Abesalom and Eteri

Once upon a time, there was nothing—or perhaps there was—a poor husband and wife lived together. Old age was approaching, yet they had no children. They would have remained childless, but the wife begged her husband:
"Go to the fortune-teller, let her tell our fortune. Maybe she'll say something, advise us, or give us some remedy."
The husband went. The fortune-teller told his fortune, gave him three apples, and said:
"If your wife asks for food, give her two apples. If she asks for drink, give her the third, and you will have a child."
The peasant did as he was told. His wife gave birth to a daughter.
They named her Eteri.

With each passing day, Eteri grew more beautiful. She was so lovely, so radiant, that even the rising sun could not compare to her beauty.

But misfortune struck: Eteri's mother died, and her father brought home a second wife to be the mistress of the house. Then her father also passed away, leaving Eteri an orphan under the care of her wicked stepmother. The stepmother tormented the poor girl, giving her no peace.
She sent Eteri to tend the cow, gave her a spindle, a tuft of cotton, and a crust of bread, saying:
"Make sure this bread lasts you until evening."

One day, after a long day of suffering, Eteri, tired and hungry, climbed a tree in the evening, nestled in its branches, and fell asleep.

In that forest, the son of the king of all the world, Abesalom, was hunting. He saw Eteri in the tree. Her beauty struck him, and he fell in love with her at first sight. Abesalom called to Eteri:

"Come to me, Eteri,
Be with me.
Captivated by your beauty—
I will make you my wife."

"No," Eteri replied, "what kind of wife am I for you?

You are great, mighty, and glorious,
Forever honored by your ancestors.
The sun doesn't even shine for me,
I live as an orphan in this world.
To you, I am but a plaything,
I am no match for a prince.
You will leave me soon,
And my life will become a curse."

Abesalom swore he would never abandon her, never betray her:

"God sends light from heaven above.
Here below, Abesalom stands.
If I betray you,
May God forget me,
May my armor fall from me,
May the waters dry up in the desert,
Even if they were as vast as the sea.
May my food perish on a seven-year journey."

Eteri believed Abesalom's oaths and agreed to become his wife. As a token of his faithfulness, Abesalom gave her a knife with a black handle and took her to his palace.

Abesalom had an advisor named Murman. Abesalom sent him with joyful news to his sister Marekh:
"I am bringing home a wife, the golden-haired Eteri. Prepare the wedding garments."

They brought Eteri to the palace and dressed her in royal attire. Abesalom wrote letters to all the kingdoms, inviting everyone to his wedding. He sent Murman to deliver the letters. As Murman traveled, he too became consumed by love for Eteri. He dreamed:
"Where is the person who will plant hatred in Abesalom's heart for Eteri, so he will give her to me?"
As he rode, the devil met him:
"Where are you going, Murman, and what are you so deep in thought about?"
Murman told him everything.
"Why go far?" said the devil. "I will give you a potion that will make Abesalom fall out of love with Eteri and give her to you. Just promise me your soul in return."
"Ah, I would not even regret my soul if Eteri became mine," said Murman.
"Then write on paper that you will not break your word, and Eteri will be yours."
Murman wrote the paper and gave it to the devil.

The devil took the paper and said:
"Once Abesalom and Eteri are wed, take a handful of millet and quietly throw it at Eteri. Know this: worms will cover her, and no matter how much they clean her, they will not succeed until your hand touches her."
The devil returned to his lair, and Murman, having sold his soul, went home. Abesalom and Eteri were wed, and as they left the church, Murman threw a handful of millet at Eteri.
Immediately, worms covered Eteri. They tried to clean her, but the worms only multiplied. Abesalom, tormented, led Eteri out and declared before all the people:

"On Monday we were united,
On Tuesday the hour of parting has come.
Let those who envied our bliss
Now rejoice and sing.
I am going hunting at once.
Who will take Eteri from me?"

Murman's dream came true. He knelt before Abesalom and pleaded:

"King, I am loyal to you until death,
Give me poor Eteri!"

Abesalom gave Eteri to Murman. As soon as Murman's hand touched Eteri, she was healed, and all the worms disappeared as if they had never been. Murman took her, and she became his wife.

Abesalom fell ill after losing Eteri. Love for her burned within him, tormenting him.
Unable to bear it, Abesalom turned to Murman with a plea:

"Tell me, for the sake of the sun,
How is my Eteri?"

Murman replied:

"Do you wish to know, king equal to the heavens,
How my Eteri lives?
I have built a crystal castle,
Its spires reach the heavens.
There lives my Eteri,
More beautiful than wondrous swans.
Nine loving sisters-in-law
All cherish her with love,
And her mother-in-law braids
Her golden hair.
Nine brothers-in-law stand at the gate,
Their gaze sparkles like diamonds,
And on the castle roof, her father-in-law
Proudly guards the castle."

