Nikon ant the Czar


Ne'er be tempted of
Al fragrant blosmes,
Ych lat growen maw heer lang
upp th' myghty heles.
Ych lat growen a berd til
myn whit brest....



Nikon ant the Czar

 
In the dust mist the sun faded awey. Peeple were stirring up in the stour, sneezing, coughing, spitting. By the broad wooden scrapes they were raking up to the sides into the dykes, wher hadde decayed every kind of carrion: road doust ant sand. The one swept after the other, with an eye to all over be fluently… they raised the holes, ne aloud cursed:
T' Beng tak 't ! Busurmanian !Jist he's aff somew'eres, allus kicks again t' pricks!’”
“T’ orthodox georgian, fer back i' t' past i’ citizenship tuv oures appeared....
Yah aren th' bengs i’ oure myghty's fambles !'Ne'er put aff while morn whet carn bi don to-days: streltsy aren nearhands - dhrave sum ans oot uf 'is wits, snall hev' t' cudgels hors-d'oeuvre !’”
Ne far cracked up a tree - streltsy were breaking down the superfluous constructions or swich, as if could close the thurghfare in Muscovy for the georgian Czar.
June, the 18'th day of 1658 yeer were full of zele hadde been cleaning the stretes of Muscovy ant all the ins, ant outens throwe, along the areas, carfax, ant the crowded stretes walked over wyth a banging the tabours birjuchi hadde a stentorian yelling:
T' peeple o' Muscovy ! Hys Majeste th’ Czar un Knyaz uf alle Russii the LouerAleksiy Mikhaylovich hadst ybeen yeven th' ukase:
“In the Great, i' Bely Gorod un i' t' Erthen wall, i' t' stretes wher tul goa th' georgian Czar Teimuraz, un i’ t’ Pozhar, th' eating-house mon cabin, un t' regiments, un t' commercial chambres, un t' carriage way forest, un i' t' cart line tul clean upp all-ower. Und i' Kitay-gorod, i' a dyke, wilche's adown th' Autem's de la Sainte-Trinite - lavki, wilch 'baht bolting is empty, - tul breken dahn un t' carriage way forest aswell, fo t' matter o' thon cleaning upp - thon alle oer be satisfacere.
Und His Mageste hast pointed at:
“I’ t' meeting ut' georgian Czar nearly Zhyletskoj bi Osipov's sotnya - Sukin's, ybeen oures maister Mikhail Dmitriev.

In the meeting anenst the georgian estaat of the Czar Teimuraz Davidovich the indor stolniks of sixtene mon; Ant wyth the chozzen sotnya the prince Ivan Fedorov - Lykov's sone, ant in sotnya he hadde stolniks of twenty eight mon.
Parsones in cure: the prince Aleksiy Andreev - the Golycin's sone (he hadde eighty-five mon in sotnya).
Nikita Ivanov - Sheremetev's sone (he has seventy-nine mon in sotnya).
Striapcis hadde a prince Ivan; Knyaz Borisov - the Repin's sone (he has ninety-four mon in sotnya).
Soldier's colonels wyth the regiments: Aggei alekseev - Shepelev's sone; Yakov Maksimov - the Kolubakin's sone.

July, the sixth day, Hys Majeste Czar Aleksiy Mikhaylovich Hadst ybeen yiven th ukase fa his subget the georgian Czar Teimuraz Davidovich at the wilcume ‘uns awn wink-a-peeps o Hys Majeste clap-ees-on ant at the tabel be in Granovitaya Palata.
At thon day was an order ne to trade ant ne to werche - to array oneself in pure dress: whose goat sum thinge ov hallida attire.
To destitutes hadde been pointed oute strictly: T' tatters ut' heanling birthe nut tuh scheawen upp ! Ragged felages godforsaken norther sit ut t' streats, nur lyin, anlich bi in 'uns oune Bozhedomny dwor !
In the tyme of the ride in of the georgian Czar the mung hadde climbed up the palisade, the upper circles ant the rofs.  
Glacen ut ! Heavily berded georgian car – t’ berd - jist lokien ! Lang un crispe...
‘“T' pride goas afore a fallen... nut tul poke 'uns finger ut - ase we'ren wist wit ys wit !
“In 'uns ain carriage – lokien, hou he prigs !
