RUSSIAN MYTHS AND FOLK-TALES. (continued 4)
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Ivan Tsarevich gave answer: “Good heroes travel not against their will.”
“Well, if thy work be not hasty be a guest in my tents.”
Ivan Tsarevich was glad; he spent two nights in the tents, pleased Marya Morevna, and married her. Marya Morevna, the fair Korolyevna, took him with her to her own kingdom. They lived together a time, and then the Korolyevna had a thought to make war; she left to her husband her household, and said: “Go everywhere, see after all things, but look not in this closet.”
Ivan Tsarevich could not endure this, but when Marya Morevna had gone he rushed to the closet, opened the door, looked, and there Koshchéi Without-Death was hanging inside, fastened with twelve chains. Koshchéi implored the Tsarevich: “Take pity on me, give me to drink. Twelve years do I sit here in torment; I have not eaten nor drunk; my throat is parched.”
The Tsarevich gave him a whole three-gallon tub of water. He drank it, and begged, “With one tub my thirst cannot be quenched.” The Tsarevich gave him another tub. Koshchéi drank that, and begged for a third; and when he had drunk the third tub he regained his former strength, shook his chains, and in one moment broke all twelve.
“God save thee, Ivan Tsarevich!” said Koshchéi Without-Death; “now thou wilt never see Marya Morevna any more than thy own ears;” and he went out a terrific whirlwind, flew through the window, overtook on the road Marya Morevna, the fair Korolyevna, seized her, and bore her away.
But Ivan Tsarevich cried bitterly, bitterly, made ready, and went on his road, on his way. “Whatever may happen, I will find Marya Morevna.” He travelled one day, he travelled a second; at the dawn of the third day he saw a wonderful palace, near the palace an oak, on the oak a bright falcon. The falcon flew down from the tree, struck the earth, turned into a gallant youth, and shouted: “Ah! my dear brother-in-law, how does God favor thee?”
Marya Tsarevna ran out, met Ivan Tsarevich joyously, asked about his health, his life, and told about her own life and household.
The Tsarevich stayed three days with them, and said: “I cannot stay longer, I am in search of my wife, Marya Morevna, the fair Korolyevna.”
“It is hard to find her,” said the Falcon. “In any case leave thy silver spoon here; we will look at it and think of thee.”
Ivan Tsarevich left his silver spoon and went his way. He travelled a day, he travelled a second; at the dawn of the third he saw a castle better than the first, at the side of the castle an oak, on the oak sits an eagle. The eagle flew from the tree, struck the ground, turned into a gallant youth, and shouted: “Rise up, Olga Tsarevna; our dear brother is coming.” Olga Tsarevna ran out that moment to meet him; she began to kiss, to embrace her brother, to ask about his health, and to tell of her own life and household.
Ivan Tsarevich remained three days with them, and then said: “I have no time to visit longer; I am going to seek my wife, Marya Morevna, the fair Korolyevna.”
Said the Eagle: “It is hard for thee to find her. Leave with us thy silver fork; we will look at it and remember thee.”
He left the fork and went his way. He travelled a day, he travelled a second; and on the dawn of the third day he saw a castle better than the other two. At the side of the castle was an oak, and on the oak a raven was perched. The raven flew down, struck the earth, turned into a gallant youth, and cried: “Anna Tsarevna, hurry out; our brother is coming.”
Anna Tsarevna ran out, met him joyously, began to kiss and embrace her brother, to ask about his health, and to tell about her own life and household.
Ivan Tsarevich stayed with them three short days, and said: “Farewell, I am going to look for my wife, Marya Morevna, the fair Korolyevna.”
The Raven said: “It is hard for thee to find her; but leave thy gold ring with us, we will look at it and remember thee. If the ring is bright, it means that thou art alive and well; if dim, then we shall know that evil has come on thee.”
Ivan Tsarevich left his gold ring and went his way. He travelled a day, he travelled a second; and on the third he came to Marya Morevna. She saw her dear one, rushed on his neck, covered herself with tears, and said: “Ivan Tsarevich, why didst thou not obey me; why didst thou look in the closet and let out Koshchéi Without-Death?”
“Forgive me, Marya Morevna; remember not the past. Better go with me while Koshchéi is not here; mayhap he will not overtake us.”
They made ready and went. Koshchéi was out hunting; toward evening he was coming home, his good steed stumbled under him. “Why stumble, hungry crowbait; or dost feel some misfortune?”
The horse answered: “Ivan Tsarevich came and took Marya Morevna away.”
“Can we overtake them?”
“Thou mightest sow wheat, wait till it should ripen, reap it, thresh it, make flour, bake five ovens of bread, eat that bread, go in pursuit, and overtake them.”
Koshchéi galloped on, overtook Ivan Tsarevich. “Well,” said he, “I forgive thee the first time for thy kindness, because thou didst give me water to drink; and a second time I’ll forgive thee: but for the third have a care; I will hew thee to pieces.”
He took Marya Morevna and led her away. Ivan Tsarevich sat on a stone and wept; he cried and cried, went back for Marya Morevna. Koshchéi Without-Death did not happen to be at home.
“Let us go, Marya Morevna.”
“Ah, Ivan Tsarevich, he will overtake us!”
“Let him overtake us; anyhow, we shall pass a couple of hours together.” They made ready and started away.
Koshchéi Without-Death was coming home; his good steed stumbled under him. “Why dost thou stumble, hungry crowbait; or feelest thou evil?”
“Ivan Tsarevich came and carried Marya Morevna away.”
“Can they be overtaken?”
“Barley might be sown, waited for till ripe, harvested, threshed, and beer made of it; we might drink the beer, sleep after drinking, then pursue and catch them.”
Koshchéi galloped on, rode up, overtook Ivan Tsarevich. “But I have said that thou canst no more see Marya Morevna than look at thy own ears.” He took her away and led her home.
Ivan Tsarevich remained alone; he cried and cried, and went back for Marya Morevna. That time Koshchéi was not at home.
“Let us go, Marya Morevna.”
“Ah! Ivan Tsarevich, he will come up with us, will hew thee to pieces.”
“Let him hew me; I cannot live without thee.” They made ready and started.
Koshchéi Without-Death was coming home; his good steed stumbled under him. “Why dost thou stumble, hungry crowbait; or feelest thou evil?”
“Ivan Tsarevich came, and took Marya Morevna away.”
Koshchéi galloped on, caught up with Ivan Tsarevich, hewed him into small pieces, put him in a pitched barrel, took that barrel, strengthened it with iron hoops, and cast it into the blue sea. Marya Morevna he took home.
Now the silver grew black at the houses of Ivan Tsarevich’s brothers-in-law. “Oh,” said they, “it is clear that some evil has happened!”
The Eagle rushed off to the blue sea, caught the barrel, and drew it to shore; the Falcon flew for the living water, and the Raven for the dead water. All flew together to the same place, broke the barrel, took out the pieces of Ivan Tsarevich, washed them, put them together in proper order. The Raven sprinkled them with dead water, the body grew together and united; the Falcon sprinkled the body with living water. Ivan Tsarevich trembled, rose up, and said, “Oh, how long I have been sleeping!”
“Thou wouldst have slept still longer without us,” answered the brothers-in-law. “Come now to our houses.”
“No, brothers, I shall go to seek Marya Morevna.” He came to her and said, “Discover from Koshchéi Without-Death where he found such a steed.”
Behold, Marya Morevna seized a favorable moment, inquired of Koshchéi. Koshchéi said: “Beyond the thrice-ninth land, in the thirtieth kingdom, beyond the fiery river, lives Baba-Yaga; and she has a mare on which she flies round the world each day; she has many other glorious mares. I was her herdsman for three days. I let not one mare stray from her, and for that service Baba-Yaga gave me a colt.”
“But how didst thou cross the river of fire?”
“I have a kerchief of such sort that when I wave it on the right side three times, a bridge is made, lofty and high; the fire cannot reach it.”
Marya Morevna listened, told all to Ivan Tsarevich, carried away the kerchief, and gave it to him. Ivan Tsarevich crossed the fiery river, and went to Baba-Yaga. Long did he go without eating and drinking; a bird from beyond the sea, with her little children, happened in his way. “I’ll eat one little chick,” said Ivan Tsarevich.
“Eat it not, Ivan Tsarevich,” begged the bird from beyond the sea; “in time I will serve thee.”
He went farther, saw in the forest a swarm of bees. “I’ll take some honey,” said he.
The queen-bee called out, “Touch not my honey, Ivan Tsarevich; in time I will serve thee.”
He left the honey and went on. Then a lioness and her whelp met him. “At least I’ll eat this little lion; I feel such hunger that I am sick.”
“Touch him not, Ivan Tsarevich; in time I will serve thee.”
“Well, let it be as thou sayest.”
He went on hungry; he travelled and travelled. There is the house of Baba-Yaga. Around the house stand twelve stakes; on eleven are heads of men,—only one stake is unoccupied.
“Hail to thee, grandmother!”
“Hail to thee, Ivan Tsarevich! Hast come of thy own good will, or from need?”
“I have come to earn of thee an heroic steed.”
