In ancient times, when miracles happened on earth and there were more sinless people than sinners, there lived the famous hunter Ovchi-Pirim. He spent all his time hunting wild animals, birds and other animals.
One day, while hunting, Ovchi-Pirim saw two crossing snakes not far from him. One of them is a male, black, ugly and disgusting, and in the other, oh, horror! - he immediately recognized the beauty, the daughter of the terrible and at the same time glorious snake king. On her head was a golden crown strewn with emeralds and jahonts, and it all sparkled in the sun, the rays of which were reflected in her wonderful scales.
Ovchi-Pirim was indignant to the depths of his soul: the love of this beauty, the daughter of the famous snake king, was worthy of the most glorious of the snake knights, and yet, this disgusting black servant-snake took advantage of her, and how cynically, how disgustingly and rudely!
Without thinking twice, Ovchi-Pirim took aim at the black snake and fired an arrow; but, oh, misfortune, oh, grief!.. he missed for the first time in his life, and his arrow tore off the tip of the princess’s lovely tail, without in any way damaging the black snake, which instantly crawled away and disappeared from sight.
The king's daughter also disappeared.
The unfortunate Ovchi-Pirim tore his hair in despair... Cursing his fate, he broke his bow and arrows into small pieces and immediately vowed to leave hunting forever. But nothing can be done, the past cannot be undone, and our poor Ovchi-Pirim, sad and upset, trudged home.
He knew well that the insult he had unwittingly inflicted on the king’s daughter would not go in vain, and he waited with trepidation when he would be called to account.
He didn't have to wait long. The next day, early in the morning, there was suddenly a knock on his door. Ovchi-Pirim came out and shuddered with horror: terrible winged viziers and Nazirs stood on their tails in front of him, demanding to immediately appear before the king.
Ovchi-Pirim, as if before death, said goodbye to his wife and children and went, accompanied by viziers and nazirs, who hissed and whistled with anger all the way.
They walked for seven days and seven nights and finally reached the underground golden palace of the snake king. They led the unfortunate Ovchi-Pirim along dark corridors for a long time and finally led him into a huge, magnificent room, covered with the most precious Persian carpets. In the middle of the room stood an ivory throne carved with gold; on the throne sat the king of kings of all snake breeds around the world, with a golden crown studded with diamonds on his head; right there, near the throne, stood his beautiful daughter, with her head wrapped in shame. They were surrounded by executioners, with terrible instruments of execution in their paws.
As soon as the barely alive Ovchi-Pirim was brought in, the king turned to him and hissed:
- Daring insan! It was you who dared to raise your hand against the king’s daughter! Do you know that you will suffer a punishment that even the sheitans in your hell have not yet invented? As soon as the king stopped hissing, the executioners wanted to rush at Ovchi-Pirim, but he threw himself on his knees and began to ask in a pleading voice:
- Great king-kings of all snake breeds all over the world! Let me, while I'm still breathing, tell you all the details of this accident.
The king agreed. At this, the princess blushed, not knowing where to hide from shame and fear of her father. But Ovchi-Pirim was cunning and presented the king with what happened in a different light, protecting the princess’s honor in every possible way:
from his story it followed that the black snake tried to rape the princess, who resisted with all her might. At these words, the princess almost fainted from fear for the fate of her lover; the hunter conveyed everything else as it actually happened.
When Ovchi-Pirim finished his story, it was scary to look at the angry king - he roared, hissed, whistled, shook all over with anger and even turned black. Everyone was waiting in horror to see how this storm would end, when suddenly the king shouted, turning to his winged viziers and Nazirs:
“Go and bring now all the snakes from all over the world, and you, noble insan, must show me this snake, and I already know what to do with it.”
The winged viziers and Nazirs immediately jumped out and, accompanied by the Chavush, began to call all the snake people to the royal palace. And the king placed Ovchi-Pirim at the palace gates, through which all the snakes had to enter one by one.
And so, after a few minutes, all the snakes from all over the world reached out one after the other and, stopping in front of Ovchi-Pirim, one by one entered the gate.
What kinds of snakes were here, what breeds, what colors and types! Among them there were white snakes, and red ones, and yellow ones, and blue ones, there were winged ones, and horned ones, and with lion paws, and with human heads, and with horse tails. Ovchi-Pirim held each one longer than necessary to examine them more closely.
Suddenly he saw that some darkish snake, stealthily, wanted to slip through the gate unnoticed. Ovchi-Pirim immediately stopped; her and, oh, joy! -I recognized her as a black snake! And she, it turns out, covered herself all over with yellow mud so as not to be recognized.