“Par aventure, - ‘in th' lond ut' blind yin eyed man ys a kyn !’”
Brothers, wha's th' pristav ut 'is ?  
T' boyar Khylkov-knyaz ! 
Ai-el !
“Fit art yah fur - aiel ?
Whoes skip er t' foreign car's carrage ?
T' Streletsky Prikaz leader, Artyom Matveev !
T' streit reyn lays greet doust !
Oh, ase sely ase a babe unborn !
T' taillour mak'st th' man ! - Heigh ! Snall oerryden
ous ! Hagh muche aren hem i' colourd coarse ?
Alle aren noblemen ! Stablemen uf heye rank... soa, aren't yah, 't seems, ne ut Muscovy ?
Ych ?
Aye !
T' bataille arrayen uf ous !  Hyred aht tuh werche in Muscovy - bud, Amur a hardshewer ut' Wytegorskij Uyezd.
By thi chaunt, obviously: ah, understanden 't....
Hoot aren t' grooms ! - Alle'ren in crimson satiny....
Ne al ut 'ems ! - In addition tuh glaringly-crimson's t' azure kaftan....
Basque !
Oh - novgorodschina ! Seggen 't: beauteous !
Soa ybeen 't: beauteous – a niggardly fader mak'st a prodigal sone.’”
Talken ase thon... he thon ys born tuh been hangd snall niver ybeen drowned.
Brothers ! Gaze uppon ! T' dyaks ahorseback !
“Un... t' dyaks... Simanovscoy wyth Tamlykovym.
Nightingales ull ne singan i' a cage.
Aren aw wyth t' partizans !
Bardiches' - ow'd briddes aren't ament hente wyth chaff !
T' partizans hev' t' axes - thos, jist lokien ! Aren claned aght !  

The mung poured into the Kremlin. Bojares hadde purged out the path for the carriage of Czar Teimuraz by canes. Closeby men hadde seen the georgian Czar of coming oute of the carriage. Hadde met wyth stolniks: Sheremetiev Nikita Ivanovich ant Veliyaminov Ivan Andreevich. Dyak Nefedov Vasiliy wyth them.
Staid bojare in gilded feryaz came oute from seni into the red porch, made a low bow before the Czar. Dyak hadde publicly elucidated:
“Hailin’ yah myn sir: Car' Teimuraz Davidovich th' georgian, bojare uf Hys Mageste ut schort range Sheremetiev Vasiliy Petrovich !

Although the bojares (who'd been of a prikaz) loupinly hit oute by canes, but unyielding, upright by the red porch, hadde cast an eye at: on the red porch against the entrance hall of the Faceted Chamber in crimson-velvet terliks were standing by zhyltsy with the partizans; the others wyth the halberds. The mung loudly hummed, were counting up:
Oon - tweye - thre ! Harm wacche, harm cacchen. - Fit’s they’re strength ! – ‘Haste mak'st waste.’”
‘“Hate nut ut t' fyrst harm ! Sixty-tweye zhylets !’”
Nut alle... thore twelve mon i' obyar' vestments; ant her's ten mo mon i' azure wedes....
T' crowd, disperse ! Hys Mageste wiv a cuma hath seet dahn fa t’ light repast....
Ne tuh 'uns ain sorewen ! They wol eten tuh 'uns herte's content....

During the meeting of the Czar Teimuraz, Nikon was sitting in Krestovaja palata with the expectation at hys ownen patriarchal area in full robes: in mantle wyth the streams, tablets of Testimony. At the Patriarch's breast under the magnificent beard were hung down on gilded chain adorned by the diamonds panhagia. In his right hand he held a horned crozier, the end of the crozier subdividely, ne unwrath, thumped into the steps of the patriarch's seat. The Patriarch stretched oute his neck by lending an ear into the humming overbrimmed the mung: he heard the hum has been abating. The georgian Czar hadde been leading to the chambers. The Patriarch desired to see the whole meeting, but the holy orders were not leet to be upright closeby the eyethurl.
Crestien... anaw ase Greek gleg ut Turk... i' thos cars a dahtful affiance, wilche’s ny ta Turk libbe !..
Audacious man - Nikon, but a petty pride ant vainglory hadde ruined him... the slightest offence, a single touchy word, blurted oute by others in a precipitate manner, mak's t fiend t yisterday's eaxl-gestealla....'
