Caucasian Legends

I. The Rain

A Legend of the 11th Century

At the time of Tsar George I (the rulers of Georgia were called Tsars = kings), in the 11th century, there lived the famous general, Kaiours, belonging to the glorious Orbeliani family. It is known that these princes trace their ancestry from an emperor of China and more than once intermarried with our rulers, in consequence of which their position at the court of Georgia was an exceptionally pleasant one. It is necessary to add to this that the submission and zeal of the princes Orbeliani fully repaid this distinction. They occupied from generation to generation the post of Sparapet, that is, of general in chief of all the Georgian forces, and astonished the world with their bravery. When George went to war with the Greeks, Kaiours was taken prisoner, and as this took place during the battle of Shirimna, where a great many Georgian leaders, among them the generals Ratt and Zovatt, brothers of Kaiours, were lost, the Tsar for a long time thought that Kaiours had died together with them. It was only when the negotiations for peace began, that Emperor Vassilii the Second proposed to the Tsar to exchange Kaiours for fourteen fortresses, viz., for one in Tao, one in Baisiana, one in Artana, one in Kola, one in Djavaheta, in Shavhetta, and so on; and besides he demanded as hostage George’s three-year-old son, the Tsarevitch-successor Bagrat.

“I am so much indebted to the princely family of the Orbelianis that I would consent to give half my kingdom for them,” answered the Tsar.

At the end of the negotiations it was decided that the Tsarevitch-successor should remain as hostage at Constantinople until the Greeks had succeeded in introducing their administration in the above mentioned fortresses and in no case longer than three years. There were those who criticised the Tsar for giving away fourteen of the best fortresses in exchange for one man, but the people almost killed them. The general confidence in the warlike capacities of the princes Orbeliani was so boundless that many openly said: “Let only Kaiours come back and by him we shall not only regain possession of all our fortresses, but with the help of God we shall obtain the foreign ones!” There was no end to joy when he returned home. More than all rejoiced his twelve-year-old daughter Tamara. The captivity of the father was a great grief to her, as in his absence her mother and brother died. Seeing Tamara riding forth by herself to meet him, accompanied by an old gamdela (nurse) and several bitchos (young boys, servants), the hero Kaiours, the very glance of whom turned whole regiments to flight, cried like a child. Father and daughter tenderly embraced and for a long time could not speak.

The cries of joy among the people ceased, all remembered the good princess and the pretty boy, who had accompanied her everywhere, and sadness darkened the general joyousness. Kaiours was the first one to recover. He addressed those who had come to meet him and invited them to his house, to feast with him. “Tamara tries by her courtesy to take the place of my princess,” he said, “the Lord is not without mercy; during my captivity he gave me a son in exchange for the one whom he took away. Plinii,” Kaiours says, turning to a handsome youth, standing behind him, “help thy sister and me to serve the guests.” All looks were now fixed on Plinii; tall, well-built, with fine, regular features, he bore an unmistakable stamp of aristocratic descent. Feeling himself the object of general interest, he blushed and drooped his eyes, like our bashful young ladies, and this modesty at once disposed everybody in his favor.

The old nobleman Alexander, whom for his bravery and warlike successes they all called “the Macedonian,” sat down by Kaiours and began to speak thus: “Friend, thou hast rightly said that the Lord compensated thee for the loss of thy son by a fine youth, whose attachment and filial respect to you we all see and which dispose us in his favor, but we should also like to know who he is and why thou didst adopt him?” “During my captivity,” answered Kaiours, “the Lord sent me a friend. He was a well-known dignitary, a favorite of the Emperor and did not need the friendship of the prisoner, nevertheless not a day went by that he did not visit me. We related to each other our war reminiscences and soon began to love each other like brothers. When I received news of the death of my wife and son, his friendly sympathy was my sole consolation. He told me about his life and thus I found out that he had lost his loving companion on the day of Plinii’s birth. The boy is now eighteen years old and healthy, but not strong, and must be carefully looked after. Before my departure my friend fell ill and called me to him. ‘I am dying,’ he said, ‘and thank God that this happens before thy departure, because I am going to hand over to your care my greatest treasure. Adopt Plinii instead of that son whom God took away from thee. The doctors think that his health needs a much warmer climate than ours.’ I swore to love and treat him like my son and hope that the Lord will help me to fulfill my vow!” continued Kaiours.

“Thou didst satisfy my curiosity on one point,” said Alexander—“now I want to find out something else, but for this we must repair to some other place. My heart also grieves about the son, who by the will of the monarch is among the young men accompanying the Tsarevitch-heir to Greece. Although our separation will not exceed three years, yet it does seem an eternity to me.” At these words the old men retired, and when they returned they were carrying bowls of horn, filled with wine. With a gay countenance they addressed the feasting crowd. “Friends,” said Alexander, “congratulate me and help me to thank Kaiours, who gives me the very best he possesses: I asked the gift of the hand of his daughter for my boy.” Numberless people offered their congratulations and the feasting continued far into the night. Kaiours and Alexander saw each other often, the latter always hastened to communicate any news about the son. In the meantime it was discovered that the young men who accompanied Bagrat were learning all European languages and sciences.

Kaiours thought thus: “I gave my daughter an entirely Georgian education, she knows neither European languages nor those arts by which the women over there so attract young men; would she not appear strange to your son?”

Quite unexpectedly was heard Plinii’s sweet voice. “Allow me to say a word.” The old men stared at him; he stood before them all red with emotion. “Speak!” was their unanimous answer.

“My late father did not mind spending any sum for my instruction, they taught me everything that is to be learned in our country. I easily learned the sciences, and if you permit me I shall be only too glad to educate my sister, who herself has a great passion for learning.”

Permission was given, and from then on the young people were inseparable. Under Plinii’s direction Tamara soon acquired great perfection in Greek. They studied together the poets, committing the finest parts to memory. Tamara’s wonderful voice grew still grander when she learned from Plinii how to accustom it to the rules of music. A harp was obtained, and for whole hours at a time they rejoiced in song. To the young people days, weeks, and months went by with extraordinary rapidity, they were perfectly happy and for a long time could not imagine how they had become so dear to each other. Being confident in Kaiours’s affection, they fearlessly announced to him their discovery. But as Kaiours had once given his word to Alexander, he did not consider it right to break it. The lessons were stopped and Plinii forbidden to visit Tamara except in the presence of her father.

The young people’s happiness suddenly turned to deep grief, which Kaiours, who loved them sincerely, secretly shared. After a few days of such torture, Plinii could not restrain his feelings and found occasion to have a secret interview with Tamara. With tears in his eyes he implored her to run away with him to Greece and there be married, but neither prayers nor tears could persuade her to become disobedient to her father.

“As thy wife should be so superior to all others as thou art the most beautiful man in the world,” said Tamara, “how canst thou wish to marry a runaway girl? No, Plinii, let us wait! God is omnipotent! He knows, sees and esteems everything in due measure. He knows very well whether we find it easy not to be able to see each other, and I am sure that if we do nothing to provoke him, he himself will find means to stop our separation; only this I pray thee, do not forget me and don’t try to find an occasion to see me secretly.”

Morning and evening, day and night, Tamara prayed to God to make an end to their separation, and the Lord answered her prayer. Once upon a time, accompanied by an old nurse and a bitcho (young boy servant), she started on a pilgrimage to some distant monastery where there lived an old man of ascetic life. To him Tamara revealed her grief and the old man led her into his garden. There in the presence of all he began to pray for her, and suddenly a terrible cloud appeared, lightning was seen and fearful strokes of thunder were heard. Those who were present fell to the ground from fright. At last the storm was over.

“Arise!” said the prior, “the Lord has heard us sinners and comforted Tamara!”

“But where is she?” they asked.

“There,” answered the old man, pointing to a magnificent fragrant lily, which had suddenly appeared in the midst of his garden. “The Lord turned her into a flower,” he continued.

The people would not believe it. The nurse spread a rumor that the crafty abbot had hidden Tamara. Forgetting godly fear and fearing Kaiours’s wrath, she insulted and cursed him. The boy servants, among whom there were many Mahometans, searched the whole monastery, all the surrounding woods and bushes, and not finding Tamara anywhere, they killed the holy old man and burned down the monastery. The ancient building stood in flames, also the stone enclosure, many a hundred year old tree, the huge library, in fact all the scanty good of the images. Alone the church and the lily into which Tamara had been transformed were spared.

Upon hearing of what had occurred, Kaiours and Plinii hastened to the spot. In the church there was nobody, everything else represented a field of coal and ashes. Tamara was nowhere to be found. Only in the midst of all these ashes there grew a splendid, fresh, fragrant white lily.

Plinii was the first to approach her and began to cry. Kaiours followed him and was very much startled. He noticed that when Plinii’s tears fell on the coal surrounding the lily, her tender leaves grew quite yellow from jealousy; on the other hand when they dripped into the lily she grew red from joy.

“Tamara, is it thou we see?” asked the father.

Just at that moment there came up a little breeze and Kaiours and Plinii heard distinctly as though the leaves spoke:

“It is I, father!”

The inconsolable father could not stand the loss of his daughter and immediately died from grief, but poor Plinii cried so much and so long and so fervently prayed to God that he might be united with Tamara, that in the end the Lord transformed him to rain. I have heard that in bygone times whenever a dryness set in the inhabitants of the surrounding villages hastened to the abandoned church, around which lilies always grew in abundance, and picked whole baskets of them. They scattered the fragrant harvest in the fields and gardens and the young maidens sang Tamara’s song. The lovely melodious composition was as fragrant and clean as the dear flower which they glorified. This song, indeed, is Tamara’s very prayer, showing all her childish faith in God’s almightiness. It ends with an invocation of Plinii, who, they say, always appears in the form of a warm, beneficial rain. I heard even that these lilies preserved a rare capacity, viz., sometimes to grow red, sometimes yellow, and our maidens thus concluded that these flowers could tell one’s fortune. Each maiden notices one flower and after the rain goes to look for it. Is the lily yellow, the young girl entertains great fears as to the fidelity of her lover; is it red, she never doubts his attachment to her. Whether this quaint custom still prevails I don’t know. I am always sorry when some such tradition becomes forgotten! In our ancient legends there was so much of the truthful, honorable and elevated that these circumstances alone rendered them most instructive.

II. Bakarr the First, Tsar of Georgia

A Story

Bakarr the First ascended the throne after the death of his well-beloved and much-esteemed father, Mirian the Converter. Remembering the counsels of his dear, dear father, he turned all his glorious efforts towards converting and instructing those mountain inhabitants who had not submitted themselves to the peremptory orders of Mirian and had thus not appeared to be baptized with the rest of the grand old nation. Highly honorable in every way, simple in his manners, the ever-patient Bakarr finally succeeded in obtaining the long desired baptism of the wild unbelievers, without applying any forcible and dangerous measures. Having heard of his peacefulness of character, the Armenian Tsar thought it opportune to take the throne away from him and hand it over to Irdat, the son of the deceased Tsarevitch Revv and the Armenian Tsarevna Salomee. But Bakarr united all the qualities of a brave and excellent general with the greatest virtues of an earnest, peaceful Tsar. He therefore arranged an alliance with his dear nephew, the Persian King Kossrovve the Second, and jointly with him, in a fearful and hard-fought battle in the province of Djavakheta, completely defeated and destroyed the wretched Armenian army and turned it to disgraceful flight. The amply terrified Tsarevna Salomee begged the Emperor of Greece to be kind enough to explain to Bakarr that the Armenian Tsar had not acted upon her advice or desire.

