodimer was born in Budutino: Olga sent her away in anger, the village was there before her.”
This is all that the chronicles have left us about Malusha, the mother of “Volodimer of Stolno-Kiev”, the most beloved hero of folk epics and the most popular personality in our entire ancient history - Vladimir, who baptized the Russian people, Vladimir, surrounded by a host of heroes, in a word, “Volodimir red sun." Only indirectly - as far as we know from the same chronicles - the fate of Malusha, as a slave, had an influence on the future fate of her son and was a source of considerable trouble for him: neither his father wanted to recognize Vladimir as an equal son with other sons, nor his brothers as an equal brother , nor Rogneda, the Polotsk princess, whom he later wooed, did not want to recognize Vladimir as worthy of her hand, calling him “robichich.”
These are the troubles, the unwitting cause of which was Malusha.
Svyatoslav, Olga’s son, preferred, as we saw above, his reign in the Bulgarian city of Pereyaslavets to the reign in Kyiv. After Olga’s death, he hurried to his favorite residence, and planted his eldest sons: Yaropolk in Kyiv, and Oleg in the Drevlyan land; only he did not give anything to the younger Vladimir, and precisely because he was the son of a slave. Novgorod, left without a prince, envying Kyiv and the Drevlyan land, which had their own princes, sent to Svyatoslav to ask for a prince for themselves.
“If you don’t come to us,” the Novgorod ambassadors said to Svyatoslav, “then we’ll get the prince for ourselves (that is, we’ll look elsewhere).
Svyatoslav answered: “If only someone would go to you,” that is, “if I had someone, I would send him to you,” forgetting or not wanting to remember that he had a son, Vladimir. When they asked Yaropolk and Oleg if they wanted to go to Novgorod, they refused - “Yaropolk and Oleg leave.” The only thing they didn’t ask was Vladimir - they passed him by.
Then Dobrynya taught the Novgorodians: “Ask Vladimir.” Dobrynya, Malusha’s brother, of course wanted her son, and his nephew, to become a prince in Novgorod. The Novgorodians listened to Dobrynya's advice.
“Give us Vladimir,” they said to Svyatoslav.
“Take it,” he answered.
Malushi's son, therefore, was forgotten, as if he had never existed. We must assume that he lived with his mother in exile, in the village of Budutino.
Then, when subsequently Vladimir, who was already reigning in Novgorod, wooed Rogneda, this proud Polotsk princess, understanding the difference between Vladimir, the son of Malusha, and Yaropolk, his elder brother, born not from a slave, but from a “led” wife, answered:
“I don’t want it for Robichich, I want it for Yaropolk.”
The personality of Rogneda (“Rogned”), following Malusha in the course of historical events, appears to us somewhat more prominently and is outlined more clearly not only by this latter, but also by other historical female personalities of that time.
As a princess, brought up to a certain extent in the concepts of her princely family, she knew without a doubt that, with polygamy, the children of princes, born from wives of humble birth, not from princesses, but from slaves, in any case, were not considered completely equal to the children of their mothers from a princely family, and therefore she understood herself or was taught by her elders that if you choose one of two suitors, you should give preference to the one who was born from the mother of a princely family. That is why the young princess answered: “I don’t want to marry the son of a slave, but I want to marry Yaropolk.”
The fact is that when, after the death of Svyatoslav, his sons: Yaropolk, who reigned in Kiev, and Oleg, who was sitting in the Drevlyan land, began to quarrel with each other and the latter died in battle, and Vladimir, who was sitting in Novgorod, fearing that he too did not suffer the fate of his brother, he fled overseas and returned from there with the Varangians, whom he led against his elder brother. Yaropolk, wanting to secure a strong ally for the war with his brother, married the daughter of the Polotsk prince Rogvolod, Rogneda. For his part, Vladimir also wanted to have an ally in Rogvolod and, on the advice of Dobrynya, sent youths to him who were supposed to woo the young princess, Yaropolk’s bride, for him. Rogvolod, placed between two strong and dangerous contenders for his daughter’s hand, left her to choose one of the two suitors presented to her.
It was then that the proud princess told the youth of Vladimir that famous historical phrase, which became the source of terrible troubles for her entire homeland, for her family and then poisoned her entire life.
“I don’t want it for Robichich, I want it for Yaropolk,” this is the historical phrase that came out of the mouth of a young girl who, of course, did not foresee the rare glory in history that awaited this “Robichich.”