When Abesalom heard this, his love for Eteri grew even stronger. He fell gravely ill. Determined to remove Murman and reclaim Eteri, he summoned him and commanded:
"Go and fetch me the water of immortality. Perhaps it will heal me."
Murman thought, "Evil hangs over my head." He asked for nine days' time and left. He went to Eteri:

"Let me rest today
Against your dazzling breast.
Tomorrow I am sent to Algeti—
A long journey lies ahead.
Stones will block my path,
Even lions fear that road.
Only suffering awaits me,
My effort will be in vain—
To the nine healing springs
I must set out at dawn
To fetch the life-giving water."

Eteri said:

"I will shed my silks and satins,
Cover myself with a shawl,
Take a jug with me,
And fetch river water.
I will not enter any neighbor's house,
Nor your brother's home.
If I enter, I will leave as a sister.
Believe my word."

Murman spent the night with Eteri.

"May this night be long,
May the dawn not blush.
Tomorrow the caress of beloved lips
Will no longer warm my heart."

In the morning, Murman asked his sister and mother:
"Take care of her, pamper her so that neither a breeze nor a sunbeam touches her."
But Abesalom grew worse and worse. He was dying, and there was no cure for him... His sister Marekh went out, weeping and pleading:
"My brother is dying. If anyone can help, find a way to save him."
They told her:
"Perhaps it is his love for Eteri that is killing him. Bring him a raven's wing, well-baked bread, red wine, and a dove's wing—you will see."

Marekh brought everything and laid it on the couch beside her brother. Abesalom turned, took the dove's wing, and said:
"However white you are, dove's wing, Eteri is whiter still." He took the bread and said, "However good you are, Eteri is better still." He took the red wine and said, "However red you are, wine, Eteri's cheeks are brighter than you." He took the raven's wing and said, "However black you are, raven's wing, Eteri's eyes and brows are blacker still."
Then he told his sister:

"Rise quickly, Marekh, star of mine,
And hurry to Eteri.
If she asks about me,
Tell her everything from your heart."

Marekh went to Eteri. But Eteri already knew of Abesalom's illness. She deceived her mother-in-law, left the house, entered Abesalom's garden, sat under a poplar tree, and wept. In her tears, Eteri fell asleep in Abesalom's garden. Marekh arrived, saw Eteri sleeping, and called to her:

"I have searched for you from morning till misty night,
Yet you sleep peacefully in the shaded garden.
Your golden clasp has come undone,
Your crystal-white breast gleams,
And your black curls are wildly spread,
Like foam on a rising wave."

Eteri did not hear her. Marekh called again:

"I have come to you, Eteri,
Chasing away your gentle sleep.
You outshine even the stars
And the moon with your radiant beauty.
Spring has already arrived,
May sunsets fade.
Rise, dear Eteri,
Heal my brother quickly.
I will take a shovel in my hands
And clear the path for you,
Lay down wondrous marble
To the palace threshold.
I will build you a castle
Of diamonds and turquoise,
Line the chambers inside
With ebony wood.
So you may breathe in coolness,
Poplar trees will surround the castle;
So you do not tan,
Silk will cover your throne;
So your foot does not stumble
On a stone,
I will cover the spacious courtyard
With golden carpets."

Eteri rose and said:
"Only to heal your brother, how could I not go?"
She arrived. Abesalom was already dying. But as soon as he heard the sound of her footsteps, he rose and spoke:

"You have come to me, Eteri,
Let the seas and land sing.
Looking into my sick eyes,
You have breathed strength into my soul.
Between my lashes, I see—
A magical garden blooms,
And my heart burns with gratitude
For you, Eteri.
You have come, but I, Eteri,
Am already parting with the earth.
God calls me to heaven,
To eternal peaceful silence."

Marekh approached to comfort her brother:

"Brother, if you can see,
Look—Eteri has come."

Abesalom said:

"Let her come closer."

Eteri said:

"She is already at the door.
Her path is easy to measure,"

and she entered. Abesalom turned to her, looked at her, and died.
Eteri approached and clung to Abesalom. Then she stood, took the knife he had given her, and said:

"Abesalom's knife
Is in my pocket.
I decided long ago:
When the hour comes,
I will draw it,
The handle toward my friend,
The blade toward myself.
I will die peacefully,
I will die with you,
Thinking of you.
Let us be buried
At the edge of the road
Under one mound,
Covered with leaves
And buried with earth,
Together, you and I.
Let a rose bloom
Over our grave,
Breathing in the fresh breeze.
Let birds chirp
And raise their young
Above the simple mound.
Let a spring flow
Eternally from the mound,
And above it, a golden cup
Shine brightly with joy.
Let every traveler
Drink from that cup
Of healing water,
Bid farewell to us
Here among the fields!"

She plunged the knife into her chest and died.
Indeed, Abesalom and Eteri were buried together.

Abesalom and Eteri.
They were made for each other.

Murman returned, found the grave of Abesalom and Eteri, dug it open, and lay between them.
A thorny bush grew on his grave, while roses and violets grew on the graves of Abesalom and Eteri. The rose and violet stretch toward each other, longing to embrace, but the thorny bush stands between them, keeping them apart. And from beneath Murman's feet, puppies emerged and howled.

A good tale—the storyteller is good.
Good wine—you drink it well.

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Abesalom and Eteri

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