RUSSIAN MYTHS AND FOLK-TALES. (continued 2)
Reading edition
They thought and thought, struggled and struggled, wanted the horse very badly, were sorry for themselves, but decided at last, undressed, and took off their shirts. The simpleton cut from the back of each one of them a strap, took the straps, put them away, and delivered the steed.
The sons-in-law came home bringing the golden-maned steed with golden tail. The Tsar from delight knew not what to call them, where to seat them, or how to entertain them, and gave them the remaining half of the kingdom. The simpleton crept into one ear of the steed and out of the other, and became what he had been before. He killed his wretched horse, took off the skin, put it on himself, caught magpies, crows, jackdaws, and sparrows, tied them around himself, came to the palace, and let out the birds; they flew in different directions, and broke nearly all the windows. The Tsarevna, his wife, was crying, and her sisters were laughing at her. “Our husbands have brought the golden-maned steed with golden tail; but look at thy fool going around such a fright!”
The Tsar shouted at the fool: “What an ignorant lout! I’ll have thee shot.”
And the simpleton asked: “With what wilt thou reward me?”
“What reward shouldst thou have?” asked the Tsar.
“If the truth must be told, I got for thee the pig with gold bristles, the deer with golden horns and a golden tail, and the golden-maned steed with golden tail.”
“How canst thou prove that?” asked the Tsar.
“Command thy sons-in-law, Gosudár, to take off their boots.”
The sons-in-law began to make excuses; they didn’t want to take off their boots.
“Take off your boots,” urged the Tsar; “there is no harm in that.”
They took off their boots. The Tsar looks: one toe is missing.
“Here are their toes,” said the simpleton. “Order them now to take off their gloves.”
They removed their gloves, and the Tsar saw there was a finger missing.
“Here are their fingers,” said the simpleton. “Order them now to take off their shirts.”
The Tsar saw that the affair was coming true, and ordered them to undress. They took off their shirts, and the Tsar saw that each one of them had a strap cut from his back the width of two fingers.
“Here are the straps,” said the simpleton; and told the whole story as it was.
The Tsar didn’t know how to entertain him, nor how to reward him. He gave him the whole kingdom, and the other sons-in-law, because they had deceived him, he had shot.
The simpleton went to the open field and cried with a shrill voice: “Oh, blue-brown, cunning bay, stand before me as leaf before stem!” The horse ran, the ground trembled, the simpleton crept into one ear of the steed and out of the other, and became a hero and a beauty.
He came home, began to live with his Tsarevna and win wealth.
WATER OF YOUTH, WATER OF LIFE, AND WATER OF DEATH.
IN a certain kingdom in a certain land there lived a Tsar; that Tsar had three sons,—two crafty, and the third simple. Somehow the Tsar had a dream that beyond the thrice ninth land, in the thirtieth kingdom, there was a beautiful maiden, from whose hands and feet water was flowing, that whoever would drink that water would become thirty years younger. The Tsar was very old. He summoned his sons and counsellors, and asked: “Can any one explain my dream?”
The counsellors answered the Tsar: “We have not seen with sight nor heard with hearing of such a beautiful maiden, and how to go to her is unknown to us.”
Now the eldest son, Dmitri Tsarevich, spoke up: “Father, give me thy blessing to go in all four directions, look at people, show myself, and make search for the beautiful maiden.”
The Tsar gave his parental blessing. “Take,” said he, “treasure as much as thou wishest, and all kinds of troops as many as are necessary.”
Dmitri Tsarevich took one hundred thousand men and set out on the road, on the journey. He rode a day, he rode a week, he rode a month, and two and three months. No matter whom he asked, no one knew of the beautiful maiden, and he came to such desert places that there were only heaven and earth. He urged his horse on, and behold before him is a lofty mountain; he could not see the top with his eyes. Somehow he climbed the mountain and found there an ancient, a gray old man.
“Hail, grandfather!”
“Hail, brave youth! Art fleeing from labor, or seekest thou labor?”
“I am seeking labor.”
“What dost thou need?”
“I have heard that beyond the thrice ninth land, in the thirtieth kingdom, is a beautiful maiden, from whose hands and feet healing water flows, and that whoever gets and drinks this water will grow thirty years younger.”
“Well, brother, thou canst not go there.”
“Why not?”
“Because there are three broad rivers on the road, and on these rivers three ferries: at the first ferry they will cut off thy right hand, at the second thy left foot, at the third they will take thy head.”
Dmitri Tsarevich was grieved; he hung his stormy head below his shoulders, and thought: “Must I spare my father’s head? Must I spare my own? I’ll turn back.”
He came down from the mountain, went back to his father, and said: “No, father, I have not been able to find her; there is nothing to be heard of that maiden.”
The second son, Vassili Tsarevich, began to beg: “Father, give me thy blessing; perhaps I can find her.”
“Go, my son.”
Vassili Tsarevich took one hundred thousand men, and set out on his road, on his journey. He rode a day, he rode a week, he rode a month, and two, and three, and entered such places that there was nothing but forests and swamps. He found there Baba-Yaga, boneleg. “Hail, Baba-Yaga, boneleg!”
“Hail, brave youth! Art thou fleeing from labor, or seekest labor?”
“I am seeking labor. I have heard that beyond the thrice ninth land, in the thirtieth kingdom, is a beautiful maiden, from whose feet and hands healing water flows.”
“There is, father; only thou canst not go there.”
“Why not?”
“Because on the road there are three ferries: at the first ferry they will cut off thy right hand, at the second thy left foot, at the third off with thy head.”
“It is not a question of saving my father’s head, but sparing my own.”
He returned, and said to his father: “No, father, I could not find her; there is nothing to be heard of that maiden.”
The youngest son, Ivan Tsarevich, began to beg: “Give me thy blessing, father; maybe I shall find her.”
The father gave him his blessing. “Go, my dear son; take troops and treasure all that are needed.”
“I need nothing, only give me a good steed and the sword Kládyenets.”
Ivan Tsarevich mounted his steed, took the sword Kládyenets, and set out on his way, on his journey. He rode a day, he rode a week, he rode a month, and two and three; and rode into such places that his horse was to the knees in water, to the breast in grass, and he, good youth, had nothing to eat. He saw a cabin on hen’s feet, and entered: inside sat Baba-Yaga, boneleg.
“Hail, grandmother!”
“Hail, Ivan Tsarevich! Art flying from labor, or seekest labor?”
“What labor? I am going to the thirtieth kingdom; there, it is said, lives a beautiful maiden, from whose hands and feet healing water flows.”
“There is, father; though with sight I have not seen her, with hearing I have heard of her: but to her it is not for thee to go.”
“Why so?”
“Because there are three ferries on the way: at the first ferry they will cut off thy right hand, at the second thy left foot, at the third off with thy head.”
“Well, grandmother, one head is not much; I will go, whatever God gives.”
“Ah! Ivan Tsarevich, better turn back; thou art still a green youth, hast never been in places of danger, hast not seen great terror.”
“No,” said Ivan; “if thou seizest the rope, don’t say thou art not strong.” He took farewell of Baba-Yaga and went farther.
He rode a day, a second, and a third, and came to the first ferry: the ferrymen were sleeping on the opposite bank. “What is to be done?” thought Ivan. “If I shout, they’ll be deaf for the rest of their lives; if I whistle, I shall sink the ferry-boat.” He whistled a half whistle. The ferrymen sprang up that minute and ferried him across the river.
“What is the price of your work, brothers?”
“Give us thy right hand.”
“Oh, I want that for myself!” Then Ivan Tsarevich struck with his sword on the right, and on the left. He cut down all the ferrymen, mounted his horse, and galloped ahead. At the two other ferries he got away in the same fashion. He was drawing near the thirtieth kingdom. On the boundary stood a wild man, in stature tall as a forest, in thickness the equal of a great stack of hay; he held in his hands an enormous oak-tree.
“Oh, worm!” said the giant to Ivan Tsarevich, “whither art thou riding?”
“I am going to the thirtieth kingdom; I want to see the beautiful maiden from whose hands and feet healing water flows.”
“How couldst thou, little pigmy, go there? I am a hundred years guarding her kingdom, great, mighty heroes came here,—not the like of thee,—and they fell from my strong hand. What art thou? Just a little worm!”
Ivan Tsarevich saw that he could not manage the giant, and he turned aside. He travelled and travelled till he came to a sleeping forest; in the forest was a cabin, and in the cabin an old, ancient woman was sitting. She saw the good youth, and said: “Hail, Ivan Tsarevich! Why has God brought thee hither?”
He told her all without concealment. The old woman gave him magic herbs and a ball.
“Go out,” said she, “into the open field, make a fire, and throw these herbs on it; but take care to stand on the windward. From these magic herbs the giant will sleep a deep sleep; cut his head off, then let the ball roll, and follow. The ball will take thee to those regions where the beautiful maiden reigns. She lives in a great golden castle, and often rides out with her army to the green meadows to amuse herself. Nine days does she stay there; then sleeps a hero’s sleep nine days and nine nights.”
Ivan Tsarevich thanked the old woman and went to the open field, where he made a fire and threw into it the magic herbs. The stormy wind bore the smoke to where the wild man was standing on guard. It grew dim in his eyes; he lay on the damp earth and fell soundly asleep. Ivan Tsarevich cut off his head, let the ball roll, and rode on. He travelled and travelled till the golden palace was visible; then he turned from the road, let his horse out to feed, and crept into a thicket himself. He had just hidden, when dust was rising in a column from the front of the palace: the beautiful maiden rode out with her army to amuse herself in the green meadows. The Tsarevich saw that the whole army was formed of maidens alone. One was beautiful, the next surpassed that one; fairer than all, and beyond admiration was the Tsarevna herself.