When the youths brought Rogneda’s insulting answer to Vladimir, he, on the advice of the same mentor and his uncle, the ambitious Dobrynya, the brother of that woman, Malusha, whom Rogneda arrogantly called a slave, and according to her, her son, Prince Vladimir, “robichich,” gathered a strong an army of Varangians, Novgorodians, Chuds and Krivichi, and moved to Polotsk to take revenge for his insult, and for the insult of his mother, and, finally, for the insult of Dobrynya, who apparently led all the actions of the young prince. The attack on Polotsk was made at the very time when Rogned was already preparing to “lead for Yaropolk.” Polotsk was taken, Rogvolod and his sons were killed, and Rogneda was taken, and, willy-nilly, she had to become the wife of “Robichich.”
All this was mainly Dobrynya’s revenge for insulting his sister, and at the same time himself, who ruled Novgorod almost autocratically due to her nephew’s childhood. Rogneda’s proud refusal was the beginning of the cruelty with which Vladimir acted: for her contemptuous answer, Dobrynya, and no one else, wanted the young princess to be avenged with shame, the death of her father and brothers, the enslavement of her homeland - all this is in the nature of that time, as we and we see from the chronicler’s artless story: “Like Rogovoloda holding and devouring and reigning the land of Polotsk, and Volodymer existing in Novgorod, a child’s existence and a filthy (unbaptized) one, and he had Dbrynya as a governor, and a brave man, and a dressed husband, and this ambassador to Rogovoloda and ask his daughter for Volodimer.” We know Rogneda’s contemptuous answer. “Hearing Volodimer,” the chronicler continues, “being angry about that speech, even the speech: “I don’t want Robichich,” Dobrynya shook hands and was filled with rage... and Dobrynya reviled him (Rogvolod) and his daughter, named her Robichich, and commanded Volodymer to be with her before her father and mother.”
Rogneda was thus taken by Vladimir against her will. Her life with this husband was not wonderful. Having taken possession of the entire Russian land, filling the land of Polotsk - the legacy of Rogneda, and establishing himself in Kiev, Vladimir recruited many other wives for himself: as is known, he also had a Greek woman - the widow of his brother Yaropolk, and a Bulgarian - Anna the Greek - princess, and a Czech woman - Malfreda, and the Varangians - Olov, and the Swedes - Ingigerda, etc. In addition to five legal wives, he had 300 not “led” wives in Vyshgorod, 300 in Belgorod, 200 in the village of Berestovo and many others, random, being, in the words of the chronicler, a woman-lover like Solomon. For all these many wives, Vladimir hardly knew Rogneda, because of whose possession so many cruelties were done, so much blood was shed.
Rogneda, as one of the first wives of the prince by seniority in marriage and proud of her family, could not bear this humiliation, and decided to take revenge on Vladimir and her shame, and his coldness, and the death of her entire family. She already had a son, Izyaslav, from Vladimir, and she could fear that her humiliation would transfer to her son, who was already a growing boy. One day, when Vladimir came to her and fell asleep, Rogneda decided to stab him; but when she had already raised her hand with the knife, the prince woke up and grabbed her hand. Rogneda then said to her husband:
“I felt bitter: you killed my father and filled his earth because of me, and now you don’t love me and my baby.”
Then Vladimir ordered her to dress in all the princely attire, as she was dressed on the wedding day, and to wait for him on a rich bed. Vladimir decided to come and kill her in that rich outfit in which he had seen her as a bride.
Although Rogneda did everything that her husband ordered her, she at the same time called her little son, put a naked sword in his hands and taught him to say this:
- Look, when your father comes in, you step forward and tell him: do you think that you are alone here?
The child did as his mother taught him. When Vladimir saw his son, whom he did not expect to meet in Rogneda’s bedroom, and heard his words, he said: “Who knew you were here!” And then he threw down the sword, ordered the boyars to be summoned and told them everything that happened here. By this, he seemed to ask the boyars - his advisers - to judge between him and his wife.
“Don’t kill her for the sake of this child,” said the boyars: “restore her fatherland and give it to her and her son.”
Vladimir did not kill Rogneda, but he also did not restore her homeland, full of Polotsk with land: he built her a special city, calling it in honor of his son - Izyaslavl, and gave this city to his abandoned wife and her child. Since then, says the chronicler, the grandchildren of the Rogvolodovs have been at enmity with the grandchildren of the Yaroslavovs.
Subsequently, when Vladimir had already become a Christian and married Anna, a Greek princess, he sent to Rogneda to say:
“Now I have already been baptized, accepted the Christian faith and law, and therefore it is fitting for me to have one wife, whom I already took in Christianity.” Choose whoever you want from among my nobles, and I will match you with him.
