In ancient times, there lived a king and a queen. They had an only son, Vachagan. His father and mother doted on him and never took their eyes off him day or night. Servants followed Vachagan in droves, forestalling all his wishes. At twenty years old, the prince was stunted and fragile, like a flower that grew without the sun.
One day the old doctor Lokhman, the fame of whose art spread throughout the world, came to the king and said: “Tsar!” If you want your son Vachagan not to go to an early grave, then do not keep him within four walls. The green steppes are wide, the Agvan mountains are high. There are many wild animals and birds in them. Let Prince Vachagan go hunting. The king listened to the wise Lokhman. And the prince, dressed in a simple dress, left for the mountains in the morning along with his faithful servant Vaginak. The prince was so carried away by the hunt that the night often took him by surprise, and he was forced to enjoy the hospitality of the hospitable peasants, who often shared a piece of bread and a jug of milk with tired travelers.
Vachagan listened sensitively to people's needs, and more than once the corrupt judge went to prison. Widows and orphans, without telling the king their troubles, received money from the royal treasury, and poor communities received help from nowhere. One day, excited by the hunt, Vachagan, accompanied by a servant, rode to the village of Atsik and stopped at a spring. At the spring there was a crowd of girls who had come with jugs for water. “Give me a drink, girls!” - asked Vachagan.
One girl filled the jug and passed it to the other. She, instead of handing the jug to Vachagan, poured it on the ground. Then the first girl filled the jug again and handed it to her friend. The girl poured this jug onto the ground. “My throat is dry from thirst, give me some water!” - Vachagan exclaimed.
The girl laughed and poured the water onto the ground again. Vachagan was angry, but the girl did not pay attention to it. She seemed to be amusing herself - she would either place the jug under the stream, then pour out the water again. And only on the sixth time she gave the jug to Vachagan. Having quenched his thirst, Vachagan asked the girl: “Why didn’t you let me drink right away?” Were you joking or did you want to anger me? “We don’t have the custom of joking with strangers,” the girl answered sternly. “I saw that you were excited about the hunt, and the water in the spring was cold as ice.” A good owner does not give cold water to a hot horse.
This answer amazed Vachagan, but he was even more struck by the beauty of the girl. “What is your name, beauty?” “Anahit.” “Who is your father?” “My father is the shepherd Aran.” But why do you need to know our names? - Is this a sin? - If it is not a sin, then identify yourself and tell me where you come from? - Should I lie to you or tell you the truth? - Do as you find worthy for yourself. - I find the truth worthy for myself. But I cannot reveal my name to you.
Anahit took her jug and left. Since then, Vachagan has lost peace. The image of Anahit did not leave him day or night. More and more often he went to the village of Atsik to catch a glimpse of the beauty. The faithful servant Vaginak reported this to the king and queen. The king called his son and said: “My son Vachagan!” You are twenty years old. You are my only hope, you are the support of my old age. The time has come for you to get married. - I have already chosen a bride for myself, father. - Who is she? Daughter of which king? — the father rejoiced. “She is the Daughter of a shepherd from the village of Atsik.” Her name is Anahit. “This is impossible,” the king waved his hands. - Forget about her quickly. Remember that the king's son must choose either a princess or a princess for his bride. The Georgian king has three daughters - choose any one. The prince of Gunar has a beautiful daughter. “No,” answered Vachagan. “Well, then marry the daughter of the military leader Varsenik.” She grew up before our eyes, a beauty, and will be your faithful wife and our obedient daughter.” “No, father!” If you want me to get married, know: there is no other bride for me like Anahit, the shepherd’s daughter.
The king tried to persuade his son for a long time, but he firmly stood his ground. Then the king chose rich gifts, called the faithful Vaginak, and he, accompanied by two nobles, went to the village of Atsik to woo Anahit, the daughter of a shepherd. Old Aran warmly received the guests and spread out a carpet for them. “What a wonderful carpet!” - the guests were surprised. - Is this the work of your mistress? - No, I’m a widower! - Aran answered. - My wife died ten years ago. This is the work of my daughter Anahit. - There is no such carpet even in our palace. Your Daughter is a skilled craftswoman.
The fame of her beauty reached the palace. The king sent us to negotiate. He wants to take your Daughter Anahit as a wife for his son. The nobleman expected that Aran would not believe his ears or would dance with joy. But the shepherd continued to sit silently on the carpet and did not show his joy in any way. “What’s wrong with you, Aran?” Aren’t you happy about such a high honor? “Dear guests,” the old shepherd grinned. “I am grateful to the king for the great honor of taking a decoration for the royal chambers from the house of a miserable shepherd.” I can give the king this beautiful carpet, but my daughter controls her own destiny.