“Very well, Tsarevich; no need to serve a year with me, but three days in all. If thou wilt herd my mares, I’ll give thee an heroic steed; but if not, be not angry, thy head will be on the last stake.”
Ivan Tsarevich consented. Baba-Yaga gave him food with drink, and ordered him to begin the work. As soon as he had driven the mares a-field, they raised their tails and all ran apart through the meadows. The Tsarevich could not cast his eyes round before they had vanished. Then he began to weep and grow sad; he sat on a stone and fell asleep. The sun was going down when the bird from beyond the sea flew up and roused him.
“Rise, Ivan Tsarevich; the mares are now home.”
The Tsarevich stood up, came home, but Baba-Yaga was screaming and crying at her mares. “Why did ye come home?”
“How could we help it, when birds from the whole world flew together and almost picked our eyes out?”
“Well, to-morrow don’t run in the meadows, but scatter through the sleeping forest.”
Ivan Tsarevich slept the night; in the morning Baba-Yaga said: “See to it, Tsarevich. If thou dost not herd the mares, if thou losest even one of them, thy stormy head will be on the stake.”
He drove the mares a-field. That moment they raised their tails and ran through the sleeping forest. Again the Tsarevich sat down on a stone, cried and cried, then fell asleep. The sun had gone behind the forest when the lioness ran up. “Rise, Ivan Tsarevich; the mares are driven in.”
Ivan Tsarevich stood up and went home. Baba-Yaga was screaming and crying more than before at her mares. “Why did ye come home?”
“How could we help coming? Savage beasts ran at us from the whole world, came near tearing us to pieces.”
“Well, run to-morrow into the blue sea.”
Ivan Tsarevich slept that night; next morning Baba-Yaga sent him to herd the mares. “If thou dost not guard them, thy stormy head will be on the stake.”
He drove the mares to the field; that moment they raised their tails and vanished from the eye, ran into the blue sea, and stood to their necks in the water.
Ivan Tsarevich sat on a stone, cried, and fell asleep. The sun had gone beyond the forest when a bee flew up and said: “Ivan Tsarevich, the mares are driven in. But when thou art home, do not show thyself before the eyes of Baba-Yaga; go to the stable and hide behind the manger. There is a mangy little colt lying on the dung-heap; steal him, and at dark midnight leave the place.”
Ivan Tsarevich rose up, made his way to the stable, and lay down behind the manger. Baba-Yaga screamed and cried at her mares: “Why did ye come home?”
“How could we help coming home when bees, seen and unseen, flew from the whole world and began to sting us on every side till the blood came!”
Baba-Yaga went to sleep, and just at midnight Ivan Tsarevich stole from her the mangy colt, saddled him, sat on his back, and galloped to the fiery river; when he came to the river he shook the kerchief three times on the right side, and suddenly, from wherever it came, a high, splendid bridge was hanging over the river. The Tsarevich crossed on the bridge, waved the kerchief on the left side only twice, and there remained above the river a bridge very, very slender.
In the morning Baba-Yaga woke up; the mangy colt is not to be seen with sight. Baba-Yaga, on an iron mortar, rushed off in pursuit with all her breath, urging forward with a pestle, and removing her trail with a broom. She galloped to the fiery river, looked and thought: “The bridge is good.” She rode out on it, and the moment she reached the middle the bridge broke. Baba-Yaga went headlong into the river; there a savage death came to her.
Ivan Tsarevich fed his colt in the green meadows, and it became a marvellous steed. The Tsarevich came to Marya Morevna; she ran out to him, threw herself on his neck.
“How has God brought thee to life?”
“In this way and that way,” said he; “come with me.”
“I am afraid, Ivan Tsarevich. If Koshchéi overtakes us again, thou wilt be cut to pieces.”
“No, he will not overtake us. I have a glorious, heroic steed now; he goes like a bird.”
They sat on the horse and rode off. Koshchéi Without-Death was coming home; under him stumbled his steed.
“Why stumble, hungry crowbait; or feelest thou evil?”
“Ivan Tsarevich came, took away Marya Morevna.”
“Can we overtake him?”
“God knows! Now Ivan Tsarevich has an heroic steed better than I.”
“I cannot stand this,” said Koshchéi the Deathless, “I’ll give chase.”
Whether it was long or short, he caught up with Ivan Tsarevich, sprang to the ground, and wanted to cut him with his sharp sword. That moment Ivan’s horse struck, with all the sweep of his hoof, Koshchéi Without-Death, and smashed his skull. The Tsarevich finished him with his club. Then he raised a pile of wood, made a fire, burned Koshchéi Without-Death on the fire, and scattered the ashes to the wind.
Marya Morevna mounted Koshchéi’s horse, and Ivan Tsarevich his own. They went to visit the Raven, then the Eagle, and last the Falcon; wherever they came they were met with joy.
“Oh, Ivan Tsarevich, we did not think to see thee! It was not for nothing thou didst struggle; another such beauty as Marya Morevna could not be found if sought for in the whole world.”
They visited and feasted, and set out for their own kingdom; arrived there, gained wealth, and drank mead.
VARIANT OF THE RESCUE OF IVAN TSAREVICH AND THE WINNING OF THE COLT.
Eagle son of Eagle flew to the sea and brought mighty winds, the sea rose, and threw the barrel on shore. Falcon son of Falcon grasped the barrel in his talons, bore it high, high in the air, and dropped it thence to the ground. The barrel fell and was broken in pieces; but Raven son of Raven carried healing water and living water and sprinkled Ivan Tsarevich with them. Then all three of them caught him up and bore him to the thrice-ninth land, to the thirtieth kingdom. They brought him to the thirtieth kingdom and said: “Go now to the blue sea, where lives a marvellous mare; in front of her twelve men are mowing hay, and twelve rakers are raking what they mow: she follows them and eats the hay. When the mare drinks water, the blue sea rises in waves and leaves fall from the trees; when she scratches herself on hundred-year oaks, they fall to the ground like bundles of oats. Every month she has one colt; twelve wolves follow her and devour these colts. Bide thy time; and the moment a colt is born with a star on its forehead, seize it quickly,—that colt will be an heroic steed for thee. On that colt Koshchéi Without-Death will not overtake thee.” Ivan Tsarevich did as his brothers-in-law taught him.
YELENA THE WISE.
IN a certain kingdom, in a certain land, the Tsar had a golden company; in this company served a soldier, Ivan by name, a hero in appearance. The Tsar took him into favor and began to reward him with rank; in a short time he made him colonel. The superior officers envied him. “Why have we served for our rank as we have thirty years, and he has got every rank all at once? We must get rid of him, or he will go ahead of us.”
The generals and counselling boyars arranged a trip on the sea, prepared the ship, invited Ivan the colonel to go with them. They sailed out into the open sea, and went around till late in the evening. Ivan grew tired, lay on a bed, and fell into a deep sleep. That was all the boyars and generals were waiting for. They seized him, put him in a boat, pushed him out to sea, and returned home themselves.
Soon dark clouds came up and a storm began to roar; the waves rose and carried the boat it is unknown whither; they carried it far, far away, and cast it out on an island. Here Ivan woke up, looked, saw a desert land, no trace of the ship, and the sea ran terribly high.
“It is clear,” thought he, “that the ship has been wrecked by the storm, and all my comrades are drowned. Glory be to God that I am safe myself!”
He went to look at the island, walked and walked. Nowhere did he see a springing beast, a flying bird, or a dwelling of man. Whether it was long or short, Ivan wandered to an underground passage; through this he went down a deep precipice, and came to the underground kingdom, where the six-headed serpent lived and reigned. He saw a white-walled castle, entered. The first chamber was empty, in the second there was no one, in the third the six-headed serpent was sleeping a hero’s sleep. At his side stood a table, on the table an enormous book was lying.
Ivan opened the book and read to the page where it was written that a Tsar had never a son, but always a Tsaritsa had sons. He took and scratched out these words with a knife, and in place of them wrote that a Tsaritsa had never a son, but always a Tsar had sons.
In an hour’s time the serpent turned to his other side, woke up, opened his eyes, saw Ivan, and asked: “From what place hast thou come? I live so many years in the world and I have not seen one man in my kingdom.”
“How from what place? But thou knowest I am thy son.”
“How can that be?” asked the serpent. “I will look in the book and see if a Tsar can have a son.”
He opened the book, read in it what Ivan had written, and was convinced. “Thou art right, my son.”
He took Ivan by the hand, led him through all his treasure-chambers, showed him his countless wealth, and they began to live and live on together.
Some time passed, and the six-headed serpent said: “My dear son, here are the keys of all the chambers; go wherever thy desire may lead thee, but do not dare to look into that chamber which is fastened with two locks, one of gold, the other of silver. I will fly around the world, will look at people, and amuse myself.”
He gave the keys, and flew away out of the underground kingdom to wander through the white world. Ivan Tsarevich remained all alone. He lived a month, a second and a third month, and the year was coming to an end, when it became dreary for him, and he thought to examine the chambers; he walked and walked till he came straight in front of the forbidden chamber. The good youth could not restrain himself; he took out the keys, opened both locks, the gold and the silver, opened the oaken door.