To this Rogneda answered with her characteristic firmness:
“Or are you the only one who wants to receive the kingdom of earth and heaven, but not only have you not given me this temporary kingdom, but you also don’t want to give me the future? You have retreated from idolatry into the sonship of God, but I was already a queen and I do not want to be a slave to either an earthly king or a prince, but I want to be enslaved to Christ and will take on an angelic image.
Another son was “sitting” next to her at that time - Yaroslav, the future legislator of the Russian land and the future famous “lame prince of the carpenters of Novgorod,” as the governor Wolf-Tail mocked him before the battle. Yaroslav “sat” because he did not have control of his legs - “he was by nature from birth.” But when he heard the words of his father, who proposed his mother to marry, and Rogneda’s answer to Vladimir, the boy sighed with tears and turned to his mother:
- Oh, my mother! truly you are a queen to queens and a mistress to mistresses!
And from these words he stood up for the first time in his life, and until that time he had not walked at all. Rogneda took monastic vows and was named Anastasia.
That's all we know about Rogneda's fate.
Almost at the same time and next to this unfortunate and wonderful woman, the Greek princess Anna appears on the historical stage. Some call her “Greek,” others call her “Bulgarian,” a Slav from Bulgaria. It is very likely that although Anna was a Greek princess, she was born in Bulgaria and from a Bulgarian father. Her mother, the daughter of the Byzantine Emperor Roman, under whom Olga was baptized, was married to the Bulgarian Tsar, and during the time of Vladimir, her nephews, Emperors Vasily and Constantine, who were cousins of Princess Anna, reigned in Byzantium. That is why Anna could rightly be called both “Greekine” and “Bulgarian”, and this was not a mistake in either case.
When Vladimir, still a pagan, took Korsun or Kherson, which belonged to the Greeks, killed the local prince and princess and their daughter who was with Gilbern, he sent, together with the latter and his commander Oleg, ambassadors to the Greek emperors Vasily and Constantine with the following proposal:
- I took your glorious city. I hear that you have a sister as a maiden: if you do not give her to me, then the same thing will happen to your city as to Korsun.
To this terrible threat of a powerful pagan, the dangerous power of which Byzantium had already experienced more than once, the frightened emperors responded evasively, not daring to directly refuse Vladimir.
“It is not proper,” they said through their ambassadors, “for Christians to give their relatives to pagans.” If you are baptized, then you will receive our sister, and at the same time the kingdom of heaven, and you will be our fellow believer. But if you don’t want to be baptized, then we cannot marry our sister to you.
Vladimir ordered to tell the royal ambassadors:
- Tell the kings that I am being baptized. I have already experienced your law before: I love your faith and service, which the men sent from me told me about.
Delighted by this answer, the kings begged Anna to agree to marry Vladimir, and when they received her consent, they again sent an embassy to Korsun.
“Be baptized,” they ordered to say, “and then we will send you a sister.”
But the cautious Vladimir ordered his ambassadors to convey to the emperors:
“Let those priests who come to me with your sister baptize me.”
The Greek emperors had no choice but to fulfill Vladimir’s desire, and therefore they sent their sister to Korsun. She was also accompanied by priests.
The young princess was afraid to go to an unknown country, to barbarians and pagans.
“I’m going to the fullest,” she cried: “It would be better for me to die here.”
The brothers persuaded their sister to make this great sacrifice for the entire empire and with her concession to save both themselves and their kingdom. They acted on her young imagination, on her Christian zeal.
“What,” they said, “if through you God turns the Russian land to repentance, and delivers the Greek land from the fierce army?” You see how much evil Rus' has done to the Greeks! And now, if you don’t go, the same thing will happen.
With difficulty they were able to persuade the poor girl to decide on such a sacrifice - to break away from everything dear and go to a distant place, to the Scythians, as they understood the Russian land then. Anna decided to sacrifice herself, boarded the ship, said goodbye to her family and sailed to Korsun with grief.
The inhabitants of Korsun, mostly Greeks, met their princess with great triumph.
During the arrival of the princess, Vladimir's eyes hurt so much that he could not see anything at all, and was very sad about it. The princess ordered to tell him:
– If you want to be healed of an illness, be baptized quickly, and if you don’t get baptized, then you won’t be cured.
“If this truly happens, then the Christian God will truly be great,” Vladimir answered.
He then announced that he was ready to be baptized. The Korsun bishop and the priests who arrived with the princess announced this celebration and baptized the pagan. As soon as the hands were laid on the baptized person, he suddenly regained his sight and exclaimed:
“Only now have I come to know the true God!”