At a sign from Ovchi-Pirim, the horned sarbaz raised the black snake on its horns and carried it to the king. The king ordered her to be locked in an iron prison and threatened his sarbaz with terrible punishment if the criminal escaped. Then turning to his viziers, nazirs and other advisers, the king invited them to come up with a punishment for the black snake and to the one whose invented punishment turned out to be better, more painful and more worthy, he promised to give the largest province from his snake kingdom into hereditary possession.
Having finished this, the king turned to Ovchi-Pirim. “The noblest of the Insans!” he said. “Since you stood up for the honor of the princess, I must thank you as befits me, the king-kings of all the snake breeds of the whole world.” Choose one of two: or I will give you so much gold and precious stones. that not a single king of the Insans will be able to compare with you in wealth, or I will spit in your mouth, and you will comprehend the wisdom of the serpent, then you will understand and know everything in the world: the languages of all animals, all birds, all beasts, the rustle of leaves, the rustle of reeds, the murmur of water; in a word, you will speak with everyone living in the world in their languages.
Ovchi-Pirim thought and thought and, being an extremely disinterested man, agreed to the second and opened his mouth. The snake king spat in his mouth and, approving his choice, still presented him with all kinds of jewelry and released him with honor.
Ovchi-Pirim, not remembering himself from everything he had seen, returned along the dark corridors of the palace of the snake king.
Suddenly someone carefully stopped him: he turned around and saw a beautiful princess with her tail torn off.
“Shameless and evil insan!” the princess hissed. “Do you know what you did to me?” You have deprived me of my beloved; no matter how disgusting and disgusting he may be for others, for me he is dearer than anyone in the world, even my beloved father, and yet. Because of you, he will be executed tomorrow. I won’t survive it and will take my own life; You, who couldn’t see someone else’s happiness with indifference, be damned! My father made you the wisest of all the Insans of the whole world, but I doom you to eternal torment for this very wisdom. You,” the princess continued with terrible anger, “will have an irresistible desire to share your knowledge with someone; but remember, if you pass on even a millionth of your knowledge to someone else, or even with one word you betray your wisdom, then immediately, like carrion, you will be eaten by wolves. I also instill in you a panicky fear of death. Now go, you damned insan!
Ovchi-Pirim, who was tormented by remorse, threw himself on his knees in front of the princess and began to beg her:
- Lovely princess! Give me even the most terrible execution, but believe that I did not intentionally do harm to you - it was all a coincidence of unfortunate circumstances. Believe me, lovely beauty, that only wanting to protect your honor, I exaggerated the guilt of your beloved; I didn't know he was so dear to you. After all, you are so charming, so good, so dazzlingly beautiful, and he? He doesn't deserve you! But, forgive me, have pity on me! Multiply your curse! Then in my torment I will at least forget that I unwittingly became the cause of your death.
Moved to tears by Ovchi-Pirim’s sincere regret and repentance, the princess said:
“My involuntary destroyer, do not suffer because of me, I will find a way to free my beloved from prison and hide with him from my father, I will arrange it all!” I remove my curse from you - you will no longer have any desire to convey your wisdom to anyone and...
Suddenly one of the court sarbaz appeared at the end of the corridor and the princess, seeing him, immediately disappeared, not having time to remove the rest of her curses from Ovchi-Pirim.
Ovchi-Pirim, completely stunned by the last scene, left the palace. He walked for seven days and seven nights and returned home completely gray-haired.
Needless to say, his wife, children and all his relatives were incredibly happy about the return of Ovchi-Pirim, especially since he was considered already dead.
A lot of time has passed. Ovchi-Pirim lived almost the same as before, only he did not go hunting and became too serious and thoughtful. Many even considered him crazy:
his behavior seemed so strange; whether the horse neighed, whether the dog barked, whether the wolf howled, whether the chickens clucked, whether the wind rustled, he either smiled or plunged into deep thought.
Ovchi-Pirim's wife, who, of course, was closer to him than everyone else, found that, on the contrary, her husband had become somehow too smart; she watched him mutter something to their dog, a horse, several times; and once she even noticed this: their cow was constantly kicking and butting while milking. Ovchi-Pirim once muttered something to her and from then on she became quiet and stopped butting and kicking.
Finally, what was very striking was the fact that no one’s dog barked at Ovchi-Pirim and they seemed to respect him.
