The Minstrel of Novgorod
By E.H. Munro
In the early days of the Novgorod Republic there lived a young man named Sadko Sytinich. Sadko was not rich in the ways that men respected, for he had no land of his own, instead letting a spare room by the quarter from a farmer. He had no goods to trade, save only his gusli, which was the only possession left him by his father Sytin. He refused all offers for his gusli as it was by this instrument that he made his living. It was of maple with exquisite strings, and his father had taught him its playing from his youngest days, so that Sadko’s playing far exceeded that of his father. Indeed, his playing was so widely reverenced that not a wealthy boyar in Novgorod could hold a feast but that Sadko should entertain the guests by playing for them. At these feasts Sadko was allowed to eat his fill, and the guests ever took care to press him with coins to reward him for his skill and to win his favor so that he would consent to play their feasts in time. By such did Sadko live, with his rent paid and his stomach full. For in the days of the republic Novgorod was wealthy, free, and happy, and there were always feasts for Sadko to play. Whether wedding feasts, funerals, saint’s days, christenings, or for general mirth there was nearly always someplace for Sadko to play for his food, and the coins that paid his rent.
It so came to pass that one day Sadko was invited to play for the wedding feast of the daughter of a wealthy prince named Nikolai, a descendant of Yaroslav the Wise, he who laid the foundations for the Republic. Prince Nikolai had two daughters, the princesses Katerina and Alexandrovna, and it was the former whose wedding feast was being celebrated. Yet it was Princess Alexandrovna who was held to be the fairest young woman in all of Novgorod, and boyars all the way to Kiev applied to Nikolai for her hand. Yet Alexandrovna had no interest in any of them and such was she esteemed by her father that he deferred to her wishes in refusing her suitors.
At the feast for Princess Katerina Sadko played on his gusli as he never had, for it was the first time that he had been honored by the patronage of a prince, and he wished to reward the honor with all the skill that he possessed. While watching young Sadko play Princess Alexandrovna took an affection towards him, for she had never heard anyone play such as he. When he had finished playing, and was about to take himself to the servants’ table to eat, Princess Alexandrovna approached him with all the boldness with which she’d been raised and spoke to him directly. “You are, fair sir, the finest player I have ever heard.”
Sadko colored slightly, and bowed deeply. “I thank you, your highness, for the compliment. The praise of a princess is praise indeed.”
The princess, however, was not wont to allow the conversation to end thusly, and held him in his place. “They say that you are the fairest minstrel in Novgorod or Kiev, and I well see why.”
Sadko bowed again, and spoke freely. “I can not say for Kiev, your highness, for I know not their minstrelsy, but I know my place amongst those of Novgorod.”
“You have never been to Kiev?”
“Nay, your highness. I have never been and desire not to go.”
“But why? Surely one such as yourself should be acclaimed everywhere for his skill. Novgorod is but a small place in the shadow of Kiev the Great.”
“I have all that I need in Novgorod, your highness. I have food for my stomach, a roof over my head, and I live free and happy in the fairest republic of all the world.”
“Do you have no greater ambitions then? A fine house with servants? And money to pass on to your heirs?”
Sadko smiled and held up his gusli. “What need have I of such things? A man with a home and servants is himself in thrall to his bondsmen, whose support he is bound to provide. Nay, your highness, I am happy as I am. All that my father left me was this instrument, and I in turn shall leave it to my heir that he may also so make his way.” With that he made his way to the servants table to partake of the food that had been set aside for them.
Princess Alexdrovna had been moved by Sadko’s simple good nature, and decided that such a man would be a worthy husband. After the feast was over, the princess asked leave to speak to her father, and was shown into his suite where he was about the business of his estate.
“Father, do you esteem the minstrel that you summoned to the feast?”
Prince Nikolai looked up from his papers. “Sadko? He is the finest player in all of Novgorod, and Kiev as far as it is known to me. But it is just, is it not, that the fairest player should come from this blessed realm?”
The princess sat her down upon a divan against the wall. “He could make a great deal if he were to actively seek the patronage of the great, could he not?”
The prince shrugged. “It is likely enough that Roman Mstislavich or Rurik Rostislavich would show him favor if he were to play for them at the court in Kiev.”
“I wish to marry him, father, for he is the only man I have met worthy of me.”