Willing to let each one of his loving subjects approach and debate with him, Bakarr on the other hand did not consider it in accordance with his sublime merit to have the neighboring sovereigns mix in and begin to reason about his own family affairs, and therefore he briefly replied to the great Greek Emperor thus: “Until in the family of the Georgian Tsar Bakarr the First there proveth to be one who is unable and too weak to properly reign, the throne will belong to it, and the children of Revv ought not to bring forth the slightest pretensions.” To his ally, however, to Kossrovve the Second, he announced that the attack of the Armenian Tsar forced him to seriously look after the safety and education of the children of his brother and sister, whom Mirian willingly permitted to be married to Pkerose. Actually at the end of the war, the first active deed of Bakarr was the exact arrangement about the domains of Pkerose.

Instead of Rana from Bardave on, given to Pkerose by Mirian, he begged Bakarr to give him Sammshvillde, to which the Tsar fully consented, constructing a direct line as far as the entrance of the Christavstvo (province) of Abbots. Deeply moved by the great-heartedness of the Tsar, Pkerose accepted Christianity and was baptized with his whole nation, but Bakarr occupied himself with thoroughly settling the widow and children of his brother Revv.

He led them to Kouketka, and having made his way into Roustava, he handed over this country to the administration of his nephews Irdat and Bakourious with the title of kristaves, and under them their mother Salomee quietly lived in their company. This sovereign sacrificed his whole life to the betterment and thorough reforming of his great monarchy and distinguished himself by passionate uprightness. He considerably increased the churches and the church servants. By him was also founded the perfectly magnificent cathedral of Tsillkanny.

He died in the year three hundred and sixty-four and was buried by the side of his father Mirian. Before dying he also, just like Mirian, hung his royal crown on the marvellous cross of Saint Nina, touched his son and successor Mirdat the Second with it, and afterwards placed the crown on the head of his son and openly proclaimed him his rightful heir. This solemn custom was strictly observed by all Georgian Tsars. Although Bakarr made absolutely no new acquisitions, yet his short but most wise administration had firmly united together all decaying, poorer, and mutually inimical parts of his government, and finally confirmed the actual preponderance of Christianity over all other religions, and therefore his reign was considered one of the very best and most blissful.

III. The Incombustible Tulip

In the second century B. C., Armenia was governed by Valarsass, the brother of the Persian Shah Arsass the Great. At that period the countries to the north of the Arabs were called Chaldea and Pontus. In the latter lived a young hero, Morphiliziy, who at the head of his followers could not only repel all attacks of Valarsass, but even in a decisive battle completely defeated him; thereupon he annexed also the Georgian frontier counties, among others Kaeounan, and was proclaimed Tsar (King) by his grateful subjects.

It happened that just then Kaeounan was governed by John, a native of the city of Damascus, whom they therefore called Damassk, i.e., the Damascian. He was a widower and possessed but one daughter, a perfect beauty, by the name of Nina. During the battle, Damassk, through his personal bravery, attracted Morphiliziy’s attention, who challenged him to a duel. For a long time the old warrior’s experience counterbalanced the hero’s strength of the Pontitian, but in the end his old strength began to give way, his movements slackened their usual rapidity and he could not escape from Morphiliziy’s horse, which transpierced him. Dripping with blood, he fell from the faithful steed. At that moment Morphiliziy jumped off his horse and tried to revive him with all his strength. The dying man opened his eyes.

“Ask whatever favor thou wishest, old hero!” the conqueror exclaimed. “In thee I found the first man whose military adroitness excelled mine!”

“Don’t abandon my daughter,” murmured John, and thereupon died.

Entering Kaeounan, Morphiliziy first of all rushed to John’s house and was astounded by Nina’s beauty. “She shall be my wife!” he loudly broke out, and immediately appointed a day for the wedding.

With fright the unhappy orphan heard of this decision. How could she, who so dearly loved her father, become the wife of his murderer.

“Not for anything in the world,” she repeated a thousand times in one hour, and upon pronouncing that sentence, her magnificent eyes, which were usually a very ocean of goodness and mildness, were filled with some terrible fire.

We must notice that in those times it was customary among our noblemen to choose gamdelis among the Jewesses, for their daughters. John had of course followed the general custom, and little Nina, who in early childhood had lost her mother, loved her gamdela (nurse) with all the enthusiasm of her daring soul. All of the gamdela’s tastes were Nina’s. Her faith, her God were the same faith and the same God as her pupil’s. Thus the nurse was the first person to come to hear of Nina’s decision and was asked for advice. The old woman silently listened to her and long did not say a word, only the features of her face took a painful expression.

“Why art thou so silent?” impatiently remarked Nina.

“I am reflecting whether I shall tell thee still another cause for thy refusing Morphiliziy or whether it is better to say no more about it.” At last with a sad smile she broke out and at the same time her piercing glance was fixed on Nina, who flew into a passion and turned away.

“And so my supposition is true, thou dost love the aznaoure of Cicero!”

Nina threw herself on the floor and hid her grieved face between the knees of the gamdela. The old woman caressingly touched her long hair with her wrinkled hands and began to think; at last she decided to reveal the result of her reflections.

“Thou art so young that I am afraid to advise thee seriously. Could not a time well come when thou mayest be sorry to have made him thy master, who might be thy slave? Remember that Morphiliziy is a king, but Cicero does not even belong to the aristocracy. He is a simple, poor nobleman of such as thy father had many; were he alive such a marriage would hardly suit him. Besides thou art accustomed to luxury, while Cicero has absolutely nothing, also whatever thou hast thou canst never give away. The only means to unite you is for you to run immediately into the country of his forefathers and there be married. I tell thee openly: What disposes me in favor of Cicero is his constant, endless and boundless submission to thee. I noticed it long ago and have been watching him, but notwithstanding my experience and closest attention, I did not find a single instance in which he might be blamed.”

The hidden face of the young lady lit up with some roguish smile. Perhaps she thought that the nurse esteemed her sagacity too highly. Whatever may have been her feelings, the moment she raised her head from the knees of the old woman, all traces of her smiles vanished. She sat upon the floor at the nurse’s feet and for a long time they silently glanced at each other; each one had her idea. Suddenly Nina quite unexpectedly threw her white hands around the neck of the old woman, hid her face on her shoulder and loudly cried.

“Gamdela,” she passionately said, “arrange it as thou didst just now propose, arrange it all if thou lovest me and dost not wish that I should die! I don’t want, I cannot—no, I will not live without Cicero! For him I will give up with joy and distinction my riches or even the royal crown! What is all that to me if I am not to have him? Dost thou understand, dear nurse, that I love him more than I ever loved thee, or my father; that I love him more than whosoever in the world; that I love him as fishes do water. And thou sayest that he could be my slave—well, do I want such a thing? I myself desire to be his slave and do all he commands! I love him just because he is poor, unknown and a stranger to every one here!” and Nina again became hysterical.

The poor gamdela did her best to quiet the young girl with caressing movements of her aged hands, she herself trembled from emotion, quietly cried and innerly prayed. In the end she succeeded in putting Nina to bed and herself called for Cicero, and with her first glance at the young man persuaded herself that she was not mistaken as to his boundless devotion to Nina. Yesterday still all fell in love with the handsome youth, in the best of health, but now he stood before her with a rawboned pale face and castdown eyes, even the lips grew white and their edges nervously jerked.

The old woman with precaution informed him how matters stood, and immediately tried with all her might to restrain his boundless joy.

When he had reflected a little, she ordered to prepare two riding horses for the hour of midnight and advised Cicero to wait at the Western Gates, whither she promised to bring Nina, dressed in men’s clothes.

Upon this occasion he was also given a belt, richly sewn with gold. Having done there everything that was necessary, the gamdela went to Nina and prepared her for the hasty departure. Midnight came. With silent steps two shades moved through the whole house and across the court. At the Western Gates the impatient cavalier was already waiting with an extra horse.

Nina quickly mounted it, with a happy smile motioned to the dear old woman, and soon they disappeared in the darkness.

However much the gamdela wished to remain at the gates, as long as the trampling of the galloping hoofs could be heard of those horses which took away with them, perhaps forever, all that was dearest to her in the whole world, common sense did not permit this and the nurse returned home and passed the remainder of the night in tears and prayer. At sunrise the house was filled with her lamentations.

The frightened servants instantly answered her call and found her in the garden on the bank of the river. By her side lay Nina’s dress and linen. Seeing people run, she motioned to them, and wringing her hands she explained to them that Nina was drowned. Old and young rushed to the river, not only the people of the household, but the whole town joined those seeking; nevertheless all efforts proved to be in vain.

Morphiliziy’s warriors upon hearing of what had taken place immediately informed their lord, and were all without exception ordered to go to search for Nina. Morphiliziy himself rushed to the garden and began to question the grief-stricken old woman.

From her explanations, constantly interrupted by moaning, he understood that Nina long ago asked to go bathing, that the gamdela, fearing the swiftness of the river, had not given her permission, and that this day at sunrise the impatient girl had quietly slipped out into the garden while the nurse was sleeping and got what she desired. Awaking and beholding the empty bed, the gamdela immediately ran to the banks of the river, but found nothing but Nina’s dress.

Morphiliziy himself went into the water, turned over every bush and stone, swam beyond the town, but found nothing at all. Everywhere he met people who were on the same errand; the warriors searched, the men of Damask, the citizens, yes, all who could swim, were out working, but in vain. The grieved sovereign came up on the bank and declared that he would grant any reward to him who found Nina living or dead and brought her to him. A day went by—no news. And a second day went by; many of those on the lookout returned home with the discouraging news that they had not found the girl. The town again took its usual look. Morphiliziy alone did not sleep and thoughtfully sat on the roof of his house. The night was warm, with bright moonlight, and acted quietingly upon the unhappy Tsar. About midnight he beheld a shade approaching his house and began to look at it with anxiety. Soon he discovered that it was his favorite negro.

“Noy!” he cried out.

“It is I, sire,” replied the negro. “Let me immediately report.”

“Come up quickly!” and Morphiliziy’s heart was suddenly bent and frosted and beat so hard that it caused pain. The hero put his hand on his breast in the hope of quieting its movements, but it went on most painfully and his momentary joy turned to fearful worry.

In a moment Noy appeared before him. “Hast thou found her alive or dead?” he quickly asked.

“Living,” began Noy, “but....”

“Well, where is she then?... a horse, let me have a horse this very moment!” shouted Morphiliziy, but the disappointed, almost terrified looks of Noy caused him to think the matter over.

“Why art thou thus silent?” he impatiently asked the slave.

“Sire ... she is not ... alone! She lives with ... a young man!”

Morphiliziy turned his back upon the negro in order to hide the impression which these words had produced on him. He sat down on a stool and pointing to the carpet lying at his feet ordered Noy to relate everything in detail and without hurrying.

“Sire,” said the negro—“I wished to deceive thee! I wanted to escape bondage and return to the land of my forefathers. I thought of taking advantage of the general disorder, went into the stable, saddled thy horse, explaining that I was starting for the search, and while all the people were looking for Nina along the banks of the river, I started in the opposite direction—straight to the sea, where I dreamt of finding a ship and sailing away. At first I was unusually delighted, but little by little I began to be overpowered by the fear of being pursued. My horse flew like the wind and I induced it to go faster and faster. In the meantime my fear grew stronger at every step. It changed to terror—into some kind of despair; I no longer let the horse catch breath, but chased him like a crazy man. In the end his speed grew smaller. I became furious, tore the cloth and beat him without mercy. He still went on a little farther and beyond his strength, and then rolled into the dust. This was in a forest. I unsaddled and unbridled him, but he did not raise himself and so I continued my way on foot. Suddenly I overheard human voices; I stopped and began to listen. Evidently these were two persons in love with each other, and I had nothing to fear. I cautiously approached, continuing to hide myself in thick bushes and trying to look at those conversing.

“To my surprise I beheld two young boys; they sat together and were eating. ‘Must we ride still farther?’ asked the younger one.

“‘I am very tired!’

“‘It is no wonder you are tired, my little soul,’ replied the older boy, ‘why, see! we did not leave our horses for about twenty-four hours; I do think it would be more sensible if we remained the night here; I shall light a fire as a guard against wild beasts, put under thee my bourka

“‘Ah! but if we made for the village thou too couldst rest?’

