The potter stopped and displayed his merchandise. The tsar looked at it and chose three earthen dishes. “Will you make me some more of these?” “How many does Your Majesty want?” “I need about a dozen cartfuls.” “How much time can you give me?” “A month.” “I can deliver them in two weeks. I’ll stick by you, and you stick by me.” “Thanks, potter.” “And you, king, where will you be when I bring this merchandise to town?” “I will be staying in the merchant’s house.” The tsar arrived in town and gave orders that everyone use only earthenware at all receptions, and that no silver, lead, copper or wooden dishes be set on the table.
The potter finished the tsar’s order and brought his merchandise to town. A certain boyar came to buy earthenware from him and said to him: “God be with you, potter.” “I am your humble servant.” “Sell me all your merchandise.” “No, I cannot, I made it for a special order.” “Don’t worry about that. Take this money. You cannot be held to your promise if you did not receive an advance payment for your work. Well, how much do you want?” “Fill each of my vessels with money.” “My dear little potter, don’t try to make a fool of me; that is too much.” “Very well then, for each vessel filled, you will get two. Do you agree?” They agreed—“You stick to me, and I’ll stick to you.” They began to fill the pots and empty them, to pour in and pour out. They ran out of money, and there was still a great deal of merchandise. The boyar went home to get more money. Again they poured and poured, and there still was a great deal of merchandise left, and no money. “What shall we do, my little potter?” the boyar asked. “You were too greedy and now you haven’t enough money to pay! I will take your plight into consideration, but in the meantime, do you know what I shall make you do? Pull me to that house: then I will give you both the merchandise and all the money.”
The boyar hesitated for a long time. He was sorry about his money, and also about his dignity; but there was nothing to be done, so he finally agreed. The horse was unharnessed, the peasant sat in the cart, and the boyar began to pull him; the potter sang a song, and the boyar dragged and dragged. “Where shall I pull you?” he asked. “To that house over there.” The potter sang merrily, and when he was close to the house he raised his voice high. The tsar heard him, ran out on the porch, and recognized the potter. “Ha, welcome, potter!” “Thank you, Your Majesty.” “What are you driving on?” “On a bad mind, Your Majesty.” “Well, you are a smart fellow, potter, you have managed to sell your goods. Boyar, take off your boyar’s garment and your boots, and you, potter, take off your caftan and your shoes of bast. You put them on, boyar, and you, potter, put on this boyar’s garments. He knew how to sell his goods! The potter did not work long, but he earned a great deal—and you did not know how to guard your boyar’s rank. Well, potter, did the geese come from Russia?” “They did.” “Did you pluck their feathers, and leave them in the proper condition?” “No, Your Majesty, I plucked him clean, all of him.”
THE SELF-PLAYING GUSLA
IN A CERTAIN KINGDOM, in a certain land, there lived a peasant who had a son. The peasant’s name was Alexei and the son’s Vanka. When summer came Alexei plowed his land and planted turnips; and the turnips throve so well and grew so big and succulent that it was a marvel to behold them. The peasant was glad; he went to his field every morning, rejoiced in his turnips, and gave thanks to God. One day he noticed that someone was stealing his turnips and began to watch the field; he watched and watched, but saw no one. Then he sent Vanka to the field, saying: “Go watch the turnips.”
Vanka came to the field and saw a boy digging up the turnips and filling two enormous bags with them; he slung them over his back and began to drag them along with great difficulty—his legs bent under him, his back creaked! The boy dragged and dragged the bags till his strength failed him; then he threw the bags on the ground and suddenly saw Vanka standing before him. “Do me a favor, my good man,” said the boy. “Help me carry these bags home; grandfather will reward you for it.” When Vanka saw the boy, he stood as if petrified, staring at him with wide eyes. Then he came to and said: “All right, I’ll help you!” He slung the two bags of turnips over his shoulders and carried them after the boy, who skipped ahead, saying: “Grandfather sends me for turnips every day. If you bring them to him, he will give you much silver and gold. But don’t take it. Ask for the self-playing gusla instead.”
