And so the beautiful princesses went out to walk in the garden. They beheld the red sun, the trees, and the flowers, and were overjoyed that they had the freedom of the bright world. They ran about in the garden and enjoyed themselves—when a sudden whirlwind seized them and carried them off far and high, no one knew whither. The alarmed nurses and governesses ran to report this to the king; the king straightway sent his faithful servants in all directions, promising a great reward to him who should find traces of the princesses. The servants traveled and traveled but did not discover anything and came back no wiser than they had set out. The king called his grand council together and asked his councilors and boyars whether anyone among them would undertake to search for his daughters. To any man who might find them, he said, he would give the princess of his choice in marriage, and a rich dowry. The king asked once and the boyars were silent; he asked a second time and they still did not answer; he asked a third time and no one made a sound! The king burst into tears. “Apparently I have no friends or helpers here,” he said, and ordered that a call be issued throughout the kingdom. He hoped that someone from among the common people would undertake the heavy task.
At that time there lived in one village a poor widow who had three sons; they were mighty champions. All of them were born in one night—the eldest in the evening, the second at midnight, and the youngest in the early dawn, and therefore they were called Evening, Midnight, and Dawn. When the king’s call reached them, they straightway asked for their mother’s blessing, made ready for their journey, and rode to the capital city. They came to the king, bowed low, and said: “Rule for many years, sovereign! We have come to you not to celebrate a feast, but to perform a task. Give us leave to go in search of your daughters.” “Hail, good youths! What are your names?” “We are three brothers—Evening, Midnight, and Dawn.” “What shall I give you for your voyage?” “We do not need anything, sire; only do not forget our mother, care for her in her poverty and old age.” The king took the old woman into his palace, and ordered that she be given food and drink from his table and clothes and shoes from his stores.
The good youths set out on their way. They rode one month, a second, and a third; then they came to a wide desert steppe. Beyond that steppe was a thick forest, and close to the forest stood a little hut. They knocked at the window and there was no answer; they entered and no one was in the hut. “Well, brothers,” said one of the three, “let us stop here for a time and rest from our travels.” They undressed, prayed to God, and went to sleep. Next morning Dawn, the youngest brother, said to Evening, his eldest brother: “We two shall go hunting, and you stay at home and prepare our dinner.” The eldest brother consented. Near the hut there was a shed full of sheep; without thinking much he took the best ram, slaughtered and cleaned it, and put it on to roast for dinner. He prepared everything and lay down to rest on a bench.
Suddenly there was a rumbling noise, the door opened, and there entered a little man as big as a thumb, with a beard a cubit long. He cast an angry look around and cried to Evening: “How dared you make yourself at home in my house, how dared you slaughter my ram?” Evening answered: “First grow up—otherwise you cannot be seen from the ground! I shall take a spoonful of cabbage soup and a crumb of bread and throw them in your eyes!” The old man as big as a thumb grew more furious: “I am small but strong!” He snatched up a crust of bread and began to beat Evening on the head with it; he beat him till he was half dead and threw him under the bench. Then the little old man ate the roasted ram and went into the woods. Evening tied a rag around his head and lay moaning. The brothers returned and asked him: “What is the matter with you?” “Eh, brothers, I made a fire in the stove, but because of the great heat I got a headache; I lay all day like one dazed, I could neither cook nor roast!”
Next day Dawn and Evening went hunting, and Midnight was left at home to prepare the dinner. Midnight made a fire, chose the fattest ram, slaughtered it, and put it in the oven; then he lay on the bench. Suddenly there was a rumbling noise, and the old man as big as a thumb, with a beard a cubit long, came in and began to beat and thrash him; he almost beat him to death. Then he ate the roasted ram and went into the woods. Midnight tied up his head with a handkerchief and lay under the bench and moaned. The brothers returned. “What is the matter with you?” Dawn asked him. “I have a headache from the fumes of the stove, brothers, and I have not prepared your dinner.”
