One evening, the merchant rode Windrunner through a dark forest on his way home. The sun had set, and the wind whispered through the trees. The road stretched on, and Windrunner, exhausted from the journey, slowed to a trot. Suddenly, a group of bandits leapt from the shadows, one grabbing the reins. In that moment of danger, Windrunner reared up, knocking two men to the ground, trampling a third, then galloped away like a storm through the forest. The other bandits gave chase, but their horses were no match for Windrunner’s speed. Within half an hour, the merchant was safely back in the city. Overwhelmed with relief, he embraced his horse and whispered words of thanks. He swore a solemn vow to care for Windrunner for the rest of its life, no matter the cost.
But the heroic escape had weakened the horse. In the weeks that followed, Windrunner began to falter. Its legs lost strength, and its eyes turned cloudy. The stallion had gone blind. The merchant was saddened, but he kept feeding it and letting it rest. Yet in time, as the months passed, he began to feel burdened by his promise. He bought a new horse, younger and healthy, and gave it the stall in the stable. Windrunner was moved outside. Eventually, the merchant reduced its food, reasoning that a blind horse no longer needed full rations. His heart slowly hardened, and the vow he had once spoken with such passion faded from memory.
One day, he decided to release Windrunner. “Let it go,” he thought. “I’m not killing it, just setting it free.” But Windrunner, blind and weak, had nowhere to go. It stood for hours by the gate, snow falling on its thin body, ears twitching against the cold. Eventually, it wandered through the streets, stumbling into fences and bushes, sniffing for scraps, driven by hunger and confusion.
At that time in Russia, many cities were governed not by royalty but by their own people. In the town square, a large bell hung from a wooden frame. Anyone who felt wronged could ring the bell, and the people would gather to deliver justice. By sheer chance, Windrunner wandered into the square and bit down on the rope, hoping it was straw. As it pulled, the bell rang loudly into the night.
The townspeople rushed out in alarm. They instantly recognized the noble horse. They remembered how it had once saved its master’s life and the vow he had made. Now they saw it blind, starving, and trembling in the snow. Outraged, they summoned the merchant before the town. He gave excuses, but the people would not forgive him. He had broken a sacred promise.
The people ruled that he must care for Windrunner until the day it died. To ensure he could not forget again, they carved the judgment into a stone and placed it in the square for all to see. The merchant had no choice but to obey.