The bojares hadde known this trifling touchiness ant teased the Patriarch with the caustic word ase if it were proclaimed by himself, ant Nikon unrestraintly hadde spoken of Czar the spiteful things; bojares these words reproduced for the Czar, ant the Czar mair ant mair hadde been estranged from Patriarch.
Paissaunt fermer ! personel blob-tale ut' car !... Paisant fermour ! Whae's syne yansen ov on equal footing wi' t' car; seems greatest thanne sir ? Sires fair likes tuh writen - affix a seel tuh, bud he's a Paissaunt fermer, writens bi a famble utterly: Hys Majeste the Holyness Patriarch uf Muscovy und alle Russii the Louer' Kir Nikon...
Now, when was accomplished the visit of the georgian Czar, Nikon comprehended, that his 'alter call' is wonted - to be grateful to sires feast; it should be done long since, the Czar's envoy at adrift hadde been into sigh nowhere, ant Patriarch cannot wait for, yelled:
Bojarin ! ....
From the Patriach's celles came oute on his summons a man with the sleekit wink-a-peeps ant with indifference written alle over his face the bojare of the Patriarch Boris Neledinsky.
Gan bojare Boris un enquerre fo on bihalve o myn: 'wit enstantly thon signifyin ? Bud he's car, snall twig fit Ych axein abaht.
The bojare silently cringed before, wend off.
Nikon, mair ant mair hadde flown into a rage, with impatient of heed loudly banged by his crozier into the steps of the Patriarch's place.
Ne far, in a pier of the windaes, the clok, settled down in polykandelon - sphere with the nombres, goin' by horizontaly-missed immobile pointer, displayed a tyme of the past tense ase the bojare hadde gon. Neledinsky hadde come in, rubbin' his forehead, ant, cringed oneself before, objected:
“Betenles tak' tent o' ! ‘Twas ase betenles ase crossin’ ‘Deeth valey’ oan roote ! Entirely hed loked ut - anlic atheril 'baht thy nome - the Greet Maister thy Holyness...
Wit t' un fit soart o' atheril ?
Bogdanko guilefully, ne allowed, lat me thro' thy Holyness th’ Patriarch, ant als hast hitten mi intuh forhed wi' a cane ase an inhabitant o' suburb. Bud whenne heed objected: Amur frae hys Holyness Patriarch headin fur, he hast deliverened a speche:
Ne tuh prise thy Patriarch un he's stille repeatedly hittenin mi o divil's ain lukke ne intuh forhed....
Nikon hadde got off his Patriarch place, sat down at the table, written to a Czar a lowbow, beggining for hold an inquiry ant to punish thon audacious bojar.
Lede dahn this: wol mak' wei fur !
Bojare hadde moved off. Nikon hadde taken his former place ant without a thought about heed gazed upon the illuminated from within, going thourh with the numbers missed the clok pointer sphere. He hadde no tyme to waiten for the Patriarch's bojare, the bojare of His Majeste Romodanovsky hadde come in. Romodanovsky hadde passed into, not taken his silvern tubeteika off, covered up his crown of head only; he was like a big fish, going thourh the end with the red tail: bojare of silvern brocade feryaz without hosepipes, hosepipes of a scarlet velvet undergarment of pearl embroidery; feryaz - summer, narrowed downwards, because of belly fat, coming oute on the outside; at the hem of the feryaz hadde ysene a short legs stout in morocco red boots, the toes of the boots hadde gazed upon the both sides. Bojare hadde ‘shearted oneself religiously afore the icons ant Nikon stood gazing at him unfriendly, ant hadde been brooding: “T’ div senden thourh t’ underworld famble unther Godes famble und sele…”
Bojare hadde bowed out gracefully to the ground ant came to the Patriarch’s hand soa he could smell the tight on his sottish breath. Romadanovskij began to speak silently ant caress:
“Hys Majeste tuh Hys Holiness Maister the Patriarch ‘Kir Nikon’ senden t’ gracious lest – a lang tyme tuh sitten ut t’ patriarch’s trone i’ ordre thon tuh be i’ cure uf – un tuh avoiden fro’ t’ kirks kramola t’ temples; t’ cocnobities und t’ advents…”
“Neane strengthe o’ myn ybeen upp ta – kepen ordre… und Hys Majeste hast wist ‘tis upp tuh nu !”
