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Aga Ymeri of Ulqin
Aga Ymeri is a well-known legendary
figure of northern Albanian oral literature, known in southern
Albania as Ymer Ago, among the Italo-Albanians as Konstandini
i Vogëlith 'Little Constantine' and in Greek Akritic verse
as Konstantinos o Mikros 'Little Constantine.' Aga  Ymeri
of the Muslim tradition and Little Constantine of the Byzantine-Greek
tradition evince the motif of the reunification of husband and
wife in Albanian folklore, as did Homer's Ulysses in the literature
of ancient Greece. Aga is a Turkish title for a landowner. Ulqin
(called Ulcinj in BCS and Dulcigno in Italian) is a town on the
southern Montenegrin coast near the Albanian border and is largely
inhabited by Albanians.
Aga Ymeri of Ulqin was in the prime
of his life when he married. The day after his wedding the young
man received an order from the Sultan saying, "Aga Ymeri
of Ulqin, you must depart immediately for war. The enemy has
invaded..." The order was terrible, for it separated the
young man from his young wife, but as Aga Ymeri was a true warrior,
he lost no words. He rose, saddled his steed, gathered his weapons
and bid farewell to his parents. Then he returned to his young
bride and said, "My beloved wife, the Sultan has called
me up. I must go to war immediately." "Take me with
you, Aga Ymeri," she begged him. "No, I cannot take
you with me," replied Aga Ymeri. "I am going to war
and war is for men only. I want you to promise me not to marry
again, but to wait until I return. Tell me how long you will
wait for me, my love." "I will wait nine days."
"Nine days is not very long. I have a great distance to
travel and the war can last a long time. If you love me as I
love you, you will wait nine years and nine days. When nine years
and nine days have passed and I have not returned, you may marry
and live happily, for that will mean that I am dead." The
young wife sighed, "All right, Aga Ymeri, I will wait for
you for nine years and nine days." They both gave their
word of honour. Aga Ymeri bid farewell to his wife, mounted his
steed and set off content for war. The steed galloped so swiftly
that it left a cloud of dust behind them, for the rider was in
great haste to do battle.
Aga Ymeri of Ulqin was heroic but there
were many enemies. In his first battle, a multitude of cavalrymen
dressed in coats of armour attacked, encircling him and setting
upon him with their swords. Aga Ymeri fought bravely, slew many
an enemy and wounded others until they killed his steed. Aga
Ymeri continued fighting on foot until his sword was shattered.
The enemy took him prisoner and tossed him into the dungeon of
a castle surrounded by high walls. They treated him with respect,
for Aga Ymeri was a hero and heroes are always treated with respect.
Days in the dungeon turned to weeks,
weeks turned to months and months to years. But Aga Ymeri never
lost hope, for his wife had promised to wait for nine years and
nine days. He ate, drank, cheered his friends and played the
lute. The daughter of the foreign king was quite astonished.
"Who is that man," she wondered, "who doesn't
seem to mind being prisoner in a foreign land?" "He
is called Aga Ymeri of Ulqin," they told her. "He must
be a strong man." "Yes, he is strong and merry and
cheers the other prisoners with his words and songs."
Aga Ymeri was indeed full of hope because
he was waiting for the Sultan to pay the ransom for his release.
"I have fought many years in his service," said Aga
Ymeri to himself, "I have always obeyed his orders and gone
whenever he summoned me." But Sultans have the habit of
forgetting the people who have helped them, and Aga Ymeri had
been forgotten by this Sultan, who had never even considered
paying the ransom. And so nine years passed. The fatal day approached,
the ninth day which his wife had promised to wait for before
she remarried. Aga Ymeri fell into a state of profound dejection.
His eyes lost their colour, he could no longer eat, drink or
make merry. His friends were surprised and asked him what the
matter was, but he gave no reply, crouched instead in silence
with his head bowed. The king's daughter heard no more music
and asked, "What is wrong with Aga Ymeri? His voice is no
longer to be heard." "He has not eaten or drunk anything
for days," they told her, "he no longer sleeps or plays
his lute." "Call Aga Ymeri to me," said the king's
daughter. On being brought to her and asked what the matter was,
Aga Ymeri replied that he could no longer eat or drink because
of a bad dream. "What kind of bad dream?" asked the
king's daughter. He then told her his dream: "I dreamt I
saw my home, blackened and in ruins. My father was dead and forgotten,
my mother blind. I saw my wife, too. She was about to remarry.
I have only spent one night with her. The next day I received
orders to go to war. I fought and was taken prisoner. We had
sworn to be faithful to one another and my wife promised to wait
nine years and nine days for my return. The nine years have since
passed and now the nine days are running their course. I beg
of you, daughter of the king, ask you father's permission to
release me for a few days. I will return home, talk to my wife
and come back to the dungeon." "I can ask him, Aga
Ymeri, but as you know, my father the king demands nine sacks
of silver for your release." "But where, oh where,
can I get the nine sacks, daughter of the king? I have been a
prisoner for nine years now." "If I release you, Aga
Ymeri, what will you give me as a pledge that you will return?"
"I give you my word of honour, daughter of the king."