On the third day the two elder brothers went hunting and Dawn stayed at home; he chose the best ram, slaughtered and cleaned it, and put it on to roast. Then he lay on the bench. Suddenly there was a rumbling noise—and he saw the old man as big as a thumb, with a beard a cubit long, carrying a whole hayrick on his head and holding a huge cask of water in his hand. The little old man put down the cask of water, spread the hay over the yard, and began to count his sheep. He saw that another ram was missing, grew angry, ran to the house, jumped at Dawn, and hit him on the head with all his strength; Dawn jumped up, grabbed the little old man by his long beard, and began to drag him around, repeating: “Look before you leap, look before you leap!” The old man as big as a thumb, with a beard a cubit long, began to implore him: “Have pity on me, mighty champion, do not put me to death, let my soul repent!” Dawn dragged him out into the yard, led him to an oaken pillar, and fastened his beard to the pillar with a big iron spike; then he returned to the house and sat down to wait for his brothers.
The brothers came back from their hunting and were amazed to find him safe and sound. Dawn smiled and said: “Come with me, brothers, I have caught your fumes and fastened them to a pillar.” They went into the yard, they looked—but the old man as big as a thumb had long since run away. But half of his beard dangled from the pillar, and blood was spattered over his tracks. Following this clue, the brothers came to a deep hole in the ground. Dawn went to the woods, gathered lime bast, wound a rope, and told his brothers to drop him underground. Evening and Midnight dropped him into the hole. He found himself in the other world, released himself from the rope, and walked straight ahead. He walked and walked, and saw a copper castle. He entered the castle, and the youngest princess, rosier than a pink rose, whiter than white snow, came out to meet him and asked him kindly: “How have you come here, good youth—of your own will or by compulsion?” “Your father has sent me in search of you, princess.” She straightway seated him at the table, gave him meat and drink, and then handed him a phial with the water of strength. “Drink of this water,” she said, “and you will have added strength.” Dawn drank the phial of water and felt great power in himself. “Now,” he thought, “I can get the better of anyone.”
At this moment a wild wind arose, and the princess was frightened. “Presently,” she said, “my dragon will come.” And she took Dawn by his hand and hid him in the adjoining room. A three-headed dragon came flying, struck the damp earth, turned into a youth, and cried: “Oh, there is a Russian smell in here! Who is visiting you?” “Who could be here? You have been flying over Russia and you have the Russian smell in your nostrils—that is why you fancy it is here.” The dragon asked for food and drink; the princess brought him a variety of meats and drink and poured a sleeping potion into the wine. The dragon ate and drank his fill and was soon overwhelmed by drowsiness; he made the princess pick the lice from his hair, lay on her knees, and fell sound asleep. The princess called Dawn. He came forth, swung his sword, and cut off all of the dragon’s three heads; then he made a bonfire, burned the foul dragon and scattered his ashes in the open field. “Now farewell, princess! I am going to seek your sisters; and when I have found them I shall come back for you,” said Dawn, and set out.
He walked and walked, and came to a silver castle; in that castle lived the second princess. Dawn killed a six-headed dragon there and went on. After a long time or a short time, he reached a golden castle, and in that castle lived the eldest princess; Dawn killed a twelve-headed dragon and freed that princess from captivity. The princess was overjoyed, made ready to ret
urn home, went out into the wide courtyard, waved a red handkerchief, and the golden kingdom rolled up into an egg; she took the egg, put it in her pocket, and went with Dawn to seek her sisters. These princesses did the same thing: they rolled up their kingdoms into eggs, took them, and all of them went to the hole. Evening and Midnight pulled their brother and the three princesses out into the bright world. They all came together to their own land; the princesses rolled their eggs into the open field, and straightway three kingdoms appeared, a copper, a silver and a golden one. The king was more overjoyed than any tongue can tell; he immediately married Dawn, Evening, and Midnight to his daughters, and at his death made Dawn his heir.
TWO IVANS, SOLDIER’S SONS
IN A CERTAIN KINGDOM in a certain land there lived a peasant. The time came for him to be taken as a soldier. His wife was pregnant, and as he bade her farewell, he said: “Mind you, wife, live decently, do not become the laughingstock of respectable people. Do not ruin our house, but manage it wisely and await my return; with the help of God, I may be retired and return home. Here are fifty rubles for you; whether you give birth to a daughter or a son, keep the money till the child is of age. Thus you will have a dowry if you want to marry your daughter; and if God gives us a son, this money will be of no little help to him when he grows up.” He said farewell to his wife and marched off to the regiment to which he was ordered.
