Russian Fairy Tales (Pantheon Fairy Tale and Folklore Library)

by Afanas'Ev, Aleksandr

  Maria Morevna, the beautiful queen, took Prince Ivan with her to her kingdom. They lived together for some time, then the queen decided to make war; she left all her household in Prince Ivan’s charge and told him: “Go everywhere, take care of everything; only never look into this closet.” But he could not restrain himself; as soon as Maria Morevna had gone, he rushed to the closet, opened the door, looked in. Inside the closet Koshchey the Deathless was hanging chained with twelve chains. Koshchey begged of Prince Ivan: “Take pity on me, give me a drink! For ten years I have been tormented here, without food or drink; my throat is all parched.” The prince gave him a whole keg of water; he drank it and asked for more. “One keg will not quench my thirst,” he said. “Give me another!” The prince gave him another keg of water; Koshchey drank it and asked for a third, and after he had drunk his third kegful he recovered his former strength, shook his chains, and broke all twelve of them at once. “Thanks, Prince Ivan,” said Koshchey the Deathless, “now you will never see Maria Morevna again—not any more than you will see your own ears.” And he flew out of the window in a terrible whirlwind, overtook Maria Morevna, the beautiful queen, seized her, and carried her off to his house.

  Prince Ivan wept bitterly, made ready, and set out on his way to seek her. “Whatever may befall me, I must find Maria Morevna,” he said. He walked one day, then a second day, and as the third day dawned he beheld a marvelous castle; near the castle stood an oak, and on the oak sat the bright falcon. The falcon flew down from the oak, struck the ground, turned into a brave knight, and exclaimed: “Ah, my dear brother-in-law! How does the Lord favor you?” Princess Maria ran out, received Prince Ivan with joy, questioned him about his health, and told him about her own life. The prince stayed with them for three days and said: “I cannot stay with you a long time, I am looking for my wife, Maria Morevna, the beautiful queen.” “It will be hard for you to find her,” said the falcon. “Leave your silver spoon here in any case; we shall look at it and remember you.” Prince Ivan left his silver spoon with the falcon and went on his way.

  He walked one day, then another day, and as the third day dawned he saw a castle more magnificent than the first; near the castle stood an oak, and on the oak sat an eagle. The eagle flew down from the oak, struck the ground, turned into a brave knight, and exclaimed: “Arise, Princess Olga, our beloved brother is coming!” Princess Olga straightway ran out to receive Prince Ivan, embraced and kissed him, questioned him about his health, and told him about her own life. Prince Ivan stayed with them for three days, and said: “I have no time to visit longer; I am looking for my wife, Maria Morevna, the beautiful queen.” The eagle said: “It will be hard for you to find her. Leave your silver fork with us; we shall look at it and remember you.” Prince Ivan left his silver fork and went his way.

  He walked one day, then another day, and, as the third day dawned he beheld a castle even more magnificent than the first two; near the castle stood an oak, and on the oak sat a raven. The raven flew down from the oak, struck the ground, turned into a brave knight, and exclaimed: “Princess Anna, come out quickly, our brother is coming!” Princess Anna ran out, received Prince Ivan with joy, embraced and kissed him, questioned him about his health, and told him about her own life. Prince Ivan stayed with them for three days and then he said: “Farewell! I must go now to look for my wife, Maria Morevna, the beautiful queen.” The raven said: “It will be hard for you to find her. Leave your silver snuffbox with us; we shall look at it and remember you.” The prince gave them his silver snuffbox, said farewell, and went on his way.

  He walked one day, he walked another day, and on the third day came to Maria Morevna. When she saw her beloved, she threw herself on his neck, shed tears, and said: “Ah, Prince Ivan, why did you disobey me, why did you look into the closet and release Koshchey the Deathless?” “Forgive me, Maria Morevna! Do not recall the past. Instead, come with me while Koshchey is away; perhaps he will not overtake us.” They made ready and left. Koshchey was out hunting; at nightfall he returned home, and his good steed stumbled under him. “Why do you stumble, hungry jade?” he cried. “Or do you sense some mishap?” The steed answered: “Prince Ivan was here and has carried off Maria Morevna.” “And can we overtake them?” “We could sow wheat, wait till it grows, reap it, thresh it, grind it into flour, bake five ovenfuls of bread, eat that bread, and after all that set out in pursuit—and even then we would overtake them.”