Following Vladimir’s miraculous healing, many of the prince’s squad were baptized.
The marriage was not slow to take place, and Vladimir returned from Korsun to Kyiv with his new Christian wife.
It was at this time, of course, when Vladimir invited his ex-wife Rogneda to marry any of the nobles, Rogneda went to the monastery, abandoning her pagan name, which had become so famous in history.
Almost nothing is known about Anna’s further fate: we only know that she died far from her homeland before her husband, namely in 1011.
Around this same time, as if in passing, Predslava or Preslava, the daughter of Vladimir and the sister of the ill-fated young martyrs Boris and Gleb, appears on the historical stage, but immediately disappears from this scene of horrors, murders and bloodshed.
When Vladimir died and news of this event could not yet reach Novgorod, where his son Yaroslav, later nicknamed “the accursed,” was sitting, managed to kill his brother Boris, so that he alone could be the ruler of the Russian land, Predslava secretly sent to Novgorod to tell her brother Vladimir: “Father died, Svyatopolk sits in Kiev, killed Boris, sent him against Gleb - beware of him!”
Then Predslava appears again, and also briefly, under the year 1017, that is, two years after the death of his father. The Polish king Boleslav even earlier wooed Predslava, but was refused. In revenge for this and to spread his power in the Russian east, Boleslav went to war against Rus', defeated Yaroslav, Predslava's brother, and took Kyiv. It was here that he found Predslava. Wanting to take revenge by disgracing his daughter for her father’s refusal, Boleslav took the unfortunate princess as his concubine, along with another sister, whose name is unknown to us.
What fate should have awaited Predslava in Poland - our chronicles have not preserved news of this.
Also unknown to us are Yaroslav's wife Ingigerda, the daughter of the Swedish king Olof, then the sister of Yaroslav and Predslava - Dobrogneva or Maria, who in 1043 was married to Casimir of Poland and took with her a rich dowry, according to the chronicler; then Anastasia, daughter of Yaroslav, given in marriage to the Hungarian king Andrew, Anna, given to the French king Henry I, and the famous “Russian maiden” Elizabeth - to Harald of Norway.
A rich poetic legend has been preserved about the latter in non-Russian monuments: how Elizabeth captivated the heart of Harald, how he tried to earn her favor with heroic deeds, roamed the seas, suffered terrible hardships, showed miracles of courage, but still for a long time could not conquer the Russian beauty, about which and conveys the famous song that Harald supposedly sang - a song that ends (in Russian translation) with the famous refrain: “And the Russian maiden Harald despises...”
Although in general the position of the Russian woman in this distant time seems so unclear that even a few of them historical figures, except Olga, Rogneda and Anna, pass as some kind of shadows before the eyes of the historian, however, according to some data it can be concluded that this situation was quite consistent with the rudeness of the morals of that time, especially with natural dominance and respect for material power in preference to moral forces.
True, the women of the princely family, when their children are young, rule the land on an equal basis with the prince, even during the lifetime of the princes they have their own squads, as is confirmed by the words of Vladimir in the epic: “Go you, Ivan Godinovich! take from me, the prince, a hundred powerful Russian heroes, from the princess you take another hundred”; wives, upon the death of their husbands, receive part of the inheritance, even daughters, if they had no brothers, and only with brothers do sisters receive nothing, which is why brothers are obliged to marry them off; women accompany their husbands to battle; princely wives have their own volosts, like Rogneda; princes sometimes consult with their wives about business, like Vladimir and Anna about church structure, etc.; but at the same time, pagan polygamy puts a woman in the most offensive position.
As for the life of the princes themselves, in the position of women, during this period of time, such a feature is noticed that we do not notice in the subsequent course of Russian history, or at least we see it much less often: this is that the wives of the first Russian princes are women of all nationalities - “Greeks”, and “Czechs”, and “Bulgarians”, German and Varangian princesses, as well as Russian princesses marry far from their homeland: to Germany, Hungary, Poland, Norway and France.
The centuries following this initial period in the history of the Russian land - the eleventh and twelfth - represent some kind of chaotic ferment and struggle of elements: princes and relatives quarrel over lands, over inheritances, which, however, continues until the 15th century; uninhabited lands are gradually, although slowly, being populated; Russian life is more clearly indicated in individual Russian regions - Suzdal, Vladimir, Kiev, Novgorod, Galician, etc. All absorbed in the struggle of their own elements and the reflection from their regions of the nomadic Pecheneg neighbors, then the Polovtsians, Torkhs, Berendeys, Black Klobuks - Rus', as it were, forgets about the Varangians and Greeks, and for a long time closes in on itself, in its own internal historical growth.
