The Legend of the Weeping Willow:

In a small cottage on the Narew River, a blue-eyed widow with flaxen hair silvered by worries lived with her three adolescent sons.

Perched on a high river bank, the house was surrounded by moist meadows stretching to the horizon, overgrown with clumps of bushy willows, white birches, and black alders.

The small farm could barely support the woman and three boys. The mother hired herself out to wealthier farmers to provide a decent living for the family.

The poor woman's sole purpose in life was to raise the boys to be honest men. In her free time from her arduous work, she dreamed of a moment of happiness at their wedding and of seeing the smiling faces of her grandchildren before she died.

At the beginning of April, spring arrived over the deep blue river, filling the world with the song of larks, the colors of marigolds, and the scent of sweet flag. However, this was not a spring that brought only joy.

Along with the storks returning to the Narew marshes, it brought the ominous clatter of the approaching army's hooves. The enemy from the east filled the idyllic land with the clatter of weapons, the voices of harassed women, and the glow of fires. The invaders spared neither women nor children. They plundered towns and villages everywhere, seeking plunder and satisfying their wild desires.

In those days, only the nobility had the privilege of defending the borders of the homeland. However, the situation exceeded prevailing customs.

Faced with a threat to the royal majesty, all young men capable of bearing arms were conscripted for military service. A great reward awaited those who survived – a coat of arms, equivalent to freedom from serfdom, and the knightly privileges that followed.

The first to volunteer was the middle son, 13-year-old Dobrosław. However, such young boys were not accepted into the army. The eldest brother, Zbyszko, was conscripted into the army without reservation. Although only fifteen years old, the boy looked much older. His mother provided him with a loaf of bread, a chunk of cheese, and a blessing for the journey.

After a few months, terrible news arrived. Zbyszko was killed during a skirmish with the enemy. Before long, the army took in the middle brother, Dobrosław, who decided to avenge his brother.

The young man, untrained in the art of war, soon perished somewhere near Tykocin. The boy's mother, upon receiving the terrible news of her second son's death, turned gray overnight. Her heart would surely have broken if not for her last hope – the golden-haired Mścisław, her most beloved son. The poor woman resolved to protect her youngest child from a violent death at all costs. However, the enemy did not cede the borders of the Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth.

The glow of fires illuminated the meadows along the Narew River almost every night. Each day brought news of new rapes and pillages in the long-peaceful land. People lived in constant fear of hordes of plunderers from the east. No one plowed the fertile land. No one harvested the crops. People hid in the forests, suffering from cruel hunger and misery. A harsh winter arrived. Local peasants, deprived of grain supplies, slaughtered the remnants of their herds to feed their starving families. A poor widow and the last of her sons fell into terrible poverty. All she was left with was a modest cottage on the riverbank and the golden-haired Mstislav.

At the end of December, the woman faced the most difficult of life's choices. Either they would both starve to death, or she would send the last of her children to war. The army provided soldiers, even in these terrible times, with a daily meal and the chance to attain the honors of knighthood. Facing the death of both of them from starvation, the woman sent her last son to the army.

The following spring brought little hope. The unsown fields were overgrown with weeds. The surrounding barns and pigsties failed to fill with another generation of domestic livestock. People wandered the country roads seeking refuge from the merciless enemy. With the arrival of summer, another terrible blow fell upon the mother, steeped in poverty. Mścisław fell in the field.

The woman, having lost her last hope, went to the banks of the Narew River to find solace in its blue waters. Reaching the riverbank, she began tearing out her gray hair and cursing the gods who had treated her so mercilessly. The water nymph Nirve heard the cries and curses. Years ago, she took a liking to the Narwia Topnik and bestowed upon him the power to enchant people. Whether out of pity or simply a whim—for, as we know, water nymphs are indifferent to human affairs—the water nymph transformed her distraught mother into a weeping willow.

Some believe that devils live in such willows and hide treasures there.

It's difficult to say how much truth there is to this, but it is known that weapons were never made from willow wood, either because of its fragility or perhaps for an entirely different reason.