After a while they came to the boy’s house; in the corner there sat a gray-haired man with horns. Vanka bowed to him. The old man gave him a lump of gold for his trouble; Vanka’s eyes began to gleam, but the boy whispered to him: “Don’t take it.” Vanka said: “I don’t want gold. Give me the self-playing gusla, and all the turnips will be yours.” When he mentioned the self-playing gusla, the old man’s eyes popped out an inch, his mouth opened to his ears, and the horns on his forehead began to jump. Vanka was seized by fear, but the boy said: “Give it to him, grandfather.” “You want a great deal! But so be it: take the gusla, and in return give me whatever is dearest to you in your own home.” Vanka thought to himself: “Our little house barely sticks out of the ground; surely there is nothing precious in it.” But aloud he said: “I agree.” And he took the self-playing gusla and went home. When he arrived he found his father dead on the threshold. He wept and mourned for him, buried him, and went forth to seek his fortune.
He came to a large city, the capital of a great king. In front of the king’s palace was a meadow in which pigs were grazing. Vanka went to the swineherd, bought some pigs from him, and began to tend them. Whenever he strummed the self-playing gusla, his whole herd began to dance. One day when the king was away, his daughter sat by the window and saw Vanka sitting on a tree stump and strumming his gusla while his pigs danced before him. The princess sent her maid to ask this swineherd to sell her at least one of the dancing pigs. Vanka said: “Let her come herself!” The princess came and said: “Swineherd, sell me one of your pigs.” “My pigs are not for sale, they are sacred.” “And what is their sacred price?” “Well, princess, if you wish to have one of my pigs, show me your white body up to your knees.” The princess thought and thought, looked all around her to make sure that no one was looking, and raised her dress up to her knees, revealing a little birthmark on her right leg. Vanka gave her a pig; the princess ordered it to be led to her palace, called the musicians, and made them play. She wanted to see how the pig would dance to their music, but it only hid in the corners, howling and grunting.
The king returned and decided to give his daughter in marriage. He summoned all the boyars and lords and merchants and peasants; kings and princes and people of all kinds came from foreign lands and gathered in his palace. The king said: “He who guesses what mark there is on my daughter, to him I shall give her in marriage.” None of them could guess; and no matter how they tried, they could not find out where the mark was. Finally Vanka stepped forth and said that the princess had a little birthmark on her right leg. “You have guessed right,” said the king. He married Vanka to his daughter and gave a great feast for all the people. Vanka was now the king’s son-in-law and began to live a carefree life.
MARCO THE RICH AND VASILY THE LUCKLESS
IN A CERTAIN KINGDOM, in a certain land, there once lived a very wealthy merchant. He had an only daughter, Anastasya the Fair, who was only five years of age. The merchant’s name was Marco, and his surname was “the Rich.” He could not endure beggars; whenever they came begging at his window, he ordered his servants to drive them away and loose the dogs upon them.
One day two old gray-haired men came begging to his window. Marco saw them and ordered the dogs to be let loose upon them. Anastasya the Fair heard of it and began to implore her father: “My dear father, for my sake at least let them take shelter in the cattle shed!” The father consented and ordered the beggars to be led to the cattle shed.
When everyone in the house was asleep, Anastasya rose up and went to the cattle shed; she climbed up to the loft and watched the beggars. When it became time for matins, the
candle beneath the icon lighted by itself; the old men rose up, took priestly vestments out of their bags, put them on, and began the service of matins. An angel of God came flying and said: “In such and such a village, a son is born to such and such a peasant; by what name shall he be called, and what shall be his fortune?” One of the old men said: “I give him the name of Vasily and the surname of “the Luckless,” and I hereby present him with all the wealth of Marco the Rich, under whose roof we are now spending the night.” Anastasya heard all this. At daybreak, the old men made ready to go and left the cattle shed. Anastasya went to her father and told him everything that she had seen and heard there.
The father wondered whether the prophecy would come true and decided to see whether a babe had really been born in the village; he had his carriage harnessed, went straight to the priest of the village, and asked him: “Was a babe born in your village on such and such a day?” “Yes,” said the priest, “a babe was born to our poorest peasant; I christened him Vasily and surnamed him ‘the Luckless,’ but I have not yet baptized him because no one wants to stand as godfather to the poor man’s child.” Marco offered to stand as godfather, asked the priest’s wife to be godmother, and bade them prepare a rich repast; the little boy was brought to the church and baptized, and everyone feasted to his heart’s content.
