After some time, a short time or a long time, the brave huntsman came to the edge of the world and stopped at the shore of the sea. The valiant horse saw a huge crab crawling on the sand, and stepped on its neck with his heavy hoof. The crab spoke out: “Do not give me death, give me life! I will do whatever you want.” The horse answered: “In the middle of the blue sea there lies a great stone, under that stone Princess Vasilisa’s wedding gown is hid. Get me that gown!” The crab called in a loud voice all over the blue sea; at once the sea became agitated, and from all sides big and little crabs came crawling to the shore—a numberless multitude! The chief crab gave them a command and they jumped into the water. After an hour’s time they dragged Princess Vasilisa’s wedding gown from the bottom of the sea, from under the great stone.
The brave huntsman came to the king, bringing the princess’ gown; but Princess Vasilisa was still obdurate. “I will not marry you,” she said to the king, “unless you order the brave huntsman to bathe in boiling water.” The king had an iron cauldron filled with water; he ordered that it be heated and that the huntsman be thrown in when the water came to the boiling point. Everything was ready, the water was boiling and bubbling; the unfortunate huntsman was led to the cauldron. “Now this is trouble!” he thought. “Ah, why did I ever pick up the golden feather of the Firebird? Why did I not heed my horse?” He recalled his valiant steed and said to the king: “King, my sovereign! Let me say farewell to my horse before I die.” “Very well, go, say farewell to him,” said the king.
The huntsman came to his valiant horse and wept bitter tears. “Why are you weeping, master?” the horse asked. “The king has commanded me to bathe in boiling water.” “Fear not, weep not, you will live!” And the horse quickly charmed the huntsman, so that the boiling water would not harm his white body. The huntsman came back from the stable; servants seized him at once and threw him straight into the cauldron. He ducked his head once or twice, jumped out of the cauldron—and turned into such a handsome man as no tale can tell of nor pen describe. The king, seeing that his huntsman had become so handsome in the boiling water, wanted to bathe in it too; he foolishly plunged into the cauldron and was boiled on the spot. He was buried, and in his place the brave huntsman was enthroned; he married Princess Vasilisa, and lived long years with her in love and concord.
BEASTS IN A PIT
A PIG WAS on his way to Piter* to pray to God. He met a wolf. “Pig, pig, where are you going?” “To Piter, to pray to God.” “Take me with you.” “Come along, neighbor.” They walked and walked and met a fox. “Pig, pig, where are you going?” “To Piter, to pray to God.” “Take me with you too.” “Come along, neighbor.” They walked and met a hare. “Pig, pig, where are you going?” “To Piter, to pray to God.” “Take me with you.” “Come along, Slant Eyes!” Then a squirrel joined them and they walked and walked. At last they came to a ditch in the road, a ditch wide and deep. The pig jumped, and fell into the ditch, and after her the wolf, the fox, the hare, and the squirrel all fell in; they sat there for a long time and were very hungry, but there was nothing to eat.
Then the fox thought up a plan. “Let us,” she said, “try out our own voices; whichever of us sings in the thinnest voice, him we shall eat.” The wolf began in a rough voice: “O-o-o!” The pig sang in a slightly softer voice: “U-u-u!” The fox sang still more softly: “E-e-e!” And the hare and the squirrel piped in a thin voice: “I-i-i!” The bigger beasts at once tore the hare and the squirrel to pieces and gobbled them down to the last bone. The next day the fox said again: “Whoever sings in the roughest voice, him we shall eat.” The wolf sang in the roughest voice—“O-o-o!”—and was eaten up. The fox ate the flesh but hid the entrails under herself. After about three days she began to eat the entrails. The pig asked her: “What are you eating, neighbor? Give me some.” “Eh, pig, I am pulling out my own bowels; tear your belly open too, pull out your bowels, and eat of them.” The pig did this; he tore his belly open and the fox had him for dinner. So the fox remained all alone in the ditch, and whether she finally climbed out or is still there, I really cannot say.
* Colloquialism for “St. Petersburg.”