“Un onst mo… Hys Majeste complain o’ ou muche, un cros wi’ yon ye art spelled wi’ Hys Majeste’… on an equal footing.”
“Kholop ! ‘Hys Majeste ut ‘is delyt hed ybeen point’d ut tul spell thuswards…’”
“Ah ama kholop, bud kholop o’ hys Highness, thane Hys Majeste hevede agin ortherings tuh me hisseln tuh lede tuh t’ notice uf – dinnae spell by noa manes ase he doth – fro’ her Ych em n’t thy serf, ant shal be a bojare i’ t’ face o’ ya…”
“Dampnen ye un wi’ thy sibnesse !”
“Wrong, in maladye  th’ Greet Maister thy Holyness… wye ah am i’ t’ throwes uf – Ych em execute th’ orders o’ Hys Highness tuh nempne ‘t sikerly…”
“Didde yah seyen enah ! Gang awey frae me, thy lokien o’ t’ fox un wink-a-peeps, un capriciousness o’ t’ wolf…”
“Avalen th’ blake warye un aw schal gang – th’ heanling theow – un bledsian – Maister…”
“Ah am takin’ ‘t aff ! Ne i’ t’ temple hath ybeen cursed, gang eht uf maw siht !”
“Art thah cros wi’ i’ vain myn Maister th’ Patriarch, bud art thah i’ wreththe, for sith yah ament invited fo’ th’ Lord’s table; soa, scholde witen ‘ut norther yin fae t’ confessours weren’t invited fur t’ sovran’s feest  i’ contemporary tymes…”
“T’ dish leas bletsung ys t’ Aud Soss’s repascere !”
“Hys Majeste Aleksey Mikhailovich – th’ orthodox car un soa t’ Georgian Car Teimuraz Davidovich – th’ Greek Byzantine Confession lang syne frae hys faders hed taen – un t’ deuil’s aht o’ pleace…”
“Hou lang didde thei – t’ Georgians un t’ Armenians – bowed their nappers un worthschiped th’ Ashtoreth, un didde thah ken – yah ‘bond theow’ abaht yon th’ Ashtoreth is t’ Moder o’ derknes – un uf oll impious – heathenish ?
“Noa, Ych dinnae un dinnae lust tuh; bud ou shal ken yon dislikin’ tuh ye o’ Hys Majeste ys livens ut yon:
“Und ou dinnae spell frae upp tuh t’ praesent alse th’ Majeste!’”
“Yow hevede permitted o’ Hys Majeste th’ Car ut hys Majeste’s plaisir ase th’ confessor be spelling wi’ t’ word ‘merci;’ tuh reject ‘mercy,’ conceived a prout o’er th’ Dominion Kingdom…”
“Tak’ thi rottin’ carcois ellswheare – windbag !”
“Amur wearin’ eht – gi’e oon’s blessin’ th’ Highness Maister.”
“Gang awey – gang awey ! Ych hyht thah roast i' hell, myn yen cahnt seye yow ony mair...
The bojare hadde lived with a smirk on his face.
Houndes ! T' cruel houndes ! Hither hou thei attamed tuh booring me. Car ! Car's t' cause !” “Car ? Bud hah abaht me Yer Holyness th’ Patriarch !” “Wal - wal, it's tyme tul mak' disareyen fur car nah ?”
Nikon heed been silent for a throwe, than cried oute in a loud voice:
Ivan !
From the Patriarch's cells came out a bold Patriarch's lay-brother Ivan Shusherin.
The Patriarch hadde been in wrath. Ant onis ageyne hadde to get off frae his Patriarch's place, began to make great strides around the chamber, the panaghia heed been ringing off the hook of the chane over his breast. Passing thru hadde kicked things around: the stools, chaires, benches - alle whatever came to his feet.
Without turn to, axed:
Dude yah filld upp ?
The celle-attendaunt ordrely hadde bowed.
“Zaborovskij dyak hed quod: “ne allowed tuh yive ! Barely onley wrote aff… tuh gi’e a scrit thou intuh t’ bible sud be…” und hed yonge; bud oure former podyachy Petruha ‘Kruk’ hast yiven ‘baht  hym, prophesied: “Payen on honour, retornen soone !”
