King Mathias

Kralj Matjaž

King Mathias/Kralj Matjaž is the mythical king of the Slovenian people. The stories of Kralj Matjaž are many, and go far back into pagan times. He represents the mythical ruler, the king who is just and a defender of his people, and a golden age of prosperity in a similar way as the Arthurian legend in the British tradition. He sleeps with his warriors in a mountain cave, and will rise, when the need of his people is great. He has been identified with the Hungarian king of 15th centry Mathias Korvin, who has acquired legendary status in central Europe, among Hungarians, Croats and Serbs. However, there are many indications that in the Slovenian tradition he belongs in an older pre-Christian tradition with its source in the Karantanian concept of the good, just and powerful king.


King Mathias
I. A farmer was transporting wine to Carynthia. On the way he comes through a dobrava, a great wooded plain, to a high mountain. On the mountain he sees a small hut, half buried in the ground, so that little more than the roof is visible. In front of the doorway he sees a stalwart warrior, with his sabre hung at the waist. As the driver approaches with his wagon, the warrior begins to speak:
“You are, friend, from our highlands. Tell me, do the ants still crawl onto the three peaks: St. Christopher, St. Magdalene and St. Urh?”
“They still crawl, but less than they used to,” answers the carter. The warrior continues:
“Tell them at home: When the faith is so weak, that no one walks up to the three peaks, then I will arise and come with my black army.”
“Who are you, then?” asks the farmer, taken aback.
“ I am King Mathias! Step nearer and come with me into the hut, so that you may see with your own eyes the truth of what I am telling you.”
The carter steps in, and King Mathias says:
Stand behind me and look over my right shoulder through this window!”
The farmer obeys and sees a great plain, wide and long. Across the plain are standing armed soldiers with their horses, one next to the other. Everything is quiet and silent, no one moves, as though horses and people were sleeping.
“See, that is the black army,” says King Mathias to the amazed farmer.
“Look again through the window!” The Carynthian looks, the king takes the sabre lightly by the handle and draws it a little way from the sheath. At this moment the whole army stirs to life. The soldiers raise their heads, the horses begin to nod and snort and stamp.
“You see,” adds King Mathias,” it won’t be long, and I will rise and draw the sabre from its sheath. A warm wind will be blowing, and breathe into people the one single thought. Then my soldiers will spring onto the horses, and the black army will move to defend the old holy faith. Then all who have a man’s head will grasp their arms. Old, young, all will rush to war, to defend old beliefs. There will be such urgency, that no one will have time to change clothes, and they will all go to war in the clothes they are wearing. So many people of faith will gather that the battle will take less than the time it takes to eat three loaves of bread; and if the third loaf falls from his hand, his neighbour will tell him: leave it, brother, let it lie there, after the battle there will be plenty for all. So swiftly they shall overcome the enemy of the old holy faith!”

II. King Mathias was a good ruler. He had only gold coins minted. They knew no other money, and these were really good golden times. Beneath the leafy linden trees our forefathers danced every day and poured dark red wine into light cups. King Mathias was a Slovenian king, a leaf of our mountain. The people chose him on the Field of Gospa sveta, and on the sheer cliff of the Krn Castle he had his throne. Day and night the castle gates stood open and every poor man could ask for mercy and justice. Since King Mathias was a wealthy ruler, other kings envied him and the enemy came upon Mathias from the land where the sun goes down, like caterpillars on the turnip field. They destroyed his army in bloody battle, so that only one hundred loyal warriors remained. Yet, because the king was a just ruler, he was not killed, but when in flight he was almost caught by the enemy. Then the cliff opened in Pečice, which he reached, and hid him from his enemies. There he rests now with his warriors, and when his beard grows nine times around the table, the mountain will give him back, to rule again the Slovenian people happily. As we heard, it happens many times to the chosen few, that they come upon him. Particularly on the last day of the year you may see the hollow, where the old ruler rests.