Nikolai looked at his daughter sharply. “You discerned this listening to him play? While a great musician it is my understanding that he is the flightiest of young men.”
Alexandrovna shook her head. “Nay, father, I spoke with Sadko. A sweeter disposition in a man I have never seen. He will be the gentlest of husbands and best of fathers.”
Nikolai, taking great pains to hide his anger, said to his daughter, “We shall speak no more of this at the moment, for I can not give my consent tonight. And not ever lest Sadko show himself capable of accumulating wealth.”
The princess went to bed troubled, wondering if she’d brought bad fortune on to Sadko by speaking thus with her father.
Nikolai was furious that a mere minstrel had made free with his daughter without so much as asking his leave and determined to show Sadko his place. The following day he spoke to the boyars, letting them know that Sadko had spoken with his daughter without leave, and vowing before all that he should never summon him again to any feast, nor appear at any feast where Sadko played. The boyars reacted in the way that the powerful do when the poor try to force their way in to their sanctum. Sadko found himself shunned by the boyars who had been his greatest benefactors. He was still asked to play at church feasts, and the weddings of the poor, but he could not bring himself to take the half kopek coins the poor offered him, for he felt their need greater than his own. And so it was that Sadko managed to eat, but began to fall behind on his ready coin. It came to pass as the time of his fall rent came due, and as the weather turned cold, Sadko had not the money for either rent or a warm winter coat.
The farmer he lodged with, Ryurik, spoke to him on the day his fall rent came due. “Sadko, my family is not rich. We rely on the money you give us to buy warm clothes for our children. We can not afford to feed and keep you any longer, though it breaks my heart to tell you so.”
Sadko smiled bravely, though he was bitter with grief over his plight. “Think naught of it, Ryurik. You are a good man, would that the world had more such as you and fewer princes.”
Sadko gathered his few articles of clothing and his gusli of maple and took himself to the Church of Saint Nicholas to say a prayer. He prayed to Saint Nicholas for the courage to face his exile. As he prayed in the chapel he felt a peace come over him and drifted off to sleep. In sleep he wandered into the Land of Dreams. When there he found himself in the church, but it was somehow different. He heard the sound of chanting coming from above and he began searching for its source. As he wandered the church he found the stairway to the bell tower, and the chanting grew louder. He walked up the stairs, before reaching the tower he discovered a small niche, from which the chanting emanated. Within the niche he saw an old man dressed as a bishop.
He bowed low and said, “Forgive me, father, I did not mean to interrupt your prayers.”
The bishop turned and looked at him, his age was hard to guess, for while his hair was streaked with gray his face appeared quite timeless. The man said to him, “Welcome, Sadko, there is no apology to make, for I pray for you.”
“Me, father?”
“Am I not the Patron of those that wander?”
Sadko knew who he was seeing and prostrated himself before the holy father. “Forgive me, father, I did not recognize you.”
The holy father smiled. “You came here to pray for my intercession, and I have made it. Find you a secluded spot on the shores of Lake Ilmen and you shall see a great wonder.”
“What wonder will I see, father?”
“This blessing I give you, Sadko. For all that you see, do not forget who has blessed you on this journey. And do not forget that I am the patron of all that wander, not merely you.”
Before he could ask the holy father what was meant he found himself shaken. Opening his eyes he saw a priest.
The Priest said to him, “The Divine Liturgy is nigh, son, if you mean to hear it you must awaken.”
He thanked the priest, but rather than going to liturgy went to partake of the Sacrament of Confession, to cleanse his soul before departing his beloved Novgorod. He traveled around the shores of Lake Ilmen, as Saint Nicholas had told him in his dream, to where he would be removed from where any might observe him. When he was sure that he was perfectly alone he sat and watched out over the lake for the wonder that Saint Nicholas had promised him. But though he waited no wonder came. He wept bitterly for then he knew that he had not seen a holy vision but a mere dream.
“You fool, Sadko, Saint Nicholas has too many cares for a small man like you.”
After weeping he lay down and slept, to better meet his end in the cold of the night. He awoke and saw the day had passed into the early fall dusk and resumed weeping for his fate.