“Payen on honour ase thah hav yeven !”
The Patriarch hadde returned to his place ant evidently composed oneself. hadde been laying both fambles on the horns of the crozier, made a parade of his mighty bierd, ant hadde bowed, wyth no wink at – he - hadde cast an eye at the recitare.
...ant alse the Czar Teimuraz Davidovich wes wyth Hys Myghty at the Louerdes Tabel, ant Hys Highness Aleksiy Mikhaylovich hast ybeen sitten at hys Louerdes hoile, ant the Georgian Czar againes Hys Highness on the luft - hawn syde, in the fyrst windae ere  the Annunciation, ant the Tabel hadst purueyed fur hym uf stonwerk. Ant whit’s mair at the samr windae abaft the Georgian Czar, on the gilded silk velvet, were stood on the quadruple silvern clock – appeared from the Treasury…”
“Fonnes niver knaw tho thei aren wele – und th’ malisouns loike chickens coom hame tuh roost…”
At this, Nikon raised his head superior the crozier. Archdeacon Ivan Shusherin heed proceeded:
“…at th’ samr windae wes standing the wall shandal – silvern, ant on the other hend, at the samr first windae ere Ivan the Grete, were stood on a large jugge – serebrjanik with the lokhan’…”
Nikon hadde agen talked:
“A nod fro’ a Louerd ys a fonnes breakfast. Eche brid luves thou hea’ hisseln singen…”
The recitare, patiently waited till the Patriarch stopped, hadde read:
...on bothe sydes the rossolniks - were lofty, appeared from the Treasury. In the oother windae ere Ivan the Grete, wilche's on the right-hand side of the Lourdes pleace, over the gilded velvet silk hevede stood the rossolnik of a king size - silvern, ant the baril of sulver gilt, wyth a mesure upp to the vedro...
Wyth on unsparing hawn of Renskij wis filld full tul t brim...
The recitare, slightly cast an eye at the Patriarch, hadde proceeded:
...at the samr windae on the raight-hend side the candeltreow - silvern - the murals. In the windae in the fyrst oan, wilche's awey from the bigge kathedra, serebrjanik wyth a tub, appeared from the Treasury...
Bene - worshipe - hwo wur thos cumas ?
...ant wyth Hys Majeste weren at the Tabel ant hevede ybeen sittin' awey from the Lourdes pleace on the raight-hend side betwene the eyethurls, affore the bojare's tabel, at their ownen special the czareviches...
Thos twallies 'ut o' quarrels atween feels thight i' t' weoreld hed rushed pell-mell ut t' orther culina tuh gayn beli fat...
Oh, hath bygly los' one's herte the Patriarch ! hadde brooded over Shusherin ant carfulli proceeded:
...the czarevichi: Kasimovskij Vasiliy wyth Siberians, kneaze Peter wyth kneaze Alexey ant georgian czarevich Nicholay weren't allowed to sitten at the Table, thys's caused bi czarevich's absence thurh sickness...
Hath goat ydrunken tuh exces un o'ereaten 'til tyme's raight. Worshipe !
...at Hys Myghty pleace the bojares hed eaten in a Greet Tabel: kneaze Aleksiy Trubetskoj, Vasiliy Petrovich Sheremetev, kneaze Ivan Andreevich Khilkov, okolnichy Vasiliy Semenovich Volynskoj, ant with em a Duma dyak Semen Zaborowskij. The noblemen o' Muscovy ant zhyltsy. The chaeremon o' streltsy aswell. Ant whit ys mo at Hys Myghty hed eaten the rod presbyters, buten hed ybeen sittin' at the tabel awey frough th 'Chirche of the Deposition of the Robe' benethe the deys.
They's naw nede o' the Patriarch, bisshops... lurein' bi puttin' aght bite fo' poure preests: kirk's brodin' thou gard bye theirseln!
         Nikon hadde roused himself ant, not comin’ off the steps of the Patriarch’s chair, threw awey his crozier; it crashed down over the floor, one horn felled off. Stepped off the Patriarch hadde quod to Shusherin, motionlessly standing wyth the quaier in both hands:
“T’ liste ut’ las’ feest kepen ase a souvenir, Ivan !”
“Fir wye – myn highness maister – th’ lasten ?