The nobles looked at each other. Anahit entered the room, bowed to the newcomers and sat down at the embroidery hoop. Her thin fingers flashed like white butterflies. “Look, Anahit, what rich gifts our king sent you,” Vaginak said, taking out silk dresses and precious jewelry. Anahit glanced at everything and asked: “Why do I need this kindness?” “The king wants you as a wife for his son Vachagan.” you gave him water from the spring to drink. And together with the jug He gave you his heart. “So that beautiful young man is the son of the king?” — Anahit was surprised. - But does he know any craft? - Why does the king’s son need a craft? Vaginak laughed. - All subjects are his servants. - Today's master can become a servant tomorrow. Everyone must master a craft, be it a king or a servant. The nobles looked at each other. “So, you refuse the prince only because he doesn’t know the craft?” the nobles asked again. “Tell the prince that he is dear to me, but I swore to marry only a man who knows the craft, and I cannot break the oath.”
The ambassadors returned to the palace and told about everything. The king and queen were delighted, thinking that now Vachagan would give up his intention. But Vachagan said: “Anait is right.” And the Tsar is a man. And every person should be a master of some kind of craft. And Vachagan decided to learn how to weave brocade. A master was brought from Persia, and in one year Vachagan surpassed his teacher. With his own hands he wove a wedding dress from the finest gold threads and sent it to Anahit. The girl admired the wonderful pattern for a long time and gave her consent to marry Vachagan.
The wedding feast lasted for seven days and seven nights. The king liked Anahit so much that he joyfully exempted all peasants from taxes for three years, and the following song was composed in the country:
The golden sun rose on Anahit’s wedding day, Gold rained down on Anahit’s wedding day, All the fields became rich, all taxes were forgotten, All the barns were filled with blessed bread. Honor and glory to our wise, golden-haired Anahit!
Soon after the wedding, the king sent his faithful servant Vaginak on business to the far reaches of his kingdom, and he disappeared without a trace. Years passed, the king and queen died, and Vachagan ascended the throne.
One day Anait said to her husband: “Vachagan!” I notice that you do not know what is going on in your kingdom. The people you call for council are not telling you the whole truth. To reassure you, they tell you that everything is fine. Is this really so? Throw off your royal robes for a while. “You’re right, Anahit.” But who will rule the state without me? - Me! And I will do it in such a way that no one will know about your absence. - Okay, Anahit. Tomorrow I will leave the palace, and if in twenty days I do not return, then something bad has happened to me.
In simple peasant clothes, Vachagan set off on a long journey. He saw a lot, heard a lot, but the most extraordinary thing happened to him on the way back in the city of Perozhe. One day he was sitting in the city square and saw a crowd of people following a gray-haired old man. The elder walked slowly, the road was cleared in front of him and bricks were placed under his feet. “Who is this elder?” - Vachagan asked. “This is a great priest, he is so holy that he does not set his foot on the ground for fear of crushing some insect.”
At the end of the square, the elder sat down on the spread carpet and began to preach. Vachagan squeezed forward to see and listen to the elder. The elder noticed Vachagan and called him to him. “Who are you and where are you from?” “I am from a distant, foreign land.” I came to look for work in your city. “Come with me.” I will give you a job and pay you handsomely for it.
Vachagan followed the elder. At the edge of the city, the elder dismissed the crowd that was seeing him off. Only the priests and porters remained, loaded with heavy luggage. They were all strangers. Soon a temple appeared, surrounded on all sides by a high wall. The great priest stopped near the iron gate, unlocked it with a huge key and, letting everyone in, locked the castle again. Vachagan saw in front of him a temple crowned with a blue dome, surrounded by small cells. At these cells the porters laid down their luggage, and the great priest led them to the temple. In the depths of the temple, near the altar, the great priest pressed an invisible spring, and the wall moved in two. Behind it was a new iron door. The great priest opened this door and said: “Come in, people.” Here you will be fed and given a job. No one had time to say half a word when the iron door slammed shut and everyone was plunged into darkness. Stunned, Vachagan rushed to the doors and knocked with all his might: “Open!” Open! But only his own echo answered him.
Stunned, Vachagan silently trudged forward to where a faint strip of light could be seen. The others followed him. Falling and stumbling, they reached a poorly lit cave, from which plaintive cries were heard. A shadow rushed towards them. Vachagan straightened up to his full height and shouted loudly: “Who are you, a man or a devil?” Come and tell me where we are?
The shadow approached and, trembling like a leaf on a stormy night, stopped in front of him. It was a man with the face of a dead man. His deeply sunken eyes sparkled with a hungry gleam, his cheeks were sunken, his blue lips revealed a toothless mouth. It was a living skeleton covered in skin. Stuttering and crying, this living corpse said: “Follow me, and you will understand everything.”