In that chamber were sitting two maidens riveted in chains: one was Tsarevna Yelena the Wise, and the other her maid. The Tsarevna had golden wings, and her maid silver wings. Said Yelena the Wise: “Hail, good hero! Do us a service not great: give us each of a glass of spring water to drink.”
Ivan, looking at her unspeakable beauty, forgot all about the serpent, pitied the poor prisoners, poured out two glasses of spring water, and gave them to the beautiful women. They drank, shook themselves; the iron rings were broken, and the heavy chains fell. The beautiful women clapped their wings and flew through the open window; then only did Ivan come to his mind. He shut the empty chamber, came out on the porch, sat on the step, hung his stormy head below his mighty shoulders, and grew powerfully, powerfully sad. How was he to give answer? Suddenly the wind began to whistle, a mighty storm rose up, the six-headed serpent flew home.
“Hail, my dear son!”
Ivan answered not a word.
“Why art thou silent; or has something happened?”
“Evil, father,—I did not obey thy command. I looked into that chamber where two maidens were sitting riveted in chains, I gave them spring water to drink, they drank, shook themselves, clapped their wings, and flew out through the open window.”
The serpent was terribly enraged; he began to abuse and curse in every fashion. Then he took an iron rod, heated it red hot, and gave Ivan three blows on the back. “It is thy luck,” said he, “that thou art my son; if thou wert not, I should eat thee alive.”
As soon as Ivan’s back had healed he began to beg of the serpent: “Father, let me go out into the world to look for Yelena the Wise.”
“What couldst thou do? I was thirty-three years getting her, and barely, barely had I the skill to catch her.”
“Let me go, father; let me try my fortune.”
“Well, after me if thou pleasest. Here is the carpet that flies of itself: wherever thou wishest, there will it bear thee; only I am sorry for thee, since Yelena the Wise is terribly cunning. If thou catch her she will still overreach and deceive thee.”
Ivan sat on the carpet that flies of itself, flew out of the underground kingdom, and hadn’t time to wink before he found himself in a beautiful garden. He went to a pond, sat under a laburnum-bush, and began to look and admire the gold and silver fish swimming in the clear water. Before five minutes had passed, Yelena the Wise had flown to the pond with her maid. They took off their wings at once, put them near the bush, undressed, and ran into the water to bathe.
Ivan took the wings quietly, came from under the bush, and cried with a loud voice: “But now ye are in my hands!”
The beautiful women sprang out of the pond, put on their clothes, came to the good youth, and begged him to give back their wings. “No,” said Ivan, “I will not give them for anything. Yelena the Wise, thou hast pleased me more than the bright sun; now I will take thee to my father and my mother, I will marry thee, and thou shalt be my wife, and I will be thy husband.”
The Tsarevna’s maid said: “Hear me, good youth: ’tis thy wish to marry Yelena the Wise, but why detain me. Better give me my wings; I will serve thee in time.”
Ivan thought and thought, and gave her the silver wings. She tied them on quickly, sprang up, and flew far, far away. After that, Ivan made a box, put the golden wings into it, and closed it firmly with a lock. He sat on the self-flying carpet, placed Yelena the Wise at his side, and flew away to his own kingdom. He came to his father, to his mother, brought them his bride, and begged them to love and to favor her. Then there was rejoicing such as no one had seen.
Next day Ivan gave his mother the key of the box. “Take care of it for a time,” said he, “give it to no one; and I will go to the Tsar and invite him to the wedding.”
As soon as he had gone, Yelena the Wise ran in: “Mother, give me the key of the box; I must get clothes to dress for the wedding.” The mother, knowing nothing, gave her the key without fear. Yelena the Wise ran to the box, raised the lid, took her wings, put them on, clapped them once and again; that was all they saw of her.
The bridegroom came home. “Mother, where is my bride? It is time to prepare for the crown.”
“Oh, my dear son, she has flown away!”
Deeply did the good youth sigh; he took farewell of his father and his mother, sat on his self-flying carpet, and flew to the underground kingdom, to the six-headed serpent, who saw him and said: “Well, daring head, did I speak in vain when I said that thou couldst not get Yelena the Wise; and if thou didst get her she would deceive thee?”
“Thou art right, father; but no matter what comes, I will try again, I will go to get her.”
“Ah! thou irrestrainable fellow, knowest thou she has a rule that whoever wants to marry her must hide three times, and if she finds him she will have his head cut off? Many a hero has gone to her, but all to the last man have laid down their stormy heads; and the same is preparing for thee. But here is a flint and steel for thee: when Yelena the Wise makes thee hide, strike the flint with the steel,—strike out a spark, and set fire to the grass of the steppe. At that moment a blue-winged eagle will appear and raise thee above the third range of clouds; if that does not succeed, strike fire again, and let it into the blue sea. A giant pike will swim to land, will take thee and bear thee away to the depth of the sea; and if Yelena the Wise finds thee, then there is no place in which thou canst hide from her.”
Ivan Tsarevich took the flint and steel, thanked the six-headed serpent, and flew off on the carpet. Whether it was long or short, near or far, he flew beyond the thrice-ninth land to the thirtieth kingdom, where lived Yelena the Wise. Her palace was flashing like fire; it was made of pure silver and gold. At her gate, on iron points, were the heads of eleven heroes. Ivan the good youth became thoughtful. “Eleven heads on the points, mine will surely be the twelfth.” He came down in the broad court, went on the lofty porch, and straight to the chamber.
Yelena the Wise met him. “Thou!” said she, “why art thou here?”
“I want to take thee in marriage.”
“Well, all right, try. If thou art able to hide from me, I will marry thee; if not, thou wilt pay with thy head.”
Ivan went out in the open field, took his flint and steel, struck fire, and put it to the steppe grass. From wherever he came, a blue-winged eagle flew to him and said, with the voice of a man, “Good youth, sit on me quickly; hold firmly, or thou wilt fall.”
Ivan sat on the eagle, grasped firmly with his hands. The eagle clapped his wings, and rose high beyond the third range of clouds. He is well hidden; it seems no one can find him. But Yelena the Wise had a mirror: all she had to do was to look in it, and the whole world was open to her. She knew in a moment where and what was going on in the white world. She stepped up to that mirror, looked in it, and knew every secret.
“Stop, cunning fellow,” cried Yelena the Wise, with a loud voice; “I see thou hast flown above the third range of clouds. The blue-winged eagle bore thee; it is time to come down to the earth.”
Ivan came to the earth, slipped off the eagle, went to the sea-shore, struck fire, and put it to the blue sea. Suddenly, from wherever he came, a giant pike swam to shore. “Well, good youth, creep into my mouth; I’ll hide thee in the bottom of the sea.” He opened his jaws, took in the young man, sank with him in the abyss of the sea, and covered him with sand.
“Now,” thought Ivan, “perhaps it will be all right.” But the point was not there.
Yelena the Wise barely looked in the mirror, and saw everything at once. “Stop, cunning fellow, I see thou hast gone into the giant pike, and thou art sitting now in the abyss of the sea beneath rolling sands; it is time to come to shore.” The pike swam to shore, threw out the good youth, and vanished in the sea.
Ivan returned to the broad court of Yelena the Wise, sat on the porch, and grew powerfully thoughtful and sad. At that moment the maid of Yelena the Wise ran up the stairway. “Why are thou sad, good youth?”
“How can I be glad? If I hide not the third time, I must part with the white world; so here I am sitting and waiting for death.”
“Grieve not; foretell no evil on thy own stormy head. Once I promised to serve thee; I spoke no empty word. Come, I will hide thee.”
She took Ivan by the hand, led him in, and put him behind the mirror. A little later Yelena the Wise ran to the chamber, looked and looked in the mirror. She could not see her bridegroom; the appointed time had passed. She grew angry, and with vexation struck the glass; it fell into fragments, and before her stood Ivan the brave youth.
There was no help for it,—she had to yield this time. At the house of Yelena the Wise there was no need of waiting to make mead or wine; that day they had a noble feast and a wedding. They were crowned, and began to live,—to live on and win wealth.
THE SEVEN SIMEONS, FULL BROTHERS.
THERE lived an old man and his old wife; they lived many years, to a great age. Then they began to pray to God to give them a child who in their old age might help them to work. They prayed a year, they prayed a second, they prayed a third and fourth, they prayed a fifth and a sixth, and did not receive a child; but in the seventh year the Lord gave them seven sons, and they called them all Simeon. When the old man with the old woman died, the Simeons were left orphans all in their tenth year.
They ploughed their own land, and were not worse than their neighbors. It happened one time to Tsar Ador, the ruler of all that country, to pass their village, and he saw the Seven Simeons working in the field. He wondered greatly that such small boys were ploughing and harrowing. Therefore he sent his chief boyar to inquire whose children they were. When the boyar came to the Simeons he asked why they, such small children, were doing such heavy work?
The eldest Simeon answered that they were orphans, that there was no one to work for them, and said at the same time that they were all called Simeon. The boyar left them and told this to the Tsar, who wondered greatly that so many small boys, brothers, should be called by one name. Therefore he sent the same boyar to take them to the palace. The boyar carried out the command of the Tsar and took all the Simeons with him. When the Tsar came to the palace he assembled the boyars and men of counsel and asked advice in the following words:
“My boyars and men of counsel, ye see these seven orphans who have no relatives: I wish to make of them men who may be grateful to me hereafter; therefore I ask counsel of you. In what science or art should I have them instructed?”
