Zaporoche ~ an Illya backstory~ chapter 5
Jan. 30th, 2013 12:06 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
mrua7.livejournal.com posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
section7mfu
Yuli Borisovich removed his hat, and put his bandura down on top of its case, he looked to the elders seated on either side of him and there was much discussion among them.
Standing beside the elders was a man wearing a white lambswool Cossack style hat, dressed in a colorful jacket. He watched Illya's every move, and was presumably a body-guard.
The elders asked Illya questions, being leery of a Russian, until Illya spoke of Father Demya. They seemed to react well to that information and after what seemed an eternity, it was finally agreed upon teaching the young Russian. The way Illya spoke of the priest as well as Zaparoche on the island of Hortitsa were what won them over.
It seemed Father Demya had died at the hands of the Germans during the war, while helping those women and children left in the sich to flee. His name was held in high esteem as a holy martyr among the Kubanskiye Kаzaki.
Training in warrior skills such as riding began, they told Illya, were literally from birth for the Cossack. As soon as a boy was born, a bullet was put "on his tooth", and they let his hand touch a gun. On the seventh day a baby was baptized, and on the fortieth day he was clothed in a little mail suit of armor and a little saber was hitched to his side, after which his father handed him back to his mother with the words "Here is a Cossack to you".
When a baby cut his teeth, he was brought to the church on horseback and a service to St. John the Warrior was served, so the boy would grow up brave and dedicated to God and Orthodoxy, but now that part of a Cossack child's life that was to be no more, with the banning of the church and the practice of religion under the Soviet Government.
Three-year-olds," the elders told Illya, "already rode horseback on their own, and five-year-olds to their utmost raced on horseback in the streets, shot with the bow and "played war."
Gradually from father to son were transferred the art of horse riding and sharp shooting, adroitness and coordination of actions.
This they told young Illya Kuryakin, being a Russian put him at a great disadvantage, since he was not born a Cossack and had no Cossack father. Still they were willing to let him try and as a great trust, Yuli Borisovich said he would stand as father to the young Kuryakin.
A few of them looked him over, thinking he was too skinny and weak to handle a Cossack horse.
Illya defended himself, feeling a bit indignant that his manhood was being questioned.
"I survived the war and the death camp at Babi Yar and was all alone... I was orphaned. Trust me when I say, I am strong and learn fast."
They nodded their heads, and one man by the name of Ivan Petrovich Mykola dared to step forward and pull up the Russians sleeve. He nodded, almost apologetically when he saw the blue ink of the concentration camp tattoo on Illya's forearm.*
"Yes, you had to be strong to live through that," Mykola winked, "still you are not Kazak, so we will see."
Illya leaned forward to the man, whispering something secretive in his ear, not for others to hear.
"Rom?" Ivan Mykola repeated.
"Da."
"Can I tell the elders?"
Illya bit his lower lip, hesitating but nodded his approval to the man.
"This one has the blood of the Rom in him as well! "Mykola bellowed. "He is strong enough as his people too have been ravaged by the Germans and our own government. Dobro pozhalovatʹ Illya Nickovich_welcome Illya Nickovich.
Mykola took hold of his shoulders with a tight grip, kissing him on the left cheek then the right, and each of the elders followed in turn, leaving Yuli Borisovich the last to welcome him.
"Do not shame me, my son," Yuli whispered in Illya's ear as he kissed the young Russian's cheeks.
"I will not, you have my promise."
He had now been accepted by the Kubanskiye Kаzaki. Illya now had to prove he was a man of his word...
The next day his life among the Cossacks began, and he stood, smiling, as he watched the riders speed past, doing their fancy tricks as they bounced off the ground, alighting to their saddles The grace and beauty of the old Cossack ways...stirred his soul.
Ivan Mykola stood beside him, pointing out the intricacies of each moment, and how they had to be timed perfectly. "You must be as one with your horse," he said in a deep, gravelly voice.
Cossack family values were simple, rigid, and to a Western eye, seemed to come from another time. The men built the home and provided an income; the women cooked, cleaned and give birth to children. Traditional Russian values, culture, and Orthodoxy formed the bedrock of their beliefs. Illya observed there seemed to be more children in this clan, perhaps because it was in such a rural area. Yuli Borisovich was the elder patriarch, though he was a strong man, and far from any image of a grandfather figure. It was he who was their leader and held the title of Ataman.
Finally after proving himself by joining in the work of the Cossacks the the day came when they called to Illya."Come boy, it is time to ride. We will teach you!"
A horse was selected for him and he grabbed the reins with an eager, "Da!" he smiled as he saw it.
Cossack horses were sturdy animals; one had to show them who was boss, otherwise you'd be thrown from their backs like an unwanted guest, tossed out on the snow.
His horse was of the Don, the oldest Cossack breed. It was not Kubanian, or Budenny, but would do, they said. He liked that, remembering that Father Demya said once his horse was also of the Don; they were Cossacks who settled along the middle and lower Don River, one of the major rivers of Russia that rose in the town of Novomoskovsk 60 kilometres southeast from Tula, southeast of Moscow, and flowed for a distance the Sea of Azov.
They called the chestnut mare, "Grom" meaning Thunder. Yet the horse apparently did not like the young Kuryakin at first, bucking and throwing him off instantly.
Still, Illya was determined, and went back again and again until Grom accepted him.
Illya sat atop the beast, feeling a sense of freedom, with the wind blowing through his blond hair. After a few attempts and encouraging words shouted out by Mykola, Illya balanced himself as he rose in the stirrups, standing straight, using his lower legs to hold himself up, releasing the reins.
If he died this moment, he would die a happy man.
http://section7mfu.livejournal.com/227504.html
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2013-01-30 05:11 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2013-01-30 06:04 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2013-01-30 05:13 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2013-01-30 06:05 pm (UTC)Newsletter for Thursday, January 31
Date: 2013-02-01 06:33 am (UTC)Re: Newsletter for Thursday, January 31
Date: 2013-02-01 06:36 am (UTC)