CZM Book Club: Stories About Nightingale the Robber

I'm your host, Margaret Kiljoy, and this week I'm going to read you more folk stories because I really like them, and because this week's folk stories come from a book called Beliny Book Hero Tales of Russia by Mary and Chilton Harrison from nineteen fifteen. And they're not really by Mary and their you know, interpretations of traditional stories. And why am I reading these stories? Well, they're about this hero named Ilia iliav. Murrum, but they're not really about

that to me. What they're about to me is Nightingale the robber who's night in Yale the Robber. Well, Nightingale the Robber is a robber who's a nightingale, and he lives in a nest in the forest and he robs people. But he doesn't rob people with swords or claws. He whistles them to death. His whistle is so frightening that

it kills people. And I came across him very recently because I was doing that thing that normal people do, where you go and you listen to Russian and Ukrainian songs about anarchists during the revolution, and I came across a song called Nightingale the Robber and I was like, who's that? And it was a song about Makno, the anarchist from Ukraine from nineteen whatever. I've done on a bunch of podcasts about him, and so is Robert on

Behind the Bastards. But they talked about him in this song, this kind of punk song from I think the early nineties, where they're like, you have to remember this is the land of Nightingale the Robber, And I was like, ooh, so he's a full hero that's like an antagonist in most versions of the story, in fact, all the versions of story that I can find, But like all good antagonists, he's a hero to some people. And I wanted to

know more, and I still don't know everything. I want to know everything, but I famously don't read Russian or Ukrainian, so I only know what I was able to find in translation. So I read a whole bunch of translations about Ilia Murrham and Nightingale the Robber, and then I've picked my favorite one, which is the one that I

already told you. It's from Blani book hero Tales of Russia by Mary and Chilton Harrison from nineteen fifteen, and I like it because it's like both a clearer translation and a slightly less literal than some of the other ones, but also it's a little bit more sympathetic till Nightingale, and it like kind of plays up some of the weird proletarian elements in that Ilia is a peasant hero, unlike some of the other heroes of the same kind of era of folk heroes from Russia. Ilia as a peasant.

And the other thing that I think is really funny is that people talk about like superheroes as if they're this new thing. Folklore is just superhero stories, not all of it. Some of it's really cool and like monsters and stuff, and I usually like the monsters more than I like the superheroes. But Ilia Muham is a superhero, and this one's a little bit less superhero than some of them, and so I like it a little bit more that's my introduction. What comes after the introduction is

the story. I'm actually gonna read you two stories. The first one is a little bit longer and has a Nightingale in it, and the other one I just thought was kind of cool, so I'm going to read it to you too, because why not. I can do whatever I want. Well, I guess that's clearly not true, but I can do a lot of things, including read you

to this story Ilia of Muham and Nightingale the Robber. Okay, so in most versions of this story it starts a little bit differently, and one of the things that it cuts out in this particular one that is an interesting detail that I'm just gonna interject here right at the beginning, is that in Ilia of Muham, the hero of this story was not able to walk until he was thirty, and then as soon as he was thirty or thirty three, depending on the story, he suddenly could walk and became

a mighty hero. The green oak bows not down to the earth. Leaves of paper do not grow. Elia had made up his mind to go to Kiev town to seek service with the gracious Prince Vladimir. But before setting out on that long journey. He wished to see his father again and ask for his blessing, so he rode back to Murham and to his old home. He found his old father there and greeted him, saying, come thou, my own dear father. I am here to ask for

thy blessing. I go to glorious royal Kiev town to pray at the sanctuary of Kiev and to pledge myself to Vladimir the Prince, to serve him in faith and in truth, and to uphold the Christian faith. The old farmer Ivan blessed Ilia and said, I give thee my blessing for the good work, but for evil work, no blessing. I give. Go thou on the right road, and do no harm to any woman, whether she be Christian or Tatar.