They walked along a narrow corridor and came out into another cave, where the same naked, barely stirring skeletons lay on the cold ground, huddling against each other, and tried in vain to warm up. The guide led Vachagan further, through the same cave, where huge cauldrons stood in orderly order and the same shadow people swarmed around them, stirring some kind of brew with long sticks. Vachagan looked into the cauldron and retreated back in fear. Human meat was boiled in a cauldron.
Vachagan said nothing to his fellow sufferers and followed the guide. He led them to a huge, dimly lit cave, where hundreds of deathly pale, exhausted people were embroidering, knitting, and sewing. The guide led them along the same path to the first cave and tiredly sank down on a stone. “The same old man also lured us into these caves.” I lost track of time, because there is neither day nor night here, and only the nightmarish twilight stretches in an endless series. I only know that everyone who got caught with me died. If a person who gets here knows a craft, he is forced to work, if not, he is taken to the slaughterhouse, and from there he ends up in those terrible cauldrons that you just saw. The old devil is not alone, all the priests are his assistants.
Vachagan, without taking his eyes off, looked at the speaker and... recognized him as his disappeared servant Vaginak. Vaginak did not recognize his master, and Vachagan, fearing that the joy of meeting would break, like a sword, the thin thread of Vaginak’s life, did not identify himself. “My strength is completely leaving me, and then I will be sent to the slaughter,” Vaginak said sadly. - And the same fate awaits all of you. - No! - Vachagan exclaimed angrily. - Stay with us, I believe that we will get out of this hell alive!
Vachagan asked his companions about their craft. One turned out to be a tailor, another a weaver, a third an embroiderer, the rest did not know any craft. “You will be my assistants,” Vachagan told them.
Soon the iron doors opened with a noise, and a priest entered the cave, surrounded on all sides by guards. “Are these new arrivals?” - he asked. - Yes, we are the servants of your grace. - Which of you knows any craft? - We are skilled craftsmen. We know how to weave valuable brocade. It costs a hundred times more than pure gold. “Is there really a fabric in the world that costs a hundred times more than gold?” the priest was surprised. “I’m not lying,” Vachagan answered proudly. “Good,” the priest believed. - Tell me what tools you need, what material, and go to the general workshop to work. - No, oh lord! Other people's eyes should not see our work. Let us stay here and order us to send bread and fruits for food. We do not eat meat food and, having tasted it, we will immediately die, and you will lose enormous benefits. - Okay, but woe if you deceive me. I will send you to the slaughterhouse and before I kill you, I will subject you all to terrible torture.
On the same day, the priest sent the necessary tools and material. Vachagan set to work, teaching it to his fellow sufferers. Every day the priest's servants brought bread and fruit to the captives. Everyone tried to give at least a little to the unfortunate people languishing in the next cave. Vaginak gradually began to take on a human appearance. When the base of the brocade was ready, Vachagan said to the priest: “We cannot continue to work in the semi-darkness.” Order to bring us fire. The priest fulfilled Vachagan's request and brought a resin torch and several lamps.
Seeing Vachagan, illuminated from head to toe, Vaginak screamed wildly. And he fell to the ground unconscious. “What’s wrong with him?” — the priest was surprised. “The glare of the torch blinded him, sir.” “He will come to his senses and will work calmly,” Vachagan said with a bow, and the priest left.
Soon the brocade was ready. It sparkled and shimmered with all the colors of the rainbow. Along the edges of the thin pattern, Vachagan wove the story of his captivity in tiny letters. Seeing the wonderful brocade, the priest was delighted. “You are truly a master,” he graciously said to Vachagan. “I told you that this brocade will cost a hundred times more than gold.” Know that it costs even more! Magic talismans are woven on it. It's a pity that they are not available to everyone. Only the wise Queen Anahit can read and reveal their secret.
The greedy priest did not take his eyes off the wonderful brocade. He decided not to show it to the chief priest in order to take advantage of the generous profits himself.
Meanwhile, Anahit ruled the country so wisely that the people did not know about the absence of Vachagan. The agreed upon twenty days passed and Vachagan did not return. The queen was seriously alarmed. At night she had terrible dreams. Vachagan's dog Zangi howled day and night, threw himself at his feet and, squealing, dragged Anahit somewhere by her dress. Vachagan's horse did not eat food and neighed like a foal that had lost its mother. The chickens crowed like roosters, and the roosters, instead of dawn, sang in the evening with the voices of pheasants. Brave Anahit fell into despair.
