Traditions of Ancient Rus. Part 1

2024 Author: Seth Attwood | [email protected]. Last modified: 2023-12-16 15:55

Fragments of the book by Y. Medvedev "Traditions of Ancient Rus"

Winds-winds

One night a stormy wind blew into the village from the east, the roofs were blown down from the houses, the yellowing grain was broken, the windmill was destroyed. In the morning the men calculated the loss, scratched their heads, groaned … There is nothing to be done - the damage must be replenished. Roll up our sleeves and get to work. And one - Vavil's saddler, he was a great master in harness - he was so offended by the wind that he decided to find justice for him. And nowhere else but the supreme ruler of all the winds.

On the same day, Vavila forged iron shoes at the smithy, cut out an oak stick - he would fight off the animals, put some simple food in his knapsack and set off on his way. The old melynik (all of them, millers, they say, are sorcerers!) Told him where to look for Stribog: beyond the mountains, beyond the valleys, on the Whistle Mountain.

Vavila walked for a whole year, and he had worn out his iron shoes! - until he went to Whistler Mountain. He sees a gray-haired, winged gigantic old man sitting on a stone, blowing into a gilded horn, and an eagle soars over the head of the old man. Here he is, Stribog!

He bowed to Vavil at the feet of Stibog, told about his misfortune.

God listened, frowned and blew his horn three times. Immediately a winged giant appeared before him in crimson clothes and with a harp in his hands.

“Come on, repeat your complaint about the winds of the East!” Stribog ordered Vavila.

He repeated everything word for word.

- What do you say? How can you justify yourself? - the supreme god looked in disgust at the outrageous. - Did I teach you to destroy villages? Say hello, brawler!

- My wine is small, about Stribozh, - he said. - Judge for yourself. In other villages, they glorify me in songs, and they call me Vegrovy-Vetril and Vegrovich, they put porridge and pancakes on my roofs, throw handfuls of flour from the mill so that I would lift the mill wings. And in their village, - he pointed with his finger at Babila, - and they flock to meet me, and they let evil slander at me, spoiling people and cattle, and the people curse me, the innocent, on which the light stands: they say, it was I who caused the ailment with the wind- fad. Fishermen there on the water whistle in the wind and call a storm. For a long time I endured all sorts of insults, but finally, my patience ran out when the youths ruined the anthill, scattered it in the wind with sticks, and in the evening they began to burn the old broom and admire the sparks in the wind. But such an outrage has been commanded by old people from time immemorial. And I could not bear the offense … Forgive me, Stribog!

The winged old man-giant paused, pondered, and he says:

- Heard, human? Go back and retell the East Wind's answer to your foolish brethren. However, no: you will knock your feet on the long journey, over there, you've already made holes in your iron shoes. Now the offender of your village will carry you and your native land. I hope you will get along with him in the future. Goodbye!

… At the sunrise of the sunny mowers in the Yarilin Valley, they saw a wondrous wonder: a man flies across the sky! Look closely - why, it is Vavil's saddler who comes down to them, as if on an invisible flying carpet!

Vavila stood on the grass, bowed in the belt to someone invisible, and then told the peasants about his walk to the Whistler Mountain and about the just Stribog.

Since then, in the village, all the roofs are intact, bread is not knocked down by the wind, and the mill grinds regularly. And such honor to the winds, as here, is unlikely to be found anywhere else!

Stribog in Slavic mythology is the lord of the winds. The word "stri" means air, wind. Stribog was revered as a fighter of all sorts of atrocities. It is also the God of a fierce hurricane wind that uproots trees.

Why do wolves howl at the moon

Once the father of light-sky Svarog gathered all the gods and proclaimed:

- Complaints are brought to me by Svyatobor, the god of the forests, and his wife Zevana, the goddess of the hunt.

It turns out that since recent years, when the red-haired wolf Chubars became a free leader, his subordinates have gone out of obedience to the gods.

Wolves kill animals immensely and in vain, slaughter livestock recklessly, all in a crowd began to rush at people.

Thus, the eternal law of the balance of wild forces is violated.

Unable to cope with the troublemakers, Svyatobor and Zevana appeal to me, Svarog.

About gods and goddesses, remind, which of you can transform into a wolf?

Then Hora, the god of moonlight, stepped forward.

- O our father Svarog, - said Hora, - I can turn to the White Wolf.

“If so, I will instruct you to restore divine order among the wolves before midnight. Goodbye!

Chubars, the red-haired wolf, surrounded by many ferocious fellows, Hora found during a feast in a clearing flooded with moonlight. The wolves devoured the slaughtered animals.

Presenting himself before Chubars, the White Wolf said:

- On behalf of the god of the gods Svarog, I ask you, leader:

- Why are you destroying the beast in vain and beyond measure? For what needs do you recklessly cut cattle? For what needs do you even attack people?

- Then, that we, wolves and she-wolves, should become the kings of nature and establish our own customs everywhere, - Chubars growled, eating a fat bite of venison. - And everyone who dares to stand in our way, we will gnaw. Always gnaw, gnaw, gnaw!

And then the White Wolf was again transformed into the god of moonlight.

He said:

- May it be so. Your desire will come true. From now on, you will gnaw forever - but not living flesh, but the lifeless moon.

With a wave of Khors' hand, a narrow white path stretched from the moon to the ground.

Hora lightly hit the red-haired wolf Chubars with his magic wand with eight stars.

He cringed like a mangy dog, whined mournfully and stepped onto the moonlit path.

She began to shorten, taking the troublemaker into the heavenly heights.