Since the king's daughter knew that Aga
Ymeri was an Albanian and would rather die than break his word
of honour, she said to him, "Rise, Aga Ymeri, saddle the
bay horse and you'll be in Ulqin in three days." Aga Ymeri's
companions lamented, "How unfortunate we are! Aga Ymeri
is being released and leaving us behind." But he replied,
"What is wrong with you, my friends? As long as I survive,
I will return and we will wait out the time together. Farewell!"
They wished him luck on his journey. Aga Ymeri saddled and mounted
the bay horse and set off towards Ulqin.
The horse sped like an arrow over mountains
and valleys. "Swiftly, horse, swiftly so that we may reach
my beauty before she remarries." The horse galloped day
and night until it was exhausted. Aga Ymeri, too, was fatigued,
but they continued their course. In three days and three nights
they arrived, catching sight of the fair town of Ulqin shimmering
before them on the water. "Oh, Ulqin, Ulqin, I have carried
your image in my heart my whole life long!" sighted Aga
Ymeri. "Night after night for nine years I dreamt of you!
For nine years now I have been longing to kiss your earth."
The waves were breaking on the beach, a fresh breeze was blowing,
the sea gulls circled in the sky above.
And there glimmered the house of Aga
Ymeri, too, as if in a dream. "Am I really here?" he
asked himself. As he was dying of thirst, he stopped as a fountain
to drink. There he saw his aged mother who did not recognize
him. "Greetings, old woman." "Good day, prisoner!"
"How do you know I am a prisoner?" inquired Aga Ymeri.
His mother replied, "By your long shoulder length hair.
Where have you come from, prisoner?" "I have just arrived
from Spain." The mother then asked, "Have you ever
seen my Aga Ymeri or heard anything about him?" "Yes,
I saw him three weeks ago," he replied, "Aga Ymeri
was killed. I myself washed his corpse, mourned him and paid
my last respects." The aged woman began to weep and, although
it caused him great pain, he did not reveal the truth to her.
Instead he inquired, "Who are those people over there passing
in such a hurry, old woman? What are the volleys of fire echoing
in the hills?" "They are the companions of Pasha Veli,
that son of a dog, who have come to collect the bride and take
her back to his home. The cannon fire is for the wedding."
"Which bride are they collecting?" "It is the
wife of my son Aga Ymeri."
Aga Ymeri sprang to his horse and rode
off towards the wedding party. "Greetings, wedding attendants."
"Greetings prisoner. Which land have you come from?"
"From Spain." "Have you ever seen Aga Ymeri or
heard anything of him?" they asked. Aga Ymeri told them,
as he had his mother, that Aga Ymeri had been killed three weeks
before. The wedding attendants were relieved to hear this, but
the bride began to weep under her veil.
Aga Ymeri became angry and said, "Aga
Ymeri gave me a message. May I speak to the bride for a moment?"
"Yes, as long as you wish, prisoner." Aga Ymeri approached
the bridal coach and asked the bride, "Would you recognize
Aga Ymeri?" She replied, "How could I possibly recognize
him? I only slept with him one night and then waited nine years
for him. His poor mother, however, told me that he has a scar
on his right arm where a horse bit him." Aga Ymeri rolled
up his sleeve and showed her the scar. The bride recognized him
instantly, rejoiced, got out of the coach, threw off her veil
and said to the attendants, "Have a pleasant journey, companions
of mine. I am accompanying my true husband. This is Aga Ymeri
whom I married and who will be my husband forever and ever."
Aga Ymeri made room for his bride on the horse and they went
home.
The next morning he mounted his bay horse
again to set off for Spain as he had promised. "Swiftly,
horse, swiftly, for I gave the king's daughter my word of honour!"
They left fair Ulqin behind them and the horse galloped day and
night.
But what was going on in Spain in the
meanwhile? The king had not seen or heard of Aga Ymeri for some
time. He asked for news of him and was told that his daughter
had released him, but that he would return. The king summoned
his daughter immediately and asked right away, "What happened
to the prisoner Aga Ymeri?" "I let him go, father,"
she replied, "he had to see his wife because she was going
to marry someone else. He gave me his word of honour that he
would return in three days. Today is the last day and he will
return."
The king was furious, crying, "No,
he has deceived you. He won't return!" and ordered his daughter
to be beheaded. "Wait until dark, father," the daughter
implored him, "Aga Ymeri will return. He won't break his
word." "He'll never come back," countered the
king. "Once they escape from prison, they never return.
They are like birds in a cage. Once you open the door, they're
gone." "He will return. He gave me his word of honour,"
insisted the king's daughter. "A word of honour is but a
word, my daughter, and words are soon gone with the wind. Even
kings break their word."
At that moment, a horseman appeared on
the horizon, approaching swiftly. Soon he was at the gates of
the fortress, dismounted from his sweating horse and greeted
the king's daughter! "I gave you my word and have returned.
I was your prisoner and now I am your prisoner again." The
king looked down at him in amazement and said, "Aga Ymeri,
you are indeed an honest man and have kept your word. You shall
be released!" He then turned to his guards and gave orders,
"Release Aga Ymeri and his nine companions and let them
go wherever they wish."
[from Mitrush Kuteli (ed.)
Tregime të moçme shqiptare (Tirana: Naim Frashëri,
1965, reprint 1987, 1998). Translated from the Albanian by Robert
Elsie.]
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Albanian Literature in Translation
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