The king stood for some time, then he began to feel sleepy. “Why are you swaying?” the soldier called to him. “Are you sleepy?” “No,” said the king. “Be careful!” said the soldier. The king stood for a quarter of an hour and again began to drowse. “Eh, friend,” said the soldier, “aren’t you sleeping?” “No, I have no intention of sleeping.” “Well, should you fall asleep, you will have to answer for it.” The king stood for another quarter of an hour; his legs gave way under him, he dropped on the ground and fell asleep. The soldier jumped up, took his saber, and began to thrash the king, repeating: “Is that the way to keep watch? I served ten years, and my superiors never forgave me a single mistake; apparently you have never been taught anything. I forgave you the first and the second time, but the third fault cannot be forgiven. Well, lie down to sleep now, I will keep watch myself.”
The king lay down to sleep and the soldier stood guard. Suddenly there was a noise of stamping and whistling: robbers had come to the hut, and the old woman went out to meet them and said: “We have guests here.” “That is fine, grandmother! We have been riding all night for nothing, and our luck has now come to our house. But first let us eat supper. “But our guests have eaten and drunk everything.” “They must be bold fellows! Where are they?” “They went to sleep in the attic.” “Well,” said one of the robbers, “I’ll go up and take care of them.” He took a big knife and began to climb to the attic, but he had no sooner stuck his head through the door than the soldier swung his saber, and the head rolled. The soldier pulled in the body and stood waiting to see what would happen next. The robbers waited and waited, and said: “Why is he dallying there all this time?” They sent another one of their band; the soldier slew him too. Thus in a short time he slew all the robbers.
At daybreak the king awoke, saw the corpses, and asked: “Hey, soldier, what kind of place is this?” The soldier told him about everything that had happened, and then they went down from the attic. The soldier saw the old woman and cried: “Wait, you old hag! I’ll settle your account. So that’s what your house is—a robbers’ den! Give me all your money at once!” The old woman opened a chest filled with gold; the soldier poured gold into his knapsack, stuffed all his pockets, and said to his companion: “Take some too!” The king answered: “No, brother, I don’t need it; our king has plenty of money even without this, and since he has it, we too can have it.” “Well, just as you like,” said the soldier, and led him out of the woods. When they came to the highway, the soldier said: “Follow this road; in an hour you will be in town.” “Farewell,” said the king, “thanks for your kindness. Come to visit me; I’ll help you make your fortune, man.” “It’s no use lying to you, I am a deserter and if I show myself in town, I will be caught at once.” “Do not doubt my word, soldier! The king favors me very much; if I speak to him on your behalf, and tell him about your courage, he will not only forgive you but even reward you.” “But where can I find you?” “Come straight to the royal palace.” “Very well, then; I’ll come tomorrow.”
The king took leave of the soldier, went along the highway, came to his capital, and without waiting gave orders to all the guardhouses, posts, and patrols to be on the alert and as soon as a certain soldier showed himself, to give him the honors due a general. Next day, as soon as the soldier appeared at the city gate, all the guards ran out and saluted him as they would a general. The soldier wondered what that could mean, and asked: “Whom are you saluting?” they answered: “You, soldier!” He took a handful of gold out of his knapsack and gave it to the guards as a tip. He walked in the town; wherever he appeared, the guards saluted him—he hardly had time to tip them all. “What a chatterbox the king’s servant is!” thought the soldier. “He has blurted out to everyone that I have plenty of money.” He came to the palace, and there troops had been assembled and the king met him, dressed in the same clothes in which he had gone hunting.
When the soldier realized with whom he had spent the night in the woods, he was terribly frightened. “So this is the king,” he thought. “And I thrashed him with my saber as though he were a comrade.” The king took him by his hand, thanked him before the assembled troops for rescuing his king, and rewarded him with the rank of general. At the same time the king demoted the elder brother and made him a simple private, to teach him not to disavow his own kin in the future.