To this all answered as follows: “Most Gracious Sovereign, as they are now grown somewhat and have reason, dost thou not think it well to ask each one of them separately with what science or art he would like to occupy himself?”
The Tsar accepted this advice gladly, and began by asking the eldest Simeon: “Listen to me, my friend: with whatever science or art thou wishest to occupy thyself, in that I will have thee instructed.”
Simeon answered: “Your Majesty, I have no wish to occupy myself with any science or art; but if you would give command to build a forge in the middle of your court-yard, I would forge a pillar reaching to the sky.”
The Tsar saw that there was no reason to teach this Simeon, for he knew well enough the art of a blacksmith; still, he did not believe that the boy could forge a pillar to the very sky, therefore he gave command to build in quick time a forge in the middle of his court-yard. After the first he called the second Simeon. “And thou, my friend, whatever science or art thou wishest to study, in that will I give thee to be taught.”
Then that Simeon answered: “Your Majesty, I do not wish to study any science or art; but if my eldest brother will forge a pillar to the sky, then I will climb that pillar to the top, and will look at all lands, and tell you what is going on in each one of them.”
The Tsar considered that there was no need to teach this Simeon either, because he was wise already. Then he asked the third Simeon: “Thou, my friend, what science or art dost thou wish to learn?”
Simeon answered: “Your Majesty, I do not wish to learn any science or art; but if my eldest brother will make me an axe, with the axe I will strike once, twice; that moment there will be a ship.”
Then the king answered: “I need shipwrights, and thou shouldst not be taught anything else.” Next he asked the fourth: “Thou, Simeon, what science or art dost thou wish to know?”
“Your Majesty,” answered he, “I do not wish to know any science; but if my third brother should make a ship, and if it should happen to that ship to be at sea, and an enemy should attack it, I would seize it by the prow and take the ship to the underground kingdom; and when the enemy had gone away I would bring it back to the surface of the sea.”
The Tsar was astonished at these great wonders of the fourth Simeon, and he said: “There is no need to teach thee either.” Then he asked the fifth Simeon: “And thou, Simeon, what science or art dost thou wish to learn?”
“I do not wish to learn any,” said he; “but if my eldest brother will make me a gun, with that gun, if I see a bird, I will hit it, even one hundred versts distant.”
“Well, thou wilt be a splendid sharpshooter for me,” said the Tsar. Then he asked the sixth Simeon: “Thou, Simeon, what science dost thou wish to begin?”
“Your Majesty,” said Simeon, “I have no wish to begin any science or art; but if my fifth brother will shoot a bird on the wing, I will not let it reach the earth, but will catch it and bring it to you.”
“Thou’rt very cunning,” said the Tsar; “thou wilt take the place of a retriever for me in the field.” Then the Tsar asked the last Simeon: “What art or science dost thou wish to learn?”
“Your Majesty,” answered he, “I do not wish to learn any science or art, because I have a most precious craft.”
“But what is thy craft? Tell me, if it please thee.”
“I know how to steal dexterously,” said Simeon, “so that no man can steal in comparison with me.”
The Tsar became greatly enraged, hearing of such an evil art, and said to his boyars and men of counsel: “Gentlemen, how do ye advise me to punish this thief Simeon? Tell me what death should he die?”
“Your Majesty,” said they all to him, “why put him to death? He is a thief in name, but a thief who may be needed on an occasion.”
“For what reason?” asked the Tsar.
“For this reason: your Majesty is trying now these ten years to get Tsarevna Yelena the Beautiful, and you have not been able to get her; and besides, have lost great forces and armies, and spent much treasure and other things. Mayhap this Simeon the thief may in some way be able to steal Yelena the Beautiful for your Majesty.”
The Tsar said in answer: “My friends, ye tell me the truth.” Then he turned to Simeon the thief and asked: “Well, Simeon, canst thou go to the thrice-ninth land, to the thirtieth kingdom, and steal for me Yelena the Beautiful? I am strongly in love with her, and if thou canst steal her for me I’ll give thee a great reward.”
“Stealing is my art, your Majesty,” answered the seventh Simeon, “and I will steal her for you; only give the command.”
“Not only do I give the command, but I beg thee to do it; and delay no longer at my court, but take for thyself troops and money, whatever is needed.”
“Neither troops nor treasure do I need,” answered he. “Let all of us brothers go together, and I will get Tsarevna Yelena the Beautiful.”
The Tsar did not like to part with all the Simeons; still, though he regretted it, he was obliged to let them all go together. Meanwhile the forge was built in the court, and the eldest Simeon forged an iron pillar to the very sky; the second Simeon climbed on that pillar to the top, and looked in the direction in which was the kingdom of the father of Yelena the Beautiful. After he had looked he cried from the top of the pillar: “Your Majesty, I see Yelena the Beautiful sitting beyond the thrice-ninth land in the thirtieth kingdom under a window; her marrow flows from bone to bone.”
Now the Tsar was still more enticed by her beauty, and said to the Simeons in a loud voice: “My friends, start on your journey at once, for I cannot live without Yelena, the beautiful Tsarevna.”
The eldest Simeon made an axe for the third, and for the fifth he made a gun; and after that they took bread for the journey, and Simeon the Thief took a cat, and they went their way. Simeon the Thief had made the cat so used to him that she ran after him everywhere like a dog; and if he stopped on the road, or in any other place, the cat stood on her hind legs, rubbed against him, and purred. So the brothers went their way for some time, and at last came to the sea, which they had to cross, and there was nothing to cross upon. They walked along the shore and looked for a tree of some kind to make a vessel, and they found a very large oak. The third Simeon took his axe and cut the oak at the very root, and then with one stroke and another he made straightway a ship, which was rigged, and in the ship were various costly goods. All the Simeons sat on that ship and sailed on their journey.
In a few months they arrived safely at the place where it was necessary for them to go. When they entered the harbor they cast anchor at once. On the following day Simeon the Thief took his cat and went into the town, and coming to the Tsar’s palace he stood opposite the window of Yelena the Beautiful. At that moment the cat stood on her hind legs and began to rub against him and to purr. It is necessary to say that in that kingdom they knew nothing of cats, and had not heard what kind of beast the cat is.
Tsarevna Yelena the Beautiful was sitting at the window; and seeing the cat, sent straightway her nurses and maidens to ask Simeon what kind of beast that was, would he not sell it, and what price would he take. The maidens and nurses ran out in the street and asked Simeon what kind of beast that was, and would he not sell it?
Simeon answered: “My ladies, be pleased to relate to her Highness, Yelena the Beautiful, that this little beast is called a cat, that I will not sell it, but if she wishes to have it I will give it to her without price.”
The maidens and nurses ran straight to the palace and told what they had heard from Simeon.
Tsarevna Yelena the Beautiful was rejoiced beyond measure, ran out herself, and asked Simeon would he not sell the cat.
Simeon said: “Your Highness, I will not sell the cat; but if you like her, then I make you a present of her.”
The Tsarevna took the cat in her arms and went to the palace, and Simeon she commanded to follow. When she came to the palace the Tsarevna went to her father, and showed him the cat, explaining that a certain foreigner had given it to her as a present.
The Tsar, seeing such a wonderful little beast, was greatly delighted, and gave orders to call Simeon the Thief; and when he came, the Tsar wished to reward him with money for the cat; but as Simeon would not take it, he said: “My friend, live for the time in my house, and meanwhile, in your presence, the cat will become better used to my daughter.”
To this Simeon did not agree, and said to the Tsar: “Your Majesty, I could live with great delight in your house if I had not the ship on which I came to your kingdom, and which I cannot commit to any one; but if you command me, I will come every day and teach the cat to know your daughter.”
The Tsar commanded Simeon to come every day. Simeon began to visit Tsarevna Yelena the Beautiful. One day he said to her: “Gracious lady, often have I come here; I see that you are not pleased to walk anywhere; you might come to my ship, and I would show you such costly brocades as you have never seen till this day.”
The Tsarevna went straightway to her father and began to beg permission to go to the ship-wharf. The Tsar permitted her, and told her to take nurses and maidens, and go with Simeon.
As soon as they came to the wharf Simeon invited her to his ship, and when she entered the ship Simeon and his brothers began to show the Tsarevna various rich brocades. Then Simeon the Thief said to Yelena the Beautiful: “Now be pleased to tell your nurses and maidens to leave the ship, because I wish to show you things so costly that they should not see them.”
The Tsarevna commanded her maidens and nurses to leave the ship. As soon as they had gone, Simeon the Thief ordered his brothers in silence to cut off the anchor and go to sea with all sail; meanwhile he showed the Tsarevna rich goods and made her presents of some. About two hours had passed while he was showing the stuffs. At last she said it was time for her to go home, the Tsar her father would expect her to dinner. Then she went out of the cabin and saw that the ship was under sail and land no longer in sight.
She struck herself on the breast, turned into a swan, and flew off. The fifth Simeon took his gun that minute and wounded the swan; the sixth Simeon did not let her fall to the water, but brought her back to the ship, where she became a maiden as before.