Other versions of this he only says, like, don't hurt any Christians, don't spell Christian blood, and I like that this version, uh doesn't do that, you know, because the whole history of this area is a history of conflict between like the Ottoman Empire and the Russian Empire. Ilia of Muham bowed to the earth before his father and said farewell to his mother and his sisters and brothers. And then he mounted his good horse and rode through

the open plain with his whip. He struck his horse on the curved hind quarter, and his restive steed was wroth, and suddenly sprang from the earth and bounded higher than an upright tree, almost as high as a moving cloud. At the first bound he passed twelve miles. At the

second bound, he came to a well. By the well, Ilia cut down a green oak tree, and beside the well he built a small chapel, And upon the chapel he wrote his name, Ilia of Muham, son of Ivan, so that if some strong and mighty hero should ride that way, he should know the name of the builder of that chapel. At the third bound, Ilia's horse brought him to the town of Cherney, near Chernigov. There stood a countless host of Tatars, and at their head were

three princes, each with the strength of forty thousand. On seeing his vast horde, the hero's heart grew hot within him, and he could not control his longing to fight. His heart was filled with fires, and it burned too, as if scorched by frost. Then he spoke and said, I desire not to go against my father's wish, or knowingly disregard his command. Then he took in his hand his battle sword and taught it to take a walk through

the army. Where he turned it opened out a street, and when he turned round there was a great open space. Ilia made his way to the three princes and spoke thus to them, Come, my three king's sons. Shall I take you away as prisoners? Or shall I cut off your warlike heads. If I take you away as prisoners, I must travel over roads that I know not, and must carry bread. But if I take off your heads,

the kingly race will be destroyed. If you will go home to your own country, you will spread such report of me that it will be known all over Russia, and you will tell it everywhere that in holy Russia there are strong and mighty heroes. The governor of Chernigov saw Ilia and said, the Lord has vanquished our tyrant and cleansed our glorious city of Chernigov. And he spoke to his princes and nobles and said, go ye, and call in this goodly hero to eat bread and salt

with me. And the princes and nobles came forth to greet Ilia. Of Murrham, and said, come now, thou stalwart and goodly hero, and tell us by what honored name thou art called, and what ist thou renowned father's name. They call me by the name of Ilia, and I am honored as the son of Ivan. Said Ilia, Come, Ilia of Murrham, said, the princes and the nobles come to our governor. He sends us to invite thee to

eat bread and salt with him. But Ilia wished to be on the way to Kiev, and answered, with little ceremony, I will not come to your governor. I wish not to eat bread and salt with him. Show me the straight road to the gloeous royal Kiev town. So they had to let him go on his way, and they showed him the straight road to Kiev across the open plain. Farther farther upon the open plain, waves of the feather grass and the breeze. There upon the open plain, among

old folks, mothers and men, rode the old cossack iliav. Murrham. And the horse he rode was like a fierce wild beast, and he himself like a bright falcon. Now the old hero carried no money, only seven thousand golden Dukatsi had with him, and of small money forty thousand pieces. And the horse the hero rode was priceless. Why was the hero's horse priceless? Because there was no price for the horse. When he came to a river, he looked for no ford. Now the river was a full mile wide, but the

good steed leaped from bank to bank. Then Ilia saw a village nearby, and the villagers, brigands, as we say in our Russian tongue, rode out after the hero. They swept round him and tried to rob him, tried to part him from his life and soul. Then said Ilia of Morm son of Ivan, Oh, come brother, villagers. No reason have ye to kill an old man like me, And ye shall take nothing from the old man. He took from his saddle his tough bow, and brought out

from his quiver a sharp arrow. He bent his bow and fitted the arrow to the silken string, and shot not at the village folk brigands, though they were, for he would have been loth to slay them. But he shot at the green oak tree, and the bowstring sang in the tough bow, and the villagers fell from their horses. The arrow struck the crackling green oak tree and shattered

the oak into chips and shavings. By this heroic deed of thunder, the brigand villagers were filled with fear, and for five hours they lay without sense, and Elia made sport of them. Come, come, good youths, you village brigands. Why do you lie half the night there upon the damp earth? Why go off to sleep and sleep half the night? On my way here I passed many people, both on horseback and on foot. You have let many

a good chance escape you. The goodly youth stood up upon their nimble feet and threw themselves at Elia's feet and said, O, thou, brave hero, come and join our band, and be thou our chieftain. The good hero iliav Morum answered them, I desire not to join your band. I am on my way to Kiev town to Vladimir the Prince, to help him and to fight and defend him. The bold hero rode on through the open plain till he

came to a pillar of white oak. On the pillar, this writing was written to ride straight on only five hundred miles, but by making a round seven hundred miles, Elia looked at this writing and said, if I ride straight, I shall cease to live. This way, I can neither ride, nor walk nor fly. Nightingale the Robber sits in his nest upon the seven oaks, and the robber dog will seize me at the seventh mile, much like you can be seized by these sweet, sweet products and or services.