But amidst the grief he felt a peace come upon him for the second time that day. “This will never do, such grief must be put into music. If this is to be my last day then let me enter Paradise with a song upon my lips.” And so he began to play a lament on his instrument. It was a lament such as has rarely been heard in the world of men, for into it went all the grief for his plight, his lost home, his lost city, and his soon to be lost life as the Russian winter would find him in the wild. It was in this moment, broken by grief, and playing on his strings unconscious of time or place that the spirit moved within him and sent forth wild torrents of heartbreaking music. When he finished playing Sadko noticed two things; first that the day had vanished and it was now evening. And second that he was surrounded by animals, including a bear and two wolves.
Seeing these creatures Sadko became suddenly afraid for his life, and considered fleeing when a voice rang out from the lake itself. “Do not fear, good sir. They would no more harm you than I.”
Sadko looked for the source of the voice, but only saw a fish on the shore. It was sleek, silver, and had two fins that looked remarkably like feet resting on the sand. He stared at the fish, as it was the only possible speaker, and determined that the he had again entered the Land of Dreams. “Indeed, it is my dream trying to reassure me that there is no danger to me, though I will surely die.”
Then the fish interrupted his reverie. “As you will not introduce yourself to me, I see that I must make the introduction myself, though others of my rank would be loathe to do so. I, good sir, am the King of the Fish, and you needn’t fear the animals nearby. Though I am not their sovereign and can not command them, they will heed me in this regard, that your playing is the finest we’ve ever heard. It is thus the gift of men, who have been created in the image of He that created us all, that you also have the power to create things of surpassing beauty.”
Sadko, abashed by his manners, even in a dream, bowed to the speaker. “I am sorry, your majesty, for the failure of my manners. I am Sadko Sytinich, the Minstrel of Novgorod.”
The King laughed. “The Minstrel of Novgorod? Are there no other minstrels in that fair city then?”
Sadko smiled. “There are none like me, your majesty. “
“And are there none in Kiev your equal?”
“I neither know nor care, for Novgorod the Great is my home, and none other do I desire.”
“And yet here it is night and you are on the banks of Lake Ilmen. Fortunate am I that fate brought me to the lake today, or I might have missed your playing. My heart broke to hear it as were I denied my own home.”
Sadko smiled ruefully. “Indeed, your majesty, and that is the way of it.”
“Novgorod has expelled her minstrel?”
“I have had ill fortune in the last year, since playing the wedding feast of a princess I have found myself shunned by the boyars who formerly paid me for my playing. And now I am out of money, and out of my home, and out of the city I love above all else.”
“The world is wide, Sadko, surely in Kiev they would honor a player such as you.”
“Yet I have no desire to live Kiev under the thumb of despots. It is Novgorod and her freedom that I love, and if I can’t live here, then I may as well die here.”
The King smiled. “I shall make you a bargain, Sadko. Play for me again and I will do you a great favor.”
Sadko felt joy rise in his heart, the King’s offer held the promise of restoration to his former place. “I shall play a dance for you and all the wild, and praise you, your majesty, for restoring my faith in the goodness of nobility.” Sadko took up his gusli and began to play a dance, and as he played for joy he felt it grow in him, and again he entered that place where time and location vanish before the spirit within. When he was done, he saw that deepest night had fallen, and even more woodland creatures surrounded him on the lake’s shore, and the King remained on the shore, rapt in attention.
“Thank you, dear Sadko, for playing so sweetly to break my heart and so joyfully to restore it. As a reward I grant you this boon. Go forth and speak to the prince who has authored your misfortune, and make him a wager, that there are fish of the purest gold in Lake Ilmen, and none but yourself may catch them, and then only with your music. And this will be the foundation of your fortune, so that none but yourself will ever again send you forth from your beloved Novgorod.”
“And what of tonight, your majesty?”
“Yon bear shall care for you, and be your shelter against the night’s cold. Fare thee well, Sadko, for we are destined to meet again.”
As the King spoke a large black bear came up to Sadko and nuzzled him. Sadko stroked the bear’s snout and said to the King, “Thank you, your majesty, for the honor you’ve bestowed me. No greater king shall I ever play for. Be he sitting on a golden throne in Kiev or Constantinople.”
“Never is a long time, indeed, Sadko. And you may just one day play for a greater king than I, if not in this world then the next.”
With that the King left the shore and swam off into the lake. And as if the spell finally broke the animals of the wild, save the bear alone, left for their homes. Sadko turned to the bear and said, “Well, brother Ursa, it looks as if we are on our own tonight.”