“‘No, my joy, I am more afraid for thee of Morphiliziy and his followers than of all the wild animals of this slumbering thicket. From the latter I can always save my bride, but from Morphiliziy it is only a wonder if we escape alive!’

“I understood all, and impulsively retired. Why should I then run away, knowing that thou wouldst give me my freedom in any case. Returning to that spot whence I had descended to overhear their conversation, I suddenly came upon a little stream and sat down on its bank. My crazy race had quite exhausted my strength. I drew some bread from my pocket, picked off some wild figs and began to eat, reflecting how I should come home the quickest. Seeing where I was, there was no use of trying to return home on foot, but where should I find a horse.

“Having finished my meal, I arose and went to that place where a few hours before I had abandoned your horse; to my greatest pleasure he was munching grass. I led him to the stream, let him drink, saddled him and put on the bridle. To ride him would have had no sense. After walking an hour he grew more lively, and I began to hope that he was recovering, especially as he suddenly joyfully raised his head and neighed. I imagined that in the distance some other horse answered likewise. I hurried in that direction; after a little while the horses again exchanged compliments, and guiding myself by their voices, I soon met a young cavalier on a fine Persian horse.

“By his fashionable costume it was easy to distinguish him as one of the local aristocrats. I reverently bowed; he answered my salute and his eyes were fixed upon thy horse, which he fell in love with, like a connoisseur.

“‘Whither art thou, traveller?’ he asked.

“‘I am from afar, sir, sent by my ruler upon a hasty and important affair and must walk the rest of the way for I am incapable of managing this horse.’

“‘It is the very best thoroughbred Arabian steed that I have ever seen; thou didst excessively tire it and thou wilt certainly ruin this jewel for good if you do not give him rest. I don’t know thy master and don’t wish to know his name, but even on his own land I cannot allow such a treasure to be ruined. Mount then my horse, gallop away to thy lord and tell him that thou didst leave his half-dead horse at the tavad of Bidandara’s. If he wishes to sell him I shall pay any price he may demand; if he does not want to part with him, why then let him send back my horse and take back his own; at Bidandara’s everybody finds hospitality—even animals,’ and he got off his horse, took hold of and led away mine without listening to my exclamations of gratitude.

“I gave him time to go a long way and then chased his horse still more mercilessly than thine. I knew that thou wilt give him the centuple, and therefore thought only how I could reach thee the soonest. Upon entering the town he fell and I ran the rest of the way on foot. What doest thou command me to do now?”

“This moment thou wilt choose two of the best horses and lead them hither. We shall immediately start in pursuit; tell my lifeguards secretly to catch up with us. Let them have pity upon the horses and take plenty of wine and provisions with them, for thou must be quite hungry!”

In a few minutes the two cavaliers rode out of town and later on they were followed by a whole detachment of warriors, trying to catch up with them. Morphiliziy was not riding very fast, but thinking. He remembered that still a short time before, when but a simple army commander, he had no other wishes besides military glory; all his plans seemed to have been successfully carried out when he was proclaimed King and his name passed from mouth to mouth, surrounded with all the glitter of the recent victory.

The triumph over Damask, the most glorious warrior of his century, appeared to him as the height of blissfulness. He remembered also that unusual, up to this time new to him, feeling which suddenly arose in him upon beholding Nina.

The very glance at this young girl, hardly out of her teens, drove out of his heart and imagination everything in which he up to this moment had prided himself—military glory and victories over Valarsass and the accession to the throne—all vanished somewhere in the distance, occupied some remote spot and was no longer of any interest to him. And to think that this child had made fun of him! This child had managed her nurse and servants and warriors and even him, Morphiliziy, the terrible, powerful and invincible conqueror! This little girl feared not his anger, was not frightened by his forces, did not tremble before his might. His warrior’s renown, his monarchy, his personal charms had not won her. She was not at all excited or especially delighted over the impression she had produced upon the hero, and in just the same way she treated a little boy, whom he could knock down with one blow like some piece of paper!

He resolved that Nina should be his wife however difficult it might be to obtain her hand. She did not wish his love—she did not see the need of his caresses—“then,” thought he, “let her feel my strength, my might, my power—yes, my wrath!”

These reflections were interrupted by the approaching warriors. Morphiliziy turned around; the moon lit up his pale face and sparkling eyes. The soldiers were frightened, never yet had they seen him look thus.

“Give Noy wine and bread—he will eat on the way, but to you, my comrades in battle, I shall now unfold the secret of my soul. You know my whole life, you know very well that there is not a man who could boast of having conquered me; you know too that my very glance can put regiments to flight, that my name was sufficient to make kings and nations tremble, and now, when I reached the height of glory and power, I wanted to divide them with an orphan, I wanted to place her upon that throne for which I am indebted to your love and submission to me, I wished to proclaim her Tsaritsa and share with her my glory, my happiness, and my power! But she refused all these things, and me too, and ran off with a boy. Now....”

Morphiliziy’s speech was interrupted, he sighed deeply and continued:

“We are out to pursue them. Think up some punishment worthy of their crime. What shall be done with her?”

“Kill them both!” was the unanimous reply.

“That is insufficient!” answered the Tsar.

“Drown them in the river, where they betrayed their deception!”

“Not enough!”

“Have them burned alive!”

“Still too good for them!”

“Let them be torn to pieces by wild beasts!”

“All this is very little!” replied Morphiliziy. “All this is quickly over and does not appease my desire for revenge. They must be captured alive and locked up one opposite the other, so that through the open windows of their dungeons they may see each other, and then I shall prepare my rival a spectacle that will wound him worse than fire, but afterwards I shall hand over to you Nina, and then there will be time to cut off their proud heads and throw them away to be eaten by the dogs!”

The Tsar grew silent, his face became still paler, his eyes stared out worse than before; he was so terrible to look at, that even the fearless warriors could not glance at him and hardly approached his horse and Noy’s, which they were hurrying on at full speed. The sun rose—they continued their ride, a whole day went by, the journey went on as before, and night overtook them again when they entered a forest. Noy announced that it was the same forest in which he had left the fugitives. The moon shone poorly from behind the eternal trees, it became necessary to get off the horses, which were left to the care of several warriors, but the others went on and soon found that little field of wild copse on which Cicero and Nina had rested, they even found the place where they had been sitting.

The grass was trodden down, it bore the traces of spilt wine and crumbs of bread—one large shrub was cut down—but there were no branches.

“They probably burned them in a wood-pile,” remarked Noy.

“Well, where then are the traces of the wood-pile?” replied Morphiliziy. Upon noticing that from the place where they stood onward the grass was trodden down and seemed to form a kind of road, all followed upon this track. By sunrise they left the forest and spread themselves out over a splendid meadow, which ended in a field. The track went on across the meadow to the very field, which was beginning to be worked by laborers.

Morphiliziy dispatched one of his warriors to ask to whom this field belonged and whether they had not seen two boys on horseback yesterday. The soldier returned with a peasant.

“This is the field of the tavad Bidandari, we are his men and did not work here yesterday, but we heard that our master had brought home some two youths, one of whom is ill, and to-day by the orders of the proprietor, my brother went for the znabar (a kind of doctor) on the seacoast.”

“Why, is it far to the sea?” asked Morphiliziy.

“Six or seven agatches” (an agatche is a little more than six and less than seven versts).

“What! is there no doctor nearer than that?” again asked Morphiliziy.

“Why should there not be one? We have a doctor in the village who is immediately at the side of the patient when required, but the other one is cleverer because he takes advantage of the sea tide in order to collect plants, shells, insects, and little fishes, which our own doctors do not get a chance to use for their medicine.”

“Tell thy master that the owner of the Arab horse came to thank him for his favor, to pay his debt, and asks permission to come in.”

The peasant went off, but Morphiliziy ordered his warriors to return to the forest, and taking Noy with him, followed from afar the running laborer. He was very particular in explaining to Noy why he did not wish his name to be disclosed before the right time.

Bidandari came out to meet his guest and led him to some gorgeous apartments where a number of fashionably attired servants surrounded the newcomer, offering elegant clothes, aromatic soaps, and every kind of luxury customary in those times. Having washed and dressed, Morphiliziy came into an adjoining room where a dinner was set. The host met him at the door with two large horns filled with old wine, which, joining hands, they drank at the same time, as a sign of friendship. Notwithstanding that Morphiliziy had eaten almost nothing for more than two days, the rare and numerous dishes did not dazzle him. He had to make an effort in order to pretend that he was eating. At the end of the dinner the host offered him to take a rest, but Morphiliziy said that before that he would like to talk with him alone: then Bidandari, who had not even looked as though he had recognized his sovereign, respectfully fell down on one knee and kissed the edge of the royal coat.

“You recognized me, tavad?” said the surprised King.

“Yes, your Majesty, but I did not dare to say this before the rest, because I did not know the reason you had for not speaking openly.”

“I came hither to carry out my revenge and I cannot do it without your help.”

“Pray tell, what is it you order?”

“But this is against the laws of hospitality, in which your house has always glorified itself.”

“If it be impossible to receive satisfaction for being insulted otherwise—then give orders to kill me—in such a way at least I fulfil my duty as to you, like a faithful subject, obliged to defend the honor of his sovereign even to death and shall not be responsible for what occurs in my house after my death.”

“But, tavad, you forget that in such a case I fulfil my duty neither like a Tsar, nor like a guest, but of this let us speak later. The point of the affair is that in your own house my bride is hiding, disguised as a boy, and I want to take her immediately with me. It seems to me that by handing her over to me you do nothing offensive to the rules of hospitality; as to her companion, he has insulted my royal honor, and it is only natural that every true subject should himself chase him out of his house as soon as he learns about his crime.”

Bidandari sighed and his face took a sad expression.

“I ask a favor of you, sire; sooner order that I be killed than that my guest receiveth the merited punishment and let me now tell you all that weighs on me. Before death one is permitted to put aside every etiquette and to speak with one’s sovereign without the customary court formalities, thereupon I take the liberty of treating you like a brilliant warrior.”

“You forget, tavad, that I am very much obliged to you, and that you therefore have the right to demand anything you like of me except to pardon my rival. You yourself are a young and unmarried man, is it possible you do not understand my thoughts?”

“Forgive me, sire, but I must again speak none but the bare truth! My meeting with your negro you already know about. Wishing to come home by the very most direct way, I went on a trail which by chance brought me up to two boys. The younger of them was shaking from malaria, he was pale and lay upon a bourka, but the older one sat by him in despair and wrung his hands. On this same little meadow two saddled and tired horses were feeding; by their exhausted look it was perfectly clear that the travellers came a long way. I came up from behind, and when I greeted them, the elder brother quickly jumped up and seized a kinjall (Caucasian knife or rather dagger), while the younger boy simply sighed and looked at me in a terrified way; he was evidently either too ill or too exhausted to make any kind of a movement. ‘Fear nothing,’ I said, ‘I came to offer you my hospitality, which you hardly have a right to refuse as you are on my lands.’

“‘Excuse me,’ suspiciously answered the older one—’before I accept your kind offer, I should like to ask you where you took this horse from, which yesterday was still the property of the monarch?’

“I explained it. The boy reflected. ‘What dost thou think of, young man, accept quickly my offer, and together we shall carry the sick brother into a warm room, in which his illness will be over by morning, while here he may die from taking cold.’

“The boy got frightened.

“‘Promise me not to hand us out to Morphiliziy alive or dead, and I will readily accept your invitation with gratitude; otherwise we should both prefer to die.’

“I glanced at the sick boy, he evidently made an effort to smile and thus confirm his brother’s words, but this smile lit up his face with such an inexpressible magnificence that I began to be very much puzzled—after all was it not a woman? I accorded the desired promise. We made litters of the branches of a soft coppice. I told them that I would send horses for their conveyance, but thy horse tied itself to the girdle and we safely brought our litter to the house. During the night the patient began to groan and constantly repeated:

“‘Darling Cicero, if they discover us—kill me, I wish to be neither a Tsaritsa nor anything else except thy wife!’