And we're back. I hope you got advertised swords, big fan of swords. Ilias stood still to think what he should do. The straight horse road is broken up. The little bridge of white Hazel is broken down. It would be no honor to me or glory to my knighthood to ride by that roundabout way. It is better to ride by the straight road. At once, he got down from his good steed. With one hand he led his horse, while with the other he put planks across the stream

for a bridge that bridge of white Hazel. The straight road he mended, and he rode on till he came near the clump of seven oak trees upon which Nightingale the Robber had built his great nest. Nightingale the Robber was sitting upon his nest of twisted boughs, upon the seven oak trees, and Ilia rode up to the oak trees.

The robber dog tried to seize him, just as he had come to the seventh mile, and Nightingale the robber roared like a wild orox, and the villain whistled like a nightingale, and the robber dog howled like a dog. And at these sounds, Elia's good steed fell upon his knees with terror at the roar of the orox, and the whistle of the nightingale, and the dog like howling of the robber dog. Elia struck his horse between the ears, and also struck him upon the flank, saying, O thou

food for wolves, thou grasp bag. Hast thou never heard the roar of an orox. Hast thou never heard the whistle of a nightingale and the howling of a robber dog. The hero did not sit still, but quickly bent his strong bow, took a sharp arrow from his quiver, and shot the arrow at Nightingale the robber, as he sat there in his nest and on the seven oak trees.

The arrow hit Nightingale, the robber and the right eye, and came out at the left ear, and Nightingale the robber fell from his nest down upon the damp earth. Then Elia took Nightingale the Robber and tied him to his Circassian stirrup, and made him walk besides the horse towards Kiev town. Presently they came to the house of Nightingale the Robber. It was a big house in a large yard, and round the yard was a high iron fence with spikes on the railings, and upon every spike

was set the head of a hero. For Nightingale the Robber killed all that passed that way. Nightingale's children caught sight of their father and called out, look, father is bringing a man. And Nightingale's young wife looked from the window and said, a strange man is carrying off your dear father. And she called to some men who were idling about the yard, and said, will you not take him from this wanderer on the road. Is your dear father nothing to you? Has he fallen into the power

of this horseman. It would be better to take a cupful of red gold, and another of pure silver, and a third cup of round pearls. Go now and offer them as a ransom. Speak to this horseman and persuade him, coax him and talk him over so that he may release Nightingale. And they rushed into the house, and Nightingale's wife took the keys and went down to the deep vaults where all Nightingale's treasure was stored. And they filled up a cup of red gold, and another with pure silver,

and a third with round pearls. And they went out to Elia with flattering words and tried to coax him and talk him over, saying, oh, thou bold hero, good youth, give us back our dear father, and we will give thee gold and silver. Elia received these messengers and talk to them thus, look here, brothers, you who work for gain, I will not give you your dear father. He would only turn brigand again and rob the travelers passing this way.

And Ilia rode on to Kiev town with Nightingale, the robber by his side, still tied to the stirrup so that he could not run away. Ilia hurried on, for he would not feign to be at Kiev in time for the service on the Easter morning, but he could not get there in time. When he reached Kiev, he rode into the wide courtyard of the Prince's palace. He tied up his good horse to the gold ring on a Garvin pillar, but did not take off either the saddle or the bridle, and he left Nightingale the robber

still tied to the stirrup. Then Ilia walked quickly through the new entrance, through the guardroom and into the hall. There he crossed himself like a good Russian and made his bow. As he came into the hall, the steward of Vladimir the Prince, he greeted and asked him where is the Prince Vladimir of Royal Kiev. Prince Vladimir has gone to mass, was the answer. Ilia sat down on the plain wooden bench to wait. In a short time, Prince Vladimir came in with his nobles and attendants from

the Easter service. Then they all gave greetings to one another, and each hero greeted the other. And Vladimir spoke to Elia and said, all to thee brave youth, I know not thy name or thy father's name. Art thou Azar, or a czar's son? Art thou a king or a king's son. Elia answered and said, I am from the town of Murham. I am the old Cossack Ilia of Murham. And they all sat down at the table to eat bread, and they carved and ate white swans. And Ilia began to talk and boast of what he had done. I