THE DOG AND THE WOODPECKER
ONCE THERE LIVED a peasant and his wife and they did not need to work at all; they had a dog that gave them meat and drink. Then came a day when the dog grew old and could not think of feeding the peasant and his wife; in fact, he almost died of hunger himself. “Listen, old man,” said the woman. “Take this dog, lead him beyond the village, and chase him away; let him go wherever he wants, we don’t need him now. There was a time when he fed us; then it was worth while keeping him.” The old man took the dog, led him out of the village, and chased him away. And so the dog walked in the open field and was afraid to go home lest the old man and woman beat him. The dog walked and walked, then sat on the ground and began to howl in a loud voice. A woodpecker flew by and asked: “Why do you howl?” “How can I help howling, woodpecker? When I was young I gave the old man and his wife food and drink; when I grew old, they drove me away. I don’t know where to spend my last days.” “Come to me, guard my children, and I will feed you,” said the woodpecker. The dog consented and ran after the woodpecker.
They came to an old oak; in the oak there was a hollow, and in the hollow was the woodpecker’s nest. “Sit near the oak,” said the woodpecker, “do not let anyone in, and I will fly to find food.” The dog sat by the oak and the woodpecker flew off. He flew and flew and saw women walking along the road carrying pots—their husbands’ dinner pails. He flew back to the oak and said: “Now, dog, follow me; along the road there are women with pails, carrying dinner to their husbands in the field. You stand behind a bush, and I will plunge into water, roll in sand, and fly low before the women on the road, as though unable to fly higher. They will put their pails on the ground and run after me, trying to catch me. Then you rush to the pails and eat your fill.” The dog followed the woodpecker and, just as he had been told to do, stood behind a bush, while the woodpecker rolled in sand and began to flutter before the women on the road. “Look,” said the women, “the woodpecker is all wet, let us catch him.” They put their pails on the ground and ran after the woodpecker, and he flew farther and farther, led them to one side, rose high, and flew away. Meanwhile the dog had run out from behind the bush, eaten up everything that was in the pots, and gone away. The women came back and found the pails empty; there was nothing they could do, so they took their pails and went home.
The woodpecker overtook the dog and asked: “Well, have you eaten your fill?” “Yes,” said the dog. “Then let us go home,” said the woodpecker. He flew and the dog ran after him; on the way they met a fox. “Catch the fox,” said the woodpecker. The dog jumped after the fox and the fox darted off. Just then a peasant happened to drive by with a barrel of tar. The fox shot across the road, straight to the cart, and jumped through the spokes of the wheel; the dog jumped after her, but got stuck in the wheel and gave up the ghost. “Ah, peasant,” said the woodpecker, “since you have run over my dog, I will cause you great trouble.” He sat on the cart and began to bore a hole in the barrel, pecking at its bottom. When the peasant drove him away from the barrel, he flew to the horse, sat between his ears, and bored a hole in his head. When the peasant drove him away from the horse, he returned to the barrel, pierced a hole in it, and let out all the tar. Then he said: “That is not all!” And again he began to bore a hole in the horse’s head. The peasant took a big log, sat in his cart, waited for an opportune moment, and struck with all his strength; only he did not hit the woodpecker, he hit the horse on the head and killed him. The woodpecker flew to the peasant’s house and went in through the window. The peasant’s wife was busy making a fire in the stove and her little child was sitting on the bench; the woodpecker sat on the child’s head and began to peck at it. The woman tried to drive him away, but could not; the vicious woodpecker kept pecking and pecking. Finally the peasant woman grabbed a stick and struck: she did n
ot hit the woodpecker, but hurt her own child.
TWO KINDS OF LUCK
THERE WAS ONCE a peasant who had two sons. After his death, the two brothers married; the older took a poor wife and the younger a rich wife. They lived together and did not divide the estate. The wives began to quarrel. One said: “My husband is the elder brother, so I should have precedence.” And the other said: “No, I should have precedence, for I am wealthier than you.” The brothers watched all this for a time, saw that their wives did not get along together, divided their father’s estate equally, and parted. The elder brother’s wife bore a child every year, and his household went from bad to worse, until he was completely ruined. While he had bread and money, his heart rejoiced over his children; but when he grew poor even his children did not make him happy. He went to his younger brother to ask for help. The brother refused bluntly, saying: “You must stand on your own feet; I have growing children of my own.”
