When Bataraz was already in his mature years, grief visited his home: his beautiful wife, the daughter of Uazyrmes, whom he had once saved, died. The loss of his beloved was hard for him, but he endured his grief with the fortitude of a real sledge.
One day, wanting to forget a little, the sled went hunting.
On the way, he caught up with a stately, well-equipped horseman, who, although younger than Bataraza, did not bow to him, as befitted, and did not even respond to the greeting. Nart was surprised, but was not offended and calmly rode next to the discourteous rider.
“You know, my young companion,” Bataraz thoughtfully addressed the horseman, “arrogance is not pride, and pride is not courage.”
The horseman got angry and pulled out his sword. It never occurred to Bataraz to fight him, but nothing could be done, he had to defend himself. They did not fight for long: Bataraz defeated the enemy with a deft and strong blow.
- Wow! - the falling horseman cried out, - such a blow would fit Bataraz himself.
Bataraz was surprised when he heard his name, and since he had no intention of killing the angry young man, he carefully laid him on the ground. But Bataraza’s strong blow turned out to be fatal, and the wounded man, to the deep chagrin of the Nart, was already dying.
- I am Bataraz, why did you say my name? - Bataraz asked the dying man.
- Tumbleweed hears my last word: let the steppe grass or bird be the harbinger of my death! - the wounded man whispered. “May the god of the winds grant my request.” It’s a pity that this happened - I thought I would do you good, but we ended up becoming enemies.
With these words, the young man breathed his last, and the saddened Bataraz buried his recently hot body.
The dying words of the young man sank deep into the soul of Bataraza, and he decided at all costs to find out what good the young man wanted to do to him.
The deceased horseman was the son of the courageous knight Damizepsh, who lived near the Khazas-sea. The young man's name was Quaidant, and he had a beautiful sister, with such white and transparent skin that when she drank, you could see the water flowing in her throat.
In his wanderings, Bataraz tried to guess the meaning of what Quaidant had said to him, but he returned home without learning anything. And the words of the deceased did not give him peace either day or night. And soon he saddled his faithful Karaptsa, put on armor and firmly decided not to return home until he learned the secret. On the way, the sledges caught up with him; among them were Sosruko, Badynoko, Shchauey. They were going hunting, and Bataraz had to go with them.
They rode for four weeks through mountains and valleys and came to a large clearing, over which hung a rock with a cave inside.
“We’ll make a stop here,” Sosruko said.
“No, our fathers’ herds grazed in this clearing,” Bataraz objected. The Narts obeyed and rode on.
“Let’s stop here,” suggested Badynoko, reining in his horse by the river.
“No,” said Bataraz, “the herds of our fathers came here to drink.” Staying here is like stopping at your own doorstep.
The Narts again listened to Bataraza. After a long journey, we came to the sea, swam across the sea and drove for another seven days and seven nights. On the eighth day, they saw a huge branchy tree by the road, under which a hundred horsemen could fit. The ground around the tree was covered with thick, fresh grass, and not far away a cold, clear spring flowed.
“It’s a good place to stop: there’s grass for it, shade under the branches of a tree, and water for drinking,” Sosruko said decisively.
“Don’t you know,” objected Bataraz, “that here was a night pasture for the herds of our fathers?”
But the Narts were tired of his objections and firmly decided to stay here.
“Stay,” said Bataraz, “and I will go further and will not stop the horse until I reach what I want.”
And Bataraz hit Karaptsa so hard that the flames that flew out of the horse’s nostrils scorched the grass along the edges of the road.
And the Narts, having rested, turned their horses back.
Lonely Bataraz rode for a long time and came to a waterless, dry desert.
Then he met a little horseman. The brave Nart asked him:
- Do you know where I can find Dami zepsh’s son, Kuaidant?
- Why do you need him? - the little horseman asked Bataraza.
“I need him, he needs me,” answered Bataraz.
- Oh, that’s right, he wants to marry you to his beautiful sister! - said the little rider and started to move his horse, but Bataraz stopped him:
“I have never seen his sister: tell me where Quaidant lives, if you know.”
“That’s wonderful!” the stranger grinned. - Who doesn’t know where he lives? Drive further, you will see a large mound, stop on it.
Having thanked him, Bataraz hit Karaptsa with a whip, and the horse took him to the mound in one leap.
Here the sled hobbled his horse and lay down on the dry ground. Soon an unusually thick fog enveloped everything around and darkness covered the earth, as if a long night had fallen. For three days and three nights Bataraz slept on a foggy mound, and on the fourth day, in the early evening hours, he woke up and saw a young stranger.
