High in the mountains, above a steep cliff, at the headwaters of the stormy Indzhizh River, there stood a fortress on a cliff. A husband and wife from the Nart family lived in this fortress. The husband raided continuously, and they were always successful. That is why he bore the name Psabyda - “Strong in life.” Psabyda was lucky because his wife, the sun-like beauty Adiyukh, helped him. When Psabyda went on raids, Adiyukh sat at the window of the tower and stretched out her hands, white luminous hands, out the window. On the darkest night, when a person does not need his watchful eyes, on the cloudiest day, when the world disappears in the fog, Adiyukh stretched out her hands pouring light through the window, and the dark night turned into a sparkling, moonlit one, and the cloudy day into a bright and sunny one. That is why this Nart woman was called Adiyukh, which means Light-Handed.
From the cliff where the fortress stood, Adiyukh threw a canvas bridge across the river onto the flat bank. When Psabyda, pursued by enemies, returned at night from a raid, driving herds of black, apple-covered horses, Adiyukh stretched out her shining hands through the window, and they were a guiding light for Psabyda. He drove stolen herds across the canvas bridge, and Adiyukh took off the bridge and hid her luminous hands. Pitch darkness set in, and Psabyda’s pursuers, not seeing each other, not finding a ford, not knowing how to cross the river, returned back in powerless rage. Well, what could they do in the pitch darkness of the night? Don’t rush into the stormy Indzhizh and drown!
Psabyda's constant success filled him with pride. One day he boasted:
“It’s amazing how happy I am on raids!” Even from the land of one-eyed giants I return with rich booty, without going astray. And there is nothing to say about the Chints: they have never managed to overtake me, so quickly and skillfully I cross the stormy Indzhizh. The Narts are truly right when they say that courage can perform miracles! And if you look at the world, is there a husband equal to me in courage?
Psabyda boasted like this for a long time, and his boasting first got tired of him, then made him angry, then outraged Adiyukh. She could not contain her anger and exclaimed:
- Boast, is it proper for a Nart to boast? Couldn't you mention the name of the one who shares with you all the troubles and worries?
But Psabyda, having started to boast, could not stop:
“I always make raids alone, I have no companion with me who would share my worries and adversities. I can manage alone where it is difficult for a whole squad of sledges to manage!
Adiyukh sadly shook her head:
“It’s not for nothing that people say: “He considers himself brave, whose courage was not tested in difficult times.” I think that not one of the Nart knights, whose bravery has been tested and is known to everyone, would have caught himself famously by talking to a woman. And among these knights there are quite a few who are stronger and more courageous than you. Just remember about Sosruko... All your life you praise only yourself, and I burn with shame, listening to you, and my hair turns gray from melancholy.
The wife's words cut the braggart to the heart. Without saying anything to her in response, he angrily mounted his horse and rode off. But at the very gate he could not stand it and, throwing back his head, shouted:
“I’ll show you, slut, what courage a sled has!”
And Psabyda went on a raid, taking out his anger on his old, faithful horse. At a fork in three roads the horse stopped, not knowing where to gallop. Strange thing! The horse always unmistakably guessed the rider’s desire, but this time he froze in place. Psabyda dealt him three blows with a steel whip, and the horse reluctantly moved on. And what kind of riding is it against hunting? The distance that the horse had previously covered in a day, he now covered in a month. This only made Psabyda’s anger stronger. It seemed to the horseman: if he came across a hundred giants now, he would destroy every single one! And while the giants were not caught, Psabyda gave vent to his rage - he whipped his faithful horse.
Psabyda rode for a long time, galloped for a long time, and finally entered the country of one-eyed giants. Such a fog covered this country that the rider could not even see the ears of his horse. Suddenly it began to rain, so hard that one could climb up to the sky along its streams, as if on ropes. The earth was drowned in damp darkness.
— The weather was not very good, but we endured worse. May God bless my old burka with longevity!
So Psabyda exclaimed and threw a burka over himself. This burka was made by the luminous hands of Adiyukh, and not a single drop of moisture passed through it. And now the rain poured through it as if it were a sieve. If Psabyda had not offended his wife, the burka would not have let in a single drop of rain. Or maybe the burka was also indignant at the fact that Psabyda called her an old burka?
