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BELARUSFILM

Screenplay by

Vladimir KOROTKEVICH
Valery RUBINCHIK

Directed by
Valery RUBINCHIK

Director of Photography
Tatiana LOGINOVA

Production Designer
Alexander CHERTOVICH

Music by
Yevgeny GLEBOV

Starring

Boris PLOTNIKOV
Yelena DIMITROVA

Albert FILOZOV
Roman FILIPPOV

Boris KHMELNITSKY

Valentina SHENDRIKOVA
Alexander KHARITONOV

Igor KLASS

Vladimir FYODOROV

Maria KAPNIST
Yuri DUBROVIN

Victor ILYICHYOV
Boris ROMANOV

- Who's there?
- Would you open the door, please?

Who are you?

I'm not from these parts.
Can you give me shelter from the rain?

What's your name?

My name? Bielarecki.

Count Bielarecki?

THE SAVAGE HUNT OF KING STAKH

Based upon the story by V. Korotkevich

Part One

Here are some dry clothes for you.

My mistress would like you
to join her for dinner.

I'd be honored. But to whom
do I owe the hospitality?

You are at the castle of Marsh Firs.

You ought to be ashamed of yourself
not to know the owners.

They are the Janowskis.
You must have heard of them.

I own this estate.

I'm the owner of Marsh Firs,
Nadzieja Janowska.

Won't you sit down?

I'm sorry, I haven't introduced myself.

My name is Andrej Bielarecki.

I'm doing research on the legends
of the north-western parts.

I have references from the Academy
and a letter from the Governor.

Tell me, Vilna and Minsk,
would they be very large cities?

Yes.

But Moscow and Petersburg are even larger.

Is it true that the street lights
are left on all night there?

I guess they are.

I think I've met you before.

But where?

I don't remember.

Have you never had that feeling
that you're doing something

that's happened before?

This night, and the rain
beating on the windows,

you asking for shelter,
and me watching you.

When did that happen?

I don't remember.

Perhaps I dreamed it.

In medicine, they call it "deja vu".

It is like you have seen it already.
You know, it happens--

Are you gathering our folklore?

I'm more interested in legends.
Old legends.

Legends?

Yes.

What do you need our legends for?

All that gloom created
in the minds of savages?

But it's my work,
and it's become a passion.

God preserve us!

The passions people have.

I'm even told that some people
collect snakes.

Ignati Gacievic, the manager.

At your service.

You shouldn't hold a grudge
against my mistress, sir.

It was very thoughtless
of you to have come here.

As far as I'm concerned,
I try to avoid

dining with my mistress
at the same table.

Might I ask why?

- You really don't know anything?
- No.

Then you're lucky.

We pray to thee,
holy prophet of God, Elijah.

Send thirty angels in golden armor

with bows and arrows.

May they ward off and shoot away
from the God's servant Nadzieja

all spells and evil eyes,
boils, aches and pains,

and wind-borne sores.

I wash the fair maiden

with the crystal water
of the mountain spring.

I wash away from the fair maiden

all evil spells and charms.

Mother Water,

thou dost wash the steep banks,

the yellow sands, the white-hot stone

with thy swift and golden current.

May they ward off and shoot away
from the God's servant Nadzieja

all spells and evil eyes,

boils, aches and pains,

and wind-borne sores.

Mother Water, thou dost wash
the steep banks, the yellow sands,

the white-hot stone.

Wash away from the God's servant Nadzieja

all boils and pestilence,
spells and evil eyes,

ailments and maladies,
aches and pains.

My poor orphan...

My dearest tender heart.

Evil force,
leave this pure and gentle body.

Get thee gone from this flesh

and blood and breast and limbs.

Return to the cold and icy springs,

to the black muds and the marshy swamps

where no bird flies and no beast walks.

Get thee gone, foul and evil spirit!

Go away and leave us!

Begone! Begone!

Away with you, evil force!

Away!
Away, evil force!

Away!

We're celebrating today
the coming-of-age of our mistress.

Don't be surprised that most of
the guests have arrived in the morning.

Even the bravest of our men
refuse to leave home after dark.

The honorable guardian Hryn Dubotowk

and Mr. Ales Varona!

Good day to you, ladies and gentlemen!

Why so sad, like mice under a hat?

Woe becomes only the crayfish.

Good day to you, my dear.

How graceful and beautiful
you have become!

All Belarus will lie at your feet.

Let Lucifer harness me, the old sinner,
to carry tar in the next world

if I don't get to drink vodka
from your shoe at your wedding in a month.

Only your eyes are somewhat sad.
No matter, I'll make you merry!

Anton, you devil! Hryska! Piatrus!

Here, place it in your bedroom.
The wind comes in there.