Kralj Matjaž
I. Kmet je vozil z Ogrskega vino na Koroško. Na svoji poti pride skozi veliko dobravo do visoke gore. Na gori zagleda kočico, ki je bila napol vzidana v zemljo, tako da se je komaj videla streha iz nje. Pred vrati opazi vrlega junaka, s sabljo opasanega. Ko se mu približa voznik z vozom, jame junak takole govoriti:
“Ti si prijatelj z gornje naše strani. Povej mi, lazijo li še mravljice na sledeče tri vrhe: na vrh sv Krištofa, sv.Magdalene in sv Urha?”
“Lazijo še sedaj, ali redkeje nego prej,”odvrne voznik. Junak pa nadaljuje:
”Reci doma: Kadar vera toliko oslabi, da ne bo nihče več pohajal na one tri vrhe, tedaj bom vstal in prišel s svojo črno vojsko”.
“Kdo pa si ti?” ga vpraša kmet iznenaden.
“Kralj Matjaž sem! Stopi bliže in pojdi z menoj v to kočo, da se prepričas na svoje oči o tem.”
Voznik vstopi, a kralj Matjaž mu veli:
“Stopi mi za ledja pak poglej preko desnega ramena skoz tole okno!”
Kmet ga posluša in zagleda ravno polje, široko in dolgo. Po vsem polju prek in prek pak stoje drug pri drugem oboroženi vojaki s svojimi konji. A vse je mirno in tiho, nihče se ne gane, kakor da bi spali konji in ljudje.
“Evo te črne vojske,” reče Kralj Matjaž začudenemu kmetu.
“Poglej zopet skozi okno!” Korošec pogleda, kralj pa prime polahno za sabljo ter jo malo potegne z nožnice. A v tem trenutku vsa vojska oživi. Vojaki povzdignejo glave, konjički pa začno kimati in hrzati ter s kopiti udarjati.
“Vidiš,” pripomni nato kralj Matjaž,”temu ne bo dolgo, in jaz vstanem ter potegnem sabljo iz nožnice. Topel veter bo vel tedaj in vdihnil vsem ljudem eno misel. Tedaj poskačejo moji vojaki na konje in črna vojska bo stala v bran za staro sveto vero. Tedaj bo prijelo za orožje vse, kar nosi moško glavo. Bilo staro, bilo mlado, vse pohiti v vojsko, branit staro vero. Nastane pa takrat taka sila, da se človek se preobleči ne bo utegnil, temveč vsakdo pojde na vojsko v opravi, ki jo bo baš nosil na sebi.. A zbralo se bo toliko pravovernega ljudstva, da boj ne bo niti toliko trajal, da bi mogel človek pojesti tri hlebe kruha, In če komu pade tretji hleb iz roke, mu bo rekel njegov sosed: pusti ga brate, naj leži, po boju bo hleba in vsega dovolj. Tako naglo bodo premagali sovražnika stare svete vere!”

II. Kralj Matjaž je bil dober vladar. Dajal je same zlate kovati. Drugega denarja sploh niso poznali, zato so bili takrat zares dobri zlati časi. Pod košatimi lipami so naši očaki vsak dan rajali in v svetle kozarce natakali rujno vince. Bil je kralj Matjaž slovenski kralj, naše gore list. Izbralo si ga je ljudstvo na Gosposvetskem polju in v strmem Krnskem gradu je imel svoj prestol. Noč in dan so bila odprta grajska vrata in vsak siromak si je mogel isprositi milosti in pravice. Ker pa je bil Matjaž bogat vladar, so mu drugi kralji zavidali in kakor gosenic na repišče je nekoč iz onega kraja, kjer zahaja sonce, prišlo sovražnikov nad Matjaža, ki so v krvavem boju pokončali njegovo vojsko, tako da mu je ostalo le še sto zvestih junakov. Vendar, ker je bil kralj pravičen, ni bil ubit, ampak ko ga na begu že misli sovražnik zajeti, se odpre skala v Pečicah, do katerih je bil pobegnil, pa ga skrije pred sovražnikom. Tam sedaj počiva s svojimi junaki in kadar mu bo brada devetkrat zrastla okoli mize, ga bo dala gora nazaj, da srečno vlada slovenski rod. Kakor smo slišali se izvoljenim večkrat posreči, da pridejo do njega. Zlasti na starega leta dan se vidi duplo, v katerem počiva stari vladar.


Jakob Kelemina, Bajke in pripovedke slovenskega ljudstva (1930, reprinted Humar 1997)

Translated into English by Aleksandra Ceferin