In this struggle of elements and in the process of this internal gradual civil growth, a woman is shown rarely, in unclear or too general outlines, so that not a single female personality is revealed even in those unclear images in which, for example, Olga, who “switched” the Greek emperor, was revealed , proud Rogneda, who did not want to “take off Robichich’s shoes,” Elizabeth, glorified by Harald’s song.
For two whole centuries, only two or three women have given us personalities, which the chroniclers mention in passing, by chance, such as the fact that some compassionate priest, not far from Yuryev, taking pity on the suffering of Vasilko, blinded by his brothers, washed the bloody shirt of this unfortunate the prince when he lay unconscious, and then gives him water when the patient comes to his senses, or that Princess Rogneda (the other), the sister of Prince Rostislav, who was married to Oleg, Prince Seversky, persuades his dying brother not to leave her, and “to lie down in the church he built” in the city where Rogneda lives, or, finally, that Olga, the unhappy wife of the famous Prince Yaroslav Vladimirovich Galitsky, mentioned in the “Tale of Igor’s Campaign”, under the name “Osmomysl” and exchanged his wife to some Nastasya, runs away from Galich to Poland with his son Vladimir, and the Galicians, having captured Osmomysl’s beloved, burn her at the stake, and then rebel against Osmomysl’s son from this Nastasya - Oleg, in favor of the other son of Osmomysl and Olga, Vladimir, whom his father offended in favor of Oleg, born from a woman more dear to him than his wife: all these are such random phenomena and are presented in such vague outlines that there is nothing more to say about them.
The only female personality that emerges somewhat more clearly over all these two hundred years is the wife of Roman, Prince of Galicia, who, according to legend, “plowed Lithuania.”
In her arms, after her husband, she left two infant sons, Daniil and Vasilko, whose rights she energetically defends from hostile relatives, princes of other destinies, saves her children in foreign lands, seeks help for herself in Hungary, and in Poland, and finally achieves that little Daniel is elected prince in Galich, in the capital of his father, and another little one, Vasilko, in Belze. But the Galician boyars, accustomed to rule the city autocratically, do not want the child prince to be under the guidance of an intelligent mother, and when she comes to her son, she is forced to leave Galich. The child-prince does not want to be left without his mother, cries, and when the Shumavian tiun wants to forcibly take away his horse, on which he was riding after his mother moving away from him, the little prince draws a sword and hits the tiun, but is powerless to wound his own horse. The mother snatches the sword from little Daniel, calms him down and leaves for her other son, Vasilko.
That's almost all that can be said about Russian historical women of the 11th and 12th centuries, although, of course, much more could be said in general about the position of women at that time. But the purpose of our essays was not a general description of the situation of women in Russia, but only a brief acquaintance with more. or less outstanding historical women, which is why we move on to subsequent periods of the history of the Russian land.
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From the book Encyclopedia of Slavic culture, writing and mythology author Kononenko Alexey AnatolievichMalusha The Chronicle of Nestor names Malusha as the housekeeper of Princess Olga, the sister of Dobrynya and the daughter of Malk Lyubechanin (the Drevlyan prince Mal). Malusha was the mistress of Olga's son, Prince Svyatoslav Igorevich, and the mother of Vladimir Svyatoslavich. Actually, through the connection between Svyatoslav and
She became the mother of Prince Vladimir.
Malusha was also the sister of Dobrynya - the future governor of Vladimir and the prototype of the epic Dobrynya Nikitich.
early years
The place and exact time of Malushi's birth are unknown. It is believed that she came from the city of Lyubech, now known as a village in Ukraine, or from Lubeck, a Western Slavic city now located in Germany. Born around 940.
Princess Olga Malusha was in the position of a slave, although some researchers consider her something of a favorite. The latter is hardly possible, given the facts of humiliating treatment of her, Dobrynya and even Vladimir.
Thus, describing the early years of Dobrynya Nikitich, epics report that in his youth he had to serve as a housekeeper, a groom, a doorkeeper, and a lockmaker. When Prince Vladimir wooed Rogneda, the daughter of the Polotsk prince Rogvolod, she angrily said that she did not want to marry a “robichich,” that is, a slave son.
Vladimir and Dobrynya regarded this as a serious insult, and Dobrynya advised his nephew to take revenge - to dishonor Rogneda in front of her parents. It is reported that Olga was angry with Malusha for something and sent her to a remote village.
Shortly before this, Olga’s son Svyatoslav “took her to his bed.” From this contact she became pregnant and already in the village gave birth to Svyatoslav’s son, Vladimir. Subsequently, Olga donated this village (more precisely, a village) to the Church of the Virgin Mary. There are several versions as to why Malusha was sent to the village.