Nine days was she sporting in the green meadows, and the Tsarevich did not take his eyes from her, still he could not gaze his fill. On the tenth day he went to the golden palace. The beautiful maiden was lying on a couch of down, sleeping a hero’s sleep; from her hands and feet healing water was flowing. At the same time her trusty army was sleeping as well.
Ivan Tsarevich took a flask of the healing water. His heroic heart could not withstand her maiden beauty. He tarried awhile, then left the palace, mounted his good steed, and rushed toward home.
Nine days slept the beautiful maiden, and when she woke her rage was dreadful. She stamped, she screamed with a piercing voice: “What wretch has been here?” she sprang on to her fleet-flying mare, and struck into a chase after Ivan Tsarevich. The mare races, the ground trembles; she caught up with the good hero, struck him with her sword, and straight in the breast did she strike. The Tsarevich fell on the damp earth: his bright eyes close, his red blood stiffens. The fair maiden looked at him, and great pity seized her; through the whole world might she search, and not find such a beauty. She placed her white hand on his wound, moistened it with healing water. All at once the wound closed, and Ivan Tsarevich rose up unharmed.
“Wilt thou take me as wife?” asked she.
“I will, beautiful maiden.”
“Well, go home, and wait three years.”
Ivan Tsarevich took farewell of his betrothed bride and continued his journey. He was drawing near his own kingdom; but his elder brothers had put guards everywhere, so as not to let him come near his father. The guards gave notice at once that Ivan Tsarevich was coming. The elder brothers met him on the road, drugged him, took the flask of healing water, and threw him into a deep pit. Ivan Tsarevich came out in the underground kingdom.
He travelled and travelled in the underground kingdom. When he came to a certain place, a great storm rose up, lightning flashed, thunder roared, rain fell. He went to a tree to find shelter; looked up, and saw young birds in that tree all wet. He took off his coat, covered them, and sat himself under the tree.
When the old bird flew to the tree, she was so large that she hid the light, and it grew dark as if night were near. When she saw her young covered, she asked: “Who has protected my little birds?” Then, seeing the Tsarevich, she said: “It is thou who didst this; God save thee! Whatever thou wishest, ask of me; I will do everything for thee.”
He said, “Bear me out into the upper world.”
“Make ready,” said the bird, “a double box. Fill one half of it with every kind of game, and in the other half put water, so as to have something with which to nourish me.”
The Tsarevich did all that was asked. The bird took the box on her back, and the Tsarevich sat in the middle. She flew up; and whether it was long or short, she bore him to this upper world, took farewell of him, and flew home.
Ivan Tsarevich went to his father; but the old Tsar did not like him by reason of the lies which his brothers had told, and sent him into exile. For three whole years Ivan wandered from place to place. When three years had passed, the beautiful maiden sailed in a ship to the capital town of Ivan Tsarevich’s father. She sent a letter to the Tsar, demanding the man who had stolen the water, and if he refused she would burn and destroy his kingdom utterly.
The Tsar sent his eldest son; he went to the ship. Two little boys, grandsons of the Tsar, saw him, and asked their mother: “Is that our father?”
“No, that is your uncle.”
“How shall we meet him?”
“Take each one a whip and flog him back home.”
The eldest Tsarevich returned, looking as if he had eaten something unsalted.
The maiden continued her threats, demanded the guilty man. The Tsar sent his second son, and the same thing happened to him as to the eldest. Now the Tsar gave command to find the youngest Tsarevich.
When the Tsarevich was found, his father wished him to go on the ship to the maiden. But he said: “I will go when a crystal bridge is built to the ship, and on the bridge there shall be many kinds of food and wine set out.”
There was no help for it; they built the bridge, prepared the food, brought wines and meat.
The Tsarevich collected his comrades. “Come with me, attend me,” said he; “eat ye and drink, spare nothing.”
While he was walking on the bridge the little boys cried out: “Mother, who is that?”
“That is your father.”
“How shall we meet him?”
“Take him by the hands and lead him to me.”
They did so; there was kissing and embracing. After that they went to the Tsar, told him all just as it had been. The Tsar drove his eldest sons from the castle, and lived with Ivan,—lived on and gained wealth.
THE FOOTLESS AND BLIND CHAMPIONS.
IN a certain kingdom, in a certain land, there lived a Tsar with his Tsaritsa. They had a son, Ivan Tsarevich, and Katoma of the Oaken Cap was appointed tutor to care for and guard Ivan.
The Tsar and Tsaritsa attained to ancient years, fell ill, and had no thought to recover. They summoned Ivan Tsarevich and said: “When we die, do thou obey in all things Katoma of the Oaken Cap and honor him. If thou obeyest him, thou’lt be happy; but if disobedient, thou wilt perish like a fly.”
Next day the Tsar and Tsaritsa died. Ivan buried his parents and lived according to their command: whatever he did, he always held counsel with his tutor. Whether it was long or short, the Tsarevich grew to years of manhood and thought of marrying. He came to Katoma of the Oaken Cap and said: “I feel dreary alone; I wish to marry.”
“Well, Tsarevich, where is the halt? Thy years are such that it is time to think of a bride. Go to the great chamber,—there the portraits of all Tsars’ daughters and all kings’ daughters are collected. Look at them and choose; if any please thee, propose for that one.”
Ivan Tsarevich went to the great chamber, examined the portraits; and Princess Anna the Beautiful suited his mind,—such a beauty that in the whole world there was not her equal. Under her portrait was written that if any man gave her a riddle and she could not solve it, she would marry the man; and whose riddle she solved, off went his head. Ivan Tsarevich read this inscription, grew very sorrowful, and went to his uncle. “I have been,” said he, “in the great chamber, and have found for myself a bride,—Anna the Beautiful; but I know not how to get her.”
“Yes, Tsarevich, it is difficult to win her. If thou go alone, thou wilt never succeed; but if thou take me and will do what I say, perhaps the affair may be settled.”
Ivan Tsarevich begged Katoma of the Oaken Cap to go with him, and gave his faithful word to obey him in sorrow and in joy.
They prepared for the road and the journey, and went to ask Princess Anna the Beautiful in marriage. They travelled one year, travelled a second, then a third, and passed over many lands. Ivan Tsarevich said: “Uncle, we are travelling now so long a time, are nearing the land of Anna the Beautiful, and we know not what riddle to give her.”
“Oh, we will think of one yet.”
They went farther. Uncle Katoma looked on the road, and there was lying a purse with gold. He took it up, poured all the money out of it into his own purse, and said: “Here is the riddle, Ivan Tsarevich. When thou comest to the princess, give her the riddle in these words: ‘We were travelling along, and we saw good lying on the road. We took good with good and put it in our good.’ She’ll not solve that riddle all her life; and every other one she would know in a moment,—she would just look into her magic book, and as soon as she knew the riddle she would have thy head cut off.”
Well, Ivan Tsarevich with his uncle came at last to the lofty palace where the beautiful princess was living. At that very time she was on the balcony, saw the travellers, and sent out to know whence they were, and what they had come for.
Ivan Tsarevich replied: “I have come from such and such a kingdom, and I wish to ask Anna the Beautiful in marriage.”
They reported this to the princess. She gave answer that the Tsarevich should come to the palace and give, in the presence of all her counselling princes and boyars, a riddle. “With me,” said she, “this order is established, that if I solve not the riddle of a man, I will marry him; but if I solve any man’s riddle, I give him to a cruel death.”
“Hear my riddle, beautiful princess,” said Ivan. “We were going along, we saw good lying on the road, we took good with good and put it in our good.”
Anna the Beautiful took her magic book, began to examine it and look for riddles; she went through the whole volume and found nothing. Then the counselling princes and boyars decided that the princess must marry Ivan Tsarevich. Though sorry, she had to give way, and began to prepare for the wedding; but plotting to win time and get rid of the bridegroom, she thought, “I will trouble him with difficult tasks.” She called Ivan Tsarevich and said: “Oh, my dear Ivan Tsarevich, my betrothed husband, we must prepare for the wedding; do me a small service. In my kingdom in such a place stands a great iron pillar; bring it to the palace kitchen and cut it into small pieces as fuel for the cook.”
“My princess, is it possible that I have come here to cut fuel? Is that my business? I have a servant for that,—Uncle Katoma of the Oaken Cap.”
The Tsarevich called Uncle Katoma straightway, and commanded him to bring the iron pillar to the kitchen and cut it into small pieces as fuel for the cook.
Uncle Katoma went to the place mentioned, took the pillar in his arms, brought it to the palace kitchen, and cut it into small pieces. Four pieces of iron did he put in his pocket, saying, “They will be good in the future.”
Next day the princess said to Ivan: “My dear Tsarevich, my betrothed husband, to-morrow we must go to the crown: I will go in a carriage, and thou on an heroic steed. Meanwhile thou shouldst try the steed.”
“Shall I try a horse when I have a servant for that?” Ivan Tsarevich called Uncle Katoma of the Oaken Cap.
“Go,” said he, “and order the stable-boys to lead forth the heroic steed; sit on him and ride him around. To-morrow I will go to the marriage on him.”
Uncle Katoma saw through the cunning of the princess, without talking long. He went to the stable and ordered them to lead forth the heroic steed. Twelve men went: they opened twelve locks, opened twelve doors, and led out the magic horse by twelve iron chains.
Uncle Katoma went to the horse: the moment he sat on him the magic steed left the earth and rose higher than the standing forest, lower than the moving clouds. Katoma sat firmly; with one hand he held the mane, with the other he took from his pocket one of the iron bars and began to pound the horse between the ears with it. He broke one bar, took another, broke that, took a third, broke that. The fourth entered service; and Katoma so hammered the steed that he could not endure, but spoke with the voice of a man: “Father Katoma, let me even live in the white world; whatever thou wishest, command,—everything shall be as thou sayest.”