Horse immediately appointed a new leader for the wolves - the gray Putyatu, and soon the eternal order in the forests prevailed.

But since then, on bright nights, wolves sometimes howl at the moon.

They see on her the red-haired wolf Chubars, expelled from the earth, eternally gnawing at moonstones and always howling with melancholy.

And they themselves answer him with a sad howl, longing for those times when they kept the whole world in fear.

Corn-eared

One young hunter woke up one day at dawn in the forest from the roar of many animals. I left my hut and was stunned: hundreds of hares, foxes, elks, raccoons, wolves, squirrels, chipmunks appeared in the clearing!..

He drew his bow and well, shoot the beast. I have already filled a whole mountain, but still the hunting excitement cannot calm down. And the animals run and run past, as if bewitched.

And then a horsewoman in military attire appeared in the clearing.

- How dare you, villain, indiscriminately exterminate my subjects? she asked sternly. - Why do you need mountains of meat? After all, everything will rot!

Krovushka leaped at the young man from offensive words, he burst out in response:

- Who are you to tell me? I will put as many animals as I want. Not your concern - my prey!

“I’m Zevana, let it be known to you, ignorant. Now take one last look at the sun.

- Why so? - the hunter is brave.

- Because you yourself will become prey.

And a bear appeared, as if out of the ground, next to the hunter! He knocked the poor fellow to the ground, and all the other animals - both large and smaller - swooped down, began to tear his clothes into small pieces and torment his body.

The unlucky hunter had already said goodbye to the white light, when suddenly he heard a voice like thunder:

“Spare him, wife!” With an effort, the wounded sufferer raised his head and dimly made out a giant in a green cloak and a pointed hat next to Zevana.

- But why spare him, Svyatobor? Zevana shook her head. - Look how many beasts he exterminated unnecessarily. I drove them from the neighboring forest, where a fire would break out at night, I wanted to save them, but this wretch stood in our way - and well, shoot arrows indiscriminately. Death to him!

- Not every villain who is dashing for an hour, - Svyatobor chuckled into his green beard. - In the spring, when the ice broke, he collected hares on ice floes and half-flooded islands in his boat and let them out into the forest. Spare the poor fellow, little wife!

Here the hunter lost consciousness. I woke up: the moon is shining. The clearing is empty, and he himself lies in a pool of blood. Only the next morning he crawled to his native village - the people shy away from him: not a piece of clothing, there is no living space on the body, and half of the ear has been bitten off.

Only a month later the hunter somehow came to his senses, but for a long time he was not in his mind, began to talk. But even when he finally recovered, no more foot to the forest. He began to weave baskets of willow twigs - and so he fed until the end of his days. And until the end of his days he was called in the village - Kornouhy.

Zevana is the patroness of animals and hunting. She was very revered both by the Slavs who lived among the forests, and by other peoples who hunted for hunting: vekshi (squirrel skins) and martens in ancient times were not only clothes, but were also used instead of money.

Zevana is young and beautiful; fearlessly she rushes on her greyhound horse through the forests and chases the fleeing beast.

Hunters and hunters prayed to the goddess, asking her for happiness in hunting, and in gratitude they brought part of their prey.

Yes they are, like a mirror

Prince, Vlad the red-beard is calling to you, - said the servant, entering the prince's tent. The servant was soaked through - streams of rain were pouring down from the sky. - He was stung by an arrow of the steppe people, he is dying and wants to say goodbye. Oh gods, when will the rain end? The prince got up from the bearskin, left the tent and, stuck in the mud, walked to where Vlad the red-bearded, one of his best warriors, was dying.

The thoughts of the ruler were heavy. As soon as he went for a tribute, the steppe inhabitants swooped in and captured the fortress of the Russians. For three days, according to custom, the horde of steppe dwellers feasted in the defeated city, but a youth named Sila managed to deceive the vigilance of the enemy patrols in the middle of the night. Near Yarilina Mountain, he overtook our squad and told about the terrible misfortune. The Russians quickly returned, but now the steppe dwellers have locked themselves in the plundered fortress, striking the besiegers with arrows and not letting them go to the walls. And, as luck would have it, the rains started - there’s no time for an onslaught, not for an attack. "Well, how not today or tomorrow will help the vultures arrive in time?" - the prince asked himself bitterly and finally fell into despondency.

The face of the red-bearded Vlad was twisted by death throes. The prince knelt down, bent over the dying man. He croaked:

- Prince … I had a vision at night. As if Dazhbog himself was walking towards me with a trident in his right hand and the likeness of a sun in a shuytsa (that is, in his right and left hands. - Ed.). And his face is also bright, like the sun. And the rivers Dazhbog to me … - Vlad closed his eyes and fell silent.

“Speak, speak,” whispered the prince. - Tell the speech of God.

- He said: “Rub your copper shields with sand - let them become like a mirror. And I will be reflected in every shield!"

Vlad's head fell back - the last breath flew from his lips. For a long time the prince sat next to the deceased and then ordered all the soldiers to fulfill the command of Dazhbog.

In the morning, the bright sun appeared in the clear, cloudless sky. By noon, the mud was dry. And then the Russians, having gathered on the northern side, at the command of the prince, at once turned their shields to the walls of their native fortress.

The face of Dazhbog, reflected in the shields, blinded the enemies, they covered themselves with their palms from the radiance that hit their eyes, called out to their idols - everything was in vain. Soon the army of the prince coped with the powerless enemy, took possession of their own fortress, mourned the dead and gave great praise to the savior, Dazhbog.