  Koshchey galloped off and overtook Prince Ivan. “Well,” he said, “the first time I forgive you, because of your kindness in having given me water to drink; the second time I will forgive you too. But the third time, take care—I will cut you into little pieces.” He took Maria Morevna from the prince and carried her off; and Prince Ivan sat on a stone and wept. He wept and wept, and went back again for Maria Morevna; Koshchey the Deathless happened to be away. “Let us go, Maria Morevna!” he said. “Ah, Prince Ivan, he will catch us!” “Let him catch us; we shall at least have spent an hour or two together.” They made ready and left. As Koshchey the Deathless was returning home, his good steed stumbled under him. “Why do you stumble, hungry jade?” he asked. “Or do you sense a mishap?” “Prince Ivan was here and has carried off Maria Morevna.” “And can we overtake them?” “We could sow barley, wait till it grows, reap and thresh it, brew beer, drink ourselves drunk, sleep our fill, and after all that set out in pursuit—and even then we could overtake them.”

  Koshchey galloped off and overtook Prince Ivan. “Did I not tell you,” he said, “that you would not see Maria Morevna again—not any more than you can see your own ears?” And he took the queen and carried her off to his house. Prince Ivan was left alone; he wept and wept and went back again for Maria Morevna. At that time also Koshchey happened to be away. “Let us go, Maria Morevna,” the prince said. “But Prince Ivan, he will catch you and cut you into little pieces!” “Let him cut me to pieces. I cannot live without you.” They made ready and left. As Koshchey the Deathless was returning home, his good steed stumbled under him. “Why do you stumble?” he said. “Do you sense some mishap?” “Prince Ivan was here and has carried off Maria Morevna.” Koshchey galloped off, overtook Prince Ivan, cut him into tiny pieces, and put the pieces in a tarred barrel; he took the barrel, reinforced it with iron hoops, threw it into the blue sea, and carried Maria Morevna off to his house.

  At that very moment the silver blackened in the castles of Prince Ivan’s brothers-in-law. “Ah,” they said, “a misfortune must have happened to our brother-in-law.” The eagle hurried to the blue sea, seized the barrel, and pulled it ashore, while the falcon flew for the water of life and the raven for the water of death. All three of them gathered together in one place, broke the barrel, took out the pieces of Prince Ivan, washed them, and put them together in the right order. The raven sprinkled them with the water of death, and the pieces grew together and joined; the falcon sprinkled the body with the water of life, and Prince Ivan shuddered, rose up, and said: “Ah, how long I have slept!” “You would have slept even longer had it not been for us,” said the brothers-in-law. “Now come to visit us.” “No, brothers! I shall go to look for Maria Morevna.”

  He came to the queen and said: “Find out from Koshchey the Deathless where he got himself such a good steed.” Maria Morevna seized an opportune moment and began to question Koshchey. He said: “Beyond thrice nine lands, in the thrice tenth kingdom, beyond a river of fire, lives Baba Yaga; she has a mare on which she flies around the world every day. She also has many other splendid mares; I served as her herdsman for three days letting not even one mare go astray, and as a reward Baba Yaga gave me one colt.” “But how did you cross the river of fire?” “I have a handkerchief of such sort that if I wave it three times to the right, a very high bridge springs up and the fire cannot reach it.”

  Maria Morevna listened to him, carefully repeated everything to Prince Ivan, stole the handkerchief, and gave it to him. Prince Ivan crossed the river of fire and went forth to find Baba Yag
a. He walked for a long time without eating or drinking. He happened to come upon a bird from beyond the sea, with her young. Prince Ivan said: “I shall eat one of your little chicks.” “Do not eat him, Prince Ivan,” begged the bird from beyond the sea. “Some day I shall be useful to you.” He went on and saw a beehive in the forest. “I shall take some honey,” he said. The queen bee answered him: “Do not touch my honey, Prince Ivan; some day I shall be useful to you.” He did not touch the honey and went on. He met a lioness and her whelp. “Let me at least eat this little lion, I am so hungry that I am sick,” he said. “Do not touch him, Prince Ivan,” the lioness begged. “Some day I shall be useful to you.” “Well, so be it.”