After a short time, the poor brother again came to the rich one. “Lend me some horses at least for one day,” he said. “I have no beasts to do my plowing with.” “Go to the field and take a horse for a day,” the rich brother said, “but take care not to overwork him.” The poor man came to the field and saw some men plowing the ground with his brother’s horses. “Stop!” he cried. “Who are you?” “Why do you ask?” “Because these are my brother’s horses.” “Don’t you see,” said one of the plowmen, “that I am your brother’s Luck? He drinks, makes merry, and does not bother about anything, while we work for him.” “Then what has happened to my Luck?” “Your Luck is lying over there behind a bush, wearing a red shirt; he doesn’t do anything night or day, he just sleeps all the time.” “Very well,” thought the peasant, “I’ll take care of you.”
He cut himself a thick club, sneaked up to his Luck, and hit the fellow on the side with all his strength. Luck awoke and said: “Why do you want to pick a fight with me?” “Just wait,” answered the poor brother. “You’ll see what a thrashing I’ll give you! Look! These good people plow the ground while you sleep like a log.” “Do you mean to say that you want me to plow for you? Don’t expect anything like that!” “So you intend to lie here behind the bush? That way I’ll starve!” “If you want me to help you, drop your farming and engage in trade. I am not used to your kind of work, but I am well versed in all kinds of business.” “You want me to engage in trade? But with what? I have not even enough money to buy food, let alone for starting a business.” “Well, you can take your wife’s old dress and sell it; for the money buy a new one and sell it too; I will help you and won’t leave you for a minute.” “Very well,” said the peasant.
Next morning the poor man said to his wife: “Well, wife, make ready, we’re going to town.” “What for?” “I want to join the merchants’ guild and engage in trade.” “Are you in your right mind? We have nothing to feed our children with, and now you want to go to town!” “Don’t argue with me! Pack all our belongings, take the children, and let us go.” They made ready, said their prayers, began to lock their little hut, and heard someone weeping bitterly in the cellar. The peasant asked: “Who is weeping there?” “It is I, Misery.” “Why are you weeping?” “How can I help weeping? You’re going away and leaving me here.” “No, my dear, I’ll take you with me, I won’t desert you. Hey, wife, throw your things out of this coffer.” The wife emptied the coffer. “Now, Misery, crawl into the coffer.” Misery crawled in; the peasant locked it with three locks, buried the coffer in the earth, and said: “Perish, accursed Misery! Let me never in my life know you again.”
The poor man came to town with his wife and children, rented a lodging, and began to trade. He took his wife’s old dress, carried it to the bazaar, and sold it for a ruble; with that ruble he bought a new dress and sold it for two roubles. Through such lucky deals, getting double his cost for everything he sold, he enriched himself in a very short time and joined the merchants’ guild. His younger brother heard about this, came to visit him, and asked: “Tell me, please—how have you managed to turn from a beggar into a rich man?” “That’s very simple,” the merchant answered. “I locked Misery into a coffer and buried it in the earth.” “Where?” “In the village, in my own old home.” The younger brother was almost in tears from envy; he straightway drove to the village, dug up the coffer, and set Misery free. “Go to my brother,” he said. “Ruin him to the last thread.” “No,” said Misery, “I’d rather stay with you. I won’t go to him; you’re a kind fellow, you let me go free. Your brother is an evildoer, he put me into the ground.” After a short time the envious brother was ruined, and turned from a wealthy peasant into a penniless beggar.
GO I KNOW NOT WHITHER, BRING BACK I KNOW NOT WHAT
IN A CERTAIN KINGDOM there lived an unmarried king who had a whole company of archers; the archers went ahunting, shot birds of passage, and provided the sovereign’s table with game. In that company there served a brave marksman by the name of Fedot. He hit the mark accurately, almost never missed, and for that reason the king loved him more than all his comrades. One day Fedot went hunting very early in the morning, at the very break of day. He entered a dark, thick forest and spied a dove perched on a tree. Fedot cocked his gun, aimed, fired, and broke one of the bird’s wings; she fell from the tree to the damp earth. The archer picked her up and was about to tear off her head and put her in his bag, when the dove spoke to him and said: “Ah, brave marksman, do not tear off my rash little head, do not remove me from the bright world; rather, take me alive, carry me home, put me on the window sill, and watch—the moment that drowsiness overcomes me, strike me with the back of your right hand, and you will gain a great fortune.” The archer was greatly amazed. “What is this?” he thought. “In appearance she is completely a bird, yet she speaks with a human voice! Such a thing has never happened before.”