She sent messengers to all corners of her kingdom, but Vachagan disappeared like a needle in a haystack. One morning she was informed about the arrival of a foreign merchant with goods. “Call him,” the queen ordered. “Maybe he met my dear husband on his way.” The servants brought in the priest. He bowed deeply to the queen and presented gold brocade on a silver tray. Anahit glanced at the brocade and asked: “Have you met King Vachagan on your way?” “No,” answered the priest. “How much is your brocade?” “It costs three hundred times more than the weight of gold.” This is the price of the work of the craftsman and the material. And judge my zeal for yourself, oh lady! - This is an unheard of price for brocade. - This is not ordinary brocade, queen, magical talismans are woven on it, healing sadness and grief. - Is that so? — Anahit was surprised and unrolled the brocade again. “Beloved Anahit, I found myself in a terrible hell. In it I met Vaginak. The one who delivered the brocade is one of the demons of this hell. Look for us east of Perozh under the walled temple. To the left of the altar the wall moves in two. Hurry, we are in danger of death. Vachagan."
Anahit's heart fluttered like a caught bird. Again and again she ran through the terrible words. Gathering all her strength, Anait said with a smile: “Yes, you’re right!” The patterns of this brocade have a wonderful property. Just yesterday I couldn’t find a place for myself from melancholy and grief. And now you see - I’m smiling. This brocade has no price. But a dead creation cannot be higher than its creator, can it? - You speak wisely, queen. - Bring to me the master who wove this brocade - I want to look at him. - Wise queen! I have not seen this master. I am a merchant and purchased this brocade in India from a Jew. And he bought brocade from an Arab. And from whom the Arab bought it - I don’t know. - But you said that the work and material cost three hundred times more than the weight of gold. So, you yourself gave it to weave. - Wise queen, that's what the merchant told me, who... - You're lying! - the queen cried angrily. - The talismans revealed to me your vile secret. To his dungeon!
The servants grabbed the priest and took him away. Anahit ordered the alarm to sound. Anxiously whispering people crowded the palace square, asking each other what had happened. Anahit, armed from head to toe, came out onto the balcony. “Citizens!” - she said. “The life of our king Vachagan is in danger. Those who love the king, those who value his life, follow me. We should be in Perozh by noon. In less than an hour, everyone who could bear arms was on horseback. Anahit saddled a fiery horse, galloped ahead of her army, commanded “forward” and rushed to Perozh, kicking up a cloud of dust behind her. Anahit's army was left far behind when she stopped the fiery horse in the middle of Perozh Square.
The residents, mistaking Anahit for a deity, knelt before her. “Where is your boss?” - Anahit asked proudly. “I am your servant,” the gray-bearded old man said, rising from his knees. “What is going on in your temple?” “A holy man lives there, whom all our people honor.” “A holy man?!” Lead me to him. The chief led Anahit to the temple, and the crowd followed him. Seeing them approaching and mistaking them for pilgrims, the priests opened the first iron door. The chief priest came out to meet the crowd, chanting a prayer, with his hands raised high for blessing.
Anahit rode into the temple on a horse. She galloped up to the altar, felt a secret spring in the wall, the wall split in two, and heavy iron doors appeared before the astonished crowd. “Open this door,” Anahit ordered the chief priest. Instead of answering, the chief priest with armed servants rushed at Anahit. “She desecrated the temple!” Death to her! - the chief priest raged, calling on the townspeople to take revenge.
The clever horse Anahit trampled him with his mighty feet, and in the meantime, an army arrived to the aid of the brave woman who was fighting with the priests surrounding her and destroyed every single enemy. The people watched what was happening with fear and bewilderment. “Come closer and see what is hidden in the dungeon of your temple!” - Anahit said.
When the doors of the cave were ripped off their hinges, a terrible sight appeared to the people. People crawled out of the hellish dungeon - not people, but shadows. Many of them were dying and could not stand on their feet. Others, blinded by the light, staggered and crawled like ants. The last to emerge were Vachagan and Vaginak, with their eyes half-closed so that the daylight would not blind them. The warriors burst into the dungeon and took out the bodies of dead people, instruments of torture, craft tools and cauldrons with human meat. The ashamed townspeople helped them smash and cleanse the temple. Only having finished this, Anahit entered the hastily constructed tent, where Vachagan and Vaginak were waiting for her. The king and queen sat down next to each other and could not look at each other enough. Vaginak, crying, clung to Anahit’s hand.
- Wise queen! It was you who saved us today! - No, Vaginak! It was not today that the wise Anahit saved you, but then when she asked: “Does the son of your king know any craft?” Do you remember how he laughed then? The ashamed Vaginak silently lowered his eyes. Many years have passed since then, but the glory of wise Anahit is still alive.
Translated from Russian · original on wisdomlib.ru