The Ballads of Marko Kraljević/The Turks Come to Marko's Slava

The Ballads of Marko Kraljević (1922)
by unknown author, translated by D. H. Low
The Turks Come to Marko's Slava
Unknown4193712The Ballads of Marko Kraljević — The Turks Come to Marko's Slava1922D. H. Low

THE TURKS COME TO MARKO'S SLAVA

Kraljević Marko prayed God ever,
From year to year again,
That with pomp and splendour he might hold his Slava,
On Saint George's summer day,
And that the Turks should not come to his Slava.
Now when Saint George's day was come,
All the lords he bade to the Slava,
And in his manor he set out three tables;
At the first table were twelve bishops.
At the second were the Christian lords,10
At the third were the poor and needy.
Marko served wine to the priests,
And to the worshipful Christian lords,
And his mother served the poor and needy,
And Jelitsa bore the sweetmeats.
Vaistina he set on guard,
For to keep watch against the Turks,
That the Turks should not come to the Slava.
And there drew nigh three Turkish Agas,
With thirty janissaries with them, 20
And the three Agas of the Sultan cried with a loud voice,
And the thirty janissaries with them:
"Giaour, open the gate!
That we may see, witless Giaour,
How Marko celebrateth his Slava."
The servant made goodly answer in the Turkish tongue:
"Open for yourselves, Turkish janissaries!
I dare not open the door,
For I fear my lord and master."
The Turks recked little enough of that, 30
But they plucked out thirty maces,
And brake down the door in the gate,
And on the servant's shoulders were counted out

Strokes six and thirty of golden maces.
To the good servant they made soft the back,
And when it wearied the hero of fighting,
And his shoulders were grown stiff,
He went weeping into the castle to Marko.
Marko Kraljević said to him:
"Vaistina, my dear child, 40
Wherefore, son, dost thou shed these tears?
Art thou anhungered or art athirst, my son?
If thou art anhungered, here be victuals,
If athirst, lo, here is cool wine.
Shed not these great tears,
For so thou doest despite to my patron saint."
And the servant Vaistina said:
"Lord and master, Kraljević Marko,
Neither am I anhungered nor yet athirst.
Evil have I gotten with the bread that I have eaten,50
And worse evil with the wine that I have drunken
In thy lordly manor, Marko!
Thou sentest me to keep watch and ward,
But who would keep watch and ward for thee?
There came three Turkish Agas
With thirty janissaries with them,
And the three Agas called with a loud voice:
'Giaour, open the gate!
That we may see, witless Giaour,
How Marko celebrateth his Slava.' 60
And in Turkish made I fair answer:
'Open for yourselves, Turkish janissaries!
I dare not open the door,
For I fear my lord and master.'
The Turks recked little enough of that,
They plucked out thirty maces,
They brake down the door of the gate,
And they paid out on to my shoulders,
Strokes six and thirty of golden maces."
When Marko heard these words,70

He took his sabre and his mace,
And before his guests he swore:
"Hearken, my lords and guests,
I am not the son of my mother,
The illustrious queen,
If I garnish not Prilep,
Not with basil nor yet with red roses,
But with a row of Turkish heads."
Then his mother began to beseech him,
The illustrious queen spake and said: 80
"Stay thee, Marko, my dear child!"
And right so the mother made bare her breast, saying:
"Lest thy mother's milk slay thee,
Do no deed of blood this day.
This day is thy glorious Slava,
If any enter into thy manor this day,
Give drink to the thirsty, give food to the hungry,
For the souls of thy parents,
And for the weal of thine own soul and Jelina's[1]."
Marko gave heed to his mother, 90
He put by his sabre but put not his mace aside,
So the Turks entered into the manor to their scathe.
And he set them in order round the table.
"Vaistina," quoth Marko, "give them to drink,
Jela, my soul, give them to eat."
The servant brought wine and rakia,
And Jelitsa brought goodly viands,
So they were of good cheer and drank wine.
And when the Turks had drunk a little,
They said among themselves in Turkish: 100
"Brethren, let us hence!
Before the viands stick in our throats."
The Turks thought that Marko knew not Turkish,
But Marko had been at the Sultan's court
Beyond the sea in Syria of the Turks,

And had dwelt there seven years,
And had learnt fine Turkish,
As if a Turkish mother had borne him.
And Marko said to the Turks:
"Sit ye down, Turks, drink wine! 110
Pay me the leech's fee for my servant;
But if ye will not do so,
Wait until I reach you
But one buffet apiece with my mace.
There is but little substance therein,
Forty okas of cold iron,
Twenty feir okas of clear silver,
And six okas of beaten gold;
In all six and sixty okas.
And I let you wit that well have ye earned it, 120
For ye did break down my door,
And did count out on my servant's shoulders
Six and thirty blows of golden maces."
Therewith an ague took all the Turks,
For fear of Marko's terrible mace.
Each one drew forth twenty ducats,
And the Agas drew forth thirty ducats.
They put the ducats on the hem of Marko's garment,
For so they hoped Marko would leave them in peace,
But he would in no wise leave them. 130
Marko, the Giaour, drank wine,
Fain would he have picked a quarrel with the Turks:
"Ho, Turks, sit ye down and drink,
And do ye give me somewhat in return.
My Jela is not a slave,
She has soiled the silken robe she wears
While serving you with goodly viands."
And now the Turks were in straits,
For already some lacked money,
And one borrowed from another. 140
Each one yielded up ten ducats,
And the Agas gave twenty ducats apiece.

They put the money on the hem of Marko's garment,
Then he gathered it with his hand into his pockets,
And went to his mother's apartments singing,
To the apartments of his mother, Jevrosima:
"Jevrosima, mine aged mother,
I took not gold from the Turks,
I took not gold because I had no gold,
But I took gold from the Turks 150
That it should be said and sung,
How Marko dealt with the Turks!"
The Turks went weeping from the manor;
The Turks spake in Turkish together, saying:
"God slay the Turk
That should henceforth go to any Giaour
What time the Giaour keepeth Slava.
What we have given for a single dinner,
Would well have nourished us for a year of days!"

  1. In "Djemo the Mountaineer" Jevrosima gives expression to the same sentiments, and in each case Marko gives way to her.