am a brave hero. I have been riding through the eve of Easter day. I would fain have been here in time for Easter mass, but I could not get here in time for Easter morning, for the hour was past. I rode here by the straight road, and when I reached the green oaks, Nightingale the robber was sitting upon the seven oaks that ill doer used to seize upon

every one for seven miles round. When I came near the oaks, Nightingale roared like a wild Orix, and the villain whistled like a nightingale, and the robber dog howled like a dog. Then my good horse fell upon his knees with fear. But I took got my tough bow, set the sharp arrow, and shot Nightingale the robber. I shot the villain through the right eye, and the arrow

came out by his left ear. Then Nightingale fell upon the damp earth, and I took the robber and fastened him to my circassian stirrup, and brought the villain with me Vladimir the Prince looked at Elia and said, it seems to me, my bold youth, that there must be a big tavern in this country. Hast thou been drinking strong drink? Art thou not making empty boasts? Good hero? Elia's wrath grew hot within him, and angrily he said, thou it is who art the fool, O Prince of

Royal Kiev. I have Nightingale the robber here tied to my circassian stirrup. Then all sprang up and rushed out, hurried and stumbled against each other. As they ran out to see Nightingale the robber, they all spoke and shouted together and called out to him, Oh thou nightingale the robber roarer, O nightingale like an oorux, Thou evildoer, whistle like nightingale, Oh thou robber, dog, howl like a dog.

Nightingale the robber looked up and said, with you, I neither eat nor drink, and I will not obey you. At once, the crowd of courtiers turned back to the hall and came to Ilia of Morum, bowed low to him and craved their boon, Oh Ilia of morm, We beg thee to make Nightingale the robber roar like an orox, Make the villain whistle like a nightingale, Make the robber

dog howl like a dog. And Ilia spoke to the Prince and said, oh, Vladimir, Prince of Royal Kiev, Nightingale's lips are now sealed together in his mouth as filled with dried blood. For my arrow went through his right eye, and it came out by the left ear. Pray, let a bowl of strong drink be poured out for him a bullwain half a hundredweight, a bull holding four gallons,

and let it be given to Nightingale. And they poured him out a bowl of strong drink, a bull waine half a hundredweight, a bull holding four gallons, and they took it to Nightingale the robber. He took the ball in one hand, drank off the bowl of strong drink at one draft, and spoke these words. Pour out another bowl of strong beer, a bull wane half a hundredweight, to bull holding four gallons, and pour out a third bowl of sweet mead, a bull weyne half a hundredweight,

to bull holding four gallons. And they poured out a bullful of strong beer, and they poured out a bullful of sweet mead and brought both to Nightingale the robber. He took the ball with one hand and drank off the bullful at one draft. And then Nightingale the robber was drunken, and Ilia of Murrham said to him, Now, Nightingale, roar thou robber like an orox, whistle O villain like a nightingale, and howl O dog like a dog. A nightingale.

The robber roared like an orox. The villain whistled like that nightingale, and the robber dog howled like a dog. Princes and nobles all lay for day, but Vladimir, the Prince of Royal Kiev, stood up straight and went to the Ilia. For the prince had a boon to ask silence Nightingale. The robber, let's he whistle again like a nightingale? And my nobles leave me here alone. But you know what won't leave you alone. It's advertising. It's everywhere. It

might even roar like an orox. These ads might whistle like a nightingale, and they might howl like a dog. And we're back. So that's the end of the first story. In most of the versions, of that story, Vladimir then cuts off the Nightingale's head. I don't like that version as much. I really like the Nightingale. He's the cool robber guy who whistles in three voices at once and is like half a bird. And you know, it's like I found more descriptions of him him online than I

found like actual stories describing him. These ways that he lives in a nest, but he also has a house with people. We've got that much. And he's like kind of half bird. He can fly, but he also has hands, you know, because he can drink from these bulls. He's just cool. I get why people are into him. He killed all the princes and shit, just by fucking howling and whistling. It might we all have such strength. But let me read you one more story. It's another story

of Ilia the Three Ways. One day, Ilia set off on his good horse for a ride. He rode a long way through the open plane till he came to the burning stone. Three lengths beyond the stone, there were three paths leading this way and that from the burning stone. And upon the stone was written, who goes by the first path will be killed. Who goes by the second path will find marriage. Who goes by the third path will become rich. He stopped to consider, by which path