The feet of all the Janowskis
are weak ones.

But we're worldly people, we suffer
from overeating and too much drink.

Yet if God looks into people's souls,

then your father now...

Although he was wont to pass
the church by but not the tavern.

Then your father

has been listening to the angels
in heaven now,

and looking into the eyes
of his poor wife, my cousin.

And they look at you from heaven

and see what a queen you've become.

You'll soon be getting married.

And off my hands. To the devil
with this guardianship!

But don't be in a hurry.

And now another present.

Hey, Vasil! Vasil, bring it in!

Here, an old costume of our country.

A real one,
not some kind of an imitation.

And the last thing. Come on.

Sir, you consider it worthy
of a true aristocrat

to push a person aside
without begging his pardon?

- Are you addressing me?
- You.

A true aristocrat
is a gentleman, first of all.

You don't even know me.

I don't know and I don't want to know.

You're speaking with the man
who's in the habit

of pulling parvenus by the ear.

Hasn't it occurred to you that some
parvenus can pull your ears?

Gentlemen, calm yourselves.

Mr. Bielarecki! Mr. Varona, don't!

You pup!
To insult a guest in such a way!

Don't you see whom you're picking
a fight with?

He's not one of our
chicken-hearted fools.

This is not a chick, this is a man.

Ask your hostess to forgive you.

It's nothing.

I beg your pardon for this informality.

- Andrej Sviecilovic, a student.
- Bielarecki.

Actually, a former student
of the Kiev University.

I've just arrived, like you.

Well, I've been here before,
but not for five years.

My God, what mediocrity.

Is it the beginning of a toast?

No, I'm serious.

We have never had
any really great thinkers among us.

Perhaps, it's for the better.

For the better? Take a look.

They're looking. Looking at you, too.

They all belong to one gang here.

That there, Jurkevich.

I wouldn't let him near my horse
fearing for the horse's morality.

Madam Koboleva.

The provincial Messalina.

And that's Osanovich.

Drove a peasant's girl to her grave.

The peasants here are so miserable.

Downtrodden, poor,

and in the hands of such a scum!

The old horse's riding days are over.

Soon I'll be sent off to Abraham
to make beer out of me.

Why are you standing? Come here.

A fine Polish gentleman you would
have made some hundred years ago.

But I'm curious to know whether you're
a serious person or a feather-brain.

Look here, young man,
I invite you to come to my place.

I got an interesting hut,
without any outlandish things.

Your visit should be interesting
for you.

- But, unfortunately...
- No buts!

I will not hear another word.

How can a guest of Marsh Firs,
a handsome fellow, eyes like steel,

strong hands, not come
and visit old Hryn Dubotowk?

It just can't be!

You come as well.

No, thank you, uncle dear,
I'll remain at home.

She's ruining herself.

Well, I shall be waiting for you.
You hear me?

Good night.

She fainted.

A nervous breakdown.

It's cold in here.

This is a horrible, damned house.

It's sucking the life out of a person.

A two-and-a-half mile old park...

And only three persons
in the entire castle:

me, the old woman, and the manager.

And only murk and marshes around us.

Do you hear it?

Do you hear?

It's that Little Man.

He's here again!
He's after my soul!

Who?

The Little Man of Marsh Firs.

He appears when somebody
must die a sudden death.

He came before my father died,
and two more times recently.

It's impossible! There's no place
for apparitions

in the age of steam and electricity.

You're wrong.

We have more ghosts
than live people.

This place is
a treasure-trove for you.

Mr. Gacievic...

Mr. Gacievic, tell Mr. Bielarecki
about the Lady-in-Blue.

- Calm yourself, I beg you.
- Come on, tell him.

All right.

The story about the Lady-in-Blue
is part of this family's old legends.

When they dragged her in 1501
to her execution, she shouted:

"My bones shall find
no peace until, I beg your pardon,

the last snake of this race
has perished!"

Go on.

All right.

And then for 100 years
there was no escape from her.

It was either a plague,

or a goblet of poison,
or death caused by nightmares.

- That's all.
- No, that's not all.

Not long ago, she has been
seen in our house again.

Everyone saw her,
I alone have not seen her.

This is her habit:

to appear to all, but to the person
she's after only at his death hour.

Our ancestors believed in werewolves,
witches, the devil knows what.

And there had always been people
who claimed they'd seen them.

But almost none of my ancestors
died a natural death.

This one in the red cloak was still
alive when they were burying him.

Our distant relative, Dostoyevskaya,
was condemned to death

for attempting to kill her stepson.

And this one, in the beaver coat,

had tortured to death his cousin.

And my father?!

He was an atheist,
but he believed in the Little Man

until the very day when the Savage
Hunt put an end to him.