“There was not the least doubt left by this time; this was a woman who had run away from some detested man together with her lover. Seeing that it was no longer possible to hide anything, Cicero related the whole story to me. They already loved each other, sire, when thou didst first see her. Perhaps thou wilt say that Cicero might perfectly well have conquered his attachment; taking into account that Nina was the object of this attachment—such a change was very improbable indeed. I say further that I myself was overtaken by such an extraordinary feeling of delight before this utmost perfection of beauty that I felt as though it was not worth living on earth if one could not possess Nina; and in consequence of all this, sire, thou dost partly fulfil my proper wish if thou dost order me to be executed as one bending down before thy will. To hand them out to you after my promise is beyond my powers.”

Morphiliziy walked up and down the room with huge steps and nervously twitching with his mouth.

“I wish to see her!” he said.

“Oh, monarch, be gracious! Before thy arrival here, a doctor had just attended upon her. She has a fever from terror, she frequently cries, saying:

“‘I am so tired that I cannot ride any farther! They pursue us—yes, they pursue us!’ If she should see thee now, death would surely set in. As a satisfaction to thy offended pride, take away my life, which has become so painful to me. I am more guilty before thee than Cicero, because I dared to fall in love with thy bride, while he just worshipped a free girl and was fervently loved by her before thou didst enter the town and becamest our ruler. Thou didst permit me to request rewards for ordinary services; don’t let Nina perish! Don’t deprive her of that happiness of which she deprived thee, and even me!” Bidandari wished to bend a knee, but the Tsar did not allow him to take such a step.

“We shall converse like young men of equal rank,” said he. “Leave me alone; in a few minutes I shall call thee.”

Bidandari went out, but Morphiliziy again paced the floor. Within him a terrible combat was going on. On one side his deceived love and wounded pride demanded cruel revenge, on the other hand the elevated thoughts of his soul, his well-known love of mercy and chivalrous nobility of soul inclined him to follow Bidandari’s advice. After walking a whole hour his bad intentions went away, and completely worn out from physical exhaustion as well as spiritual disturbance, he threw himself down upon the sofa and went to sleep with the firm resolution to pardon Nina.

But alas! Ibliss (the devil) is always angered by any noble intention, be it of a Christian, be it of a heathen, and always exerts himself in finding ways of preventing their being carried out. And thus it happened also this time. He appeared to Morphiliziy in a dream under the form of Nina; she was sitting at the feet of Bidandari and gaily joked and laughed. Morphiliziy did his best to overhear their conversation and understood that they were laughing at his confidence. Bidandari boasted about his cleverness, but Nina laughed aloud.

“I assured him that thou lovest Cicero—that once I came upon you by chance; and he believed it all like a stupid child. He allows Cicero to marry and lets you go to Rome, whither I shall soon follow you, and then only will he find out the true state of affairs. Thou must admit, my Nina, that I cleverly thought up all and am worthy of a reward!”

Instead of answering, Nina threw herself on his neck and Morphiliziy saw and heard how the mouths joined together in kissing. He awoke trembling from furor. “Noy,” he cried. The negro appeared.

“Tell the warriors to bring me immediately, all chained, Bidandari, Cicero, and her! I shall instantly ride home alone! If I stay here but a minute longer I shall choke them all, and this is little! A horse, I say, a horse!”

In a moment he was already riding off home, but at sunrise on the following day they brought to his house the three guilty ones. He came out on the roof, all wicked, dark, terrible! All his former noble feelings had disappeared for good, he gave himself up to the work of pitiless revenge. Silently he pointed to Nina and his house. The warriors understood and led her there. Cicero made a desperate effort to run after her, but the heavy chains and powerful arms of the soldiers held him fast. Then the Tsar pointed to Cicero and to the house situated opposite him. Cicero was led off there. Before him there remained but Bidandari.

“Cut off his sly head!” shouted Morphiliziy, with such anger that a flame came out of his mouth at these words. The warriors fell upon Bidandari, but hardly had his head been divided from his body, when a wonder occurred. The day was bright and clear, without a single cloud in the sky, but at this moment an immense black cloud descended unto the corpse and hid him from the eyes of those standing about. All stared with the greatest attention. Little by little the cloud went off, but on the spot where Bidandari stood a magnificent white tulip grew up.

“He is a witch!” cried Morphiliziy, and again the flame was seen coming out of his mouth and nostrils.

“Bring the messenger of charms, the old gamdela, and knock her down before this cursed tulip!”

When they cut off her head and the blood was spattered unto the tulip, its centre grew strikingly red with pale rosy stripes on the leaves, which rendered it still more beautiful.

“Now,” said Morphiliziy angrily, “drag Cicero to the window, stand by his side and don’t let him turn his head. I should like him to see everything that is going to occur opposite!”

And he roared like a madman, and the flame again came out of his mouth, nostrils and ears. “Away with the remaining people from here,” he shouted in conclusion. The square was instantly cleared.

“Hand me Nina over here!” was Morphiliziy’s last command as he entered the house and took a place at a window opposite the one to which Cicero was lashed. They brought up Nina, half dead from fear.

“God of Israel! save me!” she cried out.

“Nobody will save thee from me!” wickedly answered Morphiliziy, and seizing Nina and embracing her he brought her to the open window. Opposite, Cicero was making astounding but futile efforts to free himself from his chains.

“Call to my God—Cicero! He is stronger than that man!” cried Nina. In this moment she glanced at her feet and fainted from terror. Morphiliziy was also astounded. He saw that her feet grew together and formed one black mass. He rashly tore her clothes off her body, but the transformation took place still faster; her whole body burned and grew black, and in a few minutes from her hands there jumped out a splendid butterfly and joyfully flew across the square to meet another one who had come out of Cicero’s dungeon. Both of them hurried to the gamdela’s body and to the white tulip and circled around them.

How could one describe Morphiliziy’s wrath? To express his anger he could no longer find any human words. Some horrible, fearful sounds came out of his mouth together with flames. With terror his warriors looked on as he threw himself about on the square and as his eyes flashed. Little by little he turned completely into a flame. Fiery tongues began to climb out of the window, slipped down to the square and everywhere rose into the air, hoping to burn the poor butterflies. In vain did they fly all over the place, everywhere the flame chased them, at last they hid themselves in the tulip, which hastened to shelter them with its leaves. The whole fury of the fire was now fixed upon the unhappy little flower. Just then the body of the gamdela was transformed into a shower. As much as Morphiliziy harassed his enemy, the faithful gamdela fought against him; thus, notwithstanding all the badness of Morphiliziy, he did not succeed in burning the tulip, but the white leaves only ornamented themselves with all the colors of the flame. In the end the nurse finally conquered her enemy. He went down into the ground and shows himself only when the Lord wishes to punish sinners.

Oh, how dreadful he can then be! He shakes the whole earth, he tears to pieces its interior and forms deep precipices where formerly flourishing cities stood, lets whole villages fall to ruins, destroys hundred-year-old edifices, rips up gardens, fields, meadows, forests. In a word, Morphiliziy became a perfect subterranean fire and hourly curses new generations, while the good, faithful gamdela daily renders thanks to Him who turned her into a beneficent shower, without which men and beasts and plants and everything that is good on earth would perish.

When danger had vanished the leaves of the tulip opened themselves, the butterflies hopped out and hastened to Damassek’s house. There they took again their former aspect. They were married, sold off all of John’s wares, and with incalculable riches went away to Rome. Before their departure they dug out the tulip and took it along with them. Cicero’s country is also favored by heaven just like ours. There they purchased an elegant house, a magnificent garden, and the very best spot of this garden was reserved for the tulip. With their own hands they planted and took care of it, and soon the whole town delighted in the splendid flower, which, refreshed by frequent showers, grew in size. In a few years the whole garden became one field of tulips.

Cicero’s and Nina’s numerous children played around them, while a shower refreshed them morning and evening. Nina and Cicero always went into the garden at that time, and with gratefulness kissed the bright leaves, remembering their dear gamdela whom people now bless the world over, as a reward for her faithfulness and love.

IV. Saint Nina

A Tale

The fourteenth of January is a day of great solemnity throughout Georgia. This is the fête of Saint Nina, who converted us to Christianity. Nina’s father, Zavonlon, was, according to tradition, a relation of the great and holy martyr, George, who married Sossanna, the sister of Yovenalii, patriarch of Jerusalem, whose family came from Koloss. He and his sister became orphans in early childhood and went to Jerusalem, where Yovenalii accepted an appointment as secretary, while Sossanna entered the service of Sarah, a woman of Vifleem. In the meantime Zavonlon travelled from Kappadokia to Rome to be presented to the Emperor, and reached there just at the time when the Brandjis, who had revolted, appeared in the valley of Patalania. Zavonlon did not let them reach Rome, but turned them to flight, captured the Tsar and leaders, and handed them over to the Emperor. When, however, the monarch condemned them to death, they began to cry and implore Zavonlon to convert them to Christianity.

“Lead us to the temple of thy God,” they said, “before having us killed. Thou didst capture us and having sacrificed us to God thou wilt not be responsible for our death, magnanimous hero!”

Then Zavonlon went to the patriarch and informed him of all that had taken place. Without saying a word to the Emperor, the patriarch, with the help of Zavonlon, baptized them, let them partake of the Holy Communion, and taught them the Christian faith. At sunrise on the following day the Brandjis rose, attired themselves in funeral robes and started for the place of execution. They prayed, thanked God, who had saved them by baptism, and said:

“We are immortal even after death, because the Lord hath glorified us by giving us permission to partake of the Holy Communion. Yes, let His name now be glorified! now, henceforth, and evermore! Woe to our fathers, who died in ignorance and remained in the dark, we shall not taste the sorrowful, but the joyful fruit. Approach, executioner, and cut off our heads!”

At these words they willingly stretched their necks under the sword. But Zavonlon, who could no longer stand this spectacle, rushed to the Emperor in order to implore his pardon for them.

“I give them to thee; do with them whatever thou wilt!” said the sovereign. Zavonlon lost no time in returning to the spot of execution and succeeded in saving those sentenced.

Thereupon they began to beg him to lead them home to their native land in order to preach there about the Faith of Our Lord Jesus Christ, and convert those desirous of leaving paganism. Zavonlon went to the patriarch, got some priests, and with the Emperor’s permission departed, accompanied by the Brandjis. When they had but one more day of travelling before them, a rumor spread in their country that the Tsar was alive and meant to return with his courtiers. The sections of Kkhozamo, Kkhosa, Goakchladja or Gardadja, Kkhonebag, Kkhjirag or Kindtjag, Zadja, Zaza, Zarda, Zamra and Tkmoka hurried to meet them, and were reached on the banks of a great and deep river; the water was blessed and they entered it and came out at one special spot where a priest laid his hand on them.

Zavonlon stayed with them till they were baptized and converted, put everything in perfect order, left the priests and went away, overwhelmed with gorgeous presents.

“I shall take these treasures for the decoration of the tomb of the Lord,” thought Zavonlon, and started for Jerusalem, where he gave everything to the poor. At that time Yovenalii (in monkhood he had taken the name of Zadass) was patriarch of Jerusalem, and made friends with Zavonlon, while Sarah of Vavilon recognized him and learned to cherish his capacities. Besides, she said to the patriarch: “Zavonlon is the father of the Brandjis (original inhabitants of Barcelona) whom he converted, and to whom he gave the Holy Baptism; he carried out the commands of God, and thinking the matter over, I counsel thee to let him marry thy sister Sossanna” (probably Susanna). Sarah’s counsel was carried out and the young couple left for Colossus, Zavonlon’s fatherland.