  He plodded on, still hungry; he walked and walked, till he spied the house of Baba Yaga. Around the house were twelve stakes and on eleven of these stakes were human heads; only one stake was bare. “Good day, grandmother,” said the prince. “Good day, Prince Ivan! Why have you come—of your own free will or from need?” “I have come to earn a mighty steed from you.” “You may try, prince. One need not serve a year with me, but only three days. If you can tend my mares, I will give you a mighty steed; and if you cannot, do not hold it against me—but your head will go on the last stake.” Prince Ivan consented; Baba Yaga gave him meat and drink and ordered him to set to work. He had no sooner driven the mares into the field than they raised their tails and scattered over the meadows; the prince had not even cast a glance about before they vanished from sight. He wept and was grieved, sat on a stone, and fell asleep. The sun was setting when the bird from beyond the sea flew to him and roused him. “Arise, Prince Ivan! The mares have come home.” The prince arose, returned to the house, and found Baba Yaga scolding her mares and crying: “Why did you come home?” “How could we help coming home?” they replied. “Birds swarmed up from every corner of the world and almost pecked our eyes out!” “Well, tomorrow don’t run in the meadows, but scatter through deep forests.”

  Prince Ivan slept that night. In the morning Baba Yaga said to him: “Mind you, prince, if you do not tend the mares, if you lose even one of them, your rash head will go on that stake.” He drove the mares into the field; they raised their tails at once and scattered in the deep forests. Again the prince sat on a stone, wept and wept, and fell asleep. The sun was setting behind the forest when the lioness ran up to him. “Arise, Prince Ivan!” she said. “The mares are gathered together.” Prince Ivan rose and returned to the house and found Baba Yaga scolding her mares even more severely than before and crying: “Why did you return home?” “How could we help going home,” they replied, “when wild beasts came from every corner of the world and almost tore us to pieces!” “Well, tomorrow you are to run into the blue sea.”

  Prince Ivan slept again that night; in the morning Baba Yaga sent him to graze the mares. “If you do not tend them,” she said to him, “your rash head will sit on that stake.” He drove the mares into the field; they straightway raised their tails, vanished from sight, and ran into the blue sea; they stood in the water up to their necks. Prince Ivan sat on a stone, wept, and fell asleep. The sun was setting behind the forest when the bee flew up to him and said: “Arise, prince! All the mares are gathered together. But when you return home, do not show yourself to Baba Yaga; go to the stable and hide behind the manger. There you will find a mangy colt wallowing on a dung heap; steal him, and on the stroke of midnight leave the house.” Prince Ivan arose, made his way to the stable, and hid behind the manger. Baba Yaga scolded her mares and cried: “Why did you return?” “How could we help returning?” they replied. “An innumerable host of bees came swarming from every corner of the world and fell to stinging us till the blood ran all over our sides!”

  Baba Yaga fell asleep, and on the stroke of midnight Prince Ivan stole the mangy colt, saddled him, mounted him, and galloped to the river of fire. When he came to the river, he waved his handkerchief to the right three times, and suddenly, as though from nowhere, a high, magnificent bridge hung over the river. The prince went across the bridge and waved his handkerchief to the left side only twice, and there remained a thin, very thin bridge above the river.

  Next morning Baba Yaga awoke and found that the mangy colt was gone. She rushed off in pursuit, galloping in an iron mortar as fast as she could, urging it on with a pestle, and sweeping her traces with a broom. She galloped to the river of fire, looked, and thought: “The bridge is good.” She rode on the bridge, and as soon as she reached the middle it broke; and Baba Yaga fell into the river and died a cruel death. Prince Ivan fed his colt in the green meadows and it became a marvelous steed. The prince rode to Maria Morevna. She ran out to meet him, threw herself on his neck, and cried: “How has God brought you back to life?” “In such and such a way,” he said. “Come with me.” “I am afraid, Prince Ivan. If Koshchey catches you, he will again cut you to pieces.” “No, he will not catch me! I now have a magnificent mighty steed that flies like a bird.” They mounted the steed and rode off.

