ALUDA KETELAURI

A messenger came to Shatili:

“The Chechens have struck a blow against us,

these evil men of evil ways

have sent our shepherds scattering”.

Aluda Ketelauri

is a man smiled on by fate,

in village assemblies he sits at the head,

his words when he speaks are to the point;

he has proven his sharp-edged sabre

and hacked many Chechen right hands off.

The bad man has no need to fight,

the good man can always meet the foe!

The Chechens had driven off, he heard,

Aluda’s own fleet-footed horses;

he has an inkling that they would cross

the mountainous head of the Arkhoti,

their horses’ shoes trampling down

the dewy fescues of the mountains.

As soon as Aluda heard all this,

he put an edge on his rifle’s flint,

put on his armour, sharpened his sword,

testing carefully the crosspiece,

lest the sword should break its hilt.

Dawn. The peregrine falcon of the rocks 

swiftly pursues the enemy;

as day breaks over the rocky screes

the snow pheasant’s bell-like call rings out.

But the dogs still sleep in their pens,

the sheep have not yet left their folds.

Aluda’s eyes soon fell upon

the Chechen’s tracks. Moments later

he caught them up. His gun went off.

One thieving Ingush tribesman met

the evil instant of his end.

His body toppled from his horse,

hanging over upside down,

pierced by a ball in the shoulderblade.

He feels fire spreading from the wound.

Another Ingush, the dead man’s comrade,

squeezes the trigger with his finger.

Mutsali’s rifle fired a shot,

splintering the bare rock-face.

Shattered pieces of bullet fall

into Aluda’s tunic hem.

“Haven’t I hit you, heathen dog?”

Mutsali called out to his foe.

“Don’t you believe it, heathen dog,

I am a vassal of Gudani shrine”.

The bang that came from Aluda’s gun

was thunder striking from the sky.

“Haven’t I hit you, heathen dog?”

he shouts out to the other man.

“Mutsali’s unharmed, heathen dog;

I was only struck by broken rock.”

“Aha, that must have pierced his hat,

the bullet’s singed the ends of his hairs.”

“You aimed too high, miserable wretch,

it didn’t touch the bones of my skull.”

Mutsali’s rifle returned the fire

the bullet makes a horrid noise.

It had broken Aluda

Ketelauri’s powder-horn.

“Aren’t you hit now, heathen dog?”

Mutsali asks him threateningly.

“No, I am not, you heathen dog;

the vassal of Gudani shrine

is followed by victory-bringing forces

that invoke the powers of God.

His heart’s unhurt, don’t be misled.

Just my gunpowder pouch was smashed.

Now that I must kill or be killed,

I’ll venge myself on my enemy.”

The man from Shatili fired a shot

which broke the Chechen’s breastbone up.

“Now, I’ve got you, heathen dog!”

loudly he shrieks at his Chechen foe.

“My heart is hit, my heart, heathen dog,

woe to Mutsali’s prowess in battle.

You killed my brother, you’ve killed me too:                                          

 what can I say of the grace of God?”

Mutsali does not wish to die,

he does not lose his wolfish colour,

he tears at the green mountain grasses,

spreading the herbs all over his wound.

He fired once more at Aluda,

losing no chance of fighting on.

Then he flung his gun to Aluda,

speaking to him one more time:

“Now let it be yours, you heathen dog,

lest it fall in another man’s hands.”

The very words dried on his lips,

he lay low, sprawling on the earth.

Aluda doesn’t want the rifle.

He burst like a woman into tears.

His eyes do not covet his enemy’s weapons,

he does not strip the armour off.

He placed the dagger by Mutsali’s head

(it had a handle of ivory),

he put the flint gun on his chest

and on his arm, he laid his sabre.

Aluda does not cut off

Mutsali’s right hand. Instead he says,

“It’s wrong. Man, whom I have killed,

God let your body rest in peace.

The least that I can do for you

is leave your arm and right hand joined.

Let your hand on your heart go back to dust;

the stone wall’s door shall not have your hand

hanging up to gladden it.

Good people must have brought you up.

God prolong the days of your kin.”

He covered him from head to toe

with his cloak, and the shield on top.