Soon the bride gave birth to a daughter, Nina. When she was twelve years old her parents sold their whole property and settled in Jerusalem. Here Zavonlon was made a monk by the Patriarch German (because Sossanna’s brother had already died), and became divorced from his wife. Pressing his daughter to his breast and covering her face with tears, he said:

“My dear and only child, I leave thee an orphan, and recommend thee to our Heavenly Father, God, who nourishes all live beings, because He is the father of orphans and the Judge of widows. Fear nothing, my daughter, but try to imitate Mary Magdalen and the sisters of Lazarus in their love to God. If thou lovest Him as much as they did, He will also refuse nothing to thee.” Having embraced her once more, he crossed the Jordan and started to preach the teachings of God among wild nations, where the only God, creator of all beings, knew that the time was ripe. Sossanna, on the other hand, by order of the patriarch, looked after the poor women, but was put in the service of Niapkhora, an Armenian woman from Doroim.

She stayed two years at her house, learning the laws of God, because at that time there was nobody in all Jerusalem so well acquainted with the Old and New Confession and who had such a broad and enlightened mind. Niapkhora was honorable and truthful and imitated Abraham in hospitality. Her house was always open to all pilgrims coming to pray at the Tomb of the Lord. More than once she happened to receive Christians who had been Jews and had inhabited Georgia. From them Nina heard a story how, at the time of the Babylonian captivity, some Jews had settled down at Mtzkhet and how they yearly sent some of their people to the Easter celebrations at Jerusalem. They also told her that in the second year of Aderka’s reign in Georgia, they found out about the birth of our Lord Jesus Christ through these very messengers. Within thirty years at Mtzkhet delegates arrived from the preosviashtchennik (clerical title) Anna with the following news:

“He to whom the wise men brought presents is now grown up and teaches us a new faith; thereupon we are sending word to the Jews in order to find among them teachers of the law and to tell them: ‘Come ye all, who uphold the law of Moses and clear up our perplexity! Let all those acquainted with law immediately leave the foreign lands and hasten with all possible speed to the fatherland, in order to confirm and guard the faith of our forefathers, carry out the laws of Moses, save the common folk from being dazzled by the new teaching, and furthermore, put the guilty one to death.’ Elios, a man who was no longer young, of the tribe of the Levites, decided to go to Jerusalem, leaving his mother, a descendant of the high priest Ilia, to the care of his sister Sidonia, because the old woman herself said:

“‘Go, my beloved son, whither the Lord and his holy law call thee, but mind my remarks: thou as a man well instructed in law shouldst not allow them to have a godless intention. I beg thee—do not have a hand in spilling the blood of this man. Thou knowest that this is the carrying out of the ancient prophecies, believe this one with all thy heart as I believe in him!’”

Together with Elios went a young Hebrew, Longinos, a warrior from Karssan, and they reached Jerusalem just at the time of the crucifixion of our Lord, as they arrived on a Friday.

When they drew lots, a Greek tunic fell to the share of Elios, but Longinos received the garment of the Lord, which he carried back to Kontais (this garment used to hang in the centre of the church in a crystal vessel up to the time of Shah Abass, who sent it away to Russia). When they began to crucify our Lord, by chance the sound of the hammer and nails came to the mother of Elios, and she exclaimed:

“Good-bye, kingdom of Israel! Unhappy ones—you are lost forevermore! By your craziness you kill your Vladyka and the Saviour of the world, and thus you become the wilful murderers of your Creator! Woe ye unhappy ones! There is no lamentation equal to your distress! Woe to me, because my ears have heard these mournful sounds!” and with these words she gave up her soul to God. When, however, Elios returned to Mtzkhet bringing the robe, Sidonia came out to meet him, and crying and weeping threw herself in his arms to tell him of her mother’s death; and lo! she came to glance at the robe. She recognized it as having belonged to the Lord Jesus Christ, and the thought that her brother had helped along his death filled her heart with indescribable sorrow. Having placed on her breast the invaluable holy relic, she died.

The news of her death spread all over Mtzkhet and reached the Tsar, who wished to see the dead woman. Coming to her body he was struck by the beauty of the robe, giving out a heavenly glow, and he wanted to put it on, but no power under the sun could tear the relic out of the arms of the deceased. Elios buried his sister together with the robe, and thus saved it from further attempts of the unbelieving.

These tales made a strong impression on Nina’s soul, she often and long reflected how she might seek out the place where the robe was, and tried to obtain information from her governess. “My child,” said Niapkhora, “I see that by thy strength thou are equal to a lioness, whose roar hushes up the growling of all quadrupeds. Thy capacity for penetration puts thee on a footing with the female eagle, who by her flying exceeds the male eagles and with her little eyes sees all creation; having beheld the booty she inspects it with her piercing glances, just as the fire experiments with the gold, and makes for it with spread-out wings. Such will be thy life. Thy voice will be heard all over the world and thy booty is to enrich God. Now I will explain it all to thee. Thou knowest that the immortal God had compassion for the mortal inhabitants of this world and came to earth in order to assemble around him the nations and save the whole world. His first good deeds were applied to the Hebrews, among whom he made the dead arise, made the blind see, and healed the sick. Astounded, they sent out messengers all over the world in order that the Hebrews might most rapidly assemble at a great council.

“‘We are perishing,’ exclaimed the messengers, ‘hurry, gather ye all!’

“Then from all countries there came together people, educated in the laws of Moses—they came together to openly oppose themselves to the Holy Ghost and, namely, do what was necessary to the world. They crucified the Lord Jesus and drew lots to get his robe. The robe was handed over without quarreling to the Man of Mtzkhet. Thou knowest also that upon the burial of our Lord they placed guards at his tomb, but that he arose according to prediction, and in the tomb there remained nothing but the shroud, which the Apostle Luke took, but no one knows to whom he gave it. As to the vesture of the Lord, which was not found in the tomb, many conclude that the Apostle Peter took it without telling anything about its further fate. I in my turn am more inclined to believe what we heard from the Hebrews of Mtzkhet. The crosses are hidden here at Jerusalem, but this place is unknown to everybody until the Lord doth open it in times to come by his chosen messenger!”

Hearing these words, Nina raised herself and thanked God and asked: “Well, where then is that land where the robe was discovered?”

“The town of Mtzkhet is in Georgia. This is a mountainous land, the borderland of Armenia, and its inhabitants still continue to practise idolatry. The Chaldean magis have a strong influence over the people,” replied Niapkhora.

At that time there arrived from Ethesus a woman who had come to visit and pay homage to the Holy Sepulchre and who stopped at Niapkhora’s.

“Is the Empress Helen still in the shade of unbelief?” asked Niapkhora of her.

“I am her servant,” answered the newcomer, “and know all her wishes, both open and hidden. She would like to become a Christian and be baptized.”

“Let me go to the sovereign,” Nina began to ask of her mistress, “perhaps our Lord Jesus Christ!”

“Let us first ask the blessing of our most holy Patriarch German,” answered Niapkhora, and went to him.

Soon they called in Nina and placed her on the steps of the ambo; thereupon German put his hands upon her shoulders and having sighed from the depth of his soul, he said: “Vladyka, Immortal God! To Thee I commit this orphan, the daughter of a sister of one of Thy servants, and send her to preach Thy faith and announce Thy resurrection everywhere where Thou desirest it to be carried out! Heavenly Jesus! be Thou her companion during the journey, her protector in danger, a refuge, a leader and a teacher as Thou hast been from century to century to all those who feared Thy holy name!”

That very night the Virgin appeared to St. Nina in a dream, to whose happy lot Iveria fell when she together with the apostles drew lots to see who should go to preach the faith of Christ in Georgia. In the hands of the Heavenly Queen there was a vineyard cross, which by her command was tied with some of Nina’s hair. The Most Holy Virgin handed the cross to the sleeping girl and ordered her to go in her stead to convert the Iverian people. The Saint awoke with the cross in her hands and hastened to announce to her mother all that had occurred. With happy emotion Sossanna listened to her, kissed her, crossed herself, and blessing her, let her start out, commending Nina to the care of God.

From her mother Nina went straight to the Ethesian woman, whom she began to hurry up to start out, as her heart was burning with impatience; and notwithstanding the uncertainty and length of the journey, her readiness to do everything to serve God was so great that she did not have the least fear; this ardor was not left unrewarded by the Leader of Hearts. He Himself appeared to St. Nina, quieted and strengthened her for the coming expedition.

Having reached Ethesus, the Saint, in the house of her companion, found the Tsarevna Ripsime fleeing from the Diocletian torments together with fifty friends. Soon they were joined by three hundred maidens and Saint Gaiane, her nurse. Ripsime grew attached to Nina, because the Ethesian woman told her the latter’s story, and the Saint took advantage of the kind feelings of the Tsarevna in order to instruct her still more in the faith; and in the course of this year she baptized the Queen, Gaiane, and seventy men of her suite.

They passed two years together at the monastery of Poss-Rhoss. Just at that time Emperor Maximian sent his eunuchs everywhere to seek out the beautiful and good girls and bring them to him—without distinction of rank, extraction, or even religious belief.

The messengers arrived at the monastery of Poss-Rhoss, beheld Ripsime, and struck by her unusual beauty, they did not yet decide to take her, but began to enquire about her family. Having found out that she was of royal rank, they considered her worthy of becoming Maximian’s wife, painted her portrait and went away. Hardly had Maximian glanced at her portrait, when his heart flamed up with some strong passion. He announced that in the whole world there was no equal perfection of beauty, that Ripsime was worthy of becoming his wife, that their marriage should be celebrated with unheard of till then solemnity, and he immediately sent messengers to all parts of his immense monarchy so that each subject might come to take part in the nuptial festivities. In the meantime the saints trembled from fear because they knew that this Tsar was like a vessel of anger, sly like a snake in heaven, also not clean, and idolatrous. They imagined that the Tsarevna’s portrait would cause them to be very much grieved, and having fasted a long time, they prayed to God and decided to rely on His holy mercy and secretly run away from this place. And thus the seventy sisters set out for Armenia, in the neighborhood of Vagkarshapat, and reached a splendid town called New Dovin, where the Tsar himself resided.

Here they took up their quarters in poor huts, which surrounded the town from the north and west and were used for pressing out the grapes. Here with laborious work they earned their own living. Having, however, discovered that the Tsarevna Ripsime with her nurse and companions had disappeared in some unknown place, Maximian became perfectly furious and sent messengers to look everywhere for her.

His ambassadors arrived at the court of Trdat, Tsar of Armenia, with the following letter: “The autocratic Emperor to his nearest brother, friend and comrade Trdat—I salute thee. Thy friendship is our most faithful ally; I inform thee above all that the sinful Christian nature is very harmful to us, because it forces the nations to disregard our mightiness and not respect our Majesty. Their religion consists of the following points: they serve a dead and crucified man, adore wood and consider it glorious to die for their Lord. Although they fear not the Jews, they nevertheless fear Him, whom the Jews killed and crucified. In their blindness they defame monarchs, scorn the gods, attribute absolutely nothing to the powerful brightness of the sun, moon, and stars—saying that these are the creations of the crucified. They anger the whole world to such a degree that fathers and mothers separate themselves one from another, not awaiting death. In vain do our commands and terrible tortures exterminate them, for they appear in still greater numbers! Having by chance seen a young Christian maid, I wished to marry her, but she, instead of desiring to be united with a Tsar, rebuked me like a dirty being and secretly ran off into thy lands. Investigate this affair, my dear brother, order a search to be made, and as soon as thou findest her with her companions, put to death the latter, but send splendid Ripsime hither, or if she pleases thee, take her, for thou wilt not find such a perfect beauty in all Greece. I hope that thou art in good health—adieu, serve the gods!”