The bear looked at him, and Sadko swore that he could see understanding in the animal’s eyes, and wondered if the King had made the bear so. The bear lay down and continued looking at Sadko, who lay down next to the bear, and warmed himself in its furry embrace.
When Sadko awoke again the sun had risen on a cold autumn morn and the bear was gone, and he began to doubt what he had seen. For the wonder could not be real. And yet he was safe and whole despite the bitter night. He thought to himself, “What more does a man have at times like this than his faith? Still, if I make a wager it should be the final one so that there’s naught to fear if it was all a dream.”
And so Sadko set out to return to Novgorod and to make his wager with Prince Nikolai. He reached Novgorod by mid morn and made his way to the prince’s estate where he presented himself to the footman and requested an audience of the prince. The footman looked him up and down and said, “And who should I tell his highness is calling?”
Sadko replied joyfully, “Tell him the Minstrel of Novgorod has come to take back his own, and that if he refuses me an audience I shall give him the most dreadful lampooning such as has ever been heard within the bounds of our fair republic.”
The doorman shut the door on Sadko and left. Sadko took a seat on the stoop and waited, after an hour the doorman returned and spoke, “I have been instructed to take you within.” With that he guided Sadko to a parlor, invited him to sit and then left the room. Shortly thereafter Princess Alexandrovna entered the room, and took a seat on one of the divans, while Sadko stood and bowed to her. “It is an honor to meet you again, your highness, but I was expecting your father.”
“He is giving a lunch for the boyar members of the Veche. He will not see you, Sadko.”
“Then I shall compose a lampoon of him which I will sing to all and anon. For I have good reason to complain of his treatment of me, and I am no longer willing to accept the portion that I have been given. I mean to take the life that was mine back.”
The princess smiled. “I am glad to hear it. What specifically do you want?”
“I mean to make a wager with your father, for there are fish of gold in Lake Ilmen that only I may catch, and I shall wager my head against anything that your father may set against it that I shall succeed where no one else will.”
The princess stared at him thoughtfully. “Request my hand in marriage as part of your wager, dear Sadko, and I shall ensure that my father sees you.”
To this Sadko readily agreed and the princess left the room. A quarter hour later a footman entered the parlor and guided Sadko to the porch, where a banquet was laid and Prince Nikolai sat with a dozen of Novgorod’s boyars. The Prince himself stood to greet Sadko, and spoke in a manner that was simultaneously the soul of courtesy and scorn. “What may I do for the Minstrel of Novgorod? It is too long since your presence graced my home.”
At this the other boyars laughed, eager to see Sadko made sport of. But Sadko himself merely smiled. “I come to make your highness a wager, if you have the courage to take it.”
The Prince bridled under the insult, as if he had not first given offense, and when he responded could not hide the peevishness in his voice. “And what wager would that be, oh Minstrel of Novgorod?”
“There are golden fish that swim in the waters of Lake Ilmen, and I will provide you with one.”
“That is not much of a wager, what do I care for a golden hued fish? And what should we wager for it? A kopek or two?”
The men of his table laughed a second time. But Sadko turned more serious, and the smile vanished from his face. To himself he thought, “The poorest farmer would show his guests better, people say I’ve no ambition, but I’ve no ambition to be this,” but to the Prince he only said, “Nay, they will not be golden hued, but gold. Each scale will prove itself to be the purest gold when it is peeled from the fish. And you may choose such fisherman as you like, but they will not catch you a single one. Only I can do it.”
The Prince was silent for a few moments, and one of the boyar, named Olaf, took his chance to speak. “What? Will you charm them with your playing?”
Sadko’s smile returned. “Indeed I will. Neither will I use net nor fishing line, but only my gusli, and the fish will come to me.”
The Prince felt suddenly trapped, for Sadko had offered up an impossible wager, to refuse it would be cowardice. He asked, “And what are to be the stakes?”
“Your daughter’s hand in marriage.”
The boyars burst out laughing at this request, and the Prince waited for the laughter to subside. “Those are my stakes, and high are they indeed. What are you offering against my daughter?”
“My life, your highness.”
The Prince suddenly laughed. “I see what game you’re about, you scoundrel. You come to provoke me into accepting your wager, and offering me slavery if you fail in your impossible task, so that you may live on my estate, eat my black bread, drink my tea, and sleep in my beds all for a few notes on your lyre. I should have expected no better from a shiftless man that has been turned out of town.”