“Understanden ‘ut wid alle ‘un’s ‘breost-hord’ un Damnation blast me yif  Ich liggen, na longer been ut’ Louerdes Tabel ! ‘He woot beste whet gooid’s ‘ut hath endur’d qued…’ ‘A hungry belly hast na lugs…’”
Shusherin, hadde cringed oneself before, prophesied:
“T’ stour ull setel on a’thing !... Hys Myghty thou th’ Holiest gossip woll bee bak… He hath goat na orthers… ase Peely Wally ase a wight anlic whoes i’ wans lair…”
Nikon hadde sore sighed; thought of, objected:
“Houndes ! – Ivan – ‘ave undermined oure – dogtrot… goat onto the chircheyard, o’er t’ staircases aren mess upp – feendly !” “T’ bojares art thos whelps ! Yif me another ‘un crozier… th’ belles aren ringin’… shule spenden sum tyme i’ boone, able thou goa fo’ servin’…”
The vesper belles rang oute for the feest.

The Czar wasn’t there at the feest in Kazan, at the feest of the ‘Deposition of the Robe, where he has been yearly from the early in the morning took place, ant here ne occurred in the ‘Assumption Cathedral.’ Nikon hadde known: the devils overpowered so muchel not favourable to him, thon parted from a Czar – mayhap – to ‘tarnal…
“Aw shal goa ! Lat Hym thou elect t’ orther godsib…”
Hadde served its turn for the mass, gave hys sermon, made one’s the eucharist, preparation for the emprise, taken off the patriarch’s robes, putted on the monastic.
         “An’ yif th’ dug dinnae cumen on its vomit – soa bi curst, yif Ich shule return backwards !”
Nikon was leaving the cathedral. The worshipers hadde possessed, cried, especially the wummin.
“Oure Highness ys leavin’ !”
“T’ lovables – ne permitten !”
“Yif this ys nt t cas – t’ humilite eir thou schawen upp…”
At the parvys Nikon, attired in blak mantel ant the klobuk algate oon, was meeting thourh Hys Majestes the envoied bojares. Instead of one’s owne archenemies Nikon impatiently waited for the Czar himself wyth a favour to axe to staien. This ne bifel. Hadde caught sight of Streshnev Semen, the Patriarch deeply dressed the klobuk on heed ant bygly compressed hys chops, wink-a-peeps wexe gloomy. Streshnev coyly seide to Trubetskoj:
“Kneaze Aleksey, seggen thou hym…”  
 Troubetskoj, by taking his hat off, hadde 'shearted oneself the up-door holy figure; by drawing his attention to Nikon, strictly quod:
Hys Majeste yaf ordinaunces tuh thee ne thou abandounen t' patriarchate ! Fir wye assignen un 'baht thon t' wexed disturbance ut’ kirk ? Fir wye thah cros wi' - resigner thi awn-sen ! Thah hath forsaken t' archebischop's wede, haven luft th' praelatus Pete's crozier... Hed bicumen assimulatus wi' t' frater, cahnt yif 'uns bletsung, und Ych dinnae hae thou prithee agaynst yon thy blessen. Thy Holi Ordres - thyn massy ! Ut t' massy o' ys thyn lawe - th' Deity - fir wye han thah trampl'd unther roote th' Deity o' oure sir ? Dinnae desert t' congregation... dunno doost t' wydwe kirk...
Alle around hadde cried the pilgrims:
Dinnae desert ous !
Dinnae forsaken ous !
When the greetz hadde abated, Nikon answared Trubetskoj. He drew himself up to one's full height, ant his face has taken a bitter, rased the gorge ruthless visage:
Takin' maw nome ydelly ! Dae t' wullen o' t' sender i' sum anotha' pleace... dinnae prechen agaynst th' divinitas... didde thah ken 'baht, that thes lawes hath twight dahn ant thruf wilche enemies 'is wraththe hath banished meself !
Dinnae gang awey, be feart o Hys Majestes wraththe !
Und nouthe - i' daies til cumen - un tuh t' ende o' tymes ! - Myn maister - th' Moste Heigh ! - Und noa orthers carn regnen meself...