Having read the letter, Trdat began the search, and soon found the saints. Ripsime produced on him exactly the same impression as on Maximian and he also made up his mind to have her become his wife. But the Saint flatly refused him, and so he tortured her together with thirteen companions on the fifth of October; and Saint Gaiane and two others on the following day. The remaining succeeding in hiding themselves; among them was also St. Nina, who by God’s instructions hid herself in the branches of a prickly rosebush, without flowers. Here she beheld a bright star coming down from the clouds; it served as a footstool to a deacon, in whose hands there was a censer; out of the latter there came such an abundant perfume that the sky really darkened. The deacon was accompanied by innumerable heavenly beings. This was the instant when the martyrs breathed their last breath, united themselves with the heavenly forces sent out after their souls, and together with them rose to heaven.

“Lord Jesus!” exclaimed the Saint, “why dost thou abandon me with aspics and snakes?”

In answer to this lamentation, a voice was heard from Heaven, saying: “Arise and start for the North, where there is a great harvest, but few workers!”

And thus the fourteen-year-old child went out to convert a whole country. She guided herself by the voice of God and overcame all difficulties: the length of the journey and physical exhaustion, and the fear of wild animals and wicked people and the cold and hunger and want! She went as the apostles went; without a staff, and just like them, she conquered kings, converted whole nations, healed the sick and glorified the name of that God who had called to her: “Arise and go!” Without losing a moment’s time she left for the North.

The dear one constantly reminded her of the following words: “There is a great harvest but few workers!” and in this she seemed to think there was an explanation of the fact that on her fell the godly choice. Near Khertviss her strength began to fail. From continuous walking she had become quite lame and was forced to stop and go into winter quarters—enduring innumerable privations. In time her health was so much restored that she started again on her expedition.

Having reached the frontier of Djavakhetta she stopped on the bank of Lake Pkaravno, known also under the designations: Pkdrnav, Paraban, Pkanavar, and Tanaravan; from this lake flows out a river called the Mtkouar of Djavakhetta, from which are to be seen high mountains covered with snow even during the summer months. They are the cause of much cold weather in all the neighboring towns and villages. Fear seized Saint Nina.

“O Lord!” she cried out, trembling, “accept my soul!” and she fell to the ground. For two whole days she could not master her fright nor continue her journey. At last hunger forced her to ask for food of some poor fishermen trading on the lake and of the shepherds who guarded their herds on the banks of the lake.

The latter often used to invoke their gods at night. These were called Armaz and Zaden, and the heathen inhabitants of the lake districts promised them rich sacrifices if they only guarded the herds from any possible evil. Hearing that their prayers were spoken in Armenian, to which Saint Nina was somewhat accustomed as she had served at Niapkhora’s, she dared to ask them whither they had come.

“I am an Akovanian from Elrbienik on the banks of the Lopatsh-Tskan” (this is the left arm of the Alazana, Plinii calls the inhabitants of this region Loubienis), said one of them.

“We are Kakhetines from Sapourtzle and Kindsar near Mouknar,” murmured two others.

“But I am a Touissian from Rabatt,” added a third one.

“Here is one from the great city of Mtzkhet, where there lives a Tsar and where we have temples of our gods; in summer we all drive our herds to the banks of the Pkarnav, thus saving ourselves from the unbearable heat of our countries. The reason that the lake has so many names is that each of us pronounces its name according to his own language. In the autumn we disperse to our many homes to escape the cold of this district.”

“Where is Mtzkhet?” asked Nina with a fainting heart.

“This river unites itself with another one which comes from Kola, changes its name to Mtkonar and flows to Mtzkhet.”

She looked at the sides of the river: it was an endless plain. She became frightened upon beholding its boundless limits. Having sighed over the great length of the coming journey, she put her head on a stone near the source of the river and fell asleep.

In a dream there appeared to her a man of middle height with flying hair, and handed her a written roll, which ran as follows: “Carry this in all haste to the idolatrous Tsar of Mtzkhet!” Saint Nina cried bitterly and began to implore and pray: “O Lord! I am a woman, an adventurer, uneducated, I am unable to say much; now how in the world am I to go into a strange land to heathen nations—to a mighty Tsar?”

Then the shining man unfolded the roll in which were written ten commandments as on the tablets of Moses, and gave them to St. Nina to read. She awoke with the roll in her hands. The following were the contents of the roll:

I: Amen—I say unto ye, go on then, for this testament will be proclaimed all over the world, will go from mouth to mouth, and hardly will it be known when documents will appear to commemorate the event.

II: Make no difference between men or women. III: As thou goest, instruct all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Ghost. IV: The world is the language of enlightenment and thy glory, O Israel! V: This good deed of heaven will be practised the world over. VI: He who accepts you, accepts Me and he who accepts Me accepts Him who glorified Me. VII: Mary loved the Lord exceedingly, for she always obeyed his commandments. VIII: Not cutting off the bodies of the murderers, the souls of those who are powerful shall not linger. IX: The speech of Jesus to Mary Magdalen: “Go, O woman, and announce my fraternity!” X: “Teach them to promptly and rigidly observe all these commandments and then I shall be with you, in all times and to the end of the world—Amen!”

Having read the roll, Saint Nina became convinced that this apparition came directly from the Lord. She ardently prayed that the Lord might soothe her, and committing herself to his will, she immediately followed the course of the river. At first it flowed towards the West through wild and sterile countries. The journey became still more terrible through the number of wild animals filling these deserts with their fearful roaring, but not one of them attempted to approach and touch the protégé of God. Only when the river turned to the East did they begin little by little to disappear. Driven on by fear she forgot exhaustion and went rapidly ahead, hardly stopping a minute to catch breath. Soon after the turn of the river Saint Nina overtook some travellers going to Ourbishi or Ouriat-Oubani (which means “Street of the Hebrews”), and joyfully followed them, but at Ourbishi a disappointment awaited her; instead of believers of the real God she found people who bowed down and adored fire, wood, and stone; her heart burned with indignation, but the Lord comforted her by instructing some Jews to give her a hospitable reception, which she made use of for about one month, when the following spectacle aroused her feelings:

She beheld a great crowd of people going towards Mtzkhet, and as she heard from her host that there were Hebrews there, she followed the people in the distance and thus happened to reach her point of destination upon the fête of Armaz. Before reaching the bridge near Mogontka this large crowd stopped like one man to bow down to the fire, and Saint Nina cried bitterly at the loss of such a large, large number of human souls, ransomed by the most precious blood of our Lord Jesus Christ. On the sixth of August, 324 A. D., on the day of the Transfiguration of the Lord, Saint Nina, according to tradition, accomplished her first wonder. Upon that day appointed for the fêting of the idol Armaz, it was the duty of the Tsar and Tsaritsa to take part in the ceremonies. From early in the morning numberless crowds of people, like flowers in the field, filled the streets, shouting and hurrying, each one trying to excel his neighbor in ornamenting their respective houses with carpets, fine shawls and other such articles, all along the road by which the royal cortège was to pass. First there arrived the Tsaritsa Nana, surrounded by the wives and daughters of the aristocracy. She was followed by the Tsar with a numerous suite. Songs of praises and blessings were heard among the crowd of the nation. With great pomp the procession ascended the mountain to adore their god, who was cast of clean gold, while at his side there stood two inferior gods of silver, who wore gold cuirasses and in their aquamarine eyes had artificially made rolling emerald pupils. These last idols were of human proportions and inside of them a mechanism was hidden, through which their hands (in which there were sharp swords) cut down all those who dared to approach the chief god without making a sacrifice, or all those who adored other and foreign gods instead. On the Roman bridge, Saint Nina joined the procession.

“What in the world does all this mean?” she asked of a Jewess.

“This is the god of gods—Armaz, who calls the people to do him homage. No other idol can compare with him, because each of us puts on his best garment to-day and holds a flag in his hand as a sign of joyousness.”

In the meantime the procession had reached its destination. The Tsar bowed down to the ground, surrounded by whole clouds of incense. The sacrificers offered their victims. The Tsaritsa, the nobility, innumerable hordes of people followed the example of their ruler to the greatest displeasure of the Saint, who with all her heart prayed to Him, who had made her glorious and lo! a short-breathed West wind came up, at first softly, then always stronger and stronger, and finally turned into an oragan.

Losing their breath and feeling choked, the Tsar ran away and the sacrificers and the nation too, but the orcano turned into a perfect rain of stones—not allowing even half of those fleeing to seek shelter. Stones of such a size poured down that not every grown up man could raise them with both arms, and they continued to ransack the temple and idols, until all had been turned to ashes and dust.

The heathens fled in terror; this mountain, such a short time before so crowded with people, had now been totally cleared of men and upon it sat only Nina, who was not at all terrified by the fearful spectacle. She saw in this a new proof of the all mightiness of her own God, and under his powerful protection she quietly lay down and peacefully fell asleep on a huge block of stone.

The next day, by the order of the Tsar, one of the noblemen went to inspect the scene of the disaster of the preceding day. He beheld Saint Nina, concluded by her dress that she was a traveller from some distant land, and with customary Georgian hospitality, invited her to stop at his home. But his offer was by no means accepted by the Saint. She continued her journey along the banks of the river and finding on the road an eye of one of the gods, she took it along with her. Upon reaching the junction of the Koura and Aragva, where formerly there stood a town and a fortress, she resolved to take a rest and pass the night at that point of the cape, where till then there still remained the ruins of the church of Favora.

At that time beautiful, well-shaped, high birches grew there, with magnificent shady branches. They were planted by Tsar Bartom, who often rested in their shade; this custom was long observed by the nobility and well-known men and almost every sunny day some one from the aristocracy passed the day under the branches of the birches. On one of these trees Saint Nina painted a cross and lived under it in constant prayer till the twelfth of August. On that day came to refresh herself with the coolness of the famous trees, the lady of the royal court Krokhana with her servant, a Greek woman. The latter by the order of her mistress asked the Saint who she was, what she was undertaking, and whether she did not need something. The Saint said that she was “Tevee,” i. e., a prisoner of war (which does not mean that she was a servant, as some writers out of pure ignorance expressed themselves in describing her life) and did not tell of her real extraction. Krokhana immediately invited her to follow her to the palace, but the Saint refused even this invitation.

Within three days, i. e., on the day of the Assumption of the Holy Virgin, she crossed the Mtkovar and entered the royal fruit gardens. Near the place where now stands the church of the Katholikoss (Patriarch) and a pillar erected by God, there lived in those times a guardian, whose wife Anastasia hastened to come out to meet the stranger. She embraced her like an old and dear friend, kissed her, washed off her dusty feet, rubbed her exhausted body with strengthening fragrant butter and having offered her bread and wine, asked her to take a rest and to recover after the long, long journey. Here the Saint remained nine months, frequently visiting Ourbishi, where some Hebrews lived, in the hope of finding out something more about the Lord’s robe; and indeed the Lord blessed her attempts. She made the acquaintance of Abiatkar, the descendant of Elios, whom she quickly converted to Christianity together with all his family. “When she arrived,” said Abiatkar in his tale, remembered in Georgian History, “I received a letter from Jewish priests in Antiochia, in which they expressed themselves thus”:

“The Lord divided the kingdom of Israel into three parts, which were owned by the Romans, Armenians, and Barbarians. There will be no more prophets; all that he told us through the inspiration of the Holy Ghost was fulfilled, we are scattered all over the world and our fatherland is occupied by the Romans. O Jews! let us now weep with our nation, for we offended God, the Creator of all beings.”

Looking over now the books in which Moses teaches us: “each one who on earth calls himself God shall be put to death!” Why is it possible then that we sinned in killing Jesus of Nazareth? We actually see that in ancient times, when our forefathers sinned before God and forgot Him, He lowered them to servitude and made them experience all the horrors of captivity; but when they turned again to Him and invoked Him, He saved them from need. From the scriptures we know that this happened seven times in ancient history. Now, then, when our fathers put their hands on the son of a poor woman, God deprived us of his mercifulness and support and lo! our government fell to pieces, we were separated from our temples and our nationality was forgotten. That was about three hundred years ago. The Lord does not hear our prayers and does not send us help, from which we conclude that perhaps this man was sent by God. Thus did they write me several times and aroused doubts in my soul, to explain which, I applied to Saint Nina. I asked her who was Jesus and why the Son of God became a simple man.