Sadko replied with defiance, “I am a free man of Novgorod. I will neither offer slavery nor accept it from another. When I wager my life, your highness, I am offering you the chance to strike my head from my shoulders.”
“After all,” he thought to himself, “If I’m to lose the wager best to be done with everything.”
The Prince replied quietly, “I accept this wager. I shall send out thirteen fishermen, one for each of us here, and they shall have till the ninth hour to provide me with golden fish, if they fail then you may try.”
“He is wagering with a ghost, apparently,” thought Sadko, “As he doesn’t seem to recognize my being here, nor any of the others that wait upon him.”
“That is acceptable,” was all he said.
“And you shall use neither net, nor string, nor spear to catch the fish.”
“As I have said, your highness, the only strings I use will be those upon my gusli.”
“I will need tomorrow to gather fishermen for my part of the wager.”
Sadko smiled again and said, “Then we shall meet after dawn on the day after tomorrow, your highness. It would be best for you to plan the wedding celebration now.” And with that parting shot Sadko left the porch to the laughter of the boyars. But Sadko could hear, and hear that the Prince’s laughter was not amongst the cacophony.
As he entered the house again he saw Princess Alexandrovna, watching him and smiling. “You have done well, Sadko. I knew you were worthy, and none other. You will win this wager.”
He smiled back. “Indeed I will, for I was promised the same by a saint and a king.” And he left without explaining the remark.
He walked back to Ryurik’s farm, to beg lodging of the farmer. Ryurik explained that Sadko’s room was occupied by a new laborer, who could not be put out. Sadko, however, reassured his old friend that he wouldn’t require his old room, simply a warm corner of the barn and some hay. “It is only for the night, Ryurik. I shall have much to do tomorrow, and tomorrow night I shall be camping by Lake Ilmen. But tonight I need your aid.”
Ryurik, much abashed, replied, “How can I forget my manners? Come, Sadko, I have not much to offer, but some hay, a pair of horse blankets, and an empty stall, but we shall fix it up for you. And there will be bread, cheese, and tea for you in the morning by way of recompense.”
“You are the best of men, Ryurik, and a better host than any prince I have ever met. God willing one day I shall return the favor to you.”
True to his word in the morning Ryurik fed Sadko, and then gave him a loaf of black bread for the coming day. “May it preserve you through the day, Sadko, as you’ve told me you’re to meet your fate tomorrow.”
“We shall meet again, Ryurik, and I shall not forget your kindness.”
Sadko spent his day wandering Novgorod. First to the market to buy a rind of cheese for his dinner and thence to St. Nicholas’ Cathedral again to say a prayer of thanks to his patron and in the afternoon took himself to the shores of Lake Ilmen, and made his way to the spot on the southwestern shore where he had met the King of the Fish. He looked out over the water, again doubting his vision and the king’s promise. He sat on the shore and wondered again whether it really wasn’t just a dream.
“This will never do, Sadko,” he thought to himself, “There’s nothing to fear as tomorrow you’ll have a greater reward; either in this world or the next.”
To pass the time he played idly on the strings of his gusli, not to sing, but only to hear the sweet notes echo over the water. After a while he fancied that he heard someone singing in the far distance, but while he sometimes thought the voice was human, at others it seemed to be only the sweet murmur of the Volkhov as it emptied into Lake Ilmen. But it was comforting, and as the sun set the voice put him to sleep. He awoke in the night and found that the bear was again lying next to him, to shelter him from the wind and cold. He reached into his sack and shared out the cheese rind with the bear. “It seems you’re fated to be my companion at need, brother Ursa. Have patience with me for just one more night.” He pet the bear for a while and returned to sleep.
Again he awoke in the chill of dawn, stiff, but unfrozen, with the bear once again nowhere to be seen. He stretched out, ate the morsel of bread left to him and walked back towards Novgorod to the fishing docks on Lake Ilmen. He met there the Prince and a wide selection of the boyars, and behind them many of the free men and women of Novgorod, curious about the commotion. The Prince saw Sadko and again addressed him that tone that gave offense with its courtesy. “Good morning to you, oh Minstrel of Novgorod. You have come late to your own wager.”