“Listen, dog’s meat!” answered Uncle Katoma. “To-morrow Ivan Tsarevich will ride thee to the marriage: see to it when they lead thee to the broad court, when the Tsarevich approaches and puts his hand on thee, that thou standest quietly, movest not an ear; and when he sits on thy back, sink to thy fetlocks, and walk under him with a heavy tread, as if an immeasurable burden were on thee.”
The heroic steed heard the command and came down barely alive to the earth. Katoma took him by the tail and threw him to the side of the stable, saying, “Oh, coachmen and grooms, take this dog’s meat to the stable!”
The next day rose, the hour of marriage came. They gave a carriage to the princess, and led out the heroic steed for Ivan Tsarevich. The people ran from every side in thousands. The bridegroom and the bride came forth from the white-walled palace. The princess sat in the carriage and waited for what would happen to Ivan Tsarevich. The magic steed, she thought, would scatter his hair to the wind and drag his bones over the field.
Ivan Tsarevich approached the steed, put his hand on his back, his foot in the stirrup; the horse stood as if fixed to the earth, moved not an ear. Ivan sat on his back; the horse sank in the ground to the fetlocks. They removed the twelve chains from him; the horse began to walk with a slow and heavy tread, the sweat rolled from him like rain.
“Oh, what a champion, what immeasurable strength!” said the people, looking at the Tsarevich.
They crowned the bridegroom with the bride. They were coming out of the church, took each other by the hand, and the princess thought of testing once more the strength of Ivan Tsarevich. She pressed his hand with such force that he could not endure; the blood rushed to his face, his eyes went up under his forehead.
“So this is the kind of hero thou art!” thought the princess. “Thy uncle has deceived me grandly; but this will not go with thee for nothing.”
Anna the Beautiful lived with Ivan Tsarevich as was befitting a wife with a God-given husband, and she in every way flattered him with words, but thought only of one thing,—how to destroy Uncle Katoma of the Oaken Cap. It was not difficult for her to manage the Tsarevich without the uncle. No matter how much calumny she invented, Ivan did not yield to her speeches; he had pity on his uncle. In a year’s time he said to his wife: “My dear consort, beautiful princess, I should like to go with thee to my own kingdom.”
“Very well, let us go; I have long wished to see thy kingdom.”
They got ready and went, making Uncle Katoma coachman. They travelled and travelled. Ivan Tsarevich fell asleep on the way. All at once Anna the Beautiful began to rouse him and complain: “Now, Tsarevich, thou art sleeping all the time, hearest nothing. But thy uncle will not obey me; he drives the horses on purpose over hillocks and into holes, just as if trying to kill me. I spoke to him kindly, and he laughed at me. I will not live unless thou punish him.”
Ivan in his drowsiness grew very angry at his uncle, and gave him over entirely to the princess. “Do with him as thou desirest.” The princess gave orders to cut off his feet. Katoma allowed himself to be maltreated by her. “Let me endure,” thought he; “and the Tsarevich will know what it is to suffer sorrow.” They cut off Katoma’s feet. The princess looked around and saw a high stump on one side; she called the servants and ordered them to seat him on that stump. Ivan Tsarevich she tied by a rope to the carriage, turned back, and went to her own kingdom. Uncle Katoma of the Oaken Cap was sitting on the stump, shedding bitter tears. “Farewell, Ivan Tsarevich,” said he, “thou wilt remember me;” and Ivan Tsarevich ran jumping behind the carriage. He knew himself that he had made a mistake, but he could not turn back.
Anna the Beautiful came to her own kingdom, and she made Ivan Tsarevich herd cows. Every morning he went with the herd into the open field, and in the evening he drove them back into the princess’ yard; and at that time she sat on the balcony and counted the cows, were they all there? She counted them, and ordered the Tsarevich to kiss the last cow on the tail; and the cow was so well trained that when she came to the gate she stopped and raised her tail.
Uncle Katoma was sitting on the stump one day, a second, a third, without food or drink. He could in no way slip down, and it was coming to him to die of hunger. Not far away was a thick wood, and in that wood lived a blind, mighty hero; and he nourished himself only with this, that when he knew by the smell that a beast was running past,—a hare, fox, or bear,—that moment he ran, caught it, and his dinner was ready. The hero was very swift of foot, and no running beast could escape him. Behold, it happened thus: a fox was slipping by; the hero heard it and pursued; the fox ran to the tall stump and turned aside. The blind champion hurried, and in the run struck his forehead against the stump so that he drove it out of the ground with its roots.
Katoma was thrown to the earth, and asked, “Who art thou?”
“The blind hero; I live in this forest thirty years, and I nourish myself only in this way. If I seize a beast, I roast it on the fire; otherwise I should have died of hunger long since.”
“Is it possible that thou art blind from birth?”
“No, not from birth; Anna the Beautiful put out my eyes.”
“Well, brother,” said Uncle Katoma of the Oaken Cap, “and I through her am footless; she cut off my two feet, the cursed woman.”
The two heroes talked to each other, and agreed to live together and find food in common. The blind said to the footless: “Sit on me and show the way; I will serve thee with my feet, and thou shalt serve me with thy eyes.”
He took the footless and carried him. Katoma sat, looked on both sides, and cried out: “To the right; to the left; straight ahead.” They lived in this way some time in the forest and caught food,—hares, foxes, and bears.
Once the footless asked: “Is it possible that we shall live all our lives without company? I have heard that in a certain town there is a rich merchant with his daughter, and the daughter is very charitable to poor people and cripples, and gives alms herself to all. Let us carry her off, brother; let her live with us as a housekeeper.”
The blind man took a wagon, put the footless in it, and drew him to the town. They went straight to the house of the rich merchant. The merchant’s daughter saw them through the window. Straightway she sprang up and went to give them something. She went to the footless: “Take this, poor man, for Christ’s sake.” While taking the gift he seized her by the hand and into the wagon with her. He called to the blind man, who ran so swiftly that no horseman could come up with him.
The merchant sent a party in pursuit, but no one could overtake the two men. The heroes brought the merchant’s daughter to their hut in the forest, and said to her: “Be to us in the place of our own sister; live with us, keep the house, for we have no one to cook a meal for us or to wash our shirts. God will not forget thee for doing this.”
The maiden remained with them. The heroes respected and loved her, and considered her as their own sister. The way was, they used to go hunting, and she was always at home, took care of the housekeeping, cooked for them, washed for them. Now a Baba-Yaga, boneleg, began to come to the hut and suck the blood of the merchant’s daughter. The moment the heroes went to hunt, Baba-Yaga was there. Whether it was long or short, the fair maiden’s face fell away; she grew thin and poor.
The blind man saw nothing, but Uncle Katoma of the Oaken Cap noticed that something was wrong. He spoke of it to the blind man, and they questioned their adopted sister. They began to urge her to answer. The Baba-Yaga had strictly forbidden her to confess. For a long time she was afraid to tell of her trouble; long she resisted. At last they persuaded her, and she confessed everything. “Whenever ye go away to hunt, an ancient old woman comes, evil-faced, long-haired, gray; she makes me search in her head, and then sucks my blood.”
“Ah!” said the blind man, “that is Baba-Yaga. Wait, we must settle with her in our own fashion; to-morrow we will not go to hunt, we will try to come upon her and catch her.”
Next morning they did not go to hunt.
“Well, footless uncle,” said the blind man, “crawl thou under the bench; sit quietly. I will go outside and stay under the window. And thou, sister, when Baba-Yaga comes, sit right here in this window, search in her head, separate her hair gradually, and let it out of the window. I will catch her by the gray locks.”
It was said and done. The blind man caught the Baba-Yaga by the gray locks and cried, “Ei! Uncle Katoma, crawl from under the bench and hold the viperous old hag till I go into the house.”
Baba-Yaga heard trouble, wanted to jump up, and raised her head. What could she do? She had no chance; she tore and tore,—no use.
Then Katoma crawled from under the bench, threw himself on her like a stone mountain, and began to smother Baba-Yaga. She was frightened out of her wits.
The blind man sprang into the house, and said to the footless: “We must make a big fire now, burn the old outcast, and scatter her ashes to the wind.”
Baba-Yaga implored. “Father, dove, forgive me; whatever thou wishest I’ll do.”
“Well, old witch,” said the heroes, “show us the well of living and healing water.”
“Only don’t beat me, and I’ll show you this moment.”
Uncle Katoma sat on the blind man, the blind man took Baba-Yaga by the hair, and she led them to the forest depth, brought them to a well, and said: “Here is the healing and living water.”
“See to it, Uncle Katoma,” said the blind man, “make no mistake; if she deceives us now, we cannot mend matters while we live.”
Uncle Katoma of the Oaken Cap broke from a tree a green branch and threw it into the well; the branch had not reached the water when it burst into a blaze.
“Ah, thou hast turned to deceit!”
They began to choke the old woman, and wanted to throw her into the fiery well. She implored more than before, and gave an awful oath that now she would play no tricks. “’Pon my true word, I will lead you now to good water.”
They agreed to try once more, and the old woman brought them to another well.
Uncle Katoma broke a dry branch from a tree, and threw it into the well; the branch had not reached the water when it gave out buds, grew green, and blossomed.
“Oh, this is good water!” said Uncle Katoma.
The blind man moistened his eyes with it, and in a moment he saw. He let the footless down into the water, and his feet grew out.
Both were rejoiced, and said: “Now we will restore everything; but first we must settle with Baba-Yaga. If we forgive her now, we shall not see good ourselves; she will plot evil against us all our lives.”
They returned to the fiery well and threw Baba-Yaga into it, so that she perished. Then Uncle Katoma married the merchant’s daughter, and all three went to the kingdom of Anna the Beautiful to liberate Ivan Tsarevich.
They were approaching the capital town. They looked, Ivan Tsarevich was driving a herd of cows.