Three months later, his wife bore twin boys and named them each Ivan. The boys began to grow; like leavened wheat dough they stood higher and higher. When they were ten years old, their mother sent them to school; soon they learned their letters and were more than a match for the boyars’ and merchants’ sons—no one could read or write or answer questions better than they. The boyars’ and merchants’ sons envied the twins and beat and pinched them every day. One of the brothers said to the other: “How long will they beat and pinch us? Our mother will never be able to make us enough clothes or buy us enough caps; whatever we put on, our comrades tear to shreds. Let us show them what we can do.” So they agreed to stand by each other. Next day the boyars’ and merchants’ sons began to provoke them, and they, instead of bearing it patiently, replied in kind; they smashed an eye of one, tore off a hand of another, and knocked off the head of a third. They beat them all up, to the very last one. Then guards came, shackled the two good youths, and threw them into prison. The affair was brought before the king himself, who summoned the boys, questioned them about everything, and ordered them to be released, saying: “They are not guilty. God punished those who started the fight.”
When the two Ivans grew up they asked their mother: “Mother, did not: our father leave us some money? If so, let us have it; we will go to town to the fair and buy us each a good horse.” Their mother gave them fifty rubles, twenty-five to each, and said: “Listen to me, children! As you travel to town, bow to everyone whom you encounter.” “Very well, dear mother,” the two Ivans said.
The brothers went to town, came to the horse market, looked about, and saw many horses; but none was strong enough for the good youths. The one brother said to the other: “Let us go to the other end of the square; see what enormous crowds are gathered there.” They made their way through the crowd and saw two colts fastened with chains to oaken posts—one with six chains, the other with twelve. The horses tugged at their chains, gnawed their bits, and pawed the ground with their hoofs. No one could go near them. “What is the price of your colts?” one of the brothers asked the owner. “Don’t put your nose into this, friend,” answered the owner. “These wares are not for the likes of you.” “Why do you talk without knowing what you’re talking about?” said one Ivan. “Perhaps I can buy them—only first I must look at their teeth.” The owner smiled. “Go ahead, look—if you don’t mind losing your head!” One of the brothers went up to the horse that was tied with six chains and the other to the horse that was tied with twelve chains. They tried to look at the horses’ teeth, but there was no way of doing it; the colts reared up on their hind legs and snorted viciously. The brothers struck them in the breast with their knees; the chains burst asunder, the colts jumped up as high as ten yards, and fell with their legs up. “See what you boasted of!” said the brothers. “We wouldn’t take such jades for a gift.”
The crowd gasped with amazement at champions of such strength. The horse dealer was almost in tears: his colts had galloped beyond the town and began to run all over the open field; no one dared to come close to them and no one knew how to catch them. The two Ivans were sorry for the owner, went into the open field, called with loud shouts and mighty whistling, and the colts came back and stood as though rooted to the spot. The two good youths put the iron chains on them, led them to the oaken posts, and tethered them tightly. When they had done this they went home.
As they walked along the road, they met a gray old man, but, forgetting what their mother had told them, they passed him by without greeting him. Later one of them realized their mistake and said: “Ah, brother, what have we done? We did not bow to that old man; let us run after him and bow to him.” They caught up with the old man, doffed their caps, bowed to the waist, and said: “Forgive us, grandfather, for having gone by without greeting you. Our mother enjoined upon us strictly to pay honor to everyone whom we meet.” “Thanks, good youths! Whither is God taking you?” “We went to the fair and wanted to buy a horse for each of us, but we could not find suitable ones.” “How is that? Shall I give you each a little horse?” “Ah, grandfather, if you do, we shall always pray to God for you.” “Well, come with me.” The old man led them to a big mountain, opened a cast-iron door, and brought out two mighty steeds. “Here are your horses, good youths! God speed you—keep them and enjoy them!” They thanked him, mounted the steeds, and galloped home; they reached their house, tied the steeds to a post, and entered in. Their mother asked them: “Well, my children, have you got your horses?” “We did not buy them, we received them free.” “Where have you put them?” “At the side of the house.” “Ah, my children, someone might take them away.” “No, mother, not such horses. No one could even come near them, let alone take them away.” The mother went out to the yard, looked at the horses, and burst into tears. “Ah, my dear sons,” she said, “surely you are not going to be my support.”
