The Tale of Manas. The Great Campaign. The March Begins. Part - 2

The Great Campaign. Setting Out on the Campaign.

In the morning, Manas distributed to all the arriving warriors from his herds a pair of spirited steeds: one stallion for breeding the herds, and one mare for slaughter. All the warriors were led in a line past the counters, and it turned out there were three million of them.

When the army set out, Manas and his forty choro saddled their horses and rode out from the Akylay palace. Manas rode with a frown, troubled. Alma understood the reason for Manas's sadness and, riding up to him, said:

- It would be good to stop by the jenge Kanykey and listen to her wise counsel.

At these words, Manas's face brightened immediately, and he smiled brightly and openly. The forty choro, lovers of women, smiled too.

- My lord cannot set off for Beidzhin without stopping by to see me, - thought Kanykey at that moment, and she went out to the road with her attendant women to meet Manas.

Next to you are your brave tigers,
All of them are seasoned warriors.
If you set out on your journey,
May your road be a happy one!
May your difficult task end successfully!
May the enemy who has brought us much trouble be defeated!

- she said, and, stepping lightly and gracefully, she tied her horse and, gentle and flexible as a doe, opened the door of the yurt before Manas.

Kanykey seated all forty choro, set various treats before them, and began to speak:

- The road to Beidzhin is difficult and harsh. Therefore, I have prepared various clothes for the choro, - and she pointed to a huge khurjun. - They say that it is hot in Beidzhin in summer - I have prepared forty caps. They say that it is cold in Beidzhin in winter - I have prepared forty hats - ushankas: the top is made of sable fur, and the bottom is lined with expensive fabric; each choro gets a chesunchev shirt, and each choro gets ten pairs of mitkal trousers. I have prepared forty battle chainmail; their collars are embroidered with gold, the sleeves with copper, the thickness of each is half an arshin, and the name of each choro is embroidered on the collar, with sixty wonderful arrows sewn inside each. If an enemy rider strikes a choro with an ak balta, these arrows will fly out by themselves and strike the enemy on the spot. I have prepared forty embroidered shim, forty boots sewn for durability with sinews, forty pairs of silk footwraps, forty belts that cover the belly from the groin to the chest, forty sharp swords, flints and knives, a multitude of bullets and arrows, various medicines, and one drum to tie to each saddle's front. I will tie all this to the back of each saddle and seat each choro on a beautiful horse covered with a blanket made of tiger skin.

Manas was astonished to see Kanykey's such care.

Now that's a woman! - he said.
Oh, she is a brilliant enchantress!
If her words are true,
Then I swear from now on never
To reproach her for anything,
Not to touch her with my whip,
Not to take another wife after her!
Let me be killed by the bullet of my akkelte,
Let me be set on fire by the wick of his torch,
If I break my word!

Kanykey distributed the clothes she had prepared, outfitted Manas himself, and then performed a sacrifice.

Now Kanqor has placed his foot in the stirrup,
Now he has mounted his horse,
And the elder Kyryl, son of Salamat,
Has already struck his dobulybas.
The eyes of all the onlookers sparkled with tears.
The keen-eyed berkut Manas surveyed the troops.
The horsemen rode out in a straight line
From the gates of Kanykey's palace.
And the wise elder Kyrgyl
Continued to call out with his dobulybas.
After all forty batyrs, Kanykey slipped by
With a silk handkerchief in hand
And shone like a new armor in the sun.
Her voice sounded like that of a cuckoo:
"Oh my ayash, wait!" -
And Kanykey seemed to grow before Alma.
Alma did not ride past her
And stopped respectfully.
Manas could not ride past either,
And he held back his horse behind Alma.
Kanykey's eyes were wet with tears,
And turning to the batyr Alma, she began her sorrowful words:
- In summer's childe, there are forty days,
In winter's childe, no less,
Forty and forty make eighty days.
A man who has not set out on a campaign is nothing.
There will still be free jayloo,
We will still be together during many childe!
And now you, batyrs and tores,
Have set off on a long journey.
You have taken food and all your gear,
You mounted your horses during the childe.
I want to ask you,
Where is this Beidzhin located?
In which direction does the Kyrgyz jolbars head?
Together with his companions - the beks?
When will you reach Beidzhin?
How many days will you ride there?
How many days will you return?
Tell me about this in detail.
All the batyrs of the Kyrgyz people
Have set off on a journey to a distant land.
Reliable horses are the key to our victory,
But still, I cannot be sure
That I will see your successful return.
The strength of a horse is measured by the road,
The strength of a man - by the number of livestock,
The strength of a bee - by its honey,
The strength of a brave man - by the blood shed,
The strength of a cloud is measured by the wind,
The strength of a buudan - by the sweat shed,
The might of the great is created by the people,
The independence of a peasant - by the amount of land,
The strength of a downpour is measured by the stream that runs after it,
The strength of a woman - by her husband.
My only support, my tore,
Is setting off on a dangerous journey.
Will I see him alive or dead?
Parting from my arstan
Will I not die of longing?
Loving, I have not had my fill of his love:
Now there will be no offspring left from him,
That would be my support.
Caressing, I have not drunk my fill of his caresses:
After him, my batyr,
There is not even an heir left for me to be consoled.
Measure the depth of your sorrow, my jenge:
When my batyr was with me,
I slept peacefully on down,
I managed everything in the entire jurt.
But now I have unending sadness:
I have not yet heard the ringing cry of Manas's child.
When my eagle was with me,
No sorrow disturbed my sleep,
I managed five clans of his jurt.
My best years pass in vain;
I cannot hold to my breast
Even his child.
How many dzhigits have mounted their horses!
Sadness has engulfed the entire people.
The Chinese are worthy opponents,
But your might is the key to your life.
If the enemies swarm like black beetles,
If there are snowy cliffs there,
If the enemy army surrounds you on all sides,
If my mighty tore stops;
If there are raging rivers there,
If there arises a deafening noise,
If the banners wave there,
If no one is beside him,
If my tore stops fighting;
If there is black swamp mud there,
If there rises a hurricane of cries,
If battle flags wave there,
If no soul is beside him,
If my friendly tore stops;
Let these my words sink deep into your mind,
Watch over him, help him,
Even if you yourself encounter an arrow,
Know that if a Chinese hand touches him,
Then I await his salvation only from you!