         Nikon threw off into the hands of dyaks, standing by, his mantel ant klobuk. In black skufia, in  monk’s cowl he was out of the holy doors.  The bojares hadde retraced one’s steps back to the Czar, ant Nikon, passed thru the Kremlin, moved toward the the Great Possad along the Nikolskaya Street. He, passing thru the iconographer's lavka, at least twice hadde bobbed down to collect his thoughts onto the lockers at the foris. The mung marched from Cathedral treading on his heels, hadde been screaming his lungs oute:
This Autem's but a thurghfare !
Fir wye thah 'ave yonge th Moste Holi ?!" Nikon, hed found divinus lyf ant spiritus refreschement, preached to the mung:
“Ahm huv woxen scabby wid t’ indolence… nay aneaf sermonized ye wi’ t’ sooth… und yah woxen scabby at-after meself ! Heres yah beest dissemblin’ wid meself -  helas, ‘at Aw huv yonge, bod noht yah whethers threated tuh clatther meself bi cast’d stones ut fo’ t’ heresy ? Noht yah whethers ycleped meself  th’ iconoclast ?
“Nay ous, th’ Moste Holi maisther !”
“Thon twallies frae ous !”
“Und amen… Aw seggen unto ye ! T’ greet kadamitas shalt falle ut t’ lacrimarum vallis… t’ werefares shalt pleace a barthen of un of… Ye hed ybeen growin’ byg un feyn-an-glad yisterdays, nudiustertian…  fir wye hed rejoye’d t’ herte ? Fa t’ arraave ut’ georgian car ! Fir wye ‘is cumin tuv ous, dinnae ou ken ?  an je vous dy: “I’ ordre ‘at mostrer thy oost th’ Georgian Czar und sent t’ host tuh Sveijskij werran… shule arraave ut a gallop t’ prikasour frough t’ werm valey, bod tul wage were myghtest t’ bally baltic valey, an thore thei shalt leggen dahn ‘uns lif ! ‘T ull be ubearable fo' hem tul conceive t' leghs wede ut' mire moss, likhomanka, wur fanned wid t' unwerm gales...
Tis t' Gospel Trute !
T' Patriarch dinnae iver lee !
Art thou pine, bod how ? T' extortio ys so yanrous tuh the - t' lour wur maunded far a werre ! T' lour cayshun tea mak,' bod o' wit ? noa whit wolle ! Weigh upp, hou tea mak it ?
Wist !
Wist wit ‘t feelens likes !
T' orthers aren lami !
“‘A gooid anvil diz nut ug t' hammer, -  aght ut' copper... maw childhre, ov-a-leeat snall be ken mair, ov fit soart 'tis !
Well-behaved marchant hadde stepped up, lent an ear to, fall back anon, given a shake of his head, quod – one could hear a lot:
“T’ bojares shal nut leve t’ patriarch til dauner dahn t’ stretes of shank’s mare – the kramol ‘is oration… heres ou shule wexe accognitus myn words !”
At the Voskresensky podvorje the friars with a low bow hadde salued the patriarch in melpomenish attire. The others were bowing especially low, the others were laughing up gloatingly in one's sleeve ant were whispering to one another: 
“Art thou finishened… un callen ‘t a days tuh suffren ut ‘is fambles !”
“Naw ! whet on aloofness ! he’s jig-it hisseln !”
“He hafs snied ov naturall abilite tae gi’e yansen eirs…”
“Oh, snall bethenken ov a hunnerfolden !”
“Fir wye yah rejoicin’ t’ herte ? shule hav retornen, heres ou shule si !”
“God deffenden !”
“Ayen wolle conceive t’ wydwe popes tea driven iv !”
“Snall dignify ous bi t’ nome ut’ revelers – t’ ignoramuses…”
Nikon was bowed out in his spacious cells ant, although ‘twere summer, was determined to heat thoroughly, in order that of no smell of humidity around…
Nikon hadde spent some tyme in boone, then been lying down for a while, then started to pace the cells, but in the witching tyme of nyghtertale before clap-ees-on a dreem hadde sat down at the table ant written a letter intended for the czar:

Her Y seye thi wreththe assignen uppen miseln athout treowthe an’ therof fa the neode uf – an’ isacred kathedralis i’ isacred autems ybeen deprivo, whereas alienus in londe, an’ her nu, thi misericorde prevailens ufar wreththe, gon aways frev th’ ypunisceement… an’ thah hast tea andswar ere the Dominus ov al ybeen agin.


Kir Nikon.”


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