Next day the sons asked their mother’s leave to go to town and buy swords for themselves. “Go, my beloved ones,” she said. They made ready and went to the smithy. “Make us each a sword,” they said to the master. “Why should I make them when I have them ready?” said the smith. “Take as many as you need.” “No, friend, we need swords that weigh a thousand pounds each.” “Eh, what kind of idea is that? Who could wield such a machine? In the whole world there is no forge big enough to forge them.” The good youths hung their heads and went home; on their way they met the same old man. “Good day, young men,” he said. “Good day, grandfather,” they replied. “Where have you been?” “At the smithy in town; we wanted to buy a sword for each of us, but we could not find any suitable ones.” “That’s bad! Shall I give you each a sword?” “Ah, grandfather, if you do, we shall always pray to God for you.” The old man led them to the big mountain, opened a cast-iron door, and brought out two mighty swords. They took the swords and thanked the old man, and their hearts were full of joy.
The two Ivans came home, and their mother asked them: “Well, my children, have you bought the swords?” “We did not buy them, we got them free.” “Where have you put them?” “We have stood them up in front of the house.” “Look out, someone might take them.” “No, mother, no one could even lift them, let alone cart them away.” The mother went out to the yard and saw two huge, heavy swords leaning against the wall, so that the little hut barely remained upright. She burst into tears and said: “Ah, my sons, surely you are not going to be my support.”
Next morning the two Ivans saddled their good steeds, came into the house, prayed to God, and said farewell to their mother. “Give us your blessing, mother,” they said, “for ou
r distant journey.” “Let my never ceasing maternal blessing be upon you, my children,” she said. “Go with God, show yourselves, and see people; offend no one without cause, and yield not to evil enemies.” “Fear not, mother! We have a motto: ‘When I ride I don’t whistle, but when I am forced to fight, I don’t yield.’ ” And the good youths mounted their steeds and rode off.
After they had gone a short distance or a long distance, a long time or a short time—for speedily a tale is spun, but with less speed a deed is done—they came to a crossroads where two posts stood. One post bore the inscription: ‘He who goes to the right will become a king.’ The other post bore the inscription: ‘He who goes to the left will be slain.’ The brothers stopped, read the inscriptions on the posts and wondered in which direction each should go. If both took the right, it would not do honor to their mighty strength, their youthful valor. If one went to the left—but who wants to die? But there was no choice, and so one brother said to the other: “Well, dear brother, I am stronger than you; I will go to the left and see what it is that can cause my death. But do you go to the right; perhaps God will help you and you will become king.” They said farewell to each other, exchanged handkerchiefs, and solemnly agreed that each would go his way, put up posts along the road, and write about himself on these posts as a mark and guide. They pledged that every morning each of them would wipe his face with his brother’s handkerchief; if one of them should see blood appearing on the handkerchief, it would mean that death had befallen his brother, and in the event of such a calamity he was to set out in search of the dead.
The good youths parted. The one who turned his steed to the right came to a glorious kingdom. In that kingdom there lived a king and queen whose daughter was Princess Nastasya the Beautiful. When the king saw Ivan, the soldier’s son, he loved him for his heroic valor, and without thinking very long about it gave him his daughter to wife, called him Prince Ivan, and charged him with the rule of the whole kingdom. Prince Ivan lived happily, feasted his eyes upon his wife, gave law and order to the kingdom and amused himself by hunting animals. One day he made ready to go hunting, began to put the trappings on his horse, and found two phials sewed up in the saddle: one contained healing water and the other the water of life. He looked at these phials and put them back into the saddle. “I shall keep them for my hour of danger,” he thought. “Some day they may be needed.”
Russian Fairy Tales (Pantheon Fairy Tale and Folklore Library) Page 44