THE SORCERESS
IN A CERTAIN KINGDOM there lived a king whose daughter was a sorceress. At the king’s court there was a priest, and the priest had a ten-year-old son who every day went to a certain old woman to learn how to read. One day the boy happened to return from his lesson late at night; as he went by the king’s palace he looked in at a window. At that window sat the princess, making her toilet. She took off her head, soaped it, rinsed it in clear water, combed her hair with a comb, plaited a tress, and then put her head back in its place. The boy marveled—“How cunning she is, a real magician!” He returned home and told everyone that he had seen the princess without her head. Suddenly the king’s daughter fell very ill. She called her father and said to him: “If I die, make the priest’s son read the psalter over me three nights in succession.” The princess died, was put in a coffin, and carried to the church. The king summoned the priest and asked: “Do you have a son?” “I have, Your Majesty.” “Then let him read the psalter over my daughter three nights in succession.” The priest returned home and told his son to make ready.
In the morning the priest’s son went to his lesson and sat listless over his book. “Why are you so sad?” the old woman asked him. “How can I help being sad when I am sure that I am to perish?” “What do you mean? Explain yourself!” “I must read the psalter over the princess, and she is a sorceress.” “I knew that before you did,” the old woman said. “But do not be afraid. Here is a knife for you; when you come to the church, make a circle round you, read the psalter, and do not look behind you. Whatever happens, whatever terrors beset you, keep on reading and reading. But if you look back, you will be altogether lost.” At night the boy went to the church, traced a circle around himself with his knife, and began to read from the psalter. On the stroke of twelve, the lid of the coffin opened, the princess sat up, jumped out, and cried: “Aha, now I will show you what it means to look in at my window and tell people what you saw!” She tried to jump at the priest’s son, but could not cross the circle. Then she began to let loose all kinds of terrors; but no matter what she did, the boy kept on reading without looking behind him. At daybreak the princess hurled herself into the coffin as fast as she could.
On the next night the same events took place; the priest’s son was not frightened, read without stopping till daybreak, and in the morning went to the old woman. She asked him: “Well, did you see the terrors?” “I did, grandmother.” “Tonight it will be worse. Here are a hammer and four nails for you; drive the nails into the four corners of the coffin, and when you begin to read the psalter, put the hammer in front of you.” At night the boy went to the church and did as the old woman had told him to do. On the stroke of twelve the coffin lid fell to the floor, and the princess rose up and began to fly in all directions and to threaten the priest’s son. She let loose great terrors, then still greater ones; the boy fancied that a fire had broken out in the church, that the flames were enveloping all the walls, but he stood in his place and kept on reading without looking behind him. Before daybreak the princess hurled herself into her coffin; then the fire was gone, and the whole devilish spectacle vanished. In the morning the king came to the church; he found the coffin opened, and the princess lying in it face downward. “What is this?” he asked the boy, who then told him everything. The king ordered an aspen spike to be thrust into his daughter’s chest and had her buried in the ground. And he rewarded the priest’s son with money and land.
ILYA MUROMETS AND THE DRAGON
IN A CERTAIN KINGDOM in a certain land there lived a peasant and his wife. They lived richly, had plenty of everything, and possessed a large fortune.
One day as they sat together the husband said: “We have plenty of everything, but we have no children. Let us pray to God; perhaps He will bless us with a child at least in our last years, in our old age.” They prayed to God, and the woman became pregnant; and when her time came she gave birth to a boy. A year went by, and two years, and three years, but the babe’s legs did not move as legs move; eighteen years went by, and still he sat as though legless.
One day the father and mother went to mow hay and the son remained alone. An old beggar came to him asking for alms. “Little host, give an old man alms for Christ’s sake.” He answered: “Holy old man, I cannot give you alms, I am legless.” The old beggar entered the house. “Now,” he said, “rise from your bed, give me a pitcher.” Ilya gave him a pitcher. “Now,” said the old man, “bring me some water.” The boy brought water and handed it to the old man, saying: “Here, holy old man.” The old man gave it back to him, saying: “Drink all the water in this pitcher!” Then he sent Ilya again for water, saying: “Bring me another pitcher of water.” As the boy went to get the water, he made his way along by holding to the trees; whenever he grasped a tree, he tore it out by the roots. The holy old man asked him: “Do you feel strength in yourself?” “I do, holy old man. I now have great strength: if a ring were fastened to the world, I could turn it over.” When he brought the second pitcher of water, the old man drank half of it and gave him the other half to drink; his strength lessened. “The strength you have now,” said the old man, “will be just the right amount.” Then the old man prayed to God and went away, saying: “Stay here with God.”