Suddenly a loud neighing came to Psabyda. “Here, finally, in front of me is what I need!” - he thought and galloped through the rain. By the loud neighing and strong stomping, he realized that in front of him was a large herd of horses. Having waited until nightfall, when the rain had subsided, Psabyda drove the herd to his fortress. But the road was not visible, for the night was black and black and Psabida’s guiding light, the white hands of Adiyukh, did not shine. The herd of horses ran away and Psabyda lost him.
The sled galloped for a long time through the land of one-eyed giants, but there was no prey for him. More than once he came across herds of wild black horses that wandered across vast pastures, not knowing either saddle or bridle, but Psabyda did not know which way to drive them: fog shrouded the country of giants.
Psabyda decided to leave this country and go to the land of the Chints. Psabyda rode for a long time, whipping his horse painfully, and the more often and more painfully he whipped him, the slower the horse walked.
It turned out that in the land of the Chints the sun was so hot that the stones cracked and the earth melted. The dry wind rushed across the steppe expanses, burying all living things under the sand. Psabyda tied his horse to a lonely, dry tree and lay down, exhausted, in the shade of the horse’s legs. But then a dry wind tore this only tree out of the ground and carried it away along with the horse.
Psabyda chased after a tree to save his horse, his support. His feet sank into the sand, the wind beat in his face, but Psabyda ran behind a tree, and perhaps only Adiyukh knew how long he ran through the dry, sandy waves. Finally he managed to reach a lone tree, carried away by a dry wind, and untie the frightened horse.
The long run made the rider thirsty. Sand creaked in my teeth, and my lips were dry and cracked. The bull-dog remembered that there should be a spring nearby, whose water was clear as a tear and cold as ice. Having galloped towards it, Psabyda saw that the spring had turned into a muddy swamp full of snakes and frogs. The water smelled rotten. Even the strong desert wind could not dispel its stench. But what could Psabyda, dying of thirst, do? He pressed his lips to the swamp and began to drink greedily. At this time, a herd of wild horses came running to the swamp. The horses sniffed the water, but did not drink it. Psabyda got angry:
- How picky! They disdain the water that the Nart drinks!
Psabyda decided to steal these horses. But suddenly the desert plunged into darkness. Black clouds, like horses, rushed across the sky, and the herd disappeared into pitch darkness, and as soon as it disappeared, day came again.
And again a dry wind blew, and the sun was so hot that the stones cracked and the earth melted. Psabyda found himself in sand captivity. By the end of the day, the dry wind subsided, but the heat became unbearable: the air and sand, the earth and the sky became hot, Psabyda exclaimed in despair:
“Hey, old cloak, save me from the heat and sand, and I’ll get out of this damned land of chints!”
Everyone knows that the sun's rays do not pass through a burqa. But for a person old age is an adornment, but for a thing it is an insult. The burka was offended that the Nart called her old, she was offended for herself and for Adiyukh, whose hands, pouring light, created her, and began to let the sun's rays pass through her. Psabyda was dying from the heat. Only late at night, when the heat had subsided a little, did he emerge, half-dead, from the land of the Chints.
Psabyda rode for a long time, galloped for a long time, exhausted, hungry, without prey - he had no time for prey! - and ended up in the land of tiny creatures. These little people lived not far from Psabyda’s home. But Psabyda was ashamed to return home in disgrace, to return with nothing, without proving his courage, and he decided:
“Isn’t it better for me to die than to crawl into my yard, hanging from a horse, like Sosruko after his first meeting with Totresh?” O heaven, I will prove to Adiyukh that I have great courage!
It was good to say this to Psabyda, in whom strength still lived, but what was it like for the tired, exhausted horse? The horse stopped. Psabyda dismounted and tried to lead him. But the horse became so weak that it could not move.
“Amysh, patron of herds, have you really entrusted me with the care of your animals?” - said Psabyda. He hoisted the horse onto his shoulders and went further - into the depths of the country of the Spaniards. What else could he do?
The country in which the Isps lived was a blessed land. Fruit trees bloomed everywhere, vast pastures turned green, and abundant rivers flowed rapidly. And on the banks of the rivers there were fat herds and countless herds of horses grazing. And the day was good in the land of the isps: long, sunny, not too hot and not too cold.
Psabyda rejoiced. He walked, almost not feeling his burden, and thought:
“Is it really fair that tiny isps, barely noticeable on earth, own such goods! I will not be worthy of the name Nart if I don’t drive away the herds of isps, the herds of isps!”