The nurses and maidens who were at the wharf, seeing the ship move away from the shore with the Tsarevna, ran straight to the Tsar and told him of Simeon’s deceit. Then the Tsar sent a whole fleet in pursuit. When this fleet coming up was very near the ship of the Simeons, the fourth Simeon seized the prow and conducted the ship to the underground kingdom. When the ship had become entirely invisible, the commanders of the fleet thought it was lost, with the Tsarevna; therefore they returned, and reported to the Tsar that Simeon’s ship had gone to the bottom with Yelena the Beautiful.
The Simeons arrived at their own kingdom successfully, delivered Yelena the Beautiful to Tsar Ador, who for such a mighty service of the Simeons gave liberty to them all, and plenty of gold, silver, and precious stones, married Yelena the Beautiful himself, and lived with her many years.
THE ENCHANTED PRINCESS.
IN a certain kingdom a soldier served in the mounted guard of the king. He served twenty-five years in faithfulness and truth; and for his good conduct the king gave orders to discharge him with honor, and give him as reward the same horse on which he had ridden in the regiment, with all the caparison.
The soldier took farewell of his comrades and set out for his native place. He travelled a day, a second, and a third. Behold, a whole week had gone; a second and third week! The soldier had no money; he had nothing to eat himself, nothing to give his horse, and his home was far, far away. He saw that the affair was a very bad one; he wanted terribly to eat, began to look in one direction and another, and saw on one side a great castle. “Well,” thought he, “better go there; maybe they will take me even for a time to serve,—I’ll earn something.”
He turned to the castle, rode into the court, put his horse in the stable, gave him hay, and entered the castle. In the castle a table was set with food and wine,—with everything that the soul could wish for.
The soldier ate and drank. “Now,” thought he, “I may sleep.”
All at once a bear came in. “Fear me not, brave hero; thou hast come in good time. I am not a savage bear, but a fair maiden, an enchanted princess. If thou canst endure and pass three nights in this place, the enchantment will be broken, I shall be a princess as before, and will marry thee.”
The soldier consented. Now, there fell upon him such a sadness that he could not look on the world, and every moment the sadness increased; if there had been no wine he could not have held out a single night, as it seemed. The second night it went so far that the soldier resolved to leave everything and run away; but no matter how he struggled, no matter how he tried, he found no way out of the castle. There was no help for it, he had to stay in spite of himself.
He passed the third night. In the morning there stood before him a princess of unspeakable beauty. She thanked him for his service, and told him to make ready for the crown (marriage). Straightway they had the wedding, and began to live together without care or trouble. After a time the soldier remembered his native place; he wanted to spend some time there. The princess tried to dissuade him.
“Remain, stay here, my friend, go not away. What is lacking to thee?”
No, she could not dissuade him. She took farewell of her husband, gave him a sack filled with seeds, and said: “On whatever road thou mayest travel, throw these seeds on both sides. Wherever they fall, that moment trees will spring up; on the trees precious fruit will be hanging in beauty, various birds will sing songs, and tom-cats from over the sea will tell tales.”
The good hero sat on his horse of service and went his way. Wherever he journeyed he cast seeds on both sides, and after him forests were rising, just creeping out of the damp earth. He rode one day, he rode a second, a third, and saw in the open field a caravan. On the grass merchants were sitting playing cards, near them a great kettle was hanging, and, though there was no fire under the kettle, it was boiling like a fountain within the pot. “What a wonder!” thought the soldier; “there is no fire to be seen, and in the kettle it is boiling like a fountain,—let me look at it more closely.” He turned his horse to the place and rode up to the merchants.
“Hail, honorable gentlemen!” He had no suspicion that these were not merchants, but all unclean. “That is a good trick of yours,—a kettle boiling without fire; but I have a better one.”
He took out a seed and threw it on the ground,—that moment a full-grown tree came up; on the tree were precious fruits in their beauty, various birds were singing songs, and tom-cats from over the sea were telling tales. From this boast the unclean knew him.
“Ah,” said they among themselves, “this is the man who liberated the princess! Come, brothers, let us drug him with a weed, and let him sleep half a year.”
They went to entertaining him, and drugged him with the magic weed. The soldier dropped on the grass and fell into deep sleep from which he could not be roused. The merchants, the caravan, and the kettle vanished in a twinkle.
Soon after the princess went out in her garden and saw that the tops of all the trees had begun to wither. “This is not for good,” thought she; “it is evident that evil has come to my husband.”
Three months passed. It was time for his return, and there was nothing of him, nothing. The princess made ready and went to search for him. She went by that road along which he had travelled,—on both sides forests were growing, birds were singing, and tom-cats from over the sea were purring their tales. She reached the spot where there were no more trees, the road wound out into the open field; she thought, “Where has he gone to? Of course he has not sunk through the earth.”
She looked, aside by itself was one of the wonderful trees, and under it her dear husband. She ran to him, pushed, and tried to rouse him. No, he did not wake. She pinched him, stuck pins in his side, pricked and pricked him. He did not feel even the pain,—lay like a corpse without motion. The princess grew angry, and in her anger pronounced the spell: “Mayest thou be caught by the stormy whirlwind, thou good-for-nothing sleepy head, and be borne to places unknown!”
She had barely uttered these words when the wind began to whistle, to sound, and in one flash the soldier was caught up by a boisterous whirlwind and borne away from the eyes of the princess. She saw too late that she had spoken an evil speech. She shed bitter tears, went home, lived alone and lonely.
The poor soldier was borne by the whirlwind far, far away beyond the thrice-ninth land, to the thirtieth kingdom, and thrown on a point between two seas; he fell on the very narrowest little wedge. If the sleeping man were to turn to the right, or roll to the left, that moment he would tumble into the sea, and then remember his name.
The good hero slept out his half year,—moved not a finger; and when he woke he sprang straight to his feet, looked on both sides. The waves are rolling; no end can be seen to the broad sea. He stands in doubt, asking himself, “By what miracle have I come to this place? Who dragged me hither?” He turned back from the point and came out on an island; on that island was a mountain steep and lofty, touching the clouds with its peak, and on the mountain a great stone. He came near this mountain and saw three devils fighting; blood was just flowing from them, and bits of flesh flying.
“Stop, ye outcasts! What are ye fighting for?”
“But seest thou our father died three days ago and left three wonderful things,—a flying carpet, swift-moving boots, and a cap of invisibility; and we cannot divide them.”
“Oh, ye cursed fellows, to fight for such trifles! If ye wish I’ll divide them between you, and ye shall be satisfied; I’ll offend no one.”
“Well then, countryman, divide between us if it please thee.”
“Very good. Run quickly through the pine woods and gather one hundred poods of pitch, and bring it here.”
The devils rushed through the pine woods, collected three hundred poods of pitch, and brought it to the soldier.
“Now bring me from your own kingdom the very largest kettle that is in it.” The devils brought the very largest kettle,—one holding forty barrels,—and put the pitch into it. The soldier made a fire, and when the pitch was boiling he ordered the devils to take it on the mountain and pour it out from the top to the bottom. The devils did this in a flash. “Now,” said the soldier, “push that stone there; let it roll from the mountain, and follow it. Whoever comes up with it first may take any of the three things; whoever comes up second will choose from the two remaining ones whichever he likes; and the last wonder will go to the third.” The devils pushed the stone, and it rolled from the mountain quickly, quickly. One devil caught up, seized the stone, the stone turned, and in a flash put him under it, crushed him into the pitch. The second devil caught up, and then the third; and with them it happened as with the first,—they were driven firmly into the pitch.
The soldier took under his arm the swift boots and the cap of invisibility, sat on the flying carpet, and flew off to look for his own country. Whether it was long or short, he came to a hut, went in. In the hut was sitting a Baba-Yaga, boneleg, old and toothless. “Greetings to thee, grandmother! Tell how I am to find my fair princess.”
“I have not seen her with sight, I have not heard of her with hearing; but pass over so many seas and so many lands, and there lives my second sister. She knows more than I do; mayhap she can tell thee.”
The soldier sat on his carpet and flew away. He had to wander long over the white world. Whenever he wanted to eat or drink, he put on the cap of invisibility, let himself down, entered a shop, and took what his heart desired; then to the carpet and off on his journey. He came to the second hut, entered; inside was sitting Baba-Yaga, boneleg, old and toothless. “Greetings to thee, grandmother! Dost thou know how I can find my fair princess?”
“No, my dove, I do not know.”
“Ah, thou old hag! how many years art thou living in the world? All thy teeth are out, and thou knowest no good.”
He sat on the flying carpet and flew toward the eldest sister. Long did he wander, many seas and many lands did he see. At last he flew to the end of the world, where there was a hut and no road beyond,—nothing but outer darkness, nothing to be seen.
“Well,” thought he, “if I can get no account here, there is nowhere else to fly to.” He went into the hut; there a Baba-Yaga was sitting, gray, toothless.
“Greetings to thee, grandmother! Tell me where must I seek my princess.”
“Wait a little; I will call all my winds together and ask them. They blow over all the world, so they must know where she is living at present.”