The boy grew weary of lying about, so he went to dig in the woods, to try his strength. And the people were terrified at the amount of work he did and the huge quantity of wood he piled up. The father and mother came back from hay mowing and saw that the whole forest was dug up, and they wondered who had done it. They came closer. The wife said to her husband: “Look, it is our Ilyushenka who is digging!” “You fool,” he answered, “how can it be Ilyushenka? What nonsense!” They came up to the boy. “Ah my God, how did this come about?” Ilya said: “A holy old man came to me and asked for alms. I said to him: ‘Holy old man, I cannot give you alms, because I have no legs.’ So he entered the house and told me to rise from my bed and to give him a pitcher. I got up and gave him a pitcher. Then he told me to bring him water. I brought him water and handed it to him. He told me to drink all the water in the pitcher. I drank it, and a great strength arose in me.”
The peasants gathered in the street and said among themselves: “Behold what a mighty champion he has become, how much he has dug up! We must tell people about him in the city.” And so the sovereign learned about this mighty champion; he summoned Ilya to his presence, found him to his liking, and dressed him in a fitting garment. He pleased everyone and began to serve well. The sovereign said: “You are a mighty champion; could you lift up my castle?” “Yes, Your Majesty, I can even raise it on one side, just the way you want it.”
The tsar had a fair daughter, so beautiful that no mind can imagine her nor pen describe her. And she was to Ilya’s liking, and he wanted to marry her.
One day the tsar went to another kingdom, to another king. He came to that king, and that king too had a very handsome daughter, and a twelve-headed dragon took to flying to her and he withered her young life; she was completely worn out. The tsar said to that king: “I have a mighty champion who will kill the twelve-headed dragon.” The king said: “Please send him to me.” When the tsar returned he said to his tsarina: “A twelve-headed dragon took to flying to such and such a king’s daughter, he sucked her young life dry, he wore her out altogether.” And then he said: “Ilya Ivanovich, could you not help her, could you not slay that dragon?” “Yes, Your Majesty, I can and will slay him.”
The tsar said: “You will go by stagecoach and follow such and such roads.” “I will go on horseback, alone. Give me a horse.” “Go to the stable,” said the tsar. “Choose any horse you like.” But in another room the tsar’s daughter begged him: “Do not go, Ilya Ivanovich. The twelve-headed dragon will slay you, you won’t be able to vanquish him.” He said: “Please do not fear anything; I shall return safe and sound.” He went to the stable to choose a horse. He came to the first horse, put his hands on him, and the horse stumbled. He tried all the horses in the stable; whenever he put his hand on one, it stumbled—not one could bear the weight of his hand. He came to the very last horse, which stood neglected in a corner, and struck him on the back with his hand; the horse only neighed. And Ilya said: “Here is my faithful servant; he did not stumble.” He went to the tsar: “Your Majesty, I have chosen a horse, a faithful servant.” He was sent off with honors and prayers were said for his safety.
He sat on his good steed and rode for a long time or a short time, till he came to a mountain; it was a very steep and very high mountain, and it was all covered with sand; he rode up it with great effort. On the mountain stood a post, and on the post three roads were indicated, and the inscription said: “If you follow the first road, you will be sated, but your steed will be hungry. If you follow the second road, your horse will be sated, but you yourself will be hungry. If you follow the third road, you will be slain.” He followed the third road, although the inscription said that on this road he would be slain; for he had confidence in himself. For a long time or a short time he rode in thick forests, so thick that one could not see anything. Then a wide clearing appeared in the forest, and on the clearing stood a little hut. He rode up to the hut and said: “Little hut, little hut, turn your back to the forest, and your front to me.” The hut turned around, stood with its back to the forest and its front to him. He climbed down from his good steed, and tied him to a post. Baba Yaga heard this and said: “Who is that insolent fellow? My father and my grandfather never heard of a Russian breath, but now I will see a Russian being with my own eyes.”