“Stop, herdsman!” said Uncle Katoma. “Whither art thou driving these cows?”
“I am driving them to the royal castle. The princess always counts them herself, to see if all the cows are there.”
“Well, herdsman, here are my clothes; put them on. I’ll put on thine, and drive the cows.”
“No, brother, that is impossible; if the princess should know it, woe to me.”
“Never fear, nothing will come of it; Uncle Katoma is security for thee in that.”
Ivan Tsarevich sighed, and said: “Oh, kind man, if Uncle Katoma were living I should not be herding cows in this field.”
Then Uncle Katoma confessed to him who he was. Ivan Tsarevich embraced him firmly and shed tears. “I did not think to see thee.”
They changed clothes. Uncle Katoma drove the cows to the princess’s yard. Anna the Beautiful came out on the balcony, counted to see if all the cows were there, and gave command to drive them into the shed. All went in but the last one; she stopped at the gate. Katoma jumped up. “What art thou waiting for, dog’s meat?” caught her by the tail, and pulled her skin off.
The princess saw this and cried: “What is that scoundrel of a herdsman doing? Seize him; bring him to me!”
Here the servants caught Katoma and dragged him to the palace. He made no excuse, for he was confident in himself. They brought him to the palace. She looked at him and asked: “Who art thou? Whence art thou here?”
“I am the man whose feet thou didst cut off, and thou didst seat me on a stump; they call me Uncle Katoma of the Oaken Cap.”
“Well,” thought the princess, “if he has brought back his feet, there is no use in playing tricks with him;” and she begged forgiveness of him, was sorry for her sins, and took an oath to love Ivan Tsarevich forever and obey him in all things.
Ivan Tsarevich forgave her, and began to live with her in peace and harmony. The blind hero lived with them, and Uncle Katoma went with his wife to the rich merchant and lived in his house.
THE THREE KINGDOMS.
IN that ancient time when God’s world was full of wood-demons, witches, and river-maidens, when rivers of milk were flowing between banks of jelly, when over the fields roast partridges were flying, there lived a Tsar, Goroh by name, with his Tsaritsa, Anastasia the Beautiful; and they had three sons. A misfortune not small happened,—an unclean spirit carried away the Tsaritsa.
Said the eldest son to the Tsar: “Father, give me thy blessing; I will go in search of my mother.”
He went away and vanished; for three years there were neither tidings nor report of him.
The second son began to ask: “Father, give me thy blessing for the road, for the journey. Perhaps I may have the luck to find my brother and my mother.”
The Tsar gave his blessing. The Tsarevich rode off and also disappeared as if he had sunk in water.
Ivan, the youngest son, came to the Tsar. “My dear father, give me thy blessing for the road, for the journey; perhaps I shall find my brothers and mother.”
“Go thy way, my dear son.”
Ivan Tsarevich set out for a strange, distant region. He travelled and travelled, and reached the blue sea. He stopped on the shore and thought: “Whither can I hold my way now?” All at once there flew to sea three and thirty spoonbills, struck the earth, and became fair maidens,—all beautiful, but one was better than all the rest. They undressed and rushed into the water. Whether they were bathing a long or short time, Ivan Tsarevich stole up and took the girdle of that maiden who was better than all the rest and hid it in his bosom. When they had finished bathing they came out on shore and began to dress. One girdle was gone.
“Ah! Ivan Tsarevich,” said the beauty, “give me my girdle.”
“Tell me first where my mother is.”
“Thy mother is at the house of my father, Raven son of Raven (Voron Voronovich). Go up along the sea, thou wilt meet a silver bird with a golden crest; wherever it flies do thou follow.”
Ivan Tsarevich gave her the girdle and went along the sea; there he met his brothers, exchanged greetings, and took them with him. They went together along the shore, saw the golden-tufted silver bird, and ran after it. The bird flew and flew till it rushed under an iron plate into an opening.
“Well, brothers,” said Ivan Tsarevich, “give me your blessing in the place of father and mother. I will let myself down into this opening and discover what a land of strange faith is like,—perhaps our mother is there.”
His brothers gave him their blessing. He sat on a rope swing, crawled into that deep opening, and went down no short distance. Just three years was he letting himself down, and then went on his road and way. He went and went, went and went. He saw the Copper Kingdom. In the castle were sitting three and thirty spoonbill maidens. They were embroidering towels with cunning designs, with towns and suburbs.
“Hail, Ivan Tsarevich!” said the Tsaritsa of the Copper Kingdom. “Whither dost thou hold thy way?”
“I am going in search of my mother.”
“Thy mother is with my father, Raven son of Raven. He is cunning and wise; over mountains and valleys, over caves and clouds, has he flown. He will slay thee, good youth. Here is a ball for thee. Go to my second sister; hear what she will tell thee. If thou comest back, forget me not.”
Ivan rolled the ball and followed; he came to the Silver Kingdom. The Tsaritsa of the Silver Kingdom said: “Till now the Russian odor was not to be seen with sight nor heard with hearing; but now the Russian odor appears visibly. Well, Ivan Tsarevich, art fleeing from work, or seekest work?”
“Ah, fair maiden! I am in search of my mother.”
“Thy mother is with my father, Raven son of Raven. Cunning is he and wise; over mountains, over valleys has he flown, over caves, over clouds has he swept. Oh, Tsarevich, he will slay thee! Here is a ball. Go to my youngest sister; hear what she will say to thee, whether to go on or come back.”
Ivan Tsarevich came to the Golden Kingdom; there three and thirty spoonbill maidens were sitting embroidering towels. Taller than all, fairer than all, was the Tsaritsa of the Golden Kingdom,—a beauty that could not be told of in a tale or described with a pen.
“Hail, Ivan Tsarevich!” said she. “Whither dost thou hold thy way?”
“I am going to seek my mother.”
“Thy mother is with my father, Raven son of Raven. Cunning is he and wise. Oh, Tsarevich, he will slay thee surely! Here is a ball for thee. Go now to the Pearl Kingdom; there thy mother lives. When she sees thee she will be rejoiced, and that moment will say, ‘Nurses, and maidens, bring my son green wine;’ but take it not. Ask her to give thee wine three years old that is in the cupboard, and a burnt crust for lunch, and do not forget that my father has in the yard two jars of water,—one water of strength, the other of weakness; put each in the place of the other, and drink of the water of strength.”
The Tsarevich talked a long time with the Tsaritsa, and they fell in love with each other to such a degree that they hated to part; but there was no help for them. Ivan Tsarevich took farewell of her and went on his journey. He travelled and travelled till he came to the Pearl Kingdom. His mother saw him, was delighted, and cried out, “Nurses and maidens, bring my son green wine.”
“I drink no common wine; give me wine three years old, and for a bite a burnt crust.” He drank wine three years old, ate the burnt crust, went out in the broad court, put each jar in the place of the other, and fell to drinking the water of strength.
All at once Raven son of Raven flew home, bright as the clear day; but when he saw Ivan Tsarevich he grew gloomier than the dark night. He stooped down to the jar, and began to drink the water of weakness. Then Ivan Tsarevich fell upon his wings, and Raven son of Raven soared high, high; he bore Ivan over mountains, over valleys, over caves, over clouds. “What dost thou need, Ivan Tsarevich? If thou wishest, I will give thee treasure.”
“I want nothing but the feather staff.”
“No, Ivan Tsarevich, thou wishest to sit in a very wide sleigh.” And again Raven son of Raven bore him over mountains, over valleys, over caves, over clouds.
Ivan held firmly, bore down with all his weight, and nearly broke the wings of Raven son of Raven, who screamed, “Break not my wings; take the feather staff!” He gave Ivan the feather staff, became a common raven himself, and flew away to the steep mountains.
Ivan Tsarevich went back, came to the Pearl Kingdom, took his mother, and set out for home. He looked; the Pearl Kingdom had turned into a ball, and was rolling after him. He came to the Golden Kingdom, then to the Silver, and then to the Copper Kingdom. He took and brought with him the three beautiful Tsaritsas, and those kingdoms were wound into balls and rolled after him. He came to the rope swing and sounded a golden trumpet: “My own brothers, if ye are alive, do not betray me.”
The brothers heard the call, and drew out into the white world the beautiful soul maiden, the Tsaritsa of the Copper Kingdom. They saw her, and began to fight among themselves; one would not yield to the other.
“Why fight, good youths?” said the maiden. “Down there are better than I.”
They let down the rope swing and drew up the Tsaritsa of the Silver Kingdom. Again they began to dispute and fight; one said, “Let her be mine, and come to me;” the other said, “I won’t let her be thine.”
“Do not fight, good youths; down there is a maiden more beautiful than I.”
They stopped fighting, put down the rope swing, and drew up the Tsaritsa of the Golden Kingdom. Again they began to fight; but the Tsaritsa, the beauty, immediately stopped them, saying: “Your mother is waiting for you.” They drew out their mother, and let down the rope swing for Ivan Tsarevich; they raised him half way, and cut the rope. Ivan Tsarevich fell into the depth and was terribly shocked; he lay half a year without senses, came to himself, and looked around, remembered everything that had happened to him, took out the feather staff, and struck the earth with it. That moment twelve youths appeared. “What is thy command, Ivan Tsarevich?”
“Take me out into the free world.”
The youths seized him under the arms and bore him into the free world. Ivan Tsarevich inquired about his brothers, and heard that they had married long before. The Tsaritsa of the Copper Kingdom married the second brother; the Tsaritsa of the Silver Kingdom, his eldest brother; but his own bride would not marry any man: his old father wanted to marry her. He summoned a council, accused his wife of intimacy with evil spirits, and gave command to cut her head off. After the execution he said to the Tsaritsa of the Golden Kingdom: “Wilt thou marry me?”