And I know that I shall die,
there's no way out for me.

The Little Man, the Lady-in-Blue
and the Savage Hunt...

It will kill us,
the Savage Hunt of King Stakh.

This is King Stakh.

King?

He was called so
throughout this region.

It is said that the royal blood
actually flowed in his veins.

An outstanding personality
for his time, by the way.

He sympathized with the mouzhiks,
promised to introduce reforms.

And mind you, that was in 1602.

The local peasants took
the oath of allegiance to him.

And only the distant ancestor
of our respected mistress,

Roman Janowski the Elder,

ensconced himself to this castle
we're in now and kept silent.

This is him, Janowski the Elder.

King Stakh came to visit him.

As a token of friendship, they mixed
their blood in a goblet, drank it,

kissed each other, and after
a successful hunt for a marsh lynx,

they decided to feast at night
in the forest.

When all the hunters,
except the king, fell asleep,

Janowski took his sword
with both hands...

Like this.

He came up to King Stakh and struck
him at the back of his head.

King Stakh fell.

Yes, he fell... with his face
in the grass.

But by his last effort, he raised his
head and looked Roman in the eyes.

Roman struck him a second time.

Meanwhile, Janowski's men
killed King Stakh's sleeping hunters,

strapped them and King Stakh to their
saddles and drove off the horses.

And the bloody horsemen

rode on heedlessly right to the swamp.

But there was a spark of life yet
in King Stakh's body,

and for a long time his voice
was heard from the darkness:

"We shall not die!

We shall come to you!

And to your children.
And to your grandchildren.

I and my Hunt,

we shall avenge mercilessly
until the 20th generation.

And you won't be able
to hide from us."

Two weeks after that,
strange things began to happen

to the people close to Roman Janowski.

Some went mad,

some just perished,
some drowned in the swamp.

They all died.

And then it was Roman Janowski's turn.

One day he was riding home
across a heather moor

in the dim moonlight.

Suddenly he heard a horn

and saw vague shadows of riders.

The horses' manes fluttered in the wind,
and cheetahs raced ahead of the cavalcade.

Leading them all, illuminated by
the moon, King Stakh galloped.

The eyes of people and horses
and cheetahs glowed.

Silent riders pursued Roman Janowski.

The horses seemed
to be flying through the air.

The wild heather sang,

while the moon
silently watched this chase.

"Savage hunt!"

"Savage hunt!"

"Savage hunt!" Roman Janowski
screamed in such a voice

that he could be heard
in the nearby villages.

And his heart collapsed.

In this way did Roman and his son

and the son of his son perish.

From that time...

many people saw in the peat-bogs

13 horsemen, strapped to their
saddles, headed by King Stakh.

The Savage Hunt races on heedlessly
across the fatal quagmire,

across the forest, across the heather,

and it will ride as long
as the world lasts.

May God forgive us!

Well, I beg your pardon, but what
does the gentleman think of this?

Too much devilry for one house.

And what would you say if I told you
that I had seen it myself?

- King Stakh's Savage Hunt?
- If you please.

- After 300 years?
- Exactly.

It's a shame to scare women
with such stories.

- Were you sober?
- I don't drink.

It's the year 1900 already, thank God.

These are not just stories. It's serious.

Dead serious.

I am a free-thinking person and,
I must confess, an atheist,

as befits any man keeping pace
with our enlightened era.

But I believe in the Savage Hunt.

It would be strange not to.
It has wiped out the Janowskis.

The Little Man, the Lady-in-Blue,
and this Savage Hunt to boot.

The house has been surrounded from
without and within! May it be burned!

Don't blaspheme.

To be frank with you, I believe

neither in the Little Man,
nor in the Lady-in-Blue.

But everybody has seen them,
including you.

Me?

I haven't seen, I've heard them.

And the nature of the sound
is unknown to us.

Perhaps, it was an acoustic
illusion, or hallucinations.

She has seen him.

She.

You know...

I cannot believe everything she says.

She...

I think her poor head hasn't been
able to cope with all these horrors.

She...

She's a peculiar person,
to say the least.

Psychically.

Not everyone was born a hero.

Frankly, I'm afraid.

I'm afraid of this fall season.

Three times already the Savage Hunt
has appeared under these windows.

You realize now
that you must leave our house.

Death waits behind these windows.

I shall leave you now.

- Farewell.
- Good night.

Good night.

Good bye.

Look, little aspen trees
have run out into the field.

They will be the first to be covered
with snow and broken by the wind.

Somehow they remind me of humans.

People ascend the cross and
go to the stake just like this.

They know only that
a person mustn't be like that.

It's no good promising him pie
in the sky.

He needs to have happiness now,

in this life, under this gloomy skies.