“As I am not wanted till the ninth hour, your highness, I saw no reason to hurry here.” He sat down by the shore and watched the boats out on the lake, but it wasn’t just the fisherman that the Prince selected, but more still plied the waters trying their luck for the golden fish. “No matter what the King of the Fish has promised me, I have every right to fear that one of them shall catch a golden fish by accident,” he thought silently. Turning to the Prince he said, “There seem to be a lot more than 13 fishermen out there, your highness. How am I to know which are your chosen ones? Or that you but wait to see if any are successful and claim him as your own?”
He could see the Prince bridle under his words. “You would dare accuse me?”
Sadko smiled. “Nay, your highness. I just thought a slight change in the terms would be acceptable to you. You may have the labor of every fisherman on this lake, but I shall be allowed to supply you with more fish than all their combined labor.”
The Prince pondered the offer deeply. He was sure he was being cheated, but to back down was still cowardice. “Besides,” he thought to himself, “there must be fifty boats out there searching for the golden fish, and my odds are better.”
“Your offer is accepted.”
And yet when the ninth hour came and the horns were blown to signal the fisherman that it was time to return and they offloaded their catches there were found many carps, perch, bream, and zander, but there were no fish of gold. The Prince thought to himself, “If all these could not raise a single golden fish what chance does this lazy minstrel have?” And yet he still felt fear gnawing upon him.
As he stood worrying he heard one of the boyar sternly remind Sadko, “Though the fishermen have failed, you have not won. For you must succeed to win.”
At this Sadko laughed loudly and lustily. “I need but the one golden fish to win, but I will do far better than that.” He took up his gusli and carefully tuned it, and when he was ready began playing on its strings a song of defiance. He sang to the crowds of the free men of Novgorod, who dared expel princes and defy kings. Of men who worked their fields, worked their boats and worked their stores until they were called upon to take up the sword to protect the only thing worth having. And as the notes flew from his lyre Sadko again entered that place where time and place are heedless and the spirit moved within him, and now the river Volkhov indeed took up the song that Sadko played, and in a woman’s voice it began to sing of the men of the lake and river that journeyed to the ends of the earth for the sheer joy of adventure and trade. And as the dusk arrived the woman’s voice faded and Sadko played out the last notes on his gusli. When he looked out upon the crowd he saw them staring at him in amazement. Then he looked upon the Princess Alexandrovna and saw her face alight with pride. And lastly he looked to the shore of Lake Ilmen and saw seven golden fish, fat and long, laying upon the shore as the King of the Fish had promised him. He looked at the Prince and said, “Here are the fishes, summon the goldsmith to confirm that the scales are gold.”
The Prince, however, had tears in his eyes. “Sadko, were the fish only gold because you had painted them I would own you the winner of this wager. Or, rather, I would refuse to collect my price. I could no more order your head struck than I could order the Volkhov to stop flowing, nor to cease singing your song.”
But one of the boyar summoned the goldsmith anyway. And the scales were indeed the purest, softest gold. The Prince ordered them exchanged for rubles, and set them as the dowry for his daughter, and that Sadko and Alexandrovna be married without hesitation. As the Prince set Sadko’s hand into Alexandrovna’s Sadko said to her, “No greater gift have I to bring to our marriage than my song.”
Alexandrovna replied, “No greater gift could you bring were you bringing three times the seven golden fish.”
The following Saturday Sadko and Alexandrovna were married in St. Nicholas’ Cathedral. Though the Prince had wanted to marry them in the Cathedral of Saint Sophia Sadko insisted on the Cathedral of his patron. Prince Nikolai held the largest celebration feast that anyone in Novgorod had ever seen, and officially set 20,000 rubles on his daughter’s head as a bride price. Sadko and Alexandrovna journeyed up the Volkhov as far as Lake Ladoga before returning to Novgorod to settle down. Sadko fell in love with the river on their journey and said to his wife on the return trip, “I wish to become a trader, and sail the rivers of Novgorod and Rus. When we get back I shall use the dowry to outfit ships and take goods for trade.”
Alexandrovna smiled and said to her husband, “When first I mentioned you to my father he was angry because you lacked ambition, and now that he has given his daughter to happily to a minstrel he’s getting a merchant in your stead.”
Sadko laughed. “He calls me the Minstrel of Novgorod, and all the city follows his lead. Now let him call me the Merchant of Novgorod, and people will surely follow his lead again.”
And so it came to pass that the Minstrel of Novgorod became the Merchant of Novgorod.