“I will when thou makest shoes for me without measure.”
The Tsar gave command to issue a call and ask all and each, would any man make shoes for the Tsaritsa without taking her measure. At this time Ivan Tsarevich had come to his own kingdom, and hired as a workman with a certain old man; and he sent him to the Tsar: “Go, grandfather, take this affair on thyself, and I will make the shoes for thee; but do not tell about me.”
The old man went to the Tsar. “I,” said he, “am ready to undertake the work.”
The Tsar gave him leather for a pair of shoes, and asked: “But canst thou do it, old man?”
“Never fear, Gosudár. I have a son who is a shoemaker.”
When he came home the old man gave the leather to Ivan Tsarevich, who cut it into bits and threw it out of the window; then he opened the Golden Kingdom and took out shoes already made. “Here, grandfather, take these and carry them to the Tsar.”
The Tsar was delighted, and urged the bride: “Shall we go to the crown soon?”
She answered: “I will marry thee if thou wilt make for me robes to fit without measure.”
The Tsar again was in trouble; he assembled all the dressmakers, and offered them much money if they would only make robes to fit without measuring the Tsaritsa.
Ivan Tsarevich said to the old man: “Grandfather, go to the Tsar, get cloth; I will sew robes for thee, but do not tell of me.”
The old man dragged himself off to the palace, took satin and velvet, came home, and gave it to the Tsarevich. Ivan Tsarevich took scissors straightway, and cut all the satin and velvet to pieces and threw them out of the window. Then he opened the Golden Kingdom and took out the most beautiful robes and gave them to the old man, saying, “Take these to the palace.”
The Tsar was delighted. “Well, my beloved bride, is it not time for us to go to the crown?”
The Tsaritsa answered: “I will marry thee when thou wilt take the son of that old man and command that he be boiled in milk.”
The Tsar thought awhile, then gave the command; and that day they collected three gallons of milk from each house, filled a great caldron, and boiled it on a hot fire. They brought Ivan Tsarevich. He took farewell of all, bowed to the earth, then threw himself into the caldron, dived once, dived twice, sprang out such a beauty that it could neither be told of in a tale nor described with a pen.
Said the Tsaritsa: “Look, Tsar! Whom shall I marry,—thee, old man, or that gallant youth?”
The Tsar thought awhile. “If I bathe in the milk, I shall become just such a beauty as he.” He sprang into the caldron, and was cooked in a minute. But Ivan Tsarevich went to be crowned with the Tsaritsa of the Golden Kingdom; they were crowned, and began to live and live on, gaining wealth.
KOSHCHÉI WITHOUT-DEATH.
IT happened that once there lived in a certain land a Tsar and a Tsaritsa. They had a son, Ivan Tsarevich. When an infant the maidens rocked him; but do what they might, they could not rock him to sleep. “Tsar, great Gosudár, come, rock thy own son.” The Tsar went to rock the child: “Sleep, little son, sleep my own dear; thou wilt grow up a man. I will get thee Peerless Beauty as bride,—the daughter of three mothers, the granddaughter of three grandmothers, and the sister of nine brothers.” The Tsarevich went to sleep and slept for three days and three nights; woke up, and cried more than before.
The maidens rock him, but they cannot rock him to sleep; they call his father: “Tsar, great Gosudár, come, rock thy own son.”
The Tsar rocked him, saying, “Sleep, little son, sleep, my own dear; thou wilt grow up a man. I will get thee Peerless Beauty as bride, the daughter of three mothers, the granddaughter of three grandmothers, and the sister of nine brothers.” The Tsarevich fell asleep, and again slept three days and three nights. He woke up and cried more than ever.
The maidens rock him, they cannot rock him to sleep. “Come, Tsar, great Gosudár,” said they, “rock thy own son.”
The Tsar rocked him, saying the while, “Sleep, little son, sleep, my own dear; thou wilt grow up a man. I will get thee Peerless Beauty as bride, the daughter of three mothers, the granddaughter of three grandmothers.”
The Tsarevich fell asleep and slept again three days and three nights. He woke up and said, “Give thy blessing, father; I am going to marry.”
“What dost thou mean, my dear little child? Whither canst thou go? Thou art but nine days of age in all.”
“If thou wilt give me thy blessing, I’ll go; if not, I’ll go also.”
“Well, the Lord guide thee.”
Ivan Tsarevich arrayed himself, and went to find a horse. He went a short way from the house, and met an old man. “Where art thou going, young man,” asked he,—“of thy own will, or against thy will?”
“I will not talk with thee,” answered the Tsarevich. He went on a little, changed his mind. “Why did I not say something to the old man. Old people bring us to sense.” Straightway he overtook the old man. “Stop, grandfather. Of what didst thou ask me?”
“I asked where art thou going, young man,—of thy own will, or against thy will?”
“I go so much of my own will, and twice that much against my will. I was in early years; my father rocked me in the cradle; he promised to get me Peerless Beauty as bride.”
“Thou art a good youth, thou art well spoken; but thou canst not go on foot. Peerless Beauty dwells far away.”
“How far?”
“In the Golden Kingdom, at the end of the white world, where the sun comes up.”
“What am I to do? I, young man, have no saddle-horse unridden, and silken whip unused that are fitting for me.”
“Why hast thou not? Thy father has thirty horses all alike. Go home, tell the grooms to water them at the blue sea; and whichever horse shall push ahead, enter the water to its neck, and when it drinks, waves rise on the blue sea and roll from shore to shore, that one take.”
“God save thee for the good word, grandfather!”
As the old man taught him, so did the Tsarevich do,—he chose for himself an heroic steed, passed the night, rose next morning early, opened the gate, and was preparing to go.
The horse spoke to him in the language of men: “Ivan Tsarevich, drop to the earth; I will push thee three times.” He pushed him once, he pushed him twice; but the third time he pushed not. “If thou wert pushed a third time, the earth would not bear thee and me.”
Ivan Tsarevich took his horse from the chains, saddled him, sat on him. The Tsar barely sees his son. He rides far, far. The day is growing short, night is coming on. A house stood like a town, each room is a chamber. He came to the house, straight to the porch, tied his horse to the copper ring, went into the first chamber, then into the second, prayed to God, asked to spend the night.
“Stay the night, good youth,” said an old woman. “Whither is God bearing thee?”
“Old woman, thou dost ask impolitely. First give me to eat and to drink, put me to rest, and then ask me for news.”
She gave him food and drink, put him to bed, and then asked for news.
“I was, grandmother,” said he, “in tender years; my father rocked me in the cradle, and promised me Peerless Beauty as bride,—the daughter of three mothers, the granddaughter of three grandmothers, and the sister of nine brothers.”
“Thou art a good youth, and fair spoken. I am living to the end of the seventh ten of years, and of that beauty I have not heard. Farther on the road lives my elder sister; maybe she knows. But sleep now; the morning is wiser than the evening.”
Ivan Tsarevich passed the night; next morning he rose early, washed himself white, led forth his steed, saddled him, put his foot in the stirrup. The old woman merely saw him. He rode far with distance, high with height; the day was shortening, coming toward night. There stood a house like a town, each room was a chamber. He rode to the porch, tied his horse to a silver ring, went to the entrance, and then to the chamber, prayed to God, asked a night’s lodging. An old woman said: “Tfu, tfu! so far a Russian bone was not seen with sight nor heard with hearing; but now a Russian bone has come itself to the house. Where hast thou come from, Ivan Tsarevich?”
“Oh, thou old hag, how angry thou art! Thou dost not ask with politeness; thou shouldst first give me food and drink, put me to rest, then ask for news.”
She seated him at the table, gave him food and drink, put him to rest, sat at the head of the bed, and inquired: “Where is God bearing thee?”
“I was in tender years, grandmother; my father rocked me in the cradle and promised me Peerless Beauty as bride,—the daughter of three mothers, the granddaughter of three grandmothers, and the sister of nine brothers.”
“Thou art a good youth, of kind speech. I am living toward the end of the eighth ten of years, and of that beauty I have never heard. Before thee on the road lives my elder sister,—mayhap she knows; she has answer-givers. Her first answer-givers are the beasts of the forests, the second are the birds of the air, the third are the fish and creatures of the sea. Whatever is in the white world obeys her. Go to her in the morning, but sleep now; the morning is wiser than the evening.”
Ivan Tsarevich passed the night, rose early, washed himself very white, sat on his steed, and vanished. He rode far with distance, high with height. The day was growing short, drawing near to the night; and there stood a house like a town, each room was a chamber. He came to the porch, tied his horse to a golden ring, then went to the entrance, and next to the chamber, prayed to God, and asked a night’s lodging. An old woman screamed at him. “Oh, thou, this and that kind of man, thou art not worthy of an iron ring, and thou hast tied thy horse to a gold one!”
“Well, grandmother, scold not; the horse may be loosed and tied to another ring.”
“Oh, good hero, have I given thee a fright? Be not afraid; sit on the bench, and I will ask from what stock, from what town, thou dost come.”
“Oh, grandmother, thou shouldst first give me food and drink, then ask for the news! Thou seest I’m a wayfaring man; I’ve not eaten all day.”
Straightway the old woman set the table, brought bread and salt, poured out a glass of vodka, and began to entertain Ivan Tsarevich. He ate and drank plenty, threw himself on the bed. The old woman made no inquiry; he told her himself: “I was in tender years, my father rocked me in the cradle, promised me Peerless Beauty as bride,—the daughter of three mothers, the granddaughter of three grandmothers, and the sister of nine brothers. Do me a kindness, grandmother; tell me where Peerless Beauty is living, and how I may reach her.”
“But, Ivan Tsarevich, I know not myself; I am ending the ninth ten of years, and I have not heard of that beauty. But sleep now with God; in the morning I will summon my answer-givers,—maybe one of them knows.”
