THE SCENE: Single combat between champions is a recurring trope in medieval literature. The story below is unique in that the champions path to his duel is more interesting than the duel itself.
THE TEXT: “Send one of your warriors, and I will detail one of mine, that they may do battle together. If your man conquers mine, let us not fight together for three years to come. But if our champion wins, let us fight three years in succession.” Then each prince returned to his own force.
Vladimir returned to his camp [the Russ camp], and sent heralds through it to inquire whether there was any man who would fight with the champion of the Pechenegs. But none was found anywhere. On the morrow, the Pechenegs arrived, bringing their champion; but on our side there was none. Vladimir now began to be concerned as he sought a champion throughout his whole army. Then there came to the Prince an old man who said to him, “Oh Prince, I have a younger son at home. I came forth with four others, but he abides by the hearth. Since his childhood, there has been no man who could vanquish him. One day when I reprimanded him while he was tanning a hide, he flew into a rage at me and tore the leather to bits with his hands.”
When the Prince heard these words, he rejoiced, and summoned the youth. So he was brought before the Prince, and the Prince informed him of all that had occurred. Then the youth said, “Oh Prince, I know not whether I be capable of this feat; wherefore let them test me. Is there no large and strong bull hereabouts?” Such a bull was soon found, and he directed them to anger the animal. The men put hot irons on him, and then let him go. The bull ran past the youth, and he seized the beast’s flank with his hand. He thus pulled off the skin along with as much flesh as he could grasp. Then Vladimir remarked, “You are well qualified to do combat with the champion.”
On the morrow the Pecheneg approached, and began to shout, “Is there no champion present? See, ours is ready.” Vladimir had given orders that night to rest upon their arms, and at dawn the two champions went forth. The Pechenegs had sent out their man, who was gigantic and fearsome. Vladimir sent forward his champion, and when the Pecheneg saw him, he laughed, for he was but of moderate size. A space was duly measured off between the two armies, and the warriors were allowed to attack each other. They came to grips, and seized upon each other with violence. But the Russ crushed the Pecheneg to death in his arms, and cast him to the ground. The Russes raised a cheer, and the Pechenegs took to flight. The Russes pursued them, cut them down, and drove them away.
– Tales of Bygone Years, Nestor, 12th Century AD
[Image Credit: Hercules Wrestling With The River by Guido Reni]