The old woman went out on the porch, cried with a loud voice, whistled with a hero’s whistle. Straightway the stormy winds rose and blew from every side; the hut just quivered.
“Quieter, quieter!” cried Baba-Yaga; and as soon as the winds had assembled, she said: “My stormy winds, ye blow through all the world. Have ye seen the beautiful princess anywhere?”
“We have not seen her anywhere,” answered the winds in one voice.
“But are ye all here?”
“All but South Wind.”
After waiting a little, South Wind flew up. The old woman asked: “Where hast thou been lost to this moment? I could hardly wait for thee.”
“Pardon, grandmother; I went into a new kingdom, where the beautiful princess is living. Her husband has vanished without tidings, so now various Tsars and Tsars’ sons, kings and kings’ sons are paying court to her.”
“And how far is it to the new kingdom?”
“For a man on foot thirty-five years, ten years on wings; but if I blow I can put a man there in three hours.”
The soldier implored South Wind tearfully to take him and bear him to the new kingdom.
“I will, if it please thee,” said South Wind, “provided thou wilt let me run around in thy kingdom three days and three nights as I like.”
“Frolic three weeks if thou choosest.”
“Well, I will rest for two or three days, collect my forces and my strength, and then for the road!”
South Wind rested, collected his strength, and said to the soldier: “Well, brother, make ready, we’ll go straightway; but look out, have no fear, thou wilt arrive in safety.”
All at once a mighty whirlwind whistled and roared, caught the soldier into the air, and bore him over mountains and seas up to the very clouds; and in three hours exactly he was in the new kingdom, where his beautiful princess was living. South Wind said,—
“Farewell, good hero; out of compassion for thee I will not frolic in thy kingdom.”
“Why is that?”
“Because if I frolic, not one house will be standing in the town, not one tree in the gardens; I should put everything bottom upward.”
“Farewell then; God save thee!” said the soldier, who put on his cap of invisibility and went to the white-walled castle. Behold, while he was absent from the kingdom all the trees in the garden had stood with withered tops, and the moment he appeared they came to life and began to bloom. He entered the great hall; there were sitting at the table various Tsars and Tsars’ sons, kings and kings’ sons who had come to pay court to the beautiful princess. They were sitting and entertaining themselves with sweet wines. Whoever filled a glass and raised it to his lips, the soldier that moment struck it with his fist and knocked it from his hand. All the guests wondered at this; but the beautiful princess understood in a moment the reason.
“Surely,” thought she, “my friend is here.” She looked through the window; all the tree-tops in the garden had come to life, and she gave a riddle to the guests. “I had a home-made casket with a golden key; I lost this key, and did not think to find it: but now this key has found itself. Who guesses the riddle, him will I marry.”
The Tsars and Tsars’ sons, the kings and kings’ sons were long breaking their wise heads over this riddle, and could not solve it in any way.
The princess said: “Show thyself, dear friend.”
The soldier removed his cap of invisibility, took her by the white hand, and began to kiss her on the sweet mouth.
“Here is the riddle for you,” said the fair princess: “I am the home-made casket, and the golden key is my faithful husband.”
The wooers had to turn their wagon-shafts around. They all drove home, and the princess began to live with her husband, to live and win wealth.
VASSILISSA THE CUNNING AND THE TSAR OF THE SEA.
A PEASANT sowed rye, and the Lord gave him a wonderful harvest. He could barely bring it in from the field. He drew the bundles home, threshed the grain, and poured it into bins; his granary was full to the brim. When he was pouring it in, he thought, “Now I shall live without trouble.”
A mouse and a sparrow used to visit that peasant’s barn; every one of God’s days they came about five times, ate all they could, and then went out. The mouse would spring into her hole, and the sparrow fly away to his nest. They lived together in this way in friendship for three whole years, ate up all the grain; there remained only a mere trifle, about eight bushels, not more.
The mouse saw that the supply was drawing to an end, and began to contrive how to deceive the sparrow and get possession of all that was left. And the mouse succeeded. She came in the dark night-time, gnawed a great hole in a plank, and let all the rye down through the floor to the last grain. Next morning the sparrow came to the granary to have breakfast; looked, there was nothing! The poor fellow flew out hungry, and thought to himself, “Oh, the cursed creature, she has deceived me! I will fly now to her sovereign, the lion, and present a petition against the mouse; let the lion pass judgment on us in justice.”
So he started and flew to the lion. “Lion, Tsar of beasts,” said the sparrow, beating to him with the forehead, “I lived with one of thy beasts, the strong-toothed mouse. We lived for three years in one barn and had no dispute. But when the supply began to come to an end, she went to playing tricks, gnawed a hole through the floor, and let all the grain down to herself,—left me, poor fellow, to be hungry. Judge us in truth; if not, I will fly to seek justice and reparation from my own Tsar, the eagle.”
“Well, fly off, with God!” said the lion.
The sparrow rushed with his petition to the eagle, related the whole offence, how the mouse had stolen and the lion had upheld her. The eagle grew fiercely angry, and sent a swift courier to the lion straightway: “Come to-morrow with thy army of beasts to such and such a field; I will assemble all the birds and give battle.”
Nothing to be done, the lion made a great call and summoned the beasts to battle. There were assembled of them seen and unseen. As soon as they came to the open field, the eagle flew upon them with his winged warriors like a cloud from heaven. A great battle began. They fought for three hours and three minutes, and the eagle Tsar conquered; he covered the whole field with bodies of beasts. Then he sent his birds to their homes, and flew himself to a slumbering forest, sat on a lofty oak, bruised and wounded, and began to think seriously how to regain his former strength.
This was a long time ago. There lived then a merchant with his wife, and they had not a single child. The merchant rose up one morning and said to his wife: “I have had a bad dream. I thought that a great bird fastened on me,—one that eats a whole ox at a meal and drinks a pailful; and it was impossible to get rid of the bird, impossible not to feed it. I’ll go to the forest; mayhap the walk will cheer me.”
He took his gun and went to the forest. Whether he wandered long or short in that forest, he wandered till he came to an oak-tree, saw an eagle, and was going to shoot it.
“Kill me not, good hero,” said the eagle, in a human voice. “If thou kill me, small will be thy profit. Better take me home, feed me for three years, three months, and three days. I shall recover at thy house, shall let my wings grow, regain my strength, and repay thee with good.”
“What pay can one expect from an eagle?” thought the merchant, and aimed a second time. The eagle spoke as at first. The merchant aimed a third time, and again the eagle begged,—
“Kill me not, good hero! Feed me three years, three months, and three days; when I have recovered, when my wings have grown, and I have regained my strength, I’ll repay thee with good.”
The merchant took pity on the eagle, carried him home, killed an ox, and poured out a pailful of mead. “This will serve the eagle for a long time,” thought he; but the eagle ate and drank all at one meal. A bad time to the merchant; from the unbidden guest utter ruin.
The eagle saw the merchant’s loss and said: “Hear me, my host! Go to the open field. Thou wilt find there many beasts killed and wounded. Take their rich furs, bear them to the town to sell. Get food for thyself and me, and there will be some left for a supply.”
The merchant went into the open field and saw many animals lying there, some slain and some wounded. He took the dearest furs, carried them to town to sell, and sold them for much money.
A year passed. The eagle said: “Bear me to that place where the lofty oaks are standing.”
The merchant got his wagon ready and took him to that place. The eagle rose above the clouds, and when he swooped down, he struck a tree with his breast, the oak was split in two. “Well, merchant, good hero,” said the eagle, “I have not regained my former strength; feed me another round year.”
Another year passed. Again the eagle rose beyond the dark clouds, shot down from above, struck the tree with his breast, split the oak into small pieces. “Merchant, good hero, thou must feed me another whole year; I have not regained my former strength!”
When three years, three months, and three days had passed, the eagle said to the merchant: “Take me again to the same place,—to the lofty oaks.” The merchant carried him to the lofty oaks. The eagle soared higher than before; like a mighty whirlwind he struck from above the largest oak, broke it into small bits from the top to the root,—indeed, the forest was reeling all around. “God save thee, merchant, good hero!” said the eagle; “now all my former strength is with me. Leave thy horse, sit on my wings; I will bear thee to my own land, and pay thee for all the good thou hast done.” The merchant sat on his wings, the eagle bore him out on the blue sea, and he rose high, high. “Look now,” said he, “on the blue sea. Is it wide?”
“As a cart-wheel,” answered the merchant.
The eagle shook his wings and threw the merchant, let him fall, gave him to feel mortal terror, and caught him before he had reached the water,—caught him, and rose still higher. “Look on the blue sea. Is it great?”
“As a hen’s egg.”
The eagle shook his wings, threw the merchant, let him fall, but did not let him reach the water, caught him, and rose up higher than ever. “Look on the blue sea. Is it great?”
“As a poppy seed.”
A third time the eagle shook his wings and threw the merchant from under the heavens; still he didn’t let him reach the water, caught him, and asked: “Well, merchant, good hero, hast thou felt what mortal terror is?”
“I have,” said the merchant; “and I thought I was lost forever.”
“And so did I when thou wert pointing thy gun at me.”