Then Saint Nina opened her mouth and from it flowed out words of life as abundantly as the waves in the depth of the sea. From her very mouth I found out everything contained by the Christian books, and she explained to me their profound meaning. I felt like a man aroused from sleep, like a madman coming back to his senses. She filled my heart with pity for our forefathers, made me convince myself in the truths of the New Testament, and from her words I indeed recognized in him Jesus Christ, the Son of God, crucified, resurrected, and having come with glory; nay, I understood that He was the one who had been promised to those believing. I saw many other wonders yet, accomplished by Saint Nina at Mtzkhet in my time, and together with my daughter Sidonia was converted and received the Holy Baptism, being cleansed of all wickedness. I received that which the prophet David had vainly wished: I heard a choir of voices glorifying the New Testament, the object of his sighing; and we were favored with the permission to partake of the Holy Communion, of the body and blood of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Lamb that perished for the sins of the world, the best and most compound of victuals. O Lord, strengthen this faith in my heart to my last breath! All that I shall after this relate, I myself heard, with my own ears from my mother, my father, or read in books, recording the words spoken by our ancestors.”

After this follows the story already known to us about the robe. On the tomb of Sidonia under a huge cedar grew up a fragrant bush loaded down by a numberless quantity of flowers and leaves, and from its branches a whole bush was formed, under which Saint Nina let herself down, not knowing how near she was to the aim of her desires. All nights she passed here in prayer, and lo! in one of these sleepless nights of prayer a shining man appeared to her and, pointing to the fragrant bush, ordered her to take up some earth under it to use for healing the sick. The next morning as usual Anastasia came to her, offering her wine, bread, fruits, and cheese. Having noticed that her eyes were filled with tears, Nina asked her the cause, and so found out that both she and her husband were deeply grieved by the fact that they had no children and attributed this misfortune to Anastasia’s illness. The Saint immediately applied holy earth and Anastasia was cured.

Let us now return to Abiatkar’s tale. During that period Saint Nina saw one and the same dream three or four times in those few minutes in which she used to rest. A horde of blackbirds bathed itself in the river, came out of the water whiter than snow, and rushed towards a peach tree actually growing near her bush. In the apparition it appeared covered with wonderful buds and flowers. With great haste the birds gathered and all rivalled one another in bringing them to the Saint as to the owner of the garden; afterwards united around her in a circle and sang most marvellously.

The Saint related all these events to my daughter Sidonia, who exclaiming very loud, expressed herself thus: “O Prisoner; thou that didst take off our chains! I know that thou art the reason of all that hath now taken place, that by thee we are made to discover and acknowledge the past spilling of the blood of the Heavenly Man, for that deed the Hebrews and their kingdom perished, they were deprived of their temples and a strange people took the place of their greatness. Jerusalem, O Jerusalem! how thou dost spread thy wings in order to protect under them nations from every part of the world, thy children only remained without shelter and are scattered one by one all over the earth! Now there comes to us here a woman, born in a foreign land, who makes over our whole kingdom!”

Then addressing the Saint, she said: “That, which thou sawest, clearly predicts to us that this place has been changed by thee into religious gardens, in which thy pupils and followers whitened by thee like birds will eternally gather heavenly fruits, singing praises and glorifying God!”

The Saint openly preached the message of Christ, telling the people that up till then they had been entirely misled. She pointed to the grape cross which had already accomplished many wonderful cures without applying any medicine, simply by holding it to the sick people. She was joined in her converting expedition by seven Jewish women whom she had baptized. Among them also my daughter Sidonia, and I myself helped them with all my strength, trying to deserve the glorious name of Paul, which the Saint had bestowed upon me upon my baptism. Knowing well the Jewish law, and being instructed by the Saint, it was easier for me to convert the unbelieving and some of them becoming rebellious, wished to assault me with stones; but Tsar Mirian sent out several of his attendants to deliver me from their arms, because the news of the glory of the wonders accomplished in Greece and Armenia came to him and so he did not prevent Saint Nina and her pupils from preaching the truth, which he sympathized with.

But the devil, who had for a long time raged against the true believers, won the heart of the Tsaritsa Nana, who kept her husband from becoming a Christian. The fasts, vigilance, and prayers of the Saint astounded the heathens and they frequently asked her the cause of such actions.

Filled with joy, she naturally took advantage of such moments to unceasingly preach to them the religion of Christ, and Anastasia and her husband zealously assisted her in such a time. Once they brought to the Saint a dying infant, whom all physicians considered absolutely incurable. The mother of the baby was a fierce adorer of idols and did not cease to injure the faith of Christ, and even prevented others from accepting the teachings of Saint Nina. Only the complete hopelessness forced her to apply to the wonderful girl.

“I am not educated in human science,” said the Saint, “but the Lord Jesus Christ, whom I serve is strong enough to heal him.”

And with these words she placed him on her foliage couch, on which, having knelt, she usually pronounced her long prayers and kept her almighty vigilance, and having crossed him with the vineyard crucifix, she sent him away, healthy and happy. But his mother, who now fervently believed in the Christian faith, loudly glorified the Lord Jesus Christ. A little later the Tsaritsa fell ill and they sent for the marvellous doctor to the palace.

“I cannot go into a heathen house and therefore request the Queen to come to me,” was the answer of the Saint. Nana submitted. Her son Revv and some ladies of the court were obliged to carry her in their arms. Numerous crowds of people accompanied the procession with visible curiosity and concealed their dissatisfaction; but this dissatisfaction turned to excessive joy when she was cured and with tremendous attention did the crowds of heathens listen to Sidonia, who had educated the Tsaritsa in the true faith; after that she was baptized by Abiatkar and returned to her husband, a fervent Christian.

Here it will be opportune to tell why Tsar Mirian once upon a time was so much in favor of Christianity. Hardly any other monarch in the world could boast of such great success in war as Mirian; he conquered much and always had good luck, nowhere and never did he lose a single battle, and he justly deserved the term “the invincible.” But that which seemed to all mere luck, was nothing less than the intention of God, leading him this road to learn the truth.

In the year 312 the Persian Tsar Sapor sent a messenger to Mirian with a proposal to unite their forces and jointly attack Greece. Mirian consented, and soon their army, the number of which the contemporaries compare with grass in the fields or the leaves of the trees, fell upon the Emperor Constantine, who did not dare to oppose himself, and with sorrow saw how they ravaged one Greek province after another.

The clergy encouraged its sovereign, assuring that the Lord would not let the unbelievers possess a Christian kingdom. A dream convinced Constantine still more in this idea. He hastened to become baptized and led his army by a flag on which was represented a cross of stars, surrounded, according to the apparition, with the words: “By this I conquer!”

Soon the handful of Christians conquered the hordes of heathens at Andriansora. Both tsars with the remainder of their troops were turned to flight and pursued by Constantine who, following them on their heels, invaded their dominions. The Persian Tsar, having abandoned his ally, ingloriously fled, but Mirian defended the towns and fortresses in Georgia until all his generals had perished; then he sent an embassy to Constantine with peace proposals.

Constantine, who feared a second invasion of the Persians, consented to peace only with the imperative condition that in case of a war with the Persians, Mirian should assist him with an army, but to make sure of the observance of this condition, he took Mirian’s son Bakour as a hostage. Mirian’s failure in the war with Constantine, the incomprehensible fear which had forced him to turn to flight, him, Mirian, whom all considered fearless and invincible and who up to this time had known no fear, gave him an exalted opinion of that God whom Constantine worshipped, and he frequently thought about His incomparable mightiness. The wars in which he was allied with Trdat, had led him astray, although, after the war with Constantine and the disaster at the fête of Armaz his faith in the religion of the false gods was very much shaken, but the furious opposition of the Tsaritsa Nana made also this second deep impression vanish.

Now, however, when the newly converted woman wished to bring him to the light of truth, she was met with indifferent curiosity and cold inquisitiveness, instead of the former hearty interest. Mirian had already succeeded in forgetting that impression, which the victory of Constantine and complete fall of Armaz had produced upon him, he interrupted her fiery, persuasive speeches with the question how he came to see her healthy once more. The Tsaritsa spoke the truth. Her husband knew very well what a tremendous contrast there was between her experience and all then known means of curing, and he would not believe at all that the simple appliance of a cross could have as consequence a complete restoration to health. The court ladies, witnesses of the wonder, were then summoned to appear, and very naturally confirmed the words of the Tsaritsa. But the Tsar was not yet convinced.

It was then ordered that any one of the eye-witnesses should be called up, and lo! a whole crowd of people came to testify the truth of what had taken place. Among others there was also Abiatkar, to whose tale we shall now return: “The sovereign noticed me and began to inquire about the Christian teachings. He knew much in the Old and New Testament, and thus I had to explain rather than merely relate, and so it was easier to converse with him than with the uneducated heathens. After that time he often sent for me.

Once he told me that in the Book of Nebrotk the following version was written: “During the construction of the tower of Kaskinie in the city of Khagkan (Babylon), Nebrotk heard a heavenly voice, which said to him: ‘I am Michael, to whom the Lord confided the administration of the East, go thou out of this town, for the Lord does not wish that thou shouldst see that which He hid from human eyes. Leave the building, for otherwise God will certainly destroy it. In the future there will come a Heavenly King, whom thou dost want to see, and although He will be hated by the cursed nation, the fear of His name will cleanse the earth of all sins, kings will renounce their thrones in order to live in poverty. He will look upon thee with mercy in disastrous times and will save thee!’”

I did my best to convince the sovereign that this is the confirmation of that which we have already read many a time in the Old and New Testaments. He agreed with me, but continued to adore the idols and the fire, notwithstanding the prayers of the Tsaritsa, who constantly persuaded him to be baptized. The devil held him still another year in his claws after Nana had been converted. On that account I could not convert even a single heathen, while Saint Nina daily converted dozens of people, untiringly preaching to the people the truth. She continued to pretend that she was a prisoner of war, not telling anyone whence she came and whither she intended to go. Much time went by, the Tsar interfered with the Saint and remained deaf and dumb to the prayers of the Queen; and the visits of Abiatkar did not lead to the desired result. He conversed whole hours with him and every time let him depart unpersuaded in the truth.

Once there arrived from Khorossan a courier of the Sossanid family, with messages from the Shah of Persia who suddenly fell ill. The Tsaritsa Nana sent for Saint Nina, who again refused to come to the house of the idolatrous Tsar and requested the sick man to repair to her house. King Mirian, who was not yet fully convinced of the mightiness of the Christian God and had not entirely renounced his former religion, wished himself to accompany his dying guest, whom they bore in their arms.

“Through what power dost thou effect thy cures?” said the Tsar, turning to the Saint. “Art thou not a daughter of Armaz, dost thou not belong to the number of the descendants of Zaden, notwithstanding that thou callest thyself a stranger? Dost thou not secretly bow down before them and seek their moral support? And do they not give thee the power of healing, which nourishes thee wherever thou art? I know that thou didst convert people to the faith of a foreign God for the sole sake of trying their fidelity afterwards. Glory to our gods, who have disclosed the truth to me! I shall respect thee as I do the governess of my children and cover thee with honors in this mighty city, where thou didst hide thyself under the pretense of being a prisoner, but display no more before me and do not speak about the Christian faith.