According to D.I. Prozorovsky, Malusha, being a Christian, violated the commandment “do not commit adultery” by copulating with Svyatoslav, which aroused the anger of the princess. Prozorovsky considered this version to be confirmed by an entry in one of the chronicles, where Malusha is called the princess’s “myostnik” - that is, she distributed alms on the streets on her orders; this was the occupation of a Christian woman.
According to another version, Olga was not angry with the housekeeper, but sent her away from Kyiv in order to protect her from death during a small civil war. Popular unrest began because Bishop Adalbert of Magdeburg came to Kyiv at Olga’s request to spread Christianity. The pagan population of the city opposed this and carried out a massacre in which Adalbert almost died.
Malusha in old age
There is no information about Malusha’s future life or about her death. However, there is the “Jomsviking Saga”, which tells about the Scandinavian brotherhood and the mysterious Jomsborg Castle. The events in it take place in the 10th century; a certain part of the work is devoted to the life of the Russian prince Vladimir and his entourage, and in particular, Malusha is mentioned in old age.
The prince's mother in the saga has difficulty moving, but has the gift of prediction. She foresees that next year no wars or strife are expected in Rus', and that a prince will be born in Norway who will be raised in Rus'. In this case, we are talking about the Norwegian king Olaf I Tryggvason, who actually spent his childhood and youth in Novgorod and Kyiv.
His mother Astrid took him to Rus' with her, who fled here to her brother Sigurd from persecution. Sigurd served in the army of Prince Vladimir, where Olaf was later enlisted. However, the reliability of the saga raises doubts among researchers due to some historical and cultural inconsistencies. On the other hand, archaeological finds so far speak in favor of its authenticity. One way or another, this is the only monument that mentions Malushi’s later years.
Today every schoolchild knows that 1025 years ago Rus' was baptized by Prince Vladimir, the grandson of Princess Olga. The great historical significance of this act is difficult to overestimate. But the very identity of the Grand Duke is still controversial. For example, in Crimea, where Vladimir himself was baptized in the Chersonese he conquered, guides even question his Slavic origin.
Arriving in Crimean Chersonesos, I was shocked. In response to the question of how to get to the chapel erected on the site of the prince’s baptism Vladimir, one of the guides accompanying a group of Ukrainian tourists replied: “Now they don’t take excursions to this gazebo.”
According to her, the chapel was renamed in honor Clement of Rome, who arrived in Chersonesos in the 1st century.
And Vladimir is half-Jew, half-Varangian,” said the aunt. “That’s why they appointed this pagan adulterer and fratricide as a baptist, so that it would be easier for the Jews and Russians to rob all the Slavs.
So why didn’t you rename the Vladimir Cathedral? - I interrupted, angry at myself in my heart for my historical ignorance of such an important topic. - So that tourists travel, they bring rubles and foreign currency. Still a brand. Why are you angry? I am telling you what Ukrainian historians have long proven, but the guides forbade Russian pilgrims from saying all this so as not to offend their “feelings of believers.” Non-believers don’t bring bundles of money here, and infidels don’t come here either.
Housekeeper's son
Upon arrival in Moscow, I began to study historical sources.
I have not found any confirmation of Vladimir’s Jewish roots from serious authors. But this version is very popular on all nationalist sites. Here at this level: “All the old chronicles say that Vladimir is the “son of a rabbi,” that is, “the son of a rabbi.” Then somehow... by someone... one letter changed, and “son rabichich” appeared, i.e. already “the son of a slave.” Who and when discovered this sensational forgery in all the chronicles, of course, is not reported. But for anyone who has ever worked in archives with ancient documents, especially monastic ones, it is easier to imagine that the document simply disappeared than to believe that in each of them someone secretly erased a letter and replaced it with another. The neo-pagan sectarians who launched this version on the eve of perestroika explain it this way. I quote: “Vladimir’s mother is one of the concubines of his father, Prince Svyatoslav - Malusha(an affectionate name from the Hebrew name of her father, Rabbi Malka. After the fall of the Jewish Khazaria, the Semites spread throughout Rus') was the housekeeper of Princess Olga.
Having learned that Malusha conceived from Svyatoslav, the angry Olga exiled her to the village of Budutino near Pskov, where Vladimir was born... Svyatoslav Igorevich himself did not treat the fruit of his fleeting - due to drunkenness - relationship with the housekeeper any better... He did not love his son.”