The eagle flew with the merchant beyond the sea, straight to the copper kingdom. “Behold, my eldest sister lives here!” said the eagle. “When we shall be guests with her, and she brings presents, take nothing, but ask for the copper casket.” The eagle said this, struck the damp earth, turned into a gallant hero.
They went through the broad court. The sister saw him, and was delighted. “Oh, my own brother, how has God brought thee? I have not seen thee for three years and more; I thought thou wert lost forever. How can I entertain thee? How can I feast thee?”
“Entertain not me, my dear sister, I am at home in thy house; but entreat and entertain this good hero. He gave me meat and drink for three years,—did not let me die of hunger.”
She seated them at the oaken table, at the spread cloth; she feasted and entertained them, then led them to her treasure-chambers, showed treasures incalculable, and said to the merchant: “Good hero, here are gold, silver, and precious stones; take what thy soul desires.”
The merchant gave answer: “I need neither gold, silver, nor precious stones. Give me the copper casket.”
“Thou’lt not get it; that is not the boot for thy foot.”
The brother was angry at his sister’s words; he turned into an eagle,—a swift bird,—caught the merchant, and flew away.
“Oh, my own brother, come back!” cried the sister. “I’ll not stand for the casket.”
“Thou art late, sister!”
The eagle flew through the air. “Look, merchant, good hero, what is behind us and what before?”
“Behind, a fire is in sight; before us flowers are blooming.”
“That is the copper kingdom in flames, and the flowers are blooming in the silver kingdom of my second sister. When we are her guests, and she offers gifts, take nothing, but ask for the silver casket.” The eagle came, struck the damp earth, and become a good hero.
“Oh, my own brother,” said his sister, “whence hast come; where wert thou lost; why hast thou been so long without visiting me; with what can I serve thee?”
“Entreat me not, entertain me not, my dear sister, I am at home with thee; but entreat and entertain this good hero, who gave me meat and drink for three years, and did not let me die of hunger.”
She seated them at the oaken tables at spread cloths, entertained and feasted them, then led them to treasure-chambers. “Here are gold and silver and precious stones; take, merchant, what thy soul desires.”
“I want neither gold, silver, nor precious stones. Give me only the silver casket.”
“No, good hero, thy desire is not for the right morsel; thou mightest choke thyself.”
The eagle brother was angry, caught up the merchant, and flew away.
“Oh, my own brother, come back! I will not stand for the casket.”
“Thou art late, sister!”
Again the eagle flew under the heavens. “See, merchant, good hero, what is behind us, what is before?”
“Behind us a fire is blazing; before us are flowers in bloom.”
“That is the silver kingdom in flames; but the flowers are blooming in the golden kingdom of my youngest sister. When we are her guests, and she offers gifts, take nothing; ask only the golden casket.” The eagle came to the golden kingdom and turned into a good hero.
“Oh, my own brother,” said the sister, “whence hast thou come? Where hast thou vanished so long that thou hast not visited me? With what shall I feast thee?”
“Entreat me not, feast me not, I am at home; but entreat and feast this merchant, good hero. He gave me meat and drink for three years,—saved me from hunger.”
She seated them at the oaken table, at the spread cloth, entertained them, feasted them, led the merchant to her treasure-chambers, offered him gold, silver, and precious stones.
“I need nothing; give me only the golden casket.”
“Take it for thy happiness. Thou didst give meat and drink to my brother for three years, and didst save him from hunger; I regret nothing that is spent on my brother.”
So the merchant lived and feasted a while in the golden kingdom, till the time came for parting, for taking the road.
“Farewell,” said the eagle; “think not on me with harsh feeling, but see that the casket is not opened till thou art at home.”
The merchant journeyed homeward. Whether it was long or short, he grew tired and wished to rest. He stopped in a strange meadow on the land of the Tsar of the Sea; he looked and looked at the golden casket, couldn’t endure, opened it. That moment, wherever it came from, there stood before him a great castle all painted, a multitude of servants appeared, inquiring: “What dost thou wish for; what dost thou want?” The merchant, good hero, ate his fill, drank enough, and lay down to sleep. The Tsar of the Sea saw that there was a great castle on his land, and he sent messengers: “Go see what sort of an insolent fellow has come and built a castle on my land without leave; let him go off at once in health and safety.”
When such a threatening word came to the merchant he began to think and conjecture how to put the castle into the casket as before; he thought and thought,—no, he could do nothing. “I should be glad to go away,” said he, “but how, I can’t think myself.”
The messengers returned, and reported all to the Tsar of the Sea. “Let him give me what he has at home but knows it not; I will put his palace in the golden casket.”
There was no other way, and so the merchant promised with an oath to give what he had at home but knew it not. The Tsar of the Sea put the palace in the golden casket at once. The merchant took the casket and went his way. Whether it was long or short, he came home, his wife met him. “Oh, be thou hearty, my world. Where wert thou lost?”
“Well, where I was I am not now.”
“But while thou wert gone the Lord gave us a son.”
“Ah! that is what was at home and I knew it not,” thought the merchant; and he grew very sad and sorrowful.
“What is the matter? Art thou not glad to be here?” insisted his wife.
“Not that,” said the merchant; and he told her all that had happened to him, and they grieved and wept together. But people of course cannot cry all their lives. The merchant opened his golden casket, and before them stood a great castle cunningly adorned, and he began to live with his wife and son and gain wealth.
Ten years passed and more; the merchant’s son grew up, became wise, fine-looking, a splendid fellow. One morning he rose up in sadness and said to his father: “My father, I had a bad dream last night. I dreamed of the Tsar of the Sea; he commanded me to come to him. ‘I am waiting long,’ said he; ‘it is time to know thy honor.’”
The father and mother shed tears, gave him their parental blessing, and let him go to a strange land. He went along the road, along the broad road; he walked over clear fields and wide steppes, and came to a dreamy forest. It was empty all around, not a soul to be seen; but there stood a small cabin by itself, with front to the forest and back to Ivan. “Cabin, cabin,” said he, “turn thy back to the forest, thy front to me.” The cabin obeyed, and turned its back to the forest, its front to Ivan. He entered the cabin, inside was Baba-Yaga, boneleg, lying from corner to corner. Baba-Yaga saw him and said: “Before now, nothing of Russia was heard with hearing or seen with sight, but now Russia runs to our eyes. Whence dost thou come, good hero, and where dost thou bear thy way?”
“Oh, thou old hag, thou hast given neither meat nor drink to a wayfaring man, and art asking for news!”
Baba-Yaga put drink on the table and various meats; she fed him, she gave him to drink, and put him to rest. Early next morning she roused him, and then she put questions. Ivan the merchant’s son told the whole secret, and said: “Teach me, grandmother, how to go to the Tsar of the Sea.”
“It is well that thou hast come to me; hadst thou not, thou wouldst have lost thy life, for the Tsar of the Sea is terribly angry because thou didst not go to him long ago. Listen to me: go by this path; thou wilt come to a lake, hide behind a tree and wait a while. Three beautiful doves, maidens, will fly there,—they are the daughters of the Tsar of the Sea; they will loose their wings, undress, and bathe in the lake. One will have many-colored wings: watch the moment, seize the wings, and do not give them up till she consents to marry thee; then all will be right.”
Ivan the merchant’s son took farewell of Baba-Yaga and travelled the path she had shown, walked and walked, saw the lake, hid himself behind a thick tree. After a time three doves came flying, one with many-colored wings; they struck the earth, turned into beautiful maidens, removed their wings, and took off their dresses. Ivan the merchant’s son kept his eyes open; he crept up in silence and took the many-colored wings. He watched to see what would happen. The fair maidens bathed, came out of the water, two of them dressed straightway, put on their wings, turned into doves, and flew away. The third remained to find her wings. She searched, singing the while: “Tell who thou art, thou who hast taken my wings! If an old man, thou wilt be a father to me; if of middle years, my uncle dear; if a good youth, I will marry thee.”
Ivan the merchant’s son came from behind the tree. “Here are thy wings!”
“Now tell me, good youth, betrothed husband, of what stock or race art thou, and whither dost thou bear thy way?”
“I am Ivan the merchant’s son, and I am going to thy own father, to the Tsar of the Sea.”
“And my name is Vassilissa the Cunning.”
Now, Vassilissa was the favorite daughter of the Tsar, and was first in mind and beauty. She showed her bridegroom how to go to the Tsar of the Sea, sprang away as a dove, and flew after her sisters.
Ivan the merchant’s son came to the Tsar of the Sea, who made him serve in the kitchen, cut wood, and draw water. Chumichka, the cook, did not like him, and told lies to the Tsar. “Your Majesty,” said he, “Ivan the merchant’s son boasts that in one night he can cut down a great dense forest, pile the logs in heaps, dig out the roots, plough the land, sow it with wheat, reap that wheat, thresh it, grind it into flour, make cakes of the flour, and give these cakes to your Majesty at breakfast next morning.”
“Well,” said the Tsar, “call him to me.”
Ivan the merchant’s son came.
“Why art thou boasting that in one night thou canst cut down a thick forest, plough the land just like a clean field, sow it with wheat, reap the wheat, thresh it, and make it into flour, the flour into cakes for my breakfast next morning? See that by to-morrow morning this is all done; if not, I have a sword, and thy head leaves thy shoulders.”