He brought the bird home, put it on the window sill, and stood waiting. A short time later, the dove put her head under her wing and fell asleep; then the archer raised his right hand, struck her lightly with the back of his hand, and the dove fell to the floor and turned into a sweet maiden more beautiful than any mind can conceive of, or tongue tell of. Such a beauty had never been seen in the whole world. She said to the good youth, the king’s archer: “You have known how to win me, now learn how to live with me; you shall be my chosen husband, and I shall be your God-given wife.” Fedot married her and lived on, rejoicing in his young wife without neglecting his duties; every morning as soon as day broke he took his gun, went into the forest, shot a variety of game, and carried it to the king’s kitchen.
His wife saw that he was quite weary of all this hunting and said to him: “Listen, my beloved, I am worried about you: every single day you torment yourself, you wander through forests and swamps, you always return home soaked through, and we are none the better for it. What kind of trade is that? I know how to do something that will really make us rich. Get me one or two hundred rubles, and I will change our lot.” Fedot made the round of his comrades, borrowing a ruble from one, two rubles from another, and thus collected two hundred rubles. He brought the money to his wife. “Now,” she said, “buy me various silks for this money.” The archer bought two hundred rubles’ worth of silks; she took them and said: “Be of good cheer, pray to God, and lie down to sleep; the morning is wiser than the evening.”
The husband fell asleep but the wife went out on the porch, and opened her magic book. Instantly two spirits appeared before her, ready to do whatever she commanded. “Take this silk,” she said, “and in one single hour make me a carpet so wonderful that the world has never seen its equal. On this carpet let a view of the whole kingdom be embroidered, with towns, villages, rivers, and lakes.” The spirits set to work and in less than an hour, in ten minutes, they had the carpet ready—a marvel for all to behold. They gave it to the marksman’s wife and vanished in a trice, as though they had never been there. Next morning she gave the carpet to her husband, saying: “Here, take this to the bazaar and sell it
to the merchants. But mind you—do not set the price yourself, take whatever they give you.”
Fedot took the carpet, unrolled it, hung it on his arm, and went to the bazaar. A merchant saw it, came up to him, and said: “My good man, is this for sale?” “It is.” “How much is it?” “You are a trader, so you set the price.” The merchant thought and thought, but could not set a price on the carpet. Another merchant joined them, then a third and a fourth; a whole crowd of them gathered, marveled at the carpet, but could not set a price on it. At that moment the king’s steward passed by, saw the crowd, and wanted to know what the merchants were discussing. He got out of his carriage, came up to them, and said: “Good day, merchants, guests from beyond the sea! What are you talking about?” “We cannot set a price on this carpet.” The king’s steward looked at the carpet and he too marveled at it. “Listen, marksman,” he said, “tell me the real truth: where did you get such a magnificent carpet?” “My wife made it.” “How much shall I give you for it?” “I don’t know the price myself; my wife told me not to bargain, and to accept whatever I am given.” “Well, here are ten thousand rubles for you.”
The marksman took the money and gave the steward the carpet. Now this steward was always with the king, he drank and ate at the king’s table. When he went to dine with the king he took along the carpet. “Would it not please Your Majesty,” he said, “to see what a splendid thing I have bought today?” The king looked and saw all of his kingdom as on the palm of his hand; he gasped in amazement. “That is a carpet!” he exclaimed. “In all my life I have not seen such skillful work. Well, steward, do what you please, but I shall not give this carpet back to you!” The king straightway gave his steward twenty-five thousand rubles and hung the carpet in his palace. “Never mind,” thought the steward, “I will order a better one for myself.”
Russian Fairy Tales (Pantheon Fairy Tale and Folklore Library) Page 48