All this involuntarily amazed and led to some bewilderment of everyone who knew him, and even more so his wife. She was inflamed with an irresistible curiosity to find out what it all meant, and where, finally, her husband had disappeared for those fifteen days when everyone considered him dead.
Ovchi-Pirim, for his part, became extremely silent, and most importantly, very secretive; To all attempts by his wife or relatives to find out something from him, he responded with silence or made excuses with trifles.
One day Ovchi-Pirim sent his family to visit relatives in a neighboring village. His pregnant wife and two children were sitting astride a mare; the latter was also pregnant and had a one-year-old foal running after her.
Ovchi-Pirim himself walked next to them, leading the mare by the bridle.
The foal lagged behind its mother and, neighing, asked in horse language to wait so that he could catch up with her. The mother turned around and, in turn, neighing, answered him:
- Oh, you lazy boy! Don't you see that I, an elderly female, carry as many as five souls, and you
boy, you can't catch up with me!
Hearing this reproach of the mare to her foal, Ovchi-Pirim smiled. His wife, who with her hawk eyes always watched her husband’s every glance, noticing this smile, could no longer stand it and asked why he was smiling.
Ovchi-Pirim began to laugh it off, but that was not the case: with the importunity of a dung fly, she pestered him and demanded that he tell her why he smiled when the mare and foal neighed.
Deciding that his wife was guessing something, Ovchi-Pirim announced that he would never say this; It’s better that she remain silent and not ask him such questions if she wants to continue to enjoy his favor.
On the part of Ovchi-Pirim, this one careless refusal was quite enough to bring the curiosity of his wife to the extent to which the curiosity of only women can reach, for whom in such cases the end completely justifies the means.
From then on, Ovchi-Pirim knew no more peace from his wife’s annoying advances. Both day and night, during lunch, during dinner, and even during prayer and ablution, she pestered him with requests, accompanied either by tears and sobs, or by reproaches and even by threatening to kill him:
- Tell me, tell me, why did you smile when the mare and foal neighed?
Ovchi-Pirim finally explained to her that he would become a victim of wolves if he told anyone about this; but she didn’t want to hear anything and didn’t believe her husband at all. She thought that this was just an excuse to keep her silent; and finally, where has it been heard of wolves devouring the one who reveals his secrets to his wife?
Finally, Ovchi-Pirim became unbearable; he preferred to die rather than live with such a wife. Having decided this, he said that he would reveal his secret to her. Her joy knew no end, and with feverish impatience she hurried her husband to explain to her what was the matter. Ovchi-Pirim, probably knowing that he would soon be devoured by wolves, began preparing for his funeral.
He had a favorite dog, which, having learned about its owner’s intentions, began to grieve greatly, and the rooster in the yard with his many wives indulged in carefree fun and, every now and then, was polite to them. Such carelessness and inappropriate gaiety of the rooster greatly offended the dog, and she growled at him angrily:
Shameless egoist! Don't you see that our dear master does not have long to live? Can't you, at least for the sake of this unfortunate occasion, abstain a little and not allow yourself such obscenities for a while?
“Same thing,” the rooster answered her. “You see, I have thirty wives, and I keep them all in obedience; not one of them even dares to make a sound in front of me, but what about him, our master?” There is only one wife, and he cannot keep that one in obedience. He is free to be a slave to his wife and die because of her! I will begin to grieve and grieve for him! Your case is different - you have a servile soul, you can grieve as much as you like! - the rooster finished and continued to carefreely care for his wives.
Ovchi-Pirim was standing nearby at that time and heard this entire conversation. The rooster's sound judgment, with which he could not but agree, made a strong impression on him. He began to reproach himself for weakness; he was even ashamed in front of the rooster, and he firmly decided to abandon his promise and not tell his wife anything. And she waited and, as soon as she noticed that her husband was hesitating, she pestered him again. Ovchi-Pirim, attacked her and began to beat her as hard as he could. He beat his wife for a long time and said for a long time:
- Sheitan's daughter! do you still want me to say? I'll kill you, but I won't tell you!
Apparently, these merciless beatings did not have the same effect on his wife as Ovchi-Pirim had expected, and she
through tears she screamed:
- Have mercy, don’t hit me! But tell me anyway, why did you smile when the mare and foal neighed?
Such beatings from Ovchi-Pirim were repeated for several days; but the wife did not cease all these days to insist on her demand.
Finally, Ovchi-Pirim got tired of beating her; his soul felt disgusting and unpleasant; there are children right there, after all; they cry, rush to protect their mother with their little hands, call him cruel, heartless, not knowing, of course, the reason for these beatings.