That's all the evidence, although the collector of ancient Russian names Nikolay Tupikov gives about ten variants of personal names and five derived from “Malka”, which were worn by the Slavs. A famous Russian archaeologist Dmitry Prozorovsky back in 1864 he made a discovery and challenged himself Karamzin, proving that Vladimir is the legitimate son of Svyatoslav, and Malusha, like Vladimir’s uncle Dobrynya, - descendants of the prince Mala Drevlyansky, whose family played an outstanding role in the history of the Russian state.
Raped his wife
Even Soviet atheist historians do not confirm the version of the forced mass baptism of Kievan Rus. But they also do not deny the episodes of baptism by force of a small part of the pagan warriors in Novgorod and Polotsk, inevitable in any non-evolutionary development of events. Individual Magi periodically rebelled against the new religion, but there is no evidence of widespread popular uprisings even in legends.
The Russian Orthodox Church did not enter into disputes with neo-pagans and nationalists, since it honors people as saints, regardless of nationality, for their spiritual feats. Today we cannot even imagine as many horrors as she herself told about Prince Vladimir during the period of his life before baptism! Older brother Yaropolk, planted by his father to reign in Kyiv, he ordered to be killed. He forcibly took his pregnant wife as his wife - a beautiful Greek woman, whom her father, Svyatoslav, took from the monastery and brought from the campaign. And before that, he did not allow Yaropolk to marry the Polotsk princess Rogneda - he himself began to woo her. And for refusing to marry him, right in front of her parents, he captured the captive Rognedoy, in order to humiliate her more painfully for choosing her brother over him. After the capture of Chersonesus, Vladimir demanded from the Byzantine emperor Vasily II so that he would marry his sister to him Anna. Otherwise, they say, he will take Constantinople. The emperor agreed, but on the condition that Vladimir was baptized.
And Anna became the fifth wife of the newly minted Christian. The chronicle presents Vladimir as follows:
“Volodimer was overcome by female lust, and he took a wife: Rogned..., and from her he fathered four sons: Izeslav, Mstislav, Yaroslav, Vsevolod, and two daughters; from Grekine Svyatopolk; from Chekhine Vysheslav; and from the other Svyatoslav and Mstislav and Stanislav; and from Bulgarian Boris and Gleb; and he had 300 concubines in Vyshgorod, and 300 in Belegorod, and 200 in Berestov.” The blood on Vladimir seems impossible to wash off. But the sacrament of baptism, albeit performed for selfish purposes, and the influence of his Christian wife changed the prince. In gratitude for her, he returned Chersonesos to the Byzantines. And since then, people’s memory has not left us, either in legends or in chronicles, new stories about any of his atrocities. Yesterday, pagan Rus' began to gradually develop its own, as they would now say, national idea. As the Russian church historian professor wrote: Anton Kartashov, “every people is formed and exists in history as a special spiritual type. The Russians called their ideal homeland “Holy Russia.”
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In Russian history, there is a woman who, along with Olga, on pagan public pages is usually painted exclusively with black paint. Yes, yes... Malusha.
And Malka, she is a Jew/Khazar woman and she villainously got Svyatoslav drunk and seduced her (and this is confirmed with the confidence of eyewitnesses)... Nobody really provided a video recording the moment of intoxication and seduction... but too many people are SO pleased and accustomed to thinking and shouting that the Jews are to blame for everything...
To begin with, three variants of her name were recorded: Malka, Malusha and Mausa.
Volodymer was from Malusha, the housekeeper Olgina, who was also Dobrynya’s sister, and his father was Malk Lyubechanin. //PSRL T 1, Laurentian Chronicle L. USSR Academy of Sciences 1926-1928 p. 50.
Olga had a maiden housekeeper Velmi red with the name of Mouse, but I took Svyatoslav to my bed, she was conceived by him and bore him a son, Vladimir, see Novikov N.I. The most detailed History of the Russian Sovereigns // Ancient Russian Vifliotika St. Petersburg 1791
Malka - “the youngest of the daughters”, see Dictionary of the Church Slavonic and Russian Language, St. Petersburg, 1847, page 36. V. Dahl’s dictionary also deduces Malusha, from the little one..
But the logic of the opponents is this: Malka is “queen” in Hebrew, the name is Jewish, which means Malusha-Malka and she is Jewish.