Next day the old woman rose early, washed herself very white, came out with Ivan Tsarevich on the porch, cried with a champion’s voice, whistled with a hero’s whistle. She cried to the sea-fish and creatures of the water, “Come hither.”
That instant the blue sea boiled up, the fish, great and small, came together, all creatures assembled and went toward the shore; they covered the water.
The old woman asked: “Where lives Peerless Beauty, the daughter of three mothers, the granddaughter of three grandmothers, the sister of nine brothers?”
All the fish and all the creatures answered in one voice: “We have not seen her with sight, nor heard of her with hearing.”
The old woman shouted over the land: “Assemble, ye beasts of the forest.”
The beasts run; they hide the earth. In one voice they answer: “We have not seen her with sight, nor heard her with hearing.”
The old woman cried toward the sky: “Come hither, ye birds of the air!”
The birds fly, they hide the light of day. In one voice they answer: “We have not seen her with sight, we have not heard her with hearing.”
“There is no one else to ask,” said the old woman. She took Ivan Tsarevich by the hand and led him into the room. They had just come in when the Mogol bird arrived on the wing, fell to the ground. There was no light in the window.
“Oh, thou Mogol bird, where hast thou been flying; why art thou late?”
“I was arraying Peerless Beauty for mass.”
“Thou hast the news I need. Now do me a service with faith and truth,—carry Ivan Tsarevich to her.”
“Gladly would I serve, but much food is needed.”
“How much?”
“Three forties of beef, and a vessel of water.”
Ivan Tsarevich filled the vessel with water, brought oxen with beef. He put the kegs on the bird, ran to the forge, and had a long iron lance made for himself; he came back and took farewell of the old woman. “Good-by,” said he. “Feed my good steed enough; I will pay thee for everything.”
He sat on the Mogol bird, and that moment it rose up and flew; it flew and looked around continually. When it looked, Ivan Tsarevich immediately gave a piece of meat on the end of his lance. Now it was flying and flying no short time. The Tsarevich had already given two kegs of beef, and had begun on the third; and he said, “O Mogol bird, fall to the damp earth; small nourishment is left.”
“What art thou saying, Ivan Tsarevich? Below us are sleeping forests and sticky morasses; we could not escape to the end of our lives.”
Ivan Tsarevich gave out all the beef and threw down the kegs; but the Mogol bird flies, looks around. What can be done? Ivan Tsarevich thought a while, cut off the calves of his own legs, and gave them to the bird. It swallowed them, and flew out over the green meadow, silken grass, blue flowers, then dropped to the earth. Ivan Tsarevich stood on his feet, walked along the meadow, was lame of both legs.
“What is the matter, Ivan Tsarevich? Art thou lame?”
“I am lame, Mogol bird; a little while ago I cut off my calves to nourish thee.”
The Mogol bird coughed up the calves, put them on the legs of Ivan Tsarevich, blew and spat; the calves grew to their places, and the Tsarevich went on in strength and activity. He came to a great town, and stopped to rest with a grandmother living in a backyard.
“Sleep, Ivan Tsarevich; in the morning, when the bell rings, I’ll rouse thee.”
Ivan Tsarevich lay down and slept that minute; he slept the day, slept the night. The bells rang for early prayers, the backyard grandmother ran to him, fell to beating him with whatever she found at hand, but could not rouse him. The morning prayers were over, they rang for mass; Peerless Beauty went to church. The old grandmother came again, and went to work again at Ivan Tsarevich, beat him with whatever came under her hands; with great effort she woke him. Ivan Tsarevich sprang up very quickly, washed himself very white, dressed, and went to mass. He came to the church, prayed before the images, bowed down on every side, and especially to Peerless Beauty. They stood side by side and prayed. At the end of mass she went first to the cross, then he went out on a platform, looked at the blue sea; ships are approaching, six champions came to offer marriage.
The champions saw Ivan Tsarevich and began to ridicule him: “Oh, thou country clown, is such a beauty as this for thee? Thou art not worth her middle finger!”
They said this once, they said it twice, they said it thrice. Ivan Tsarevich was offended. He swung his arm, there was a street; he swung it a second time, the place was clear and smooth all around. Then he went to the old grandmother.
“Well, Ivan Tsarevich, hast thou seen Peerless Beauty?”
“I have, and I shall not forget her for an age.”
“Now lie down to sleep. To-morrow thou wilt go to mass again; I will wake thee the minute the bell rings.”
The Tsarevich lay down; he slept the day, he slept the night. The bell rang for early prayers; the grandmother ran to him, began to rouse him; whatever happened under her hand, with that she beat him; but she couldn’t wake him. They rang the bell for mass; again she beat him and roused him. Ivan Tsarevich sprang up very quickly, washed very white, dressed, and to church. He entered, prayed to the images, bowed on all four sides, especially to Peerless Beauty. She looked at him and blushed. They stood side by side, prayed to God. At the end of mass she went to the cross first, he second. The Tsarevich went out on a platform, looked on the blue sea; ships were sailing, twelve champions came. They began to ask Peerless Beauty in marriage, and to make sport of Ivan Tsarevich: “Oh, thou country clown, is such a beauty for thee? Thou art not worth her middle finger!”
He was offended at these speeches. He swung his arm, there was a street; he swung the other, the place was clear and smooth around.
He went to the old grandmother. “Hast thou seen Peerless Beauty?” asked she.
“I have, and for an age I shall not forget her.”
“Well, sleep now; in the morning I will wake thee.”
Ivan Tsarevich slept the day, he slept the night; they rang the bell for morning prayers; the old woman ran in to wake him, beat him with whatever happened under her hand, did not spare, but could not rouse him. They rang the bell for mass, and she was working away all the time at the Tsarevich. At last she roused him. He rose up quickly, washed himself very white, prepared, dressed, and to church. When he came he prayed to the images, bowed on all four sides, and separately to Peerless Beauty. She saluted him, put him at her right hand, and she stood at the left. They stand there, pray to God. At the end of mass he went first to the cross, she after him. The Tsarevich went out on the platform, looked on the blue sea; ships are sailing, and twenty-four champions come to offer marriage to Peerless Beauty.
The champions saw Ivan Tsarevich and straightway began to make sport of him: “Oh, country clown, is such a beauty for thee? Thou art not worth her middle finger!”
They attacked him on every side to take away his bride. Ivan Tsarevich did not endure this. He swung his arm, there was a street; he swung the other, the place was smooth and clear around. He killed all to the last man. Peerless Beauty took him by the hand, led him to her chambers, seated him at the oaken tables, at the spread cloths, entertained him, called him her bridegroom. Soon after they prepared for the road and set out for the land of Ivan Tsarevich. They travelled and travelled, halted in the open field to rest. Peerless Beauty lay down to sleep, and Ivan Tsarevich guarded her slumber. When she had slept enough, and woke up, the Tsarevich said: “Peerless Beauty, guard my white body; I will lie down to sleep.”
“But wilt thou sleep long?”
“Nine days and nights; and I shall not turn from one side to the other. If thou tryest to wake me, thou wilt not rouse me. When the time comes I shall wake myself.”
“It is long, Ivan Tsarevich; I shall be wearied.”
“Wearied or not, there is no help for it.”
He lay down to sleep, and slept exactly nine days and nights. Meanwhile Koshchéi Without-Death bore away Peerless Beauty to his own kingdom. Ivan Tsarevich woke up; there was no Peerless Beauty. He began to weep, and went along neither by the road nor the way. Whether it was long or short, he came to the kingdom of Koshchéi Without-Death, and begged lodgings of an old woman.
“Well, Ivan Tsarevich, why art thou so sad looking?”
“Thus and thus, grandmother; I had everything, now I have nothing.”
“Thy affair is a bad one, Ivan Tsarevich; thou canst not kill Koshchéi.”
“Well, I will look on my bride at least.”
“Lie down, sleep till morning; to-morrow Koshchéi will go to war.”
Ivan Tsarevich lay down, but sleep did not come to his mind. In the morning Koshchéi went out of the house, and Ivan Tsarevich went in. He stood at the gate and knocked. Peerless Beauty opened it, looked at him, and fell to weeping. They went to the upper chamber, sat at the table, and talked. Ivan Tsarevich instructed her. “Ask Koshchéi where his death is.”
“I will.”
He had just left the house when Koshchéi came in. “Oh!” said he, “it smells of the Russian bone; it must be that Ivan Tsarevich was with thee.”
“What art thou thinking of, Koshchéi Without-Death? Where could I see Ivan Tsarevich? He has remained in slumbering forests and in sticky quagmires; wild beasts have destroyed him ere now.”
They sat down to sup. At supper Peerless Beauty said: “Tell me, Koshchéi Without-Death, where is thy death?”
“Why dost thou wish to know, silly woman? My death is tied up in the broom.”
Early next morning Koshchéi went to war. Ivan Tsarevich came to Peerless Beauty. She took the broom, gilded it brightly with pure gold. The Tsarevich had just departed when Koshchéi came in. “Ah!” said he, “it smells of the Russian bone; Ivan Tsarevich has been with thee.”
“What dost thou mean, Koshchéi Without-Death? Thou hast been flying through Russia thyself and hast caught up the odor of Russia; it is from thee. Where should I see Ivan Tsarevich?”
At supper Peerless Beauty sat on a small bench and seated Koshchéi on a large one. He looked under the threshold; the broom was lying there gilded. “What does this mean?”
“Oh, Koshchéi Without-Death, thou seest thyself how I honor thee!”
“Oh, simple woman, I was joking! My death is out there, fastened in the oak fence.”
Next day Koshchéi went away. Ivan Tsarevich came and gilded the whole fence. Towards evening Koshchéi came home. “Ah!” said he, “it smells of the Russian bone. Ivan Tsarevich has been with thee.”
