Dew spray tickled his face. Dangling occasion. On the damp ground of the pre-dawn forest he gave a dull voice — a tight slap of horse hooves. The smell arose from the earth, it tickled the nostrils, made its way deeper into the larynx, the lungs and lungs were filled with this smell of rotten earth, black foliage packed together, muddy mushroom caps. At the top, the wind sometimes ran to the tops of large oaks, tightly closing the upper tier of the old forest, but at the bottom it was quiet, just a slap, a slap, a hoof slap on the wet ground.

Fatigue from a sleepless night and a long transition flowed through his overweight, relaxed body, she weighed down her eyelids, ran down in trickles, accumulated in the lumbar region, splashing in narrow sockets of leather boots. My head was thoughtless fatigue, only the sound of hooves sullenly squeezed through the head bones, sounded distant and lonely ...

The squad stretched out behind him is not a long chain. Everyone was silent, as everything in nature is silent at this hour between the night and the sun, when everything sleeps and everything must sleep, only a person in eternal vanity and chasing ghosts sometimes breaks this hour of peace, but he also feels wrong in the depths numb and numb in this hour of silence and immutable peace ...

A squad was moving through the forest. The sound quickly subsided behind him, but the swaying of the branches still rang in their wake for a long time, splashing in all directions the fine dust of dew.

A priest drove up to him.

- More soon? - without turning and without disturbing his relaxed posture, he threw.

- Must be close.

- And rightly you say that you are pagan in Dubrishchi?

- Believe, prince, to a word. There the old witch Yarila is embarrassed by the people, they offer sacrifices to the filthy Perun-idol and praise Khors, they undermine the faith and sow distrust of the princes of power and the princes as apostates from the old faith.

“If this is the truth, it’s bad to be, the prince will be able to severely punish the opponents of the faith of Christ,” he answered, and again plunged into slumber. Approaching them, the senior tyun Dryga gave his vote.

- They say that Yarila’s daughter is the first beauty to all the land of the flaxeners.

No one answered, the voice sounded and calmed down.

Suddenly the forest parted.

The rising sun shone in a narrow strip of molten metal. The sun and all the air, transparently saturated with it, blinded the eyes of the horsemen after the half-light of the deep forest. Gradually, when the eyes of people adapted to the new light, their vision appeared a picture of a narrow river, gently winding among the soft green meadows, and far away a large crowd of people — men, women, children in colorful dresses and white shirts — were visible near the sprawling oak. They slowly, rhythmically moved around the decorated tree, and their solemn song with a wide fan diverged in height, only reaching to their ears. It was an old pagan hymn to the Sun.

Veliy Khorsa

Veliy Khorsa

Give us love

Give us cattle

Give you stomachs

The old words heard from childhood, the old melody of grandfathers and ancestors familiar from childhood could not help responding in the hearts of all these people, even if they accepted the new faith brought from the luxurious shores of the Bosporus, even if they drowned the sacred grandfather of Perun in the waters of the Dnieper , but you will not redo yourself at once, at once you will reject your memory ... She woke up memories of childhood and warmth, the soft hands of the mother, the shaky talk of a shaggy-bearded grandfather telling fairy tales and old legends about Ryurik, Svyatoslav and the campaigns against Constantinople, funny songs and hv Aly Bojana. The new faith was cold and harsh, she left the expanses of fields, from the gloomy comfort of the forests, locked herself in stone cells of blindingly white lifeless churches, where the slanted faces of the vengeful patriarchs looked at the person with anger and reproach, and the baby in her arms never smiled ...

He looked back at the companions, looked around their faces, covered with a veil of memories, under his gaze they shriveled as if caught in something unforgivable and let his horse forward.

The squad with screams and cries overtook him, scattered across the field, surrounding the pagans, who, at the sight of them, rushed to the forest, but seeing that the path was cut off, they crowded around a tall old man in white and with a long white flying beard.

- In their water, drive them into the water! - excitedly yelled the priest, glad that they had so successfully found the pagans.

- Horsemen and spears riders began to drive people into the water.

“Prince, here he is, Yarila, the main dancer,” shouted the priest, jumping to the prince.

- Grab and tie.

Some time - and the whole crowd was driven into the water. Frightened, they stood chest-deep in the water, crowded together, women raised children, they cried aloud from fright.

Several warriors, flashing axes and a white slice of wood chips, began to cut down the sacred oak, and the priest stood on the shore and, waving a cross, threw angry words.

Oh, Gentiles steeped in sin. For you, the death of the divine son Jesus Christ took, and you worship the oaks and chumps. May there be no other god for you but the triune one, in essence - God the Father, God the Son, God - the Holy Spirit ... Otherwise, his wrath will be upon you in heaven and the revenge of the princes of the world on this earth. Do not offer sacrifices to Perun, nor to Horsa, nor to the other Baals, only one tithe from your labors and works for the holy church. Let it be so from this and forever. Amen! - and sweepingly waved the dark crucifix twice in the air. And then a businesslike tone. - Come one by one to receive the baptism from the life-giving cross.

Vigilantes, drove into the water on horses, began to push people with spears, they approached the cross one by one, and the priest in front of the priest with the head dipped water into the warm milk to the loud cries and cackles of those standing on the bank, clearing them of the impure delusions of pagan faith.

The priest gave the pagans to kiss the cross, baptized them in the air, continuing to speak some formidable speeches about hell, eternal torment and severe prophets.

Yarila stood bound under a tree. He drove up to him.

- Post, old man, confusing old-fashioned debacles, averts them from the faith that we all ordered to believe in?

Yarila threw up his head. There was no fear in the eyes.

- Kramolu and confusion sow in the Russian land, the prince. With this faith, our grandfathers strengthened Russia, beat the Greeks, the Bulgars and the Pechenegs, and Russia stood stronger.

- That was all before. And the former faith was one stupidity and thoughtlessness, worshiped insensible idols. Today, a new faith in Jesus Christ, and as it is said, so smerds have to believe.

“The old gods will take revenge,” the old man hissed furiously, causing the prince to be completely uncomfortable, oh, they’ll bitterly take revenge for the insults and reproach of Perun of Kiev, they will spill many tears, bloody tears with red water, your God is not Russian with red water , his Greeks invented and they fool you.

“Put him to death, Prince,” the priest jumped, “such a blasphemy against the son of man is inexcusable.

Fear of this bound man himself suggested.

“For your resistance to death, I betray you bitter, old man, so that the lesson will remain for everyone.” Snap to the trees.

Three members of the warriors briskly climbed the birches standing next to them, bent down the peaks and quickly tied Yarila to their feet. Several people held back the trees so that they would not straighten. The cleared and baptized people in wet dirty clothes were crowded around by a pitiful crowd.

- So it will be with anyone who opposes the church and princes - preached the priest. - Carry away this penalty in your hearts and remember it.

Drowning out the words of the priest, Yarila shouted loudly.

- Be firm in the old faith, Russian people, it is true.

He wanted to order to shut the old man’s mouth, but then he changed his mind - let him scream, it's better to die with a cry ....