  Koshchey the Deathless was returning home and his steed stumbled under him. “Why do you stumble, you hungry jade?” he cried. “Do you sense a mishap?” “Prince Ivan was here and has carried off Maria Morevna.” “And can we overtake them?” “God knows! Prince Ivan now has a mighty steed better than myself.” “No, I won’t endure this!” said Koshchey the Deathless. “I’ll pursue him!” After a long time or a short time, he caught up with Prince Ivan, jumped to the ground, and tried to cut him down with his sharp saber. At that moment Prince Ivan’s steed swung a hoof with all his strength and struck Koshchey the Deathless, smashing his head, and the prince finished him off with his mace. Thereupon the prince gathered together a pile of wood, made a fire, burned Koshchey the Deathless, and scattered his ashes to the wind. Maria Morevna sat on Koshchey’s steed, and Prince Ivan on his own, and they went to see first the raven, then the eagle, and last the falcon. Wherever they went, they were received with joy. “Ah, Prince Ivan,” everyone said, “we had given up hope of ever seeing you again. Indeed, you have not taken all these pains for nothing; such a beauty as Maria Morevna could be sought throughout the world, but her equal could never be found!” They visited and feasted and rode back to their own kingdom; when they came there, they began to live and prosper and drink mead.

  THE SOLDIER AND THE KING

  IN A CERTAIN KINGDOM in a certain land there lived a peasant who had two sons. The elder son was drafted to serve as a soldier. He served his sovereign loyally and truthfully, and was so fortunate that in a few years he was promoted to the rank of general. At that time there was a new recruitment, and his younger brother was taken into service; the boy had his skull shaved, and it so happened that he was sent to the same regiment in which his brother was a general. The new recruit recognized the general, but he got nothing for his trouble; his brother said bluntly: “I don’t know you, and don’t you try to know me.”

  One day the soldier stood on guard near the general’s quarters; the general was then giving a banquet, and many officers and fine gentlemen had come to attend it. The soldier saw that others were feasting and making merry while he had nothing, and began to weep bitter tears. The guests asked him: “Soldier, why are you weeping?” “How can I help weeping?” he said. “My own brother is making merry and does not remember me.” The guests told this to the general, who fell into a rage: “Don’t believe him, he is lying, the fool!” He ordered his brother to be relieved of guard duty and to be punished with three hundred lashes for having dared to claim kinship with the general. The soldier felt humiliated; he put on his campaign suit and deserted from the regiment.

  After a long time or a short time, he came to a thick forest that was almost never entered by anyone, and stayed there, living on berries and roots. Soon afterward the king went hunting, accompanied by a great retinue; they galloped in the open field, set their hounds loose, blew their trumpets, and began to enjoy themselves. Suddenly a beautiful stag darted past the king and jumped into a river; he swam across and vanished in
the forest. The king swam across and galloped after him for a long time. He looked about him, but the stag was out of sight; the other hunters remained far behind and he was surrounded by a dark, thick forest. He did not know where to go, there was no path in sight. He wandered until sunset and grew very tired. He met the runaway soldier, who said: “Good evening, my good fellow, how have you happened to come here?” “I went out hunting and lost my way in the woods,” said the king. “Lead me out to the road, brother.” “But who are you?” “A servant of the king.” “Well, it is dark now; let us go to spend the night in a ravine, and tomorrow morning I shall lead you out to the road.”

  They went to find a place to spend the night, and after some time saw a little hut. “God has been kind to us and showed us a shelter,” said the soldier. “Let us go in.” They entered the hut, and inside they found an old woman. “Good evening, grandmother,” said the soldier. “Good evening, soldier.” “Give us food and drink.” “I would gladly eat myself, but I have nothing in the house.” “You are lying, old hag!” said the soldier, and began to rummage in the stove and on the shelves. He discovered that the old woman was well supplied with wine and all kinds of food. They sat at table, had a good supper, and went to sleep in the attic. The soldier said to the king: “God protects him who protects himself. Let one of us rest while the other keeps watch.” They cast lots, and it fell to the king to keep watch first. The soldier gave the watcher his short saber, and stationed him at the door, bidding the king not to fall asleep and to rouse him at once should something happen; then he went to sleep, wondering whether his companion would be a good guard. “Perhaps he won’t be able to keep awake from lack of habit,” he thought, “but I will keep an eye on him.”