“What dost thou mean, Koshchéi Without-Death? It seems I have told thee times more than one, where am I to see Ivan Tsarevich? He has remained in dark forests, in sticky quagmires; the wild beasts have torn him to pieces ere now.”
Supper-time came. Peerless Beauty sat on a bench herself, and seated him on a chair. Koshchéi looked through the window, saw the fence gilded, shining like fire. “What is that?”
“Thou seest thyself, Koshchéi, how I respect thee. If thou art dear to me, of importance is thy death.”
This speech pleased Koshchéi Without-Death. “Oh, simple woman, I was joking with thee! My death is in an egg, the egg is in a duck, and the duck is in a stump floating on the sea.”
When Koshchéi went off to war, Peerless Beauty baked cakes for Ivan Tsarevich and told him where to look for the death of Koshchéi. Ivan Tsarevich went neither by road nor by way, came to the ocean sea broad, and knew not where to go farther. The cakes had long since given out, and he had nothing to eat. All at once a hawk flew up. Ivan Tsarevich aimed. “Well, hawk, I’ll shoot thee and eat thee raw.”
“Do not eat me, Ivan Tsarevich; I will serve thee in time of need.”
A bear ran along. “Oh, bear, crooked paw, I’ll kill thee and eat thee raw!”
“Do not eat me, Ivan Tsarevich; I’ll serve in time of need.”
Behold, a pike is struggling on the beach. “Oh, big-toothed pike, thou hast come to it! I’ll eat thee raw.”
“Eat me not, Ivan Tsarevich; better throw me into the sea. I will serve thee in time of need.”
Ivan stood there thinking, “The time of need will come, it is unknown when. But now I must go hungry.” All at once the blue sea boiled up, waves rose, began to cover the shore. Ivan Tsarevich ran up the hill, ran with all his might, and the water followed at his heels; chasing, he ran to the very highest place and climbed a tree. A little later the water began to fall, the sea grew calm, fell, and a great stump was left on land. The bear ran up, raised the stump, and when he had hurled it to the ground the stump opened; out flew a duck and soared high, high. That minute, from wherever he came, the hawk flew, caught the duck, and in a twinkle tore her in two. An egg fell out; then the pike caught it, swam to the beach, and gave the egg to Ivan Tsarevich, who put it in his bosom and went to Koshchéi Without-Death. He came to the house. Peerless Beauty met him, she kissed him on the lips and fell on his shoulder. Koshchéi Without-Death was sitting at the window cursing.
“Oh, Ivan Tsarevich, thou wishest to take Peerless Beauty from me; and so thou wilt not live.”
“Thou didst take her from me thyself,” answered Ivan Tsarevich, took the egg from his bosom, and showed it to Koshchéi. “What is this?”
The light grew dim in the eyes of Koshchéi; then he became mild and obedient. Ivan Tsarevich threw the egg from one hand to the other. Koshchéi Without-Death staggered from corner to corner. This seemed pleasant to the Tsarevich. He threw the egg more quickly from hand to hand, and broke it; then Koshchéi fell and died.
Ivan Tsarevich attached the horses to his golden carriage, took whole bags filled with gold and silver, and went to his father. Whether it was long or short, he came to that old woman who had inquired of every creature, fish, bird, and beast. He found his steed. “Glory be to God,” said he, “the raven (black steed) is alive;” and he poured forth gold freely for her care of the steed. Though she were to live ninety-nine years longer, she would have enough. Then the Tsarevich sent a swift courier to the Tsar with a letter, in which he wrote: “Father, meet thy son; I am coming with my bride, Peerless Beauty.”
His father got the letter, read it, and had not belief. “How could that be? Ivan Tsarevich left home when nine days old!” After the courier came the Tsarevich himself. The Tsar saw that his son had written the real truth; he ran out to the porch, met him, and gave command to beat drums and sound music.
“Father, bless me for the wedding.”
Tsars have not to brew beer nor make wine; they have much of all things. That same day there was a joyous feast and a wedding. They crowned Ivan Tsarevich and Peerless Beauty, and put out on all streets great jars of various drinks; every one could come and drink what his soul desired. I was there, drank mead and wine; it flowed on my mustaches, but was not in my mouth.
VASSILISSA GOLDEN TRESS, BAREHEADED BEAUTY.
THERE lived a Tsar Svaitozar. This Tsar had two sons and a beauty of a daughter. Twenty years did she live in her bright chamber. The Tsar and Tsaritsa admired her, and so did the nurses and maidens; but no one of the princes and champions had seen her face. And this beauty was called Vassilissa Golden Tress. She went nowhere out of her chamber; the Tsarevna did not breathe the free air. She had many bright dresses and jewels, but was wearied; it was oppressive for her in the chamber. Her robes were a burden, her thick golden silk hair, covered with nothing, bound in a tress, fell to her feet, and people called her Vassilissa Golden Tress, Bareheaded Beauty. The kingdom was filled with her fame. Many Tsars heard of her and sent envoys to Tsar Svaitozar to beat with the forehead and ask the Tsarevna in marriage.
The Tsar was in no hurry, but when the time came, he sent messengers to all lands with tidings that the Tsarevna would choose a bridegroom; and inviting Tsars and Tsareviches to assemble and collect at his palace to feast, he went himself to the lofty chamber to tell Vassilissa the Beautiful. It was gladsome in the heart of the Tsarevna. Looking out of the sloping window from behind the golden lattice on the green garden, the flowery meadow, she was eager to walk; she asked him to let her go forth to the garden to play with the maidens. “My sovereign father,” said she, “I have not seen the world of God yet, I have not walked on the grass, on the flowers, I have not looked on thy palace; let me go with my nurses and maidens to walk in thy garden.”
The Tsar permitted, and Vassilissa the Beautiful went down from the lofty chamber to the broad court. The plank gate was open, and she appeared in the green meadow. In front was a steep mountain; on that mountain grew curly trees; on the meadow were beautiful flowers of many kinds. The Tsarevna plucked blue flowers, stepped aside a little from her nurses; there was no caution in her young mind; her face was exposed, her beauty uncovered. Suddenly a mighty whirlwind rose, such as had not been seen, heard of, or remembered by old people; the whirlwind turned and twisted—behold, it seized the Tsarevna and carried her through the air.
The nurses screamed and shrieked: they ran and stumbled, threw themselves on every side; they saw nothing but how the whirlwind shot away with her. And Vassilissa Golden Tress was borne over many lands, across deep rivers, through three kingdoms into the fourth, into the dominions of the Savage Serpent.
The nurses hurry to the palace, covering themselves with tears, throw themselves at the feet of the Tsar. “Sovereign, we are not answerable for the misfortune, we are answerable to thee. Give not command to slay us, command us to speak. The whirlwind bore away our sun, Vassilissa Golden Tress, the Beauty, and it is unknown whither.”
The Tsar was sad, he was angry; but in his anger he pardoned the poor women.
Next morning the princes and kings’ sons came to the Tsar’s palace, and seeing the sadness and seriousness of the Tsar they asked him what had happened.
“There is a sin to my account,” said the Tsar. “My dear daughter, Vassilissa Golden Tress, has been borne away by the whirlwind, I know not whither;” and he told everything as it had happened.
Talk rose among the guests, and the princes and kings’ sons thought and talked among themselves. “Is not the Tsar refusing us; is he not unwilling to let us see his daughter?” They rushed to the chamber of the Tsarevna; nowhere did they find her.
The Tsar made them presents, gave to each one from his treasure. They mounted their steeds, he conducted them with honor; the bright guests took farewell, and went to their own lands.
The two young Tsareviches, brave brothers of Vassilissa Golden Tress, seeing the tears of their father and mother, begged of their parents: “Let us go, our father,—bless us, our mother,—to find your daughter, our sister.”
“My dear sons, my own children,” said the Tsar, without joy, “where will ye go?”
“We will go, father, everywhere,—where a road lies, where a bird flies, where the eyes have vision; mayhap we shall find her.”
The Tsar gave his blessing, the Tsaritsa prepared them for the journey; they wept, and they parted.
The two Tsareviches journeyed on. Whether the road was near or far, long in going or short, they did not know. They travelled a year, they travelled two. They passed three kingdoms, lofty mountains were visible and seemed blue; between these mountains were sandy plains,—the land of the Savage Serpent. And the Tsareviches inquired of those whom they met had they not heard, had they not seen, where Tsarevna Vassilissa Golden Tress was. And from all the answer was one: “We know not where she is, and we have not heard.”
The Tsar’s sons approach a great town; a decrepit old man stands on the road; crooked-eyed and lame, with a crutch and a bag, he begs alms. The Tsareviches stopped, threw him a silver coin, and asked had he not seen, had he not heard of the Tsarevna Vassilissa Golden Tress, Bareheaded Beauty?
“Ah! my friend,” said the old man, “it is clear that thou art from a strange land. Our ruler, the Savage Serpent, has forbidden strongly and sternly to speak with men from abroad. We are forbidden under penalty to tell or relate how a whirlwind bore past the town the beautiful princess.”
Now the sons of the Tsar understood that their sister was near. They urged on their restive steeds and approached the castle of gold which stood on a single pillar of silver; over the castle was a curtain of diamonds; the stairways, mother-of-pearl, opened and closed like wings.
At this moment Vassilissa the Beautiful was looking in sadness through the golden lattice, and she screamed out for joy. She knew her brothers from a distance, just as if her heart had told her. And the Tsarevna sent down in silence to meet them, to bring them to the castle; the Savage Serpent was absent.
Vassilissa the Beautiful was wary; she feared the serpent might see them. They had barely entered when the silver pillar groaned, the stairways opened, all the roofs glittered; the whole castle began to turn and move. The Tsarevna was frightened, and said to her brothers: “The serpent is coming, the serpent is coming; that’s why the castle goes round! Hide, brothers!”