The next day Marco the Rich summoned the poor peasant to him, spoke kindly to him, and said: “Friend, you are a poor man, you won’t be able to bring up your son; give him to me, I will help him to rise in the world, and I will give you a thousand rubles for your own maintenance.” The poor man thought and thought and finally consented. Marco gave him the promised money, took the child, wrapped him in fox furs, put him in his carriage, and drove away. It was winter. Having driven several versts, Marco bade his coachman stop, handed him the godchild, and said: “Take him by the legs and hurl him into the ravine.” The coachman did as he was ordered and hurled the child into a deep ravine. And Marco said: “Now, Vasily, take possession of my wealth!”
Two days later some merchants chanced to travel by the same road; they were carrying twelve thousand rubles that they owed to Marco the Rich. When they came near the ravine they heard the wailing of a child. They stopped, listened, and sent a servant to see who it could be. The servant went down into the ravine and beheld a green meadow; in the meadow a child sat, playing with flowers and whimpering. The servant told all this to his master, who went to the ravine himself, took the child, wrapped him in a fur coat, returned to his carriage, and drove on. The merchants came to Marco the Rich, who asked them where they had found the child. They told him, and he guessed at once that it was Vasily the Luckless, his own godchild; he took the boy in his arms, held him for a while, and gave him to his daughter, saying: “Take him, my daughter, and nurse him.”
Then he plied the merchants with all kinds of drink and asked them to let him keep the child. The merchants at first refused, but when Marco told them that he would cancel their debt, they consented and left. Anastasya was so overjoyed that she immediately found a cradle, hung curtains around it, and began to tend the boy, not leaving him by night or by day. One day went by, then another; on the third day Marco came home late, when Anastasya was asleep, took the child, put him into a little barrel, tarred it, and threw it into the water of the port.
The barrel sailed and sailed, till finally it floated up to a monastery. A monk happened to be fetching water. He heard the wailing of a child; he looked about him and saw the barrel. He immediately took a boat, caught up the barrel, broke it open, and found the child. He brought the babe to his abbot. The abbot named the child Vasily and surnamed him “the Luckless.” Vasily the Luckless lived in the monastery for sixteen years and learned how to read and write. The abbot loved him and made him his sacristan.
It came to pass that Marco the Rich was traveling to a foreign kingdom to collect debts owed to him and on his way stopped at the monastery. He was received as befits a rich man. The abbot ordered the sacristan to go to the church; he went, lighted the candles, and read and sang. Marco the Rich asked the abbot: “Has this young man been with you long?” The abbot told him how the boy had been found in a barrel, and when. Marco reckoned the time and realized that the sacristan was his godchild. He said to the abbot: “If I had an intelligent young man like your sacristan, I would appoint him chief clerk and put him in charge of all my treasure; could you not give him to me?” For a long time the abbot made excuses. Finally Marco offered him twenty-five thousand rubles for his monastery. The abbot consulted the brothers, and after long deliberation they consented to part with Vasily the Luckless.
Marco sent Vasily home and gave him a letter to his wife, which ran as follows: “Wife, when you receive this letter, take its bearer immediately to our soap works, and when you pass near the great boiling cauldron, push him in. Do not fail to do this; if you fail, I shall punish you severely, for this youth has evil designs on me.” Vasily took the letter and went on his way. He met an old man who said: “Whither are you going, Vasily the Luckless?” Vasily said: “To the house of Marco the Rich, with a letter to his wife.” “Show me this letter.” Vasily took it out and gave it to the old man, who broke the seal and asked Vasily to read it. Vasily read it and burst into tears. “What have I done to this man,” he said, “that he should send me to my death?” The old man said: “Do not grieve, God will not forsake you.” Then he breathed on the letter and the seal resumed its former shape. “Go now,” said the old man, “and give the letter to the wife of Marco the Rich.”
