Many legends about battles against the Tatars, Turks and other invaders live on in Croatian folk memory — for instance, the story of the plum growers of Kalnik who hurled whole plum trees at the Tatars, or of the people of Đurđevac who, to show they had plenty of food, threw chickens — picoke — over their walls at the Turks. In the Okić area, a tale was told of how, in order to deceive the Turks, sacks of grain were lowered from Okić. This was described in the Samoborski list, no. 16 of 1905, by a contributor now little known, one Dragan Gubarov, who composed the following poem in the traditional folk decasyllable on the basis of popular oral tradition.
The lords of Okić gathered in council,
Gathered in council, softly lamenting:
"How much longer, brothers and lords,
Can this small fortress hold against them?
Three hard and bitter years have passed
Since the fortress has been defending itself against the Turks,
And no welcome help has come from anywhere.
While every storeroom in the fortress was
Full of grain, our strength held out —
But now the food has run low,
Now every storeroom stands empty.
There are still five and twenty measures left.
But what is that, for the love of God and faith!
How can hungry men defend themselves?"
A vila heard this from the mountain
And, having heard, spoke thus:
"Enough of your talk and lamentation.
Where is your reason, where your brave hearts?
Grief has clouded your minds
And you cannot help yourselves.
Set aside your tears, set aside your bitter sorrow —
Stitch a sack for this grain,
Put into it whatever is left,
And lower the bundle down the walls."
The vila spoke and tarried no longer,
And the lords set to work at once:
They stitch the sack, fill it with grain,
Then lower it down the solid walls.
But the Turks see this from their tents,
Just as they were debating what to do next,
For Okić had caused them a thousand troubles.
Many a warrior had fallen beneath it,
Much blood had been spilled beneath it,
Yet it stood unbroken, defying them utterly,
Dealing bitter hardship to all below.
And now, on top of everything, a third year had passed
And still it held out, still would not yield.
The Turks leap up, intercept the sack
And carry it off to the pasha's tent.
The Turks think to find a letter inside it,
By which the people of Okić would surrender.
But behold a great wonder —
Inside there was no letter they had hoped for.
For when the Turks untied the sack
They found nothing but grain within it.
"Woe, brothers!" the Turkish pasha cries,
"No Turk will starve these people out.
For they have grain and food enough —
They are even lowering supplies to us from the fortress,
Dealing us such grief as this.
And we are to waste our time here?
And die in vain for a handful of subjects?
Leave our bones beneath Okić?
Never, brothers — let us go home."
The pasha spoke; the army, singing,
Broke camp beneath Okić Castle,
As though Okić had vanquished them in open battle.
Thanks be to God — Okić breathed free,
Escaped to liberty like a bird on the wing.
So it was; so it is remembered —
All that came to pass beneath Okić.