She had barely said this when the Savage Serpent flew in, cried with a thundering voice, and whistled with a hero’s whistle: “What living man is here?”
“We, Savage Serpent,” answered the Tsar’s sons, without fear; “from our birthplace we’ve come for our sister.”
“Oh, the young men are here!” shouted the serpent, clapping his wings. “Ye should not die here from me, nor seek your sister to free; her own brothers, champions, are ye, but champions puny I see.” And the serpent caught one of them with his wing, struck him against the other, whistled and shouted. The castle guard ran to him, took the dead Tsareviches, threw them both down a deep ditch.
The Tsarevna Vassilissa Golden Tress covered herself with tears, took neither food nor drink, would not look on the world. Two days and three passed. It was not right she should die, she did not decide to die; she took pity on her beauty, took counsel of hunger. On the third day she ate, and was thinking how to free herself from the serpent, and began to gain knowledge by wheedling.
“Savage Serpent,” said she, “great is thy power, mighty thy flight: is it possible that thou hast no foe?”
“Not yet,” replied the serpent; “it was fated at my birth that my foe should be Ivan Goroh [John Pea]; and he will be born from a pea.”
The serpent said this in jest; he expected no foe. The strong one relied on his strength; but the jest came true.
The mother of Vassilissa Golden Tress was grieving because she had no news of her children after the Tsarevna, the Tsareviches, were lost.
She went one day to walk in the garden with her ladies; the day was hot, she was thirsty. In that garden, from a foot-hill, spring water ran forth in a stream, and above it was a white marble well. They drew, with a golden cup, water pure as a tear. The Tsaritsa was eager to drink, and with the water she swallowed a pea. The pea burst, and the Tsaritsa became heavy; the pea increased and grew. In time the Tsaritsa gave birth to a son; they called him Ivan Goroh, and he grew, not by the year, but by the hour, smooth and plump; he is lively, laughs, jumps, springs on the sand, and his strength is growing in him all the time, so that at ten years he was a mighty champion. Then he asked the Tsar and Tsaritsa if he had had many brothers and sisters, and he heard how it happened that the whirlwind had borne away his sister, it was unknown whither, how his two brothers had begged to go in search of their sister, and were lost without tidings.
“Father, mother,” begged Ivan Goroh, “let me go too; give me your blessing to find my brothers and sister.”
“What art thou saying, my child?” asked the Tsar and Tsaritsa at once. “Thou art still green and young; thy brothers went, they were lost, thou wilt go too and be lost.”
“Mayhap I shall not be lost,” said Ivan Goroh. “I want to find my brothers and sister.”
The Tsar and Tsaritsa persuaded and begged their dear son, but he craved, cried, and entreated. They prepared him for the road, let him go with tears.
Ivan Goroh was free. He went out into the open field, travelled one day, travelled another. Toward night he came to a dark forest; in that forest was a cabin on hen’s legs; from the wind it was shaking and turning. Ivan spoke from the old saying, from his nurse’s tale. “Cabin, cabin,” said he, “turn thy back to the forest, thy front to me;” and the cabin turned around to Ivan. Out of the window an old woman was looking, and she asked, “Whom is God bringing?”
Ivan bowed, and hastened to ask: “Hast thou not seen, grandmother, in what direction the passing whirlwind carries beautiful maidens?”
“Oh, young man,” said she, coughing, and looking at Ivan, “that whirlwind has frightened me too, so that I sit in this cabin a hundred and twenty years, and I go out nowhere! Maybe he would fly up and sweep me away. That’s not a whirlwind, but the Savage Serpent.”
“How could one go to him?” asked Ivan.
“What art thou thinking of, my world? The serpent will swallow thee.”
“Maybe he will not swallow me.”
“See to it, champion, or thou wilt not save thy head. But shouldst thou come back, give me thy word to bring from the serpent’s castle water with which, if a man sprinkles himself, he will grow young,” said she, moving her teeth beyond measure.
“I will get it, grandmother, I give thee my word.”
“I believe thee, on conscience! Go straight to where the sun sets. In one year thou wilt reach the bald mountain there; ask for the road to the serpent’s kingdom.”
“God save thee, grandmother!”
“There is no reason for thanks, father.”
Well, Ivan Goroh went to the land where the sun sets. A story is soon told, but a deed’s not soon done. He passed three kingdoms, and went to the serpent’s land; before the gates of the town he saw a beggar,—a lame, blind old man with a crutch,—and giving him charity, he asked if the young Tsarevna Vassilissa Golden Tress was in that town.
“She is, but it is forbidden to say so,” answered the beggar.
Ivan knew that his sister was there; the good, bold hero became courageous, and went to the palace. At that time Vassilissa Golden Tress was looking out of the window to see if the Savage Serpent was coming; and she saw from afar the young champion, wished to know of him, sent quietly to learn from what land he had come, of what stock was he, was he sent by her father or by her own mother.
Hearing that Ivan, her youngest brother, had come (and she did not know him by sight), Vassilissa ran to him, wet him with tears. “Run, brother, quickly!” cried she. “The serpent will soon be here; he will see thee, destroy thee.”
“My dear sister,” answered Ivan, “if another had spoken, I should not have listened. I have no fear of the serpent, no fear of his strength.”
“But art thou Goroh,” asked Vassilissa Golden Tress, “to manage him?”
“Wait, friend sister; first give me to drink. I have travelled under heat, I am tired from the road; I want a drink.”
“What dost thou drink, brother?”
“Three gallons of sweet mead, dear sister.”
Vassilissa gave command to bring a three-gallon measure of sweet mead, and Goroh drank it all at one breath. He asked for another; the Tsarevna gave orders to hurry, looked, and wondered.
“Well, brother, I did not know thee; but now I believe that thou art Ivan Goroh!”
“Let me sit down a moment to rest from the road.”
Vassilissa gave command to bring a strong chair; but the chair broke under Ivan, flew into bits. They brought another all bound with iron, and that one cracked and bent. “Oh, brother,” cried Vassilissa, “that is the chair of the Savage Serpent!”
“Now it is clear that I am heavier than he,” said Goroh, laughing.
He rose and went on the street, went from the castle to the forge; there he ordered the old sage, the serpent’s blacksmith, to forge him an iron club of nine tons weight. The blacksmith hastened the work. They hammered the iron; night and day the hammers thundered, the sparks just flying. In forty hours the work was done. Fifty men were barely able to carry the club; but Ivan Goroh, seizing it in one hand, hurled the club to the sky: it flew, roared like a storm, whirled above the clouds, vanished from the eye. All the people ran trembling from terror, thinking if that club falls on the town, it will break the walls and crush the people; if it falls in the sea, it will raise the sea and flood the town. But Ivan Goroh went quietly to the castle, and gave command to tell when the club was coming. The people ran from the square, looked from under the gate, looked out of windows. “Isn’t the club coming?” They waited an hour, they waited two; the third hour they ran to say that the club was coming. Goroh sprang to the square, put forth his hand, caught the club as it came, bent not himself, but the iron bent on the palm of his hand. Ivan took the club, pressed it against his knee, straightened it, went to the castle.
All at once a terrible whistling was heard, the Savage Serpent was racing; Whirlwind, his steed, flying like an arrow, breathes fire. The serpent in shape is a champion, but his head is the head of a serpent. When he flies, the whole castle quivers; when he is ten versts distant, it begins to whirl and dance. But now the castle moves not: it is clear that some one is sitting inside. The serpent grew thoughtful, whistled, shouted; the whirlwind steed shook his dark mane, opened his broad wings, reared and roared.
The serpent flew up to the castle, but the castle moves not. “Ho!” roared the Savage Serpent, “it is plain there is a foe. Is not Goroh at my house?” Soon came the champion. “I’ll put thee on the palm of one hand, and slap with the other: they won’t find thy bones.”
“We shall see,” said Ivan Goroh.
He went out with his club, and the serpent cried from his whirlwind: “Take thy place in a hurry.”
“Take thy own place, Savage Serpent,” said Ivan, and raised his club.
The Savage Serpent flew up to strike Ivan, to pierce him with his spear, and missed. Goroh sprang to one side, did not stagger.
“Now I’ll finish thee!” roared Goroh. Raising his club, he struck the serpent a blow that tore him to pieces, scattered him; the club went across the earth, went through two kingdoms into a third.
The people hurled up their caps and saluted Ivan Tsar. But Ivan seeing the wise blacksmith, as a reward for having made the club quickly, he called up the old man and said to the people: “Here is your head; obey him while doing good, as before ye obeyed the Savage Serpent for evil.”
Ivan got also the water of life and the water of death, sprinkled his brothers; they rose up, rubbed their eyes and thought, “We slept long; God knows what has happened.”
“Without me you would have slept forever, my dear brothers,” said Ivan Goroh, pressing them to his restive heart.
He did not forget to take the serpent’s water; he made a ship, and on the Swan’s river sailed with Vassilissa Golden Tress to his own land through three kingdoms into the fourth. He did not forget the old woman in the cabin; he let her wash in the serpent’s water. She turned into a young woman, began to sing and dance, ran out after Goroh, and conducted him to the road.
His father and mother met him with joy and honor. They sent messengers to all lands with tidings that their daughter Vassilissa had returned. In the town there was ringing, and in the ears triple ringing; trumpets sounded, drums were beaten, guns thundered.
A bridegroom came to Vassilissa, and a bride was found for the Tsarevich; they had four crowns made, and celebrated two weddings. At the rejoicing, at the gladness, there was a feast as a mountain, and mead a river.
The grandfathers of grandfathers were there; they drank mead, and it came to us, flowed on our mustaches, but reached not our mouths. Only it became known that Ivan, after the death of his father, received the crown, and ruled the land with renown; and age after age the name of Goroh was famous.