And they're more courageous than Christ.

They know that there's no
resurrection after the crucifixion.

Kalinovski knew that too.

And Hryniewiecki.

And Sophia Perovskaya.

A woman of unimaginable beauty.

Such beauty being hanged on a dirty rope...

If I could hang with them,

even by a rib from the hook,
just to prevent

King Stakh's Savage Hunt tearing
across the land at a mad pace.

The Savage Hunt of King Stakh...

To stop that barbarity
in the people's souls,

which breeds fear of their own
shadow, gloom, madness, death.

That all-devouring monster

that destroys all the best on our land,

sucking out all of its juices,

like from this tree.

Who is that? Do you know her?

Yes, it's Mr. Kulsa's widow.

She's also Nadzieja Janowska's aunt
and her direct heir.

If anything should happen to Janowska,

she'd inherit the castle.
Well, her or Dubotowk.

He's her uncle, her guardian,
and God knows what else.

What do you mean?

I trust nobody now.

Including that coachman

who has been too solicitous
about his mistress lately.

Since the time
her husband had disappeared.

I suspected even you.

Or rather began to suspect,
but I caught myself in time.

Why not?

Your presence in the house
might look suspicious.

And why not suppose that you
yourself are King Stakh?

- Me?
- Yes.

Yes, yes.

You're throwing dust in my eyes,
pretending to suspect someone.

What about yourself?

Mr. Bielarecki.

Bielarecki!

Bielarecki!

Where are you?

Bielarecki, where are you?

Where are you, Mr. Bielarecki?!

You're fortunate...

The bone isn't touched.

You're going to be fine.

And you were saying
that I could have been King Stakh.

Miss Janowska, may I invite
Gacievic to dine with us?

Mr. Gacievic, we'd be pleased
if you'd come and join us.

Thank you, but I've already dined.

Who's there?

- Come in.
- Pardon my late visit.

I supposed you weren't sleeping yet.

I beg your pardon, I had decided,
so to speak, to satisfy my appetite.

Please, go on.

Oh, it's unthinkable!

To eat in the presence of such
a respectable gentleman, I just cannot.

Have you never noticed what
an unpleasant sight is a person eating?

It's disgusting!

There's a striking resemblance
in all people at those minutes

to some kind of animal.

This one... guzzles like a lion.

That one champs like the animal

the prodigal son pastured.

I never eat in the presence of anybody.

Never.

I'm listening to you.

Tell me, isn't there any secret place

in the old wing of the house?

A secret place?

Exactly.

The entire house
is some kind of a secret.

You mean...

I mean a hidden room
with a secret entrance,

where, I beg your pardon...

where a fifth dweller
might be hiding.

I don't know.

There must be a secret personal
archive of the Janowskis. But where?

It's not indicated on the castle's plan.

I don't know.

Have you found any secret place?

No.

But I don't rule out
the possibility of its existence.

Not necessarily.

Every schoolboy knows today

that the famous ghost of
the Lyubomirski castle in Dubrovna

proved to be just an old vessel
with gold coins and mercury.

Some prankster had it
sealed up in the chimney.

And as the heat of the day
changed to the nighttime coolness,

some terrible clinging sound and
noise was heard from the 2nd floor.

And of course, in the Middle Age
houses were built with hollow walls

so that the master could listen to
the talk of his servants and guests.

You mean to say...

I mean to say...

I beg your pardon... that such
an educated man as you

should not take some acoustic tricks
for supernatural phenomena.

Sir, kind sir.

May God give you health, sir.

And may God punish those
who drive people from the land.

And who drove you off?

Where are your parents?

They killed them.

Killed them?

Who killed them?

We screamed, wept,
didn't want to go away.

And at night came
the Savage Hunt of King Stakh,

and drove us to the swamp.

Those who screamed, they disappeared.

Nobody screamed any more.

The Savage Hunt?

My husband was taken
alive up to heaven.

The first among men
after the prophet Elijah.

But Roman Janowski...

fell into the nether regions.

All due to...

the evil genius of our parts.

The Savage Hunt.

You very much resemble...

my deceased...

husband.

Come in, please.

I've long been awaiting you.

The thing is... the thing is that...

my slave Ryhor turned out
to be a murderer.

Like Bluebeard.

You remember our reading together
about Giles the Bluebeard?

Such a gallant cavalier?

I'd have forgiven Ryhor if...

he'd murdered just as gallantly,
but he's a serf...

Wait...

Who are you?

You're King Stakh!

Away!

Away with you!

Why are you here?

Don't you see that she's a bit
not in her right mind?

Mrs. Kulsa, this is not King Stakh.

He is Field marshal Kaminski.

He's come to take a look at
our well-known local beauty.

