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When the ruler Krok died, he left behind three daughters: Kazi, Teta and Libuse. The youngest, Libuse, was a wise, graceful woman, and she was properly possessed with prophetic visions. She became the untitled leader, and the memory of the people says she was a just ruler, attending to the affairs of her tribes with diligence and open mind. But men, in disputes with each other, would not defer to a young woman. In one session of her court, a wild man, having received a ruling on his quarrel, openly defied her. 'Long hair, short judgment' - he said, 'shame on the men who accept the rule of a woman'. He angrily stomped out of her court. When no man stood up to speak for her, Libuse, having received the gift of grace spoke thus: ' Yes, I am a woman and I do as woman would. That I do not judge you with an iron cane in hand, makes you believe my judgment is short. Very well then, have you a custodian harsher than woman. I grant your unspoken petition. Now, go home in peace'. She directed the council to select a husband for her. When the council remained clueless as to whom she could possibly marry, she turned prophetic and directed the men to the house of Premysl (The Levelheaded). The envoys then found her prince at work ploughing his fields. The marriage of Premysl and Libuse launched the first dynasty of Czech kings.

I.

When Libuse left for the world beyond, the young women of her entourage saw they did not have the respect they had commanded during her lifetime. They were aggrieved and bitterly pined for the times when their mistress alone ruled the land and all men, and became sorely irritated when a few among men would goad them: 'You ruled us; we bowed to you, and look at you now: you are as stray sheep !' And then the secret anger burst into flames which fanned high and wide. Out of the desire for power and vindication, the wenches seized swords and bows, and without thought to the odds they faced, they began tough struggle against men folk. In all action the leader was Vlasta who once stood out in the company of Libuse. It was she who first called to arms, she who first bore arms, and she again who united the women and commanded them to build a military stronghold. They built a fortress as their refuge beyond the river Vltava, on a hill little higher than Vysehrad on the opposite bank. The wenches obeyed Vlasta as their mistress and commander. On her counsel and order, they traveled to the country to call on women to join them in Devin, as they named their new citadel, to fight against men with the aim of making women rule the land and men to serve them in the house and toil in the fields. Vlasta's challenge was not a hollow cry which the wind blows away, but a spark that lit the hearts of many. Like doves flying free off their cots, women and wenches rushed away from their husbands, fathers, and brothers, all to the fortress of Devin, where they swarmed in halls and rooms, its spacious courts and on tall ramparts. Men, from the distance of Vysehrad, idly surveyed them and gleefully mocked their diligent practice at arms and riding. Even the elders and men wise in the ways of the world regarded them with disdain, and when the matter of estranged women in arms came up before prince Premysl, they spoke of them without respect, saying they sorely itched to find out what women's valour was all about. All men around Premysl laughed at the thought of chasing armed wenches. But the prince remained saddened and with a voice of heartfelt concern he said to them:

"Hear me out men; I see no cause for merriment and laughter here. And perhaps you would not laugh either if you had a vision such as I had last night" And that they be forewarned, he told them his vision:

"It was a dark night, and the wind was full of thick and biting smoke. In the light of fire I saw a wench in a helmet. From under the helmet her long hair fluttered; she held a sword in one hand and a chalice in the other. In the dust on the ground lied dead men in streams of blood. The wench ran around in a rage, stepping on the dead, scooping blood with her chalice and gulping it like a beast in wild fascination. Hear, men, the voice of gods and take notice of their sign. Be warned by this vision; hear what I say and do not take it with light heart."

II.