“Our great gods only are the actual healers of the world! The sun shines because they illuminate it, they send down rain, give fertility to the earth and nourish blessed Georgia. Armaz and Zaden know all secrets. Gatz and Gaim, the ancient gods of our forefathers are worthy of the confidence of all mortals! If thou wilt cure this mtvar I will shower riches upon thee, make thee a citizen of Mtzkhet and a servant (mere priest) of Armaz. Although they (the idols) were destroyed by an unusual storm and hail of stones, yet the spot where we adored them did not perish. Ytkrondjan—the Chaldean God and our Armaz are constantly fighting. It is known that our god once directed the sea against his enemies and that is the reason why they now revenge themselves by letting this disaster occur just as the rulers of the earth constantly do. Carry thou out then, my order!”

“O King!” answered Saint Nina, “as the representative of our Lord Jesus Christ and the prayers of His All-holy Mother and all saints existing, I am sent by God, the Creator of Heaven and Earth, the Father of all great and small beings, from man down to the last degrees of insects, through His indescribable mercy, like a piece of coal out of the stove of His goodness in order that thou shouldst learn to believe in and reach heavenly heights, the sunny world, the depths of the sea, earthly magnitude! Find out and acknowledge now thou, O Tsar, Him who covers the sky with clouds, who fills the air with the sound of thunder and shakes all creation, who lights up the sky with lightning, makes the tops of mountains slip off or turns them into volcanoes! Before His voice the foundations of earth tremble and mountains disappear like sea-waves! Know thou all this and admit thou the invisible God, living in heaven, who has sent His Son begotten of Him, to earth in the form of a mortal man, who having accomplished everything His Father wished Him to do, rose to Heaven in sublime glory. Dost thou not see that this, the eternal, only and true God looks after the needs of the humble and turns His face away from the proud? O Tsar! the time is already approaching when even thou shalt know and recognize God and verily shalt behold the wonder of light, which there is in this town. I am speaking of the Lord’s robe; and the sheepskin of Illina, and many other treasures indeed, are hidden here, which God will point out to thee. I shall cure thy archimage just as I healed thy wife in the name of my Lord Jesus Christ and by the strength of His honest cross. The Tsaritsa already informed thee that she recovered from her illness only after she had sincerely renounced the idol-worship. Now her mind has broadened out and with ardor she does everything that is ordered in the Christian law—nay, that other people may learn from her righteous way of living!”

Then, upon the command of the Saint, they placed the image facing the East. The Tsaritsa fell down on her knees and began a prayer under the cedar while the Saint raised the hands of the sick man towards Heaven and ordered him to loudly repeat thrice:

“Renounce thou Satan! Bow thou down before my Lord Jesus Christ, the Son of God!”

But from great weakness the sick man could not speak. Then the Saint began to implore God to restore him to health, with tears and great lamentations, and her pupils stood by her side.

One day and two nights she continued her prayers, and when at last the invalid had repeated the holy words for the third time, the badness of his soul suddenly abandoned him, he became a healthy man and a Christian, together with his family and servants and glorified the Father and the Son and the Holy Ghost! Mirian began to fear the wrath and revenge of the Persian Tsar and wanted to have the Saint immediately executed—alone the desperate lamentations and tearful supplications of his beloved wife could cut short his anger, and dissatisfied, he decided to seek distraction in hunting. This is how Sidonia, daughter to Abiatkar, and pupil to Nina, relates the event:

“On Saturday, July the twentieth, a royal hunt was appointed in the direction of Mouknar. The devil disturbed the royal heart, awakening in him the old love for idols and fire, and so he firmly resolved to exterminate all Christians with the sword. Four of his nearest councillors accompanied him upon the hunt, and to them he turned and made the following speech:

“‘We are worthy to be punished by our gods for forgetting their glory and permitting Christian witches to preach their law and teachings in our country. Through their witchcraft they accomplish wonders, but not at all by the might of their God. I have now made up my mind that all those who pay homage to and adore the Crucified shall perish by the sword, and furthermore, I insist that an effort shall be made to increase the love of serving the gods, the real rulers of Kartla (the native word for Georgia). I shall propose to my wife to abandon the faith of the Crucified, and if she doth not fulfil my order, I shall forget her love for me and have her put to death with the rest!’” With joyfulness the heathens listened—it seemed to them as though the monarch’s speech had come out of their own hearts. They had long reflected about such an event, but did not dare to express their thoughts, knowing the attachment of the sovereign for his wife. Now they strongly supported his views and encouraged him in his actions.

In the meantime they had already passed Moukkvar and Mirian ascended the high mountain Tekkhotk (in Armenian Tkakoutk) in order to look at Kaspii and Ouplis Tzikke. When, however, he reached the tiptop, although this was just at noon, the sun suddenly disappeared before his eyes and day turned to night. An impenetrable fog covered all the surroundings and the Tsar himself not noticing this, rode a long way off from his followers. An unusual thought weighed upon him.

Surprised, he wished to ask whether all the rest were also in the fog or whether he alone was dazzled, but nobody answered his questions. In vain he rode over the mountains covered with bushes, his horse constantly stumbled and fell, the trees scratched his face and tore his clothes, the Tsar was involuntarily trembling, while his exhausted and tortured horse at last succumbed to fatigue and rose no more, thus depriving its reckless rider of any hope of saving his life. Then he remembered his former doubts and understood Whose hands were pushing him down.

“I called to the gods, but they did not help me!” he exclaimed. “Now I shall turn to Him who was crucified on the cross, whom Nina preached about and with whose help she succeeds in healing men. Is He not strong enough to deliver me from this disaster? I am already fully in the darkness of terrible sin and do not know whether this darkness has come for all, or whether I alone am punished with blindness.

“If Thou wilt save me, God of Nina, then I pray to Thee, lighten up darkness and show me where my palace stands! I will accept the religion of Thy name, I will erect and glorify the wooden cross, I will build a temple of prayer, following the teachings of Saint Nina, and become a true Christian.”

With hearty and sincere repentance in his heart, he swore to become a Christian, and hardly had he succeeded in closing his lips when his eyes opened. The sun shone for him with all its gloriousness, he climbed off the fallen horse and stopping at the place where he had had the vision, he raised his hands towards the East and exclaimed:

“Thou art the King of kings and the God of gods announced and proclaimed by Saint Nina! Let Thy name be glorified by all people in Heaven and on earth. Thou didst deliver me from peril and didst open my eyes; now I found out that Thou wishest to save, comfort and draw me towards Thee, according to the words of Thine arch-angel. Blessed be the Lord! On this spot I shall erect a cross, yes, I will glorify Thy holy name and let the remembrance of this marvellous event be kept upright for centuries and centuries to come.” Having taken precise notice of the spot he went away, but in the meantime his attendants, who had been everywhere vainly looking for him, came together to discuss what was to be undertaken next.

“Yes, let all my nation glorify the God of Nina!” suddenly rang out the Tsar’s voice, “for He is the Eternal God and to Him alone is due glory from century to century!”

They gave a fresh horse to the King and he rode home very happy, and best of all—both mentally and physically cured!

In the meantime the Tsaritsa had already heard the report that Mirian had disappeared and a little later she received news that he was already returning. With great haste she rushed out to meet her beloved husband and an innumerable crowd of people followed after her. They arrived together at Kindsa, which lies in Gkartk.

As to Saint Nina, she was pronouncing her usual prayer in the rose bush, and several of us were there with her. Gradually as the Tsar approached the whole nation began to be greatly moved and excited, because he shouted in a loud voice:

“Where is the stranger, who, from now on, will be my mother, because her God saved me from death?”

Having found out already that she was praying, the Tsar branched off on a side road and his suite followed him. Before reaching the rose bush Mirian left his horse and coming up to the Saint, he humbly bowed to her, saying:

“Now make me worthy of invoking thy God, who has indeed been my saviour!”

Having taught him a little, Nina on the very spot ordered him to bow down towards the East and adore the Lord Jesus Christ.

But the people, who did not understand the point of the whole affair, began to be rebellious, seeing the Tsar and Tsaritsa humbly kneeling.

On the next day Mirian dispatched ambassadors to Rome to the Emperor Constantine, with a request to speedily send some priests to baptize the nation, and with a letter from Saint Nina to the Empress Helena, informing her of the wonders which had been performed on Tsar Mirian near Mtzkhet, through the strength of our Lord Jesus Christ. The day the Tsar was converted the Saint sent to Saint Gregory Nansien asking for instructions as to what she should do next. By his advice she personally destroyed the new idol Armaz, which they had already succeeded in placing on a mountain beyond the Koura, and to which the people daily bowed at sunrise, climbing up to the roofs of their houses and turning their faces towards the sun. In its place she erected a cross on a hill near Mtzkhet, beyond the river Aragva. But as this cross was roughly made, the people kept away from it until the Lord had glorified it. While expecting the arrival of priests, the Saint and her followers preached the word of God day and night, untiringly preparing the nation before being baptized, and they went from Klardjet to the land of the Alanes and from the Caspian gates to the land of the Massajettians, while the remaining pupils of the Saint spread all over Georgia.

The Tsar had already become an active and energetic Christian before the return of the ambassadors. He said to the Saint: “I am burning to construct a house of God, let us now choose the site!”

“Let thy mtavares (provincial governors) solve that question and have it arranged so that thou and the nation will draw the utmost profit out of it,” replied Saint Nina.

“No!” said the King, “I love thy rose bush and wish to sacrifice everything in order to erect a temple on that spot. I shall have my vineyards, great cedars, fruit trees, and fragrant flowers cut down. Dost thou not remember how in thy vision the black birds became so white that it was blinding, and having perched themselves on the vineyard trees, filled the air with heavenly songs? Now we will turn this visible vineyard into an invisible one, giving us eternal life, and let us build in it a house of worship and prayer before the arrival of the Greek priests!”

Immediately they began to get the materials together. For the church seven pillars were necessary. Thereupon a great cedar was cut down which furnished six pillars, while the seventh was made out of a large pine. When the wooden walls had been erected they fixed the six pillars, each one in a place specially prepared for it, while the seventh, which was unusually large and was meant for the cupola, they could by no means lift from the ground. They hastened to report this to the Tsar, who ordered all the people to make for the building, and he himself went there too. In this affair all then known means of raising weights were used, but neither the numberless arms, nor any possible art could succeed in obtaining the desired result. And Tsar and people asked each other with the greatest surprise: “What can this mean?” And having labored till night they went back to their houses in great sorrow. Saint Nina, however, with twelve of her followers, remained by the pillar, washing it with her tears and praying and groaning. About midnight a terrifying vision began; we saw how the mountains of Armaz and Zaden were trembling as though somebody were shaking them in order to block up the course of both rivers. Mtkouar returned and inundated the town, by reason of which the air was filled with cries, lamentations and groaning, while the Aragva flowed towards the fortress and its waves dashing against the fortress walls, made such a fearful noise that we ran away in terror, but the Saint shouted:

“Do not be afraid, sisters, the mountains still stand in their places and the rivers have not altered their course, and the nation quietly sleeps. Although that which you beheld did not happen in reality, yet this was not a mere dream, for the mountains of unbelief were thoroughly shaken up in Georgia, for the rivers of innocent children’s blood, which flowed in honor of the idols, dried up, for legions of demons, chased out of this region by the mightiness of the Cross are pitifully combatting, seeing how their waves of wrath cannot carry out anything nor harm the fortress of Christ’s faith. Come back and let us pray!”

Then all these sounds quieted down and everywhere one could distinguish silence once more. The Saint stood up with raised hands and prayed that what had been begun by the Tsar should not be destroyed. But before dawn the vision repeated itself, and this time more terrifying than ever: it seemed as though an immense and terrible army had attacked the city from three different sides.

Having forced the gates open it completely filled the streets. Everywhere a fearful emotion had spread, shrieking and murdering took place. Pools of blood flowed at every corner. In some places the people threw themselves upon the enemy with arms in their hands; some of them from terror and confusion turned against their own countrymen. Here one was killing the other—there a second one was expiring, a third one’s heart was perfectly broken by the lamentations of his family. Suddenly a loud, loud voice was heard:

Caucasian Legends

Contents

Preface of the Translator