- Hello! - he said to Bataraza. - Come with me, you will be my guest.
And Bataraz followed him. There was a door in one of the slopes of the mound. With difficulty, Bataraz opened it and entered the underground dwelling. The owner led him into a separate chamber and said:
“Whatever happens, don’t leave here until I come for you; if you go out on your own, you will have a bad time. Tonight you will have a battle with the enemy; if you do not win, I will have to hand you over to the lions.
The stranger came out. Bataraz, in deep thought, waited for nightfall and the arrival of an unknown enemy. And then in the darkness the door opened and someone, with a clanging and grinding sound, entered the peace. Through the darkness of the night and the fog enveloping the newcomer, it was impossible to see him.
Bataraz and the unknown creature entered into battle. After a hot but short battle, Bataraz defeated the enemy.
- Why don’t you chop off my head? - just cash defeated.
- Why do I need your head? “I don’t know you,” Bataraz answered good-naturedly.
Then the darkness dissipated, the stranger threw off his military clothes and turned out to be a beautiful young girl.
“I am the daughter of Damizepsha,” said the beauty, “I had a brother, but he disappeared, going to the Country of the Narts in search of a groom for me.” If you like me, brave knight, I am ready to become your wife.
Batarazu fell in love with the beautiful sister of Quaidant, whom he unwittingly destroyed, he married her and remained in a foreign land. But he did not live here long: longing for his native land tormented him, and he said to his young wife:
“I cannot live away from my native Country of the Narts, and my people need me, so let’s go with me.”
“You’re right,” his beloved answered him, “but I cannot leave the house until my missing brother returns, until I hear news about him.” I don’t want you to miss your homeland - go and visit your people, I’ll wait for you, and in the meantime we’ll hear something about your brother.
And Bataraz began to visit the Nart Country, and then returned to his wife again. He had a desire to reveal to her the secret of her brother’s death and take the beauty to him, but he could not decide to confess.
One day it happened like this: Bataraz was sitting with his wife in one of the chambers of the underground dwelling. A terrible storm arose at sea, such a storm that the wind opened the heavy doors in the mound and tumbleweeds flew into the peace, driven by the violent wind. Cold sweat broke out on Bataraz's forehead: he remembered the words of the dying Quaidant.
- What's wrong with you? - asked the wife.
“This tumbleweed reminded me of a sad incident.”
- Tell me about him.
But Bataraz refused.
“Don’t you want to tell me, your beloved?”
- No! - repeated Bataraz.
But she insisted.
“If you don’t tell me, I swear on the gray stone, I’m no longer your wife!”
Nart, who himself had never sworn a false oath, was frightened:
“Okay, I’ll tell you, but you swear that no matter what my story is, you will still love me.”
And the woman swore again with the gray stone.
“No matter how bitter I am, I have to admit to you: I killed your brother.” He himself attacked me, and I was forced to defend myself, but I could not match the blow of my sword - it was fatal. Before his death, your brother uttered strange words: “The tumbleweed hears my last word, let the steppe grass or bird be the messengers of my death. May the god of the winds fulfill my request. It’s a pity that this happened, I thought to do you good, but we happened to become enemies.” This is what the dying man said, and this grass reminded me of his appeal to the god of the winds, and I felt sad... - This is how the good Nart ended his speech sadly.
“You shouldn’t have hidden this from me.” “I loved my brother, but you are dearer to me than anyone else,” said the beauty, “and I myself thought: “I only swore with a gray stone, which means I didn’t give a real oath, - I will take revenge on him for the death of my brother.”
A few days after this conversation, Bataraz, taking his short old sword, saddled Karaptsa and went hunting. And his wife again put on a man’s dress and military armor and secretly followed him to kill him. She caught up with him, turned into a thick fog that covered everything around, and rushed at Bataraza with a sword, exclaiming:
“Hey, son of Himish, defend yourself, and don’t think that you will win, like at the games of your sledges.” No, the birds will get your corpse, the evil crows will peck at it day and night.
But Bataraz repelled her blow, knocked out the sword, tied her hands and took her to the underworld. There the treacherous wife began to ask for forgiveness, swearing that she would love him until her death, but Bataraz bitterly told her:
“I don’t believe your vows, and can we be husband and wife after what happened?” You ruined everything yourself, goodbye.
So Bataraz remained alone again and returned to the Country of the Narts.
Translated from Russian · original on wisdomlib.ru