Thus Kanykey lamented in tears, entrusting Manas to the care of Almambet. Listening to Kanykey's lamentations, Alma remembered his loneliness, and tears also welled up in his eyes. He turned to Kanykey and said:

- Speaking like this, my jenge,
You have gathered the sorrow of the entire people!
You say that the lion is lonely
And repeat this in various ways.
Wailing, you complained of your sorrow,
You came here to pour out your grief.
But I am also lonely and powerless!
You entrusted me with your bek -
I myself have a whole mountain of sorrow.
You call the batyr lonely,
But the Kyrgyz clans swarming around
Are they not his relatives?
How many kin does he have!
He has enough relatives!
After the arstan-batyr
There are the kin of Abike and Kobesh.
But I, a high-born stranger,
Who do I have besides myself?
If I accidentally perish,
If I fall unexpectedly on the field
By the hand of a vengeful Chinese,
Who will remember my words?
Whose shining gaze will be clouded?
Whose soul will grieve
For a fugitive and a foreigner?
Who will weep for me in sorrow?
I have no kin for support.
For the sake of saving my soul
I abandoned my father and mother.
For my soul, which is no bigger than a fly,
I left the khan's curse,
I went into distant exile
From the cities of Chinmachin!
I have no advisor - aga,
When my end comes, no one will remember me.
Beside me, there is not even a kin,
There is no one to send me off with sorrow.
Whatever misfortune befalls me,
No one will share it with me.
If I go to distant lands,
Who will weep for me? -
Thus began Alma's arman.
The forty choro standing in a powerful circle
Could not hold back their tears either.
And he continued to speak:
- The forty batyrs standing nearby
Will hate me if I stand out more than them,
If I give an order - they will not obey,
If my end comes
The forty batyrs standing nearby
Will not wash my body, nor bury me with honor!
- What does a slave need, - they will say,
A slave from the despised Chinese?
His place is to lie in the ravine! -
They will tie me by the neck to a willow.
- Now the trickster is doing well, - they will say.
But if I perish in battle,
No one will pick up my corpse,
And everyone will leave without even looking back.
If this happens on a free day,
They will bury me in the ground like in a dump.
Thus, it seems to me, I will remain lying,
I will not have a weeping child,
There will be no person who would grieve for my death!
My lonely head is homeless,
There is no person who would be my support!
There is no offspring to keep my people on the earth!
In this phantom world
There will not even be my likeness left!
Only my wife will turn black with grief,
Some will say:
- Now the Kalmyk is doing well, -
And undoubtedly they will rejoice.
In the entire jurt, I have nothing
Belonging to me by right!
If I look here and there,
There is no close person to me, except for my wife!
And if she does not weep, -
Then it seems the arrow hit the stone;
It means I lived in vain.
In the rest of the jurt, I have no right to pity.
If I look at this world,
I have no one, except for my wife!
If my wife does not mourn,
Then it seems the arrow touched the stone! -

Thus Almambet finished his arman. All forty choro, listening to him, wept bitterly, and even tears welled up in Manas's eyes.

Then, like a peri, Aruuke decided that it was necessary to encourage the batyr and said:

- When setting off on a distant campaign, it is not fitting for a batyr to stop at the gates, it is not fitting for him to shed tears like a child.

Do not be sad that you have no offspring. I am carrying your three-month-old child under my heart.

Kanykey turned to Alma again:

- Tell me when you will return, but do not shorten the days, so that we do not consider your delay as death and do not shed tears in vain. And do not lengthen the days, so that you do not arrive unexpectedly. We want to meet you properly, with lavish feasts.

Almambet replied to Kanykey's words:

- The journey there will take three months, the journey back will also take three months. We will cross the Orkhoi River and will winter there for six months, until the horses' tongues turn black. (Note: When the grass turns green.) We will fight for six months, and if our path is clear, then in eighteen months you will see us in Talas.

The Tale of Manas. The Great Campaign. Setting Out on the Campaign. Part - 1