Ovchi-Pirim thought and thought, and finally told his wife his secret.
After this, Ovchi-Pirim felt some kind of irresistible disgust for his wife. Having kissed his children, he, with tears in his eyes, left the house and went to wander through the fields.
Poor Ovchi-Pirim wandered for a long time through the fields, through the mountains, through the forests and, in an insane fear of death, waited every minute for an attack by wolves.
It was already evening. At a short distance he saw a chopper's wagon; went there and, meeting the owner at the tent, asked permission to spend the night with him. Tchoban agreed with pleasure and led the guest into the tent; he ordered his wife to prepare dinner; he himself, having seated the guest, sat down opposite and began to ask where he was from and how he got here?
Ovchi-Pirim told Choban in detail about his unhappy life and that that same night the wolves would devour him.
Having felt great respect for Ovchi-Pirim, the Choban did not want to hear about his last confession. In addition, he had twelve most terrible dogs, and each of them was capable of tearing apart twelve wolves. Knowing from experience their formidable mouths, the wolves did not even dare to show themselves in these places.
Relying on his dogs, the Choban confidently reassured Ovchi-Pirim, asserting that a pack of any wolves, before they could attack the wagon, would be torn to shreds by the dogs; finally, they will not even dare to show themselves here, since they are well aware of the terrible fangs of his dogs.
But the shepherd did not have time to finish his soothing speeches addressed to Ovchi-Pirim, when suddenly a terrible wolf howl was heard.
They both jumped up from their seats in horror. Ovchi-Pirim, trembling with fear, grabbed the shepherd’s sleeve, begging him to be saved. After thinking a little, the good shepherd ran out of the wagon and, having caught twelve fat rams, hastily slaughtered them and prepared them for the dogs. As if struck by lightning, Ovchi-Pirim stood in the middle of the wagon; he stretched out his hands forward and in a whisper called the princess to his aid; but remembering the terrible dark corridor and the princess, who did not have time to remove her curses from him, he fell face down on the ground and sobbed like a child.
Meanwhile, the shepherd’s brave dogs, hearing the howl of the wolves, ran out to meet them and barked:
- Fools! Apparently you have forgotten us, how many times have you left your skins and tails here and ran away hungry!
- Noble and brave dogs! - the wolves howled, “we are not coming to you and not to your master, but we have come to feast on the delicious meat of the wise Ovchi-Pirim.” His time has already come. He is visiting your master today.
Hearing the name Ovchi-Pirim, the dogs barked:
- Nasty wolves! We will not allow you to touch even a hair of Ovchi-Pirim! We will protect him until the last drop of blood.
At this time the shepherd threw them two slaughtered sheep; As soon as the dogs ate them, they immediately attacked the enemies with such force that several dogs and wolves, grappling, flew into the air and hit the ground terribly, without ceasing to gnaw each other.
The fight between these eternally warring cousins was terrible. One might think that this time they decided to completely destroy each other in order to part forever.
The shepherd's dogs showed extraordinary courage and the strength of their fangs; wolf corpses lay in heaps everywhere. Of the dogs, only one was mortally wounded, and even that one did not stop gnawing and strangling the wolves that came across it. Until midnight the chances of victory were on the dogs' side; already more than a hundred wolf corpses were lying around the tent. Two more dogs fell, and more and more wolves arrived, as if they had come from all over the world to attack the unfortunate head of Ovchi-Pirim.
Since midnight, the wolves have gradually pushed the dogs closer to the wagon. Choban had already thrown up to nine sheep to his dogs, who one by one backed away and hastily swallowed pieces of meat to maintain their strength. Before they had time to swallow the food, they rushed into battle with renewed vigor and even greater frenzy. The night was drawing to a close; the wolves were already two steps away from the tent; Only three dogs remained alive, and even those were bloodied and wounded. The shepherd has already thrown the last ram to them.
What did the most unfortunate of the people, Ovchi-Pirim, do all this time, what did he feel and how did he spend that night?
I do not undertake to tell this, since it is beyond the power of human language.
Dawn broke in the east; the last dog died at the very entrance to the tent. Ovchi-Pirim wrapped himself in a rug and only managed to exclaim:
“Princess, why aren’t you here?” and a minute later there wasn’t even a bone left of him.
Three apples fell from the sky: one for me, another for the good Choban, a third for the orphans of Ovchi-Pirim, and the rest for his widow...
Translated from Russian · original on wisdomlib.ru