It is also necessary to take into account the fact that names do not directly indicate ethnic nature. (..) Among the Slavs, the development of the nomenclature was restrained by the strength of the community (..). As in Rome, female names among the Slavs are extremely rare (..) Apparently, the name Malusha (from Malko’s father) has this origin, see Kuzmin A.G. Old Russian names and their parallels//Where did the Russian land come from VI-X in Book 2 M 1986
Let's assume that Malusha is from his father. Malak, supporters of "Jewishness" usually translate as "king". But in Hebrew “king” is “melech”, and “malik” is in Arabic. Corresponding dictionaries are available. The Khazars (and Malusha is naturally declared a Khazar), however, did not have any “maliks” in the title. There were: tuduns, khans, beks, kagan. see Artamonov M.N. History of Khazaria, see Pletnev S.A. Khazars (various ed.) And if you read Ibn-Ruste, then there is “swiet-malik” - the title of a SLAVIC ruler. Is the ruler of the Slavs a Jew or is Ibn Ruste the Arab, in order to be understood by the Arabs for whom he wrote, using a title understandable to the Arabs? In addition, Kommersant could also be read as E, an example of a lie, but a modern one. faith and we get quite the Slavic name Malek.
"in the most ancient chronicle of Malka"...so what?. Information about Rurik being the grandson of Gostomysl is also set out in not the earliest chronicles, see Fomin V.V. The initial history of Rus'.
“Proud Rogneda named her son rabbi”... when? The chronicle says ROBICHICH, through O.T.e, the son of a robe/slave/worker. Based on the Ipatiev Chronicle, Sreznevsky I.I. wrote that Malusha was a charity worker, that is, Olga’s favorite, see Sreznevsky I.I. About Malusha, housekeeper of Grand Prince Olga the mother of Vladimir. Notes of the Imperial Academy of Sciences 1864 St. Petersburg page 35. That is, she worked for Olga.
Rabbinich is the Russian word for the son of a rabbi. Svyatoslav the Brave Rabbi?? And what is the evidence for this?? Or Svyatoslav, having his own sons, it is not clear why he adopted the son of an unknown rabbi???.. No, Vladimir is the son of Svyatoslav and therefore is not a rabbi. On the basis that Svyatoslav recognized Vladimir and gave him reign in Novgorod on the Volkhov (and according to the Varangian legend - in the family nest!!) Prozorovsky D.I. claimed that Vladimir is the eldest son and LEGAL heir, see Prozorovsky D.I. About the relationship of St. Vladimir on his mother’s side. Notes of the Imperial Academy of Sciences St. Petersburg 1864
“Vladimir called himself kagan!”..
Yes, so what? The Bertin annals of 839 mention “the kagan of the people of Ros” - was he a Jew? The Byzantines titled Askold Kagan, see Tsvetkov S.V. Prince Rurik and his time St. Petersburg 2012 pp. 51-53. Oleg Svyatoslavich, the same Gorislavich from “The Tale of the Regiment”, also signed Kagan, see A.L. Nikitin. Foundations of Russian history M 2001..
"Only a Jew could baptize Rus'!" Really?? Bravlin, baptized in 790, see "The Life of St. Stephen of Sourozh", Askold, baptized in 867, the Russians, baptized in the 5th century, see "The Life of St. Severin" - were they Jews?? And what evidence is there for this?.. Or at the same time, Clovis of Frank, Mieszko 1 of Poland, Svyatopolk of Moravia, Boris of Bulgaria, Borzhivo of Czech were Jews? Olaf, the son of Trygge in the saga about which Vladimir’s mother is depicted as a PAGAN witch and the baptist of Norway - is he also a Jew??
The source of the nonsense about Malusha the “Jew” is very indicative.
In 1913, the poet V. Khlebnikov published a PARODY of Pushkin’s poem “Ruslan and Lyudmila”, “Granddaughter of Malushi”. In his parody, Khlebnikov wrote “Khazar Khan Jew Chaim.” From this phrase, a certain Emelyanov V.N., an emigrant who wanted to make money in his book “Desionization,” brought out the Jewish Malusha. By the way, he wrote that “Vladimir, according to an insidious Jewish plan, set up UNKNOWN IDOLS TO ANYONE..” well, that is, according to Emelyanov, there was no Perun, no Khors, no Mokosha... . Then Israeli citizen S.Yu. Dudukov. developed Emelyanov’s ideas in his opus “Peter Shapirov”, then the same idea was picked up by B. Altshuler The Last Secret of Russia M 1996.. the telling name of the author.. First/Senior sharper... yeah.
The idea of Malush the Jew is actively promoted on the Jewish Intellectual Forum website...
Maybe stop harping on the nonsense about Malusha the Jew, which has not a single basis, launched from Israel, and start studying the REAL reasons for Vladimir’s baptism of the country? Should Malusha the SLAVYANKA be left alone?
Ilya Levko