Psabyda lowered his horse to the ground, sat on it and hit him with the reins. The reins broke, but the horse did not move. Psabyda grabbed him by the mane and hit him with a steel whip. The whip broke, but the horse continued to stand in place, not even raising its head: hungry, it chewed grass. Psabyda shouted with rage:
“Damned one, why don’t you move on the day that should be the day of my courage!”
But the old horse was motionless. There was only one thing left for Psabyda - to hit him with the hilt of his sword. This is what Psabyda did, but the sword broke, and the horse still chewed the tall grass.
Despair gripped Psabyda. He saw so many herds around, so many herds, fierce greed burned his soul, and the horse stood still. Seeing that the blows were not helping, Psabyda prayed:
“My faithful horse, why don’t you move from your place, because Adiyukh, my radiant wife, is waiting for us, misses us!”
And the horse heard in Psabyd’s words not greed, but love for Adiyukh. He raised his ears, neighed with a mighty neigh and flew like lightning.
Psabyda gathered herds of horses and herds of cattle into a heap and drove them towards his fortress. When he was already leaving the borders of the land of the Ispians, he heard a strong stomp behind him. Looking back, he saw many horses galloping after him. At first it seemed that they were galloping without riders, but it only seemed so: tiny isps were sitting on them, chasing the thief of their herds and herds.
The Ispas galloped quickly, but Psabyda's horse, knowing that he was flying to Adiyukh, galloped even faster. Night came, lunar and starry. When Psabyda approached the river, a bright, dazzling radiance flared up, in which the light of the moon and the shine of the stars were drowned. It became as bright as day. Psabyda looked towards his tower and saw Adiyukh: she was stretching out her luminous hands out the window. Psabyda's soul rejoiced and the words came out of her:
- Yeah, Adiyukh was convinced of my courage, she repented, realized that I was the bravest of the Narts, and now she illuminates my path!
But Psabyda was mistaken; Adiyukh did not consider him the bravest of the Narts. She heard the tramp of the faithful horse, whom she missed, and she also missed the rider, and, out of habit, stretched out her hands from the window. But then she remembered how Psabyda insulted her and hid her hands.
And immediately the bright light disappeared, the light of the moon and stars disappeared, and pitch darkness fell. The horses neighed in fear, the cows mooed, and the sheep bleated quietly, ready to die. Psabyd tried in vain to find a canvas bridge to cross the river: there was no bridge. And the river disappeared into the depths of the night, and only an ominous noise indicated its flow. Suddenly this noise was drowned out by a strong stomp: then the Spies galloped up.
Although the isps were tiny people, their strength was great. If Psabyda had fallen into their hands, they would have cut him into small pieces. Psabyda knew this, and, overcome with fear, galloped along the river bank. The darkness saved him, otherwise the plagues would have overtaken him. He had one hope that Adiyukh would stretch out his hands from the tower window. He remembered those caring, white, luminous hands and looked up in despair, to where the fortress tower should have risen. For a moment he was ashamed of his fear and thought:
“They say that Sosruko, without needing a ford, can cross any river. How am I worse than Sosruko?”
So he thought in his madness, born of fear, and drove the stolen herds and herds into the river, and he himself rushed into it on an old horse. But the Indzhizh River is not such a river that you can cross it! Horses drowned in its stormy waters, cows and sheep drowned, and a wave strong as a stone knocked Psabyda off her horse, and both of them, horse and rider, separated by the water, drowned in it.
Indzhizh carried Psabyda's corpse for a long time until she reached the lowland, where the river, dividing into streams, becomes shallow and slowly runs through the steppe expanses, moderating its furious run. And the river, so angry at the foot of the fortress, here carefully and kindly laid Psabyda’s corpse on a coastal stone...
Suddenly it became light again, like daylight: Adiyukh stretched out her hands out the window. Although Psabyda insulted her, she pitied him, for he was her husband. She decided to help him. But the river bank was deserted. Sensing something bad, Adiyukh ran out of the fortress, climbed a high mountain and began to look around. She saw a black spot on a coastal stone far below. Adiyukh ran along the bank of the stormy river. The further the river ran, the quieter it became, and the further Adiyukh ran, the louder her heart beat. Adiyukh ran to the stone and saw the corpse of Psabyda on it. What was Adiyukh to do? What the Nart custom dictates: bury your husband, erect a mound on his grave and cry on the mound.
