In those days when there were no railways, no iron birds and other miracles, and there were more uncultivated steppes than gardens and fields, there were so many robbers that neither the gendarmes nor the pandours (guards) could cope with them. And who could deal with them? These were all desperate guys, poor people who were tired of toiling in dire need, so they broke loose from the chain like hungry dogs. They robbed the castles of counts and barons, took away cattle and horses and gave them to the poor. The people protected and sheltered the robbers, because they shared everything with the poor.
The noble and important gentlemen in Pest have completely lost sleep! They have nothing to do, they will always come up with some dirty tricks in their spare time. And then one day Count Radaia announced to the king that he was ready to exterminate the robbers if he was allowed to act as he wanted. The king agreed.
And then things began to go crazy. For Count Radai, the law is not written; what he invents is the law - human and divine. The count sits in Segedin and drinks cold wine, and his pandurs perform miracles everywhere.
They say that the count on Tisza had such a machine that it could grind a living person like sausage, and his ground meat was thrown to the fish.
Rarely did anyone manage to get out of his clutches alive, and if someone escapes, no matter how much you ask, beg, or beg him to tell him what was there, he will take a mouthful of water and only answer:
- Go to Radaya yourself - you’ll find out!
Everyone knew that if any pandur Radai fell into the hands of robbers, then there would not be a living place left on him where he could scratch himself: if he was released alive, then the skin was torn off from the white body.
The old people say that in those days there was a famous robber, a daredevil, and such a handsome man, the kind that are born once every hundred years. His blood was hot, and in battles with guards he wielded not a pistol, but a saber and a club. He chops down Radai’s guards, and even says:
“That’s how King Marko taught us to fight!”
Everything was going well, but where he wouldn’t take damask steel, he would buy gold. Radaya found a corrupt soul. The poor robber was given away. The sleeper's pandurs grabbed him, before he even had time to swing his saber, they cuffed his hands. The Pandurs put him like a sack on a horse and brought him to Count Radae.
It was as if a stone had been lifted from Count Radai's soul. Finally caught my worst enemy. His eyes sparkled with hatred.
“I’ll cut off your head, and with your own saber!”
The count threatens, and the robber bursts into laughter, so that the chains on his hands ring.
Radaia became furious and shouted:
-And you can still laugh?
- Why not? - the robber answered instructively, as if there was a foolish child in front of him. - Oh, Radaya! I am handsome, and even then I did not allow your executioners to look at me - I immediately blew their heads off their shoulders, and you allow me to look at your dirty face.
“You won’t look for long, the pandurs are already carrying the chopping block for you.”
Radaya threatens, and the robber bursts into laughter again and says:
“Well, you know, I’m destined to die if I’ve already fallen into your network.”
But I will say goodbye to you in my own way, even though my hands are tied.
And before Radai had time to blink, the robber spat in the beard of the count, for whom the law was not written! And even before the pandurs!
Radaia turned purple with anger, and even more with shame, and also spat in the robber’s face.
- Now we're even! Know that not even a minute will pass before your head falls off your shoulders.
Radaya was shaking with rage, and the robber almost burst with laughter.
- Tell me before you die, why are you laughing again? - asks Radaya, almost crying with frustration.
- How can I help but laugh, if you are so stupid and think that you have taken revenge on me for your beard! Eh, Radaya, I’m about to throw the spit on my head off my shoulders, and you, to your shame, will walk around with a spit on face until your death.
Translated from Russian · original on wisdomlib.ru