No matter how Ivan protested, it was no use; the order was given, it had to be carried out. He went away from the Tsar, and hung his stormy head from grief. Vassilissa the Cunning, the daughter of the Tsar, saw him, and asked: “Why art thou grieved?”
“What is the use in telling thee? Thou couldst not cure my sorrow!”
“How knowest? Maybe I can.”
Ivan the merchant’s son told her what task the Tsar had put on him.
“What task is that! That is a pleasure,—the task is ahead. Go thy way; pray to God and lie down to rest; the morning is wiser than the evening; toward daylight all will be ready.”
Just at midnight Vassilissa the Cunning went out on the great porch and cried in a piercing voice. In one moment laborers ran together from every side,—myriads of them; one was felling a tree, another digging out roots, another ploughing the land. In one place they were sowing, in another reaping and threshing; a pillar of dust went up to the sky, and at daybreak the grain was ground, the cakes baked. Ivan took the cakes to the breakfast of the Tsar.
“Splendid fellow!” said the Tsar; and he gave command to reward him from his own treasure.
Chumichka the cook was angrier than ever at Ivan, began to talk against him again. “Your Majesty, Ivan the merchant’s son boasts that in one night he can make a ship that will fly through the air.”
“Well, call him hither.”
They called Ivan the merchant’s son.
“Why boast to my servants that in one night thou canst make a wonderful ship that will fly through the air, and say nothing to me? See this ship is ready by morning; if not, I have a sword, and thy head leaves thy shoulders.”
Ivan the merchant’s son from sorrow hung his stormy head lower than his shoulders, and went from the Tsar beside himself. Vassilissa the Cunning said to him: “Of what art thou grieving; why art thou sad?”
“Why should I not be sad? The Tsar of the Sea has commanded me to build in one night a ship that will fly through the air.”
“What sort of task is that? That is not a task, but a pleasure; the task is ahead. Go thy way; lie down and rest: the morning is wiser than the evening; at daybreak all will be done.”
At midnight Vassilissa the Cunning went out on the great porch, cried in a piercing voice. In a moment carpenters ran together from every side; they began to pound with their axes, and the work was seething quickly. Toward morning all was ready.
“A hero!” said the Tsar. “Come, now we will take a trip.”
They sat on the ship together, and took as a third companion Chumichka the cook; and they flew through the air. When they were flying over the place of wild beasts the cook bent over the side to look out. Ivan the merchant’s son pushed him from the ship that moment. The savage beasts tore him into little bits. “Oh,” cried Ivan the merchant’s son, “Chumichka has fallen off!”
“The devil be with him,” said the Tsar of the Sea; “to a dog, a dog’s death!” They came back to the palace. “Thou art skilful, Ivan,” said the Tsar; “here is a third task for thee. Break my unridden stallion so that he will go under a rider. If thou wilt break him I will give thee my daughter in marriage; if not, I have a sword, and thy head leaves thy shoulders.”
“Now that is an easy task,” thought Ivan the merchant’s son. He went away from the Tsar laughing. Vassilissa the Cunning saw him and asked about everything; he told her.
“Thou art not wise, Ivan,” said she; “now a difficult task is given thee,—no easy labor. That stallion will be the Tsar himself: he will carry thee through the air above the standing forest, below the passing cloud, and scatter thy bones over the open field. Go quickly to the blacksmiths, order them to make for thee an iron hammer three poods in weight, and when thou art sitting on the stallion hold firmly and beat him on the head with the iron hammer.”
Next day the grooms brought out the unridden stallion. They were barely able to hold him; he snorted, rushed, and reared. The moment Ivan sat on him he rose above the standing forest, below the passing cloud, flew through the air more swiftly than strong wind. The rider held firmly, beating him all the time on the head with the hammer. The stallion struggled beyond his power, and dropped to the damp earth. Ivan the merchant’s son gave the stallion to the grooms, drew breath himself, and went to the palace. The Tsar of the Sea met him with bound head.
“I have ridden the horse, your Majesty.”
“Well, come to-morrow to choose thy bride; but now my head aches.”
Next morning Vassilissa the Cunning said to Ivan the merchant’s son, “There are three sisters of us with our father; he will turn us into mares, and make thee select. Be careful, take notice; on my bridle one of the spangles will be dim. Then he will let us out as doves; my sisters will pick buckwheat very quietly, but I will not,—I will clap my wings. The third time he will bring us out as three maidens, one like the other in face, in stature, and hair. I will shake my handkerchief; by that thou mayest know me.”
The Tsar brought out the three mares, one just like the other, put them in a row. “Take the one that pleases thee,” said the Tsar.
Ivan the merchant’s son examined them carefully. He saw that on one bridle a spangle had grown dim; he caught that bridle and said, “This is my bride.”
“Thou hast taken a bad one; thou mayest choose a better.”
“No use, this will do for me.”
“Choose a second time.”
The Tsar let out three doves just alike, and scattered buckwheat before them. Ivan saw that one of them was shaking her wings all the time. He caught her by the wing and said, “This is my bride.”
“Thou hast not taken the right piece; thou wilt choke thyself. Choose a third time.”
He brought out three maidens, one like the other in face, in stature, and hair. Ivan the merchant’s son saw that one waved her handkerchief; he seized her by the hand, “This is my bride.”
There was nothing to be done. The Tsar could not help himself, gave Vassilissa the Cunning to Ivan, and they had a joyous wedding.
Not much nor little time had passed when Ivan thought of escaping to his own country with Vassilissa the Cunning. They saddled their horses and rode away in the dark night. In the morning the Tsar discovered their flight and sent a pursuing party.
“Drop down to the damp earth,” said Vassilissa the Cunning to her husband; “perhaps thou wilt hear something.”
He dropped to the earth, listened, and answered: “I hear the neighing of horses.”
Vassilissa turned him into a garden, and herself into a head of cabbage. The pursuers returned to the Tsar empty-handed. “Your Majesty, there is nothing to be seen in the open country; we saw only a garden, and in the garden a head of cabbage.”
“Go on, bring me that head of cabbage; that is their tricks.”
Again the pursuers galloped on; again Ivan dropped down to the damp earth. “I hear,” said he, “the neighing of horses.” Vassilissa the Cunning made herself a well, and turned Ivan into a bright falcon; the falcon was sitting on the brink, drinking water. The pursuers came to the well; there was no road beyond, and they turned back.
“Your Majesty, there is nothing to be seen in the open country; we saw only a well, and a bright falcon was drinking water out of that well.”
The Tsar himself galloped a long time to overtake them.
“Drop down to the damp earth; perhaps thou wilt hear something,” said Vassilissa the Cunning to her husband.
“There is a hammering and thundering greater than before.”
“That is my father chasing us. I know not, I cannot think what to do.”
Vassilissa the Cunning had three things,—a brush, a comb, and a towel. She remembered them, and said: “God is yet merciful; I have still defence before the Tsar.” She threw the brush behind her: it became a great drowsy forest; a man could not put his hand through, could not ride around it in three years. Behold, the Tsar of the Sea gnawed and gnawed the drowsy forest, made a path for himself, burst through it, and was again in pursuit. He is drawing near them, has only to seize them with his hand. Vassilissa threw her comb behind, and it became such a great lofty mountain that a man could neither pass over it nor go around it.
The Tsar of the Sea dug and dug in the mountain, made a path, and again chased after them. Then Vassilissa the Cunning threw the towel behind her, and it became a great, great sea. The Tsar galloped up to the sea, saw the road was stopped, and turned homeward.
Ivan the merchant’s son was near home, and said to Vassilissa the Cunning: “I will go ahead, tell my father and mother about thee, and do thou wait here.”
“See to it,” said Vassilissa the Cunning, “when thou art home, kiss all but thy godmother; if thou kiss her thou’lt forget me.”
Ivan came home, kissed all in delight, kissed his godmother, and forgot Vassilissa. She stood there, poor thing, on the road, waited and waited; Ivan did not come for her. She went to the town and hired to do work for an old woman.
Ivan thought of marrying; he found a bride, and arranged a feast for the whole world (mír[4]).
Vassilissa heard this, dressed herself as a beggar, and came to the merchant’s house to beg alms.
“Wait,” said the merchant’s wife; “I’ll bake thee a small cake instead of cutting the big one.”
“God save thee for that, mother!” said Vassilissa.
But the great cake got burnt, and the small one came out nicely. The merchant’s wife gave Vassilissa the burnt cake and put the small one on the table. They cut that cake, and immediately two pigeons flew out.
“Kiss me,” said the cock-pigeon to the other.
“No, thou wilt forget me, as Ivan the merchant’s son forgot Vassilissa the Cunning.”
And the second and the third time he asked, “Kiss me.”
“No, thou’lt forget me, as Ivan the merchant’s son forgot Vassilissa the Cunning.”
Ivan remembered then; he knew who the beggar was, and said to his father and mother: “This is my wife.”
“Well, if thou hast a wife, then live with her.”
They gave rich presents to the new bride, and let her go home; but Ivan the merchant’s son lived with Vassilissa the Cunning, gained wealth, and shunned trouble.