And Adiyukh buried her husband, erected a mound on his grave and mourned Psabyda, sitting on the mound.
One day a horseman rode up to the mound. His face was dark, and his helmet shone like the sun. Noticing a crying woman, he dismounted and ran up to the mound.
- Gorgeous! - asked the traveler. -What grief oppresses you?
“You can’t dispel my grief,” answered Adiyukh. “Don’t interrupt your journey because of me.”
“The Narts say: “A woman’s grief will be dispelled by a man,” the rider objected. “And the Narts also say: “If a man helps a woman in her grief, then his path will be happy.” I’ll be back soon. Think before I return: how can I help you?
Having said this, the rider ran away from the mound, ran up onto his horse and rushed to the upper reaches of the river: apparently, he decided to cross the stormy Indzhizh. Adiyukh watched him. Without bothering to search for the ford, he rushed into the river.
“The fate of my husband awaits him, he will drown!” - thought Adiyukh, but suddenly she saw that the rider had safely crossed to the other side. Adiyukh was surprised and thought:
“My husband said that there was no sledge like him in the world, but he crossed Indzhizh only on my canvas bridge. Only once in my life did I not bridge the river, and here I am sitting on the mound and mourning my husband.”
Adiyukh could not take her eyes off the rider, whose helmet shone like the sun.
“I swear by the mistress of the seas and rivers, I will test the courage of this horseman!”
Having decided so, Adiyukh exclaimed:
- Severe Psychoguasha, mistress of the seas and rivers, you, whose wish always comes true! I beg you: turn a clear day into a dark night, raise a hurricane so that Indzhij floods the earth, so that the sky is torn apart by thunder and lightning!
The stern mistress of the seas and rivers condescended to the prayer of Adiyukh. A clear day turned into a dark night. Indzhij got angry and flooded the banks, the sky was torn apart by thunder and lightning, it seemed like the world was collapsing, everything in it shook and fell. Amidst the thunder and storm, the clatter of a horse was heard: then the rider returned.
- Why did you come back? - Adiyukh asked him.
“How could I ride further, leaving you on such a stormy night?” It doesn’t suit me to leave a lonely woman crying on a steppe mound to the mercy of fate.
“Weren’t you afraid to cross the Indzhizh?” Look how angry she was, how she spilled!
“It was not I who crossed the stormy Indzhizh, but my horse.” Where my horse is not afraid, I have nothing to fear.
Adiyukh liked this answer. And since the thunder continued to rumble, the hurricane roared, and heavy rain fell, the rider sat down next to Adiyukh, covering her with his cloak. And as soon as Adiyukh was under the burka of the sledge, the night turned into a sunny day, Indzhizh entered its shores, the sky became blue, the earth blossomed. One burial mound was black, not a single blade of grass grew on it.
“Look,” said Adiyukh. “The earth has blossomed all around, rejoicing in life, and only on the mound there is not a single blade of grass, although the whole world is shining in flowers. Why did this happen?
“The one who lies under this mound apparently loved only himself, he did not love the life blooming around him, which is why not a single blade of grass grew on his mound.”
Having said this, the Nart looked Adiyukh in the eyes. Adiyukh took them away from him and said quietly:
“The one who lies under this mound loved me.” And I loved him: he was my husband.
The rider said:
“You loved him, but he didn’t love you.” If he loved you, this mound would be covered with flowers.
Adiyukh's heart caught fire. The Nart’s heart also caught fire. Such a flame engulfed him that Adiyukh exclaimed:
“You burn like Sosruko, created from steel and born from stone.”
“I’m Sosruko,” the Nart answered and again looked into Adiyukh’s eyes, and she lowered them...
They sat side by side for a long time, Light-armed and Strong-armed, and then Adiyukh came out from under her cloak and began raking the mound, saying:
“I don’t want my hands to erect a mound over the grave of an evil man who did not love me, who loved only himself.”
But Sosruko told her:
“You worked in vain when you erected this mound, and you work in vain now when you rake it.” Let this mound remain on earth, let those who do not love life, but love only themselves, be ashamed, looking at it.
And to this day this mound stands in the steppe, half-scattered and bare, not a single blade of grass on it, and all around the earth shines with flowers.
Translated from Russian · original on wisdomlib.ru