And King Stakh is this one,
in the portrait.

He's very dead
and cannot kill anyone.

- Take it, highly respectable lady.
- No.

Only godly bread is pure.

Here.

Help me.

Down.

You're Ryhor, aren't you?
Mrs. Kulsa's coachman?

I'm a hunter. Here I'm a coachman,
a cook, a watchman.

Why don't you take her
to the district center for treatment?

I pity her. She's not always like that.

It comes and goes.

But mostly she's all right.

She doesn't want much,
but she eats a lot of bread.

Sometimes she bites my fingers.

When I give her bread, she grabs it.

But she wasn't bad when young.
Even if she were bad,

we couldn't leave her to herself.

Ryhor, I came to ask you about something.

Ask away.

I've never seen a ghost in my life.

I want to feel it with my own hands.

Aren't you frightened of them?
They came to visit my mistress.

Since then they won't leave her alone.

They got long arms.
That's why I have to protect her.

I, too, have long wanted
to get at those spooks.

If you're not joking, let's get together.

But if you've come to betray me,
your stay will not be long on this earth.

Ryhor is not afraid of anybody.
And Ryhor has friends.

And I shoot well.
So, if anything, I'll kill you.

As for feeling those ghosts
with your own hands,

fine ghosts they are

if their horses leave very real
excrement along the road.

If so, we can feel them, not only
with our hands, but with a whip too.

Has Nadzieja Janowska often been here?

Her father gave her permission once,

but then he had second thoughts, went
after her and was never seen again.

The poor girl was invited
by my husband, Mr. Kulsa.

You're such a knight, Mr. Field marshal,
that I shall tell you everything.

King Stakh himself... made...

my husband invite Nadzieja Janowska.

Yes, King Stakh.

My poor husband told me this.

Oh God, you'd better keep silent.

We've heard enough about that.

He was such a good man...

Throughout that night...

the poor man was crying...

like a baby...

and in the morning...

he ascended alive up in heaven.

They drowned him in the marshes.

Is it true that...

Nadzieja Janowska...

that her father waits for her
in heaven?

Give me a hand.

Record this. Ignati Gacievic,
the estate manager, has been murdered.

Recorded.

Watch out.

Please get in.

We are good to go.

Drive on.

TO A. BIELARECKI

Bielarecki!

Bielarecki!

Bielarecki!

- You? Let me open the door.
- Wait!

Don't.

I'm in a hurry.

What?

I might be followed.

What happened?

At the old cross, where Gacievic
was murdered, I met somebody.

"What are you doing here,
Mr. Sviecilovic?" he asked me.

"Searching for yesterday's day,"
I answered jokingly.

"Is it possible to find yesterday's
day in today's?"

"Yesterday's day hangs round
all our necks," I said.

"What do you mean?"

"The King Stakh's Savage Hunt,

which came to today's
from yesterday's day."

He grew pale: "Away with you!

Don't even mention it!"

We said goodbyes and he went off.

Continuing on my way,

I turned round and saw

that he had turned back
towards the cross.

- He saw me and hid.
- Who was it?

I cannot tell you yet.

Wait a little.

Mr. Bielarecki, I beg you,
don't do anything without me.

You should have expressed your views
and not given us puzzles to answer.

Everything is cleared up

easily and logically
only in bad novels.

We're not detectives
from the provincial police.

Wait.

And thank Lord for that!

Wait, Sviecilovic!

Andrej!

End of Part One

BELARUSFILM

THE SAVAGE HUNT OF KING STAKH

Based upon the story by V. Korotkevich

Part Two

There's no one here.
He said, at the old cross.

Did you record it?

Andrej Sviecilovic,
former student of the Kiev University.

- Ex-student.
- Yeah.

- We can go.
- Drive on!

It's you?

What's the matter?
What are you doing here?

What's happening, Miss Janowska?

I...

I was hiding.

Each night I hid in a different room.

I was afraid of everyone, even you.

I very well understand you
and your noble intentions.

But tell me, what would you
do in my place?

Vendetta is raging in these wild parts.

Can't help it: such is the local custom.

Why do you rule out the possibility of
killing because of the beautiful sex?

He was in love with the mistress
of Marsh Firs, wasn't he?

Or perhaps this was a suicide.

The deceased was a melancholic fellow,

psychically nervous,

a follower of Bacchus, and so on.

But I've heard it myself.

I respect you as a member
of the Geographic Society,

but this time allow me...

Excuse me, but may I give you
an unofficial advice?

Do not tempt fate.

Some people might find your acquaintance
with the deceased suspicious.

He was, to say the least,
you see... well.

I do not wish to exaggerate things, but...

it's also highly suspicious

of you striving so stubbornly to shift
the attention of the investigation

from the deceased
onto some mythical werewolves.

But I implore you...
not to get angry with me.

Your persistent efforts to hush up
the affair seems very strange

and make people come
to most risky assumptions.

Don't exaggerate.

I like your frankness,

but I might regard these words
as insulting the authorities.

God forbid! But this gives me the right
to appeal to the higher authorities.

I have no right to speak, but...
alright, come what may.

I am aware that the authorities
have documents

that... weigh heavily against you.

Now you believe in
the Savage Hunt of King Stakh?

If you could know

how much blood, murder,

orphans' tears are hidden
within these walls!

Don't you think that we are all
to answer for this?

Answer with fear, suffering and death.

We haven't the right to exist,

even the most honest of us,
the very best of us.

The blood in our veins is not blue,
it's dirty blood.

That's all.

In the morning you shall leave
Marsh Firs forever.

The violins have played their song,
the fineries have been put away.

Death has its own laws.

There is nothing you can do here!

You're a stranger here!

Go back to people who are alive,
who go hungry and can laugh.

And leave the graves to the dead!

Leave me! Go away!

I beg you! Please, leave!

Nadzieja Romanovna,
if you drive me out,

I shall find another shelter.

Before, my only wish was
to leave this place,

but now I... I cannot do it!

I cannot leave these god-forsaken
swamps where abominable things occur,

where the children tremble with fright

and cry at night when they hear
the hoofs of the Savage Hunt.

Yes, I shall die
if they're ghosts, but...

- If they're people...
- It's too late! Too late!

Everything comes too late in the world!
You came too late, too!

And if you are killed,
I will never forgive myself!

It's my life, it's all I own,

and I have the right to dispose of it
to my liking.

Farewell! Farewell!

As a gentleman, I appreciate
the noble efforts you're taking.

But at the moment, unfortunately,
I can't really be of any help to you.

In fact, I hate to disappoint you,

but I'm afraid an investigation

in this primitive region
would not give us anything.

No, no, no.

I'm not against the new trends,
I read all the new literature,

I studied in St. Petersburg

and as a youth
I even dreamed of the stage,

which had horrified my parents.

But, hypothetically,
let us change places.

Put yourself in my position,
and you would understand.

Not everything can be spoken
out loud, but...

A real vendetta has been raging
in our district.

And there's nothing we can do.
Such is the savage custom of these parts.

As for the case, this could have been
a murder committed out of jealousy.

You would know the motive
better than I do.

And to think that Sviecilovic
could have committed suicide...

Hasn't it occurred to you?

For he was a detached person.

A drinker, perhaps...

Excuse me, but I saw
with my own eyes...

You saw what?

Ghosts?

It's not for a respectable member

of the Imperial Geographic Society
at the Academy of Russia

to believe, pardon me...

Would you like a friendly advice?

Don't play with fire.

You're lucky to deal with me.
But some petty official...

would be very suspicious

of your acquaintance with...
the deceased,

who was notorious for...

for...

Well, you understand me.

You know what strikes me?

It's your insistence
on leading the investigation

away from the person of the victim

and to some nonexistent in reality
participants of the case,

some mythical werewolves.

And still, most of the time,

the victims of these
"mythical werewolves",

as you call them,

are ordinary people

who... somehow displeased someone.

Displeased whom?

Whom exactly?

Me? You?

The district officer?

And the poor manager?
Whom did he displease?

I have the impression that the police,

instead of looking for the murderer,
is trying to close the case.

And they're doing it deliberately,
as though having such instructions.

I'm not denying the possibility that

there might be something rotten
in the state of Denmark.

I hope my words won't be
heard outside this room.

But your ill-wishers,
and I'm sure there are such,

are likely to take your comments
as a criticism of the state.

But on the contrary,

I mean to appeal to the state myself.

Going to the capital?

Let me warn you in confidence.

Strictly speaking,

I shouldn't have put my cards
on the table yet,

but I think you will
understand me correctly.

A letter was found in the pocket
of Gacievic, after he was murdered.

The letter was addressed to you.

- To me?
- To you.

Now...

"Dear Mr. Bielarecki,

I know little about the Savage Hunt.

Nevertheless I can tell you something
of interest about it.

I can throw some light on the mystery
of some dark events in your house.

It seems to me you're searching
in the wrong place, dear brother."

- What?
- "Dear brother."

"Dear brother."

"You should search in the very castle
of Miss Janowska, damn it.

If you wish to know something about
the Little Man of Marsh Firs,

come today at 9 p.m. to the old
cross, where the ford begins,

and I will tell you wherein
the root of the fatal events lies."

Who wrote you this letter?
How did Gacievic have it?

And what's more to the point,
what is your involvement in his death?

I could ask you this
and many other questions,

but I won't ask them now.

Instead, I'll give you some advice.

Run from our region
as quickly as you can.

Believe me, I'll be happy
to meet you again some day,

but under different,
more agreeable, circumstances.

Otherwise, it would mean a prison for you.

And you'll be lucky
if it's only a provincial prison.

- Kind sir!
- Please give us a coin!

- Dear sir!
- Just a kopeck, please!

- And one for me too!
- Just a kopeck, good sir!

- Thank you!
- God bless you!

Lambs and shepherds
Before little children,

They bend their knees,
Glorifying our Christ.

And we, too, in our midst
Sing glory to Christ.

Good day, ladies and gentlemen!

For whom is this throne intended?

Is it for me, the terrible King Stakh?

For you, Your Majesty!

In that case, summon Death!

Please, gentlemen, step aside,
King Stakh will begin his rite!

And now...

Summon the one I love
as a brother, Roman Janowski.

Good day, Your Majesty!
Why have you called me?

Give me your beautiful daughter
to be my wife, dear brother.

I can't, Your Majesty,
she's the only one I have.

- I want only one, only her.
- Not for the world!

Then you must give me
you golden castle.

Don't even ask!

- Will you give me a ruble?
- You're not even worth a kopeck.

Then cut his head off!

And now, bring his beautiful daughter.

I hear you and I obey.

Where's my beloved father?

Your father, that was his own wishes,
decided to stay in the marshes.

Before that, he commanded
that you become my wife,

take me to your castle
and give me a ruble.

I would rather die
than become your wife.

Cut off her head!

Give me at least a year! A year to live!

- Not even a month!
- A day, then.

- Not even an hour!
- Give me one minute!

Not even a second!

Semyon!

It won't fly.

Fly! Go on!

Fly! Damn...

And who are you, my dear friend?

I'm a student from St. Petersburg.

Speak Latin then.

Humptum Dumptum satus on a wallus!

Now I see that you're a student!

And who are you?

I'm the terrible King Stakh!

You are not King Stakh!
You're an impostor!

Oh, uncle, what have you done?
Marsh Firs are gorged with corpses!

You've sinned enough,
now you must meet your death.

Here I am, impostor!
It's your death hour!

I will get my scythe and saws
and will cut your joints and sinews!

- Give me a year to live!
- Not even a month!

Give me a day!

Not even an hour.

- Give me a minute!
- Not even a second.

Lie down!

No, not on your side.
On your back, as girls lie down!

And how do girls lie down?

Student, can you bring
the dead back to life?

Yes, if they're not already cold.

Then revive Janowski and his daughter.

Where does it hurt?

In the head.

We must send for vodka. Get up!

By all the saints!
What a sleep we've had!

You would sleep for ages
if not for this stranger.

Poor God's servants,
always think of your last hour.

Don't be too proud,
don't become conceited.

Goodness gracious! Holy martyrs!
You've come after all!

The prodigal son has come!

Come to the table!

Hryska! Anton!
You louts, where are you?

I invited the buffoon breed

and all my serfs opened their
mouths, stupid fools!

Hryska! Piatrus!

Why are you staring, devils?
Never seen a man from the capital?

Come, food for the guest!

Come here, please.

To the devil with this!

A glass of vodka for a start! Sit down.

- Thank you, I...
- You can't?

Only a virgin wench can't,
but even she quickly agrees.

It's too much.

When there're 3 wives in a hut, that's
too much, and that not for everyone.

Anton, go down on your knees
before our guest,

beat your foolish head on the floor
so that our guest not offend us.

I'm drinking.

That's a real man!

Do you recognize the drink?

You know Polish starka,

Ukrainian spotykach,

Russian vodka too,

but not our own "Trys Devynerios"?

Gorelka!

Infused with — three times nine —
twenty-seven herbs!

We learned its secret from the Lithuanians
a hundred years ago.

They have long forgotten it,
but we haven't.

Go on, eat.

Wild boar ham.

- Peppery, like fire...
- Get out of here!

- Get out, quick!
- Why?

And don't show your faces here!

- You're not a boss here!
- Get out!

Stinking actors, damn you!

Get out while you're still
in one piece!

So are you going to marry her?

She is...

Who?

My ward.

I haven't thought of it.

Sing, sing, birdie.

You've probably taken me
for somebody else.

This is not the place
to discuss such a matter.

He's teaching me again, this cad.

Stop it!

You're insulting not only me,
but an innocent girl as well.

Gentlemen, calm yourselves.

Varona, you're drunk.

I once allowed an offense of yours
to pass by unnoticed,

but in future I won't!

Varona, what's the matter? Calm down.

No, my honor has been insulted.

Who will now come to visit me
if such things happen here?

- I don't care a damn! Oh!
- That's "oh" for you.

You will fight me with a saber.

He will fight with me, and my guest
will leave safe and sound.

He was the first to offend me.
And then I'll fight with you.

Ales, don't bring shame on my house.

Mr. Dubotowk, it's unnecessary.

I'm not afraid. You be brave, too.

We shall shoot here and now.
Three bullets for each.

Yes, and in the dark.

Gentlemen, let's postpone it
till tomorrow.

Drunk men are only good
for shooting sparrows.

Are you going to fire or not?
Stop messing about.

What?!

What...

Quick! Over here! Help!

It seems I've killed him!

Varona!

It seems I've killed him.

What's wrong, young man?

It's all right, my dear.
It's just your nerves.

It wasn't you who insulted him. He
picked the quarrel himself, the drunk.

You know, he proposed to her
and got a refusal.

Just look how upset you are.
It's because you're not used to it.

But you haven't killed him, he's just
deafened, like a bull at the slaughter.

A week in bed, and he'll be all right.

To hell with Varona,
he belongs in a salt mine.

Still, it does no credit to us.

Neither to me, nor to you.

Nor even to her,

so long as this drunk slug
besmirched her honest name.

So I hope you understand
it's best to keep our mouths shut

and forget what's happened here.

I rely on you, you are a noble man.

JOURNAL OF THE ESTATE MANAGER
IGN. GACIEVIC

Who are you?

Me?

I'm Basil.

Basil Gacievic, the manager's brother.

I know you. I was under the table, my
brother was feeding me when you came.

I haven't eaten for several days.

My brother used to feed me,
and at night he let me out for a walk.

But he hasn't come for a whole week.

I've searched the entire house.
And I looked in the park. He's nowhere.

Have you seen my brother?

When he went to town,
he always warned me beforehand.

Perhaps the mistress sent him
to the district center?

It's possible.

But it's strange that he hasn't told you.

Come on, I'll give you
something to eat.

The Journal of Ignati Gacievic,
manager of Marsh Firs.

"Money is emanation of human power
over the herd of others.

Justice is not inherent in nature itself."

"It seems to me

that the first step to achieving my goal

should be the victory over her

towards whom my body is striving
in vain — the mistress

of Marsh Firs.

Though she is stronger

than I had thought.

She hasn't lost her mind yet.

And I'm still jealous

of all young men,

and especially of this Bielarecki.

It would be much better for him

to have disappeared
as soon as possible."

"Today at the tavern

I watched a puppet show

with insulting references to King Stakh.

I'm afraid that the actors' prophesies

will result in the vengeance
of the Savage Hunt."

"My mistress's birthday
proved to me that

King Stakh had proclaimed himself
the castle's master."

What?

"...proved to me that King Stakh had
proclaimed himself the castle's master.

It seems he's also convinced
there is gold in the cellars.

Gold...

Thousands of panegyrics could be sung
to your power over people's souls.

You are everything:
friendship, love, power,

the body of a woman,
the brain of the greatest geniuses,

even the decent hole in the earth.

And all of that I shall attain.

Loneliness and fear
shall finish my mistress,

I shall become the master,

and the ghosts shall leave these parts."

"An hour ago I intercepted a letter
addressed to Bielarecki.

Somebody wants to tell him
the truth about my brother.

I must put a stop to this. I'm going.

I'm going..."

Here they come!

Here they come, the murderers!

I know them!

They've come for me, I...

I...

Murderers!

Help...

Help!

Dubotowk!

Dubotowk, open up!

Dubotowk, open the door, please!

Open up!

Open the door! It's me, Varona!

Dubotowk, open up!

It's me, Varona!

Dubotowk, open the door!

Dubotowk! Dubotowk!

It's him! He's the murderer!

He's behind the whole
masquerade! I swear!

Those horses gallop
to his voice, like dogs!

Beware, you rats!

No one of you shall remain alive!
I'll slaughter you and your children!

You want my soul, you devils?

I'll have your souls!

You, Bielarecki!

Bielarecki!

You'll burn in hell!

King Stakh!

To my rescue!

Oh, King Stakh!

In the name of his Imperial Majesty,

I arrest you for inciting a revolt.

Oh God...

What if he's banished to Siberia?

I won't let you... I won't!

Wear something warm.
It's a very long trip.

And the papers write
it's freezing in the capital.

Have you been to St. Petersburg before?

I attended the University there.

And I've never been there.

Are you unwell?

No, I'm fine.

Yet you shouldn't...

You shouldn't have come.

You know what?

Do you realize that today is
the first day of the 20th century?

Yes! Yes!

January the first,

1901 !

Extraordinary, isn't it?

THE END