Meanwhile, the wenches in Devin prepared for the war against men. They suppressed nature's call for kinship, and without heart announced to their brothers, even fathers: "We are not anything to you any more. Let each take care of himself !" To each other they swore allegiance, calling for the death by her own sword to anyone who should betray their cause. They took a solemn oath to Vlasta who gave each her own post and duties. The wisest stayed in Vlasta's council; to those who were timid, she had given chores in the fortress, and the bravest she trained in warfare: to ride horses and kill men like dogs. She selected women well built, with beauty and pleasing manner to trap men with their charms. Vlasta aimed to destroy men by both, force and cunning. Men remained foolish, not heeding the advice of Premysl, their prince. They poured in towards Devin as if for a country fair. They thought that all they had to do was to show up and rattle their swords, and the wenches would frighten and run like cats when they hear the sound of dried peas in a leather bag. But wonder of wonders ! The wenches did not stay on the ramparts, true. But far from running away, they massed before the gate and led by Vlasta, they marched forth. Seated on a raven steed dressed in armour and helmet, javelin in hand, she spoke to them fiercely, exhorting them not to be afraid, and to fight bravely. "If we are defeated", she cried, "men will first laugh at you. Then they will make you their servants, and worse, their slaves ! Fight them ! Do not spare a single one of them, kill them all, whoever they may be, whether they be your brother, or father even !" No sooner she finished speaking, she pulled her reins and spurred her horse into gallop. She cried out and waved her lance, and the cry went on behind her, as the rows of women warriors moved thirsting for battle. At their head, after Vlasta, were Mlada, Svatava, Hodka, Radka and Castava. - The arrows left the wenches' bows and fell on men like a sudden snowstorm. Just as suddenly, the men lost their good humour. Bloodied, they were falling not by one but by the rows and before they had the time to draw a new line of defense, the women were at them slashing and piercing their confused ranks. The battle did not last long. Three hundred men lied bloodied on the ground. The rest ran for their lives. Dense, dark forest nearby was their salvation and shelter. Without it, they would have all been dead. Devin and the neighbouring country heard the wild cries of the wenches. They were overjoyed by their victory and their fighting spirit was strengthened by the new throngs of women who joined them in the days after the battle. The news soon spread far and wide and set ablaze even those hearts who were timid and hesitant before. And in the land events took an ugly turn. Many a man was found clobbered or stabbed to death in the morning, and many others, unsure of the safety of their own house, were leaving at night to sleep in the thickets and groves. Around Devin men also fell on hard times. They could not get close to the fortress; they could take the place neither by arms nor by stratagem. There was not a single man in Devin and none of the wenches would betray her peers. On the other hand, the warriors had their supporters on Vysehrad, women who were not allied with them openly, but in secret sent news about what men were up to, where they would go, where they could be attacked and dispatched. And so the struggle went on - in the field openly and elsewhere by artful deceit. One seductress lured a trusting lad to come and set her free when she traveled on the road from Devin with nine others. He came with friends of his own and waited on the spot she had chosen. The woman finally came with nine maidens. But at the same moment a troop of women warriors charged from their hideout and slaughtered the young man and his comrades. Another young man lost his life by intrigue. He trusted a beautiful wench when she promised to betray Devin. As they agreed, she let him and his friends slip into Devin at night. But neither he nor his men were ever seen after the gate closed behind them in the fortress. Sly ruse felled also a strong young knight, Ctirad, whom Vlasta hated most because in the skirmishes and battles his sword cut down more of her warriors than any other man's.

III.

One summer day Ctirad rode in the fields with his manservants, leaving the seat of his clan and having the Prague castle as his destination. The young knight and the men of his guard had swords by their sides and furred quivers across their chests. Many of them grasped javelins. For it was not wise in those times when wenches were lying in wait everywhere for a man to travel alone and unarmed. The sun was hot and the air close. In the acres of corn and hemp, the spiked ears and leaves were perfectly still. Not even in the woods which Ctirad reached on his road, the air was fresh. The shadows of old trees and dark crags which towered in the deep vale lost their cooling touch. In the windless air not a twig stirred and the brook in the growth under the crags crept without sound. All stood still: water, the trees, the birds. Only a human voice suddenly cut through the lifeless silence: the voice of hapless lament, a call for help. Ctirad stopped and the men listened in amazement. The cries carried on from a distance beyond a bluff but then they suddenly stopped. At that moment a raven flew over Ctirad and turning over the knight's head let out his hoarse croaks. But neither the knight nor his men noticed the black bird and the warning sounds. They pursued the human voice. As they rounded the bluff, they stopped their horses with a start. They wondered at what they saw. By the rock, adorned by stalks of gold mullein, and the growth of berries by its base, where the flower was pure white and the fruit full red, they saw a green clearing in a stream of light, full of hairgrass and reddish willow-weed. An old oak-tree stood on the edge near the rock and under the tree a young woman sat tightly tied to the trunk by a thick rope. She was silent, exhausted by the calls and pain, and her head hanged low. Her hair, half undone, covered her shoulders and over them on a belt hung a hunting horn. As the gallop of horses reached her ears she lifted her head, and called again, begging the men to untie her, to free her, to take pity on her. Ctirad, moved by the plea and the voice of the luscious maid forgot all caution, and so did his men. Swiftly he jumped off his horse, and with a drawn sword cut the rope to free the wench. He had no idea that Vlasta obtained the news of his journey to Prague castle through these ends from a spy the day before. She then connived to ensnare the courageous knight, so he would never return, a plot in which the charms of this woman would be of priceless service. Now without shackles, the wench thanked Ctirad profusely, and told him she was Sarka, the daughter of the knight of Okorin She recounted how the women ambushed her in the woods, tied and led her in tow toward their castle, when they heard horses on the road. 'They left me behind, but tied me so I could not move. And to mock me, they hanged this horn on my neck, so I could - all tied up - blow in it for help. And here, look, they even left drink for me to suffer beyond just thirst'. She pointed to a large jar of mead in the grass by her feet. And she broke into tears again and pleaded anxiously with the knight not to leave her behind, but to take her back to her father lest the raging virgins return and molest her anew. Ctirad, seated beside comforted her, promising he would do as she asked, and offered the jar for refreshment after her ordeal. She drank and gave him to drink. Meanwhile his men dismounted, tied their horses nearby, and lied down in the shade to cool down. It was noon hour. The pungent scent of pines, thyme and herbs of the meadow filled the air above the ground in the shimmering heat of midday. Nothing moved, hardly a butterfly flew through the sun- drenched clearing. The eyelids of the guardsmen became heavy as sleep was overcoming them. Their master, though, remained alert, listening to the tales of lovely Sarka, drinking with abandon when she handed him the vessel. And when she lifted the horn off her bosom, wondering aloud what sound it would yield to a strong man, Ctirad obliged her and blew in it with all his might. And the horn's racket tore into the still life around. The crags and treetops carried its voice far into the distance from whose wooded depths it returned a faint echo. Suddenly, as if the sound called in a storm, wild cries broke out all around, near and far, from behind the trees and thickets and the hillside further back. Like a swarm of wild bees, a cohort of armed wenches covered the clearing. Before Ctirad's servants could take hold of themselves, the women leaped at their horses' sides and threw away the swords. Then they beset the men to bludgeon and stab them. Ctirad wanted to join his men but as he stumbled reaching for his sword in the grass the women were on his back and before he could swing at them with his weapon, they threw him on the ground and tied him with a rope. And there he lied in the place of Vlasta's confidante. In vain he struggled, hurled oaths, and called on the daemons to devour Sarka for her evil deed. Sarka laughed, as did her friends and all of them in mad cheer led their burly captive tied up beside Sarka's horse to Devin. His comrades remained behind on the clearing's trampled grass sprayed with blood. They lied in the sun, impaled, dead, inviting flies to sit on them. From high on, the raven again croaked, calling his brethren to a sumptuous feast. Thus perished the men of Ctirad, and their master was defeated. And the craggy, wild valley, where it happened, to this day bears the name of the woman who brought about their downfall.