Vasily came to the house of Marco the Rich and gave the letter to his wife. She read it, pondered deeply, then called her daughter Anastasya and read Marco’s letter to her. This is what the letter now said: “Wife, one day after you receive this letter, marry Anastasya to the bearer. Do this without fail, otherwise you shall answer to me.” In rich people’s houses, beer does not have to be brewed nor wine distilled—everything is ready for a gay feast and a wedding. Vasily was dressed in rich garments, shown to Anastasya, and she found him to her liking. So they were wedded.
One day the wife of Marco the Rich was told that her husband had arrived in port, and accompanied by her son-in-law and daughter she went to meet him. Marco looked at his son-in-law, fell into a rage, and said to his wife: “How dared you to wed our daughter to him?” “By your command,” answered his wife. Marco asked to see his letter, read it, and found that it was written in his hand.
Marco lived with his son-in-law for one month, a second, and a third. One day he summoned the young man before him and said to him: “Take this letter beyond thrice nine lands, to the thrice tenth kingdom, to my friend, King Dragon; collect from him rent for twelve years for a palace he built on my land, and find out what has happened to twelve of my ships that have not been seen these three years. Set out on your way tomorrow morning.” Vasily took the letter, went to his wife, and told her what Marco had commanded him to do. Anastasya wept bitterly but dared not ask her father to change his mind.
Early next morning Vasily prayed to God, took some biscuits in his knapsack, and set out. He walked on the road for a long time or a short time, a long way or a short; in any case, at one point he heard a voice at the side of the road saying: “Vasily the Luckless, whither are you going?” He looked around him on all sides and said: “Who is calling me?” “I, the oak, am asking you whither you are going.” “I am going to King Dragon to collect rent for twelve years.” The oak said: “If you arrive in time, remember to ask how much longer the oak must stand after standing for three hundred years.”
Vasily listened carefully and continued on his journey. He came to a river and sat in the ferryboat. The old ferryman asked him: “Whither are you going, my friend?” Vasily told him what he had told the oak. And the ferryman requested him to ask the king how much longer he would have to ferry, for he had now been ferrying thirty years. “I shall ask him,” said Vasily. He went on, reached the sea; a whale lay stretched out across the sea and people were walking
and driving over her. When Vasily stepped on the whale, she said: “Vasily the Luckless, whither are you going?” Vasily told her what he had told the ferryman, and the whale said: “If you arrive in time, remember to ask how much longer I must lie here stretched across the sea, for people on foot and people on horseback have worn down my body to my very ribs.”
Vasily promised to ask and went on. He came to a green meadow; in the meadow stood a huge palace. Vasily entered the palace and went from room to room; each was more splendid than the last. He went into the farthest room and found a lovely maiden sitting on the bed and weeping bitterly. When she saw Vasily, she rose up, approached him, and said: “Who are you and how did you happen to come to this accursed place?” Vasily showed her the letter and told her that Marco the Rich had ordered him to collect rent for twelve years from King Dragon. The maiden threw the letter into the stove and said to Vasily: “You have been sent here not to collect rent, but as food for the dragon. But tell me, what roads did you take? Did you see or hear anything on your way here?” Vasily told her about the oak, the ferryman, and the whale. They had no sooner finished talking than the earth and the palace began to tremble; the maiden put Vasily into a chest under the bed and said to him: “Now listen to my conversation with the dragon.” And saying this she went out to meet him.
When King Dragon entered the room, he said: “Why is there a Russian smell here?” The maiden said: “How could a Russian smell get here? You have been flying over Russia and the Russian smell is in your nostrils.” The dragon said: “I am terribly exhausted. Pick the lice in my head.” And he lay down on the bed. The maiden said to him: “King, what a dream I had while you were away! I was going along a road, and an oak cried to me: ‘Ask the King how long I must stand here!’ ” “It will stand,” said the King, “until someone comes to it and kicks it with his foot; then it will be uprooted and will fall, and beneath it there is an enormous amount of gold and silver—Marco the Rich does not have as much!”
Russian Fairy Tales (Pantheon Fairy Tale and Folklore Library) Page 20