shall I go? Why should a bold hero want to be rich? Why should I want to marry? I will take the way to be killed. So he took that way and rode on for three hours, and he rode three hundred miles, and he came to a hill. And at that hill, that high hill, brigands began to come up. And there came up forty thousand brigands. They began to defy our bold hero. And the brave Cossacks spoke and hailed them, Come you, forty thousand robbers, What will you take from me? The bold hero? I have not many

chests of uncounted gold. I have no beautiful young wives, I have no fine clothes. I have nothing but a good horse, a good horse which costs three hundred on the horse, or trappings worth five hundred on myself, a hero's gear worth a cool thousand. When he drew his iron mace of three tons weight, he began to defy the robber, and he killed the forty thousand robbers. Then the bold Hero turned back, and when he reached the burning stone, he altered the riding. Thus, if thou goest

by this road, thou wilt not be killed. And he said, I shall go by the road to marriage. So Elia took the second path and rode on for just three hundred miles. He rode on always through the plain, that open plain, through the open plain, the green meadow, through those open plains, and through green meadows, till he came to a wonderful and a strange thing. If we called it a town, it would be too small. If we called it a village, it would seem too large. But

there stood a palace built of white stone. When Ilia reached the broad palace yard, there came the most beautiful young princess from the palace of white stone. She came to meet the brave hero, and took him by his white hands, kissed him with her sweet lips, led him into the white stone palace, and made him sit down

at the oaken table, where a feast was spread. Elia ate and drank in plenty, and stuffed himself the whole day long until evening, when he rose up from the oaken table and spoke to the princess and said, O, thou enchanting and beautiful lady, Where are thy warm sleeping chambers? Where are the beds of carved woods? Where are the soft feather beds? I am an old man and weary, and I would feign sleep. And the princess led him

to a warm chamber. But the old man stood by the bed and shook his head and said, much have I traveled through Holy Russia, But so strange a thing I have never seen. It seems to me that bed is a trap. Suddenly he seized the princess by her white hands and threw her against the brick wall against which the beds stood. The bed of carved wood turned over, and the princess fell down into a deep dungeon below. The old Cossack walked out of the palace, and outside

he found the door of the deep dungeon. Then he took the golden keys, went on and unlocked that deep dungeon, and set free many goodly youths in brave, and many strong and mighty heroes. But the beautiful and wicked enchantress was killed. And all the rich treasure which Elia found there in that white stone palace he bestowed on the good youths and brave, and on the strong and mighty heroes with that white stone palace he gave to the flames.

And then our bold hero rode back again, And when he came to the burning stone, he again altered the graven letters and wrote, by that way I went, I was not married. I go, said he by the third path, where one will become rich. And he rode on for three hours, three hundred miles he rode. And again he rode through the plain and open plain, the meadow, the green meadow, to a place where there was sunk deep pits in the ground, all piled up with red gold,

pure silver, and fine round pearls. Elia looked at the gold and said, what has a bold hero to do with these riches? With this treasure of so much uncounted gold. He began to consider. Then he took enough treasure in this open plane to build an abbey for prayers to God. He built a church, a minister church, ordered the singing of psalms and the ringing of bells. And then Ilia said, let him whose treasure it was, go and look for it. And then the bold hero turned back again again. He

rode to that burning stone again. He wrote beneath that inscription, though I rode by that path and became not rich and that's the end. And Okay. One of the reasons I like a lot of these fables, they don't really map to easy things, you know. I mean, obviously it's like, oh, okay, like be humble, build churches for God, like you know, women are traps. Whatever. It's like, you know, there's like

sketchy things and good things and interesting things. I sure like that he like set the palace ablaze and you know, set it to flame or whatever was the line. But that white Stone Palace he gave to the flames. Like there's some like Russian Revolution stuff happening there, right. But I don't know, I don't feel like it's like they're like we're thinking about I get why people like Naegel, the Robber and UH heroes are interesting. I get why

people like superheroes. It's pretty boring when someone can just pull out their three ton mace and kill forty thousand brigands. But it makes for anti climatic stories by my standards. But who am I to say? You should say for yourself and join us next week on Cool Zone Media Book Club. When I read you some more stories of old or new who's to know? Even I don't know yet. Bye.