IV.

The guards and spies brought horrible news to Vysehrad the day after. Near Devin they found a scaffold on display, holding a wheel on its high beam and in the wheel the broken body of Ctirad, the knight, whom the wenches tortured to martyr's death. The news sped like brushfire, in all neighbourhoods, in all counties. And from all sides, men came in arms to Vysehrad, indignant of the scourge, and begged Premysl to lead them to avenge Ctirad, forswearing to accept his counsel in the future. But many did not wait for the prince's orders and started towards Devin on their own, killing wenches on their way. They took many of them prisoner and brought them to Vysehrad. Vlasta raged like a she-bear, and ever so sure of her cause and victory, she led her warriors on Vysehrad, to take the fortress and slaughter all men they find. But sooner than arriving at the gates they came across a large army of men, starved for a bloody revenge. They fought in a cruel battle. Vlasta, on her steed, led the charge. Propelled by rage, she galloped forward, believing she blazed the way for others closely following behind. But the wenches could not fight through as fast as she did, and suddenly Vlasta found herself alone, surrounded by men, in their thickest file. And they closed in on her; their wild ranks coming nearer and nearer, until she could no longer lift her sword owing to their cruel pressure. They seized her, threw her to the ground and with their knives tore her to pieces.

Thus she perished.

The others did not fare better. When they saw their leader fall, suddenly they were gripped by panic, and those whom men feared just a day before, were fleeing the battlefield in disorderly droves. They ran back to Devin, to seek refuge there. Many fell on the field, many died in flight, and those who reached Devin did not escape destruction either. For men fought their way into the fortress, as confusion reigned and the bridge was not drawn. And in Devin women's power and martial prowess came to a sad end. The warriors threw away their swords, and began to shed their women's tears again, and memory having returned to them, they begged their brothers and kin for mercy, wringing their hands on their knees. Some begged slyly, some sincerely, but the men's hearts were hardened, yearning to revenge Ctirad and all those who as witness to women's vainglory, lost their lives in combat or entrapment. The men levied a cruel tax; they did not spare a single warrior. They threw beautiful bodies from the windows of the keep and from the ramparts of the fortress. And when they were done with the women's assembly, they burned their Devin to the ground and turned its walls to dust.

Thus ended the wenches' war.

Order and law returned to the land, and prince Premysl alone ruled without women's opposition.

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Translated from Alois Jirasek : Stare Povesti Ceske, Albatros, Praha 1988

(A. Jirasek, Czech ethnologist and historical novelist 1851-1930)