The sun is not red in the sky. Then the terrible king Ivan Vasilievich sits in a golden wreath at a table. Behind him are the stewards, against him all boyars and princes, on his sides are all oprichniki. Everyone is having fun, only the out-and-out oprichnik Kiribeyevich “lowered his head to the wide chest – and his mind was dark in his chest.” The Tsar asks his faithful servant-oprichnik why he is sad for the feast: “Al thou dost concealed the wicked? service honest you bored? ” Kiribeyevich answers, bowing to the king in the belt: the reason for his sadness is Alena Dmitrievna. In Holy Russia, our mother, Do not find, not find such a beauty. As I see her, I myself am not mine, The strong hands are falling, The eyes are brittle; Tsar, laughing, gives Kiribeevich
There is no trade today with a young merchant Stepan Paramonovich, nicknamed Kalashnikov. Now the vespers in the holy churches were ringing; the wide drawing-room court was empty. Stepan Paramonovich locks his shop and goes home for the Moscow River. He comes to his high house and marvels: his wife does not meet him, the oak table is not covered with a white tablecloth. He asks an old female worker Eremeevna, where, at such a late hour, his wife Alena Dmitrievna, and that the children – to go to bed early enough to sleep? Eremeevna answers that Alena Dmitrievna went to vespers, but now the priest has gone with a young priest, but the hostesses are not there, the children do not go to bed, crying crying, waiting for their mother. The merchant thought about it with a strong mind, and went to the window, looking out into the street. Then he hears the hurried steps; In front of him is Alena Dmitrievna – pale, simple-haired. Look eyes dull as mad. “Where are you where the wife, wife, staggering, on which farmstead, on the square. “Alena Dmitrievna trembled,
And the neighbors laughed, they pointed with their fingers. When she broke away, her husband’s gift – a patterned handkerchief – remained in the hands of the “robber.” Alena Dmitrievna asks her husband to intercede for her, because she has no one else. “Kalashnikov calls his brothers and tells them that” our honest, evil, oprichnik, Tsar Kiribeyevich, “. Tomorrow he will fight Kiribeyevich on the Moscow River with the tsar himself, and if his oprichnik beats him, the brothers must marry the holy mother truth.
The Moscow fighters are going to the Moscow River. And the tsar arrived with his druzhina, with boyars and oprichniki. “Whoever will beat someone,” declares the king, “the king will reward. And whoever will be beaten, that God will forgive! “The silver chain was cordoned off for a hunting battle, solitary.” Quits Kiribeyevich, the king bowed to the waist silently, throws off his fur coat from mighty shoulders and waits for the enemy. “Stepan Paramonovich, nicknamed Kalashnikov, bowed before the king threatening, after the white Kremlin and the holy churches, and then to the whole Russian people. “The oprichnik looks steadfastly against him, Kiribeyevich asks him to name himself, but as he heard Stepan Kalashnikov’s answer, he turned pale in his face like autumn snow. ba diverge – heroic battle begins Kiribeevich swung and hit the Merchant Kalashnikov in the middle of the chest – Stepan staggered Paramonovich.; a copper cross with holy relics from Kiev that hung on his chest, bent down and pressed into his chest. Like dew from under his blood dripped. Confined Stepan Paramonovich, gathered with all his strength and hit the hater directly into the left temple from the whole shoulder. Oprichnik is dead. The Tsar angrily asks the merchant: “Answer me in truth, in conscience, free will or unwillingly, did you kill the faithful servant of the best warrior Kiribeevich?” “I seem to you, Orthodox Tsar: I killed him with free will, And for that, about what – I will not tell you, I will only tell the one God, do not leave only small children, Do not leave the young widow of my two brothers with my mercy. “The king promises to fulfill the request of the merchant, and orders him to execute him himself. They buried him behind the Moskva River, In the open field between the three roads. And a ridge of raw land here poured. And good people pass by: