Free BELGRADE by David Norris

Other parts were long descriptions of soldiers arriving at a battlefield, details of the arms they carried, the numbers in each contingent, confrontations between heroes and their enemies. Thus, each song was composed anew at each performance. The narrative outline of a story was well known to the audience, rather like some modern film genres such as the Western. The audience revels in the fulfilment of expectations while taking pleasure in the singer’s skill to add a new turn of phrase.
    Some of the best-known songs are about the Battle of Kosovo and the legendary hero, Prince Marko (Kraljević Marko). The songs about Kosovo celebrate the battle of 1389 as a tragic Serbian defeat and the beginning of Turkish rule. According to the myth, Prince Lazar is visited by the prophet Elijah who offers him a choice: he can win the day and build an earthly kingdom, or lose but in defeat earn for himself and his people a heavenly kingdom. Lazar, naturally, chooses the latter option. He and his lords meet for a last supper on the eve of battle and with a sense of premonition he accuses his loyal retainer Miloš Obilić of treachery. Greatly hurt, Obilić denies any such thought and declares that he will kill the Ottoman leader, Sultan Murat. The Serbs are indeed betrayed, but by Vuk Branković, who leads his men away from the field when he should support the main army. Both Lazar and Obilić fulfil their epic roles: Lazar dies a martyr, and Obilić is hacked to pieces after killing Murat.
    This bare outline is the myth of the famous battle as preserved in the song “The Fall of the Serbian Empire” (Propast carstva srpskoga). The Kosovo cycle contains many other songs that tell of associated events—the fear of the wives of the Serbian lords as they head off for Kosovo, the Kosovo Maiden who gives comfort to the wounded heroes, all telling a narrative with numerous strands and various characters. The Serbs are defeated because of betrayal from within, while preserving the integrity of their heroic demise framed in a strong biblical allegory.
    If the Kosovo cycle offers compensation in piety and heroism, the other well-known cycle of epic ballads about Prince Marko offers a different kind of consolation. He is the most highly developed character of all the ballads, an archetypal hero and yet also something of an anti-hero. He is strong and determined in action, but will use tricks and subterfuge in order to win. He shows a comical side: when his mother wants him to get married, he points out that she wants a daughter and he wants a wife, and that these are not compatible aims. He drinks copious amounts of red wine, as does his horse. This mixture of epic and comic elements makes him a more grounded type, someone with whom the peasant society which created him could easily identify.
    The legendary prince is based on a real historical figure, Marko, the son of King Vukašin, a Serbian feudal lord. The real Marko was a Turkish vassal who fought for the sultan and paid homage to his authority. The epic Marko is also a servant of the Ottoman Empire, but a servant whom the sultan fears and on whom he has to rely to fight his enemies. Marko can afford to be kind in a cruel world, and very severe when affronted or when he sees dishonesty. He upholds the honour of his family according to the traditional values of a patriarchal code, and at the same time one can laugh with him and at him. In fact, he reflects the very complicated relationship that developed between the Serbs and their Ottoman masters. Not challenging the status quo, the mythic Marko works within its framework, an invention of the colonized imagination, an image of a preferred world.
    The epic ballads were not the only form of oral literature. There were other types of songs providing a whole library of material that could cover all occasions while working or celebrating, at harvest time or at a wedding. Yet the large-scale stories and colourful characters in the epics have