She struck the door with her wand and the door opened. She took a curved scythe, and tried to take the champion by his neck and cut off his head. “Wait, Baba Yaga,” he said, “I will show you.” He tore the scythe out of her hands, seized her by her hair, struck her, and said: “You should first ask me of what lineage I am, of what birth and what character, and whither I am going.” So she asked him: “Of what family are you, of what birth, and whither are you going?” “My name is Ilya Ivanovich, and I am going to such and such a place.” She said: “Ilya Ivanovich, please come into my room.” He entered her room; she seated him at table, served him meat and drink, and sent her maid to heat a bath for him. He ate and he steamed himself, stayed two days in Baba Yaga’s house, and made ready to go on his way again. Baba Yaga said: “I will give you a letter to my sister telling her not to harm you but to receive you with honor. Otherwise she will slay you as soon as she sees you.” She gave him the letter and bade him farewell with fitting honors.
The champion mounted his good steed and rode through thick forests; he rode for a long time or a short time. The forest was so thick that one could not see in it. He came to a clearing, a wide clearing, and on it stood a hut. He rode up to the hut, climbed down from his good steed, and tied him to a post. Baba Yaga heard him tying his steed and cried: “What is this? My father and my grandfather never heard of a Russian breath, and now I will see a Russian being with my own eyes.” She struck the door with her wand and the door opened. She swung her saber at Ilya’s neck, but he said: “You cannot fight with me; here is a letter your sister gave me.” She read the letter and received him honorably: “Welcome, be my guest,” she said. Ilya Ivanovich came in. She seated him at table, served him meats, wines, and sweets, and sent her maid to heat a bath for him. Having eaten, he went to steam himself in the bath. He stayed with Baba Yaga for two days and took a rest; his good steed also took a rest. When he mounted his good steed, she saw him off with honor. She said: “Now, Ilya Ivanovich, you will not be able to continue on your way. Solovey the Robber is lurking very near here; his nest is built on seven oaks; he will not l
et you come within thirty versts of him, he will deafen you with his whistling.”
He rode for a long time or a short time, till he came to a place where he heard the whistle of Solovey the Robber, and when he came up halfway, his steed stumbled. He said: “My good steed, do not stumble! Serve me.” He rode up to Solovey the Robber, who kept on whistling. When he came up to the robber’s nest, Ilya took an arrow, drew his bow, and shot at him—and Solovey fell from his nest. When he was on the ground, Ilya struck him once, in such a way that he stunned him but did not slay him; then he put the robber in his saddlebag and rode to the king’s castle.
He was seen from the castle and there someone said: “Solovey the Robber is carrying someone in his saddlebag.” The champion rode up to the castle and handed the guard a paper. His paper was given to the king, who read it and ordered him to be admitted. The king said to Ilya Ivanovich: “Order Solovey the Robber to whistle.” Solovey the Robber said: “You should give food and drink to Solovey the Robber; my mouth is parched.” They brought him wine and he said: “What is a quart to me? Better bring me a good-sized cask.” They brought a cask of wine and poured it into a pail. Solovey drank it in one gulp and said: “If Solovey the Robber had two pails more, he would drink them too.” But he was not given any more. The king said again to Ilya: “Now order him to whistle.” Ilya ordered Solovey to whistle, but he took the king and all his family under his arm, saying: “I must keep you here or he would deafen you.” When Solovey the Robber whistled, Ilya Ivanovich could hardly stop him; he had to strike him with his mace, or all of them would have fallen to the ground.
Russian Fairy Tales (Pantheon Fairy Tale and Folklore Library) Page 55
