Part 5

Then they conducted Ilija to the palace, and entertained him at a great feast. After that Ilija, the Muromer, went straight on to Kiev, along a road which the Robber Nightingale had kept for thirty years, and on which he suffered no horseman or traveller on foot to pass, putting them to death, not by the sword, but by the sound of his robber whistle. When Ilija came into the open fields he rode on to the Bianski forest, and went far on, passing over marshes, by means of bridges made of water-elder, to the river Smarodienka. When the Robber Nightingale saw him about twenty versts away, he guessed his errand, and sounded his robber whistle. But the hero did not quail, and came on till he was only ten versts off, when the robber blew his whistle so loudly that Ilija’s horse fell down on its knees. Then Ilija went up to the robber’s nest, which was built upon twelve oaks. When the robber saw the hero he blew with all his might and tried to kill him, but Ilija took his bow, put a new arrow on the string, shot it straight into the robber’s nest, and hit the robber in the right eye. Robber Nightingale fell down from the tree like a sheaf of oats.

Ilija, the Muromer, took him, bound him fast to his saddle, and rode away to Kiev. At the side of the road stood the palace of Robber Nightingale, and as he rode by the robber’s daughters were sitting at the open window.

“There comes our father,” said the youngest, “riding, and bringing with him a peasant, tied to his saddle.”

The eldest looked at him carefully, and began to weep bitterly.

“It is not our father,” said she, “that rides there, but a strange man who has made him prisoner.”

Then they called out to their husbands—

“Dear husbands, ride out against this stranger, and deliver our father from him. Let not such shame come on us!”

Their husbands were mighty riders, and they came out to attack the Russian horseman; and they had good horses and sharp lances, and thought it would be an easy matter to kill him. When Robber Nightingale saw them, he called out and said—

“My dear sons, let no shame come on you, and do not attack so brave a knight, for if you do he will but slay you. Ask him, rather, to enter the house and drink with us.”

When Ilija heard the invitation he turned to enter the palace, suspecting no treachery; but the eldest daughter had hung a beam, by means of a chain, over the entrance, so that she might kill him as he rode through. When Ilija saw that he gave her a stroke with his lance and killed her. Then he rode on to Kiev and came to the prince’s palace. He entered the palace, prayed to God, and saluted the nobles.

“Tell me, my good young man,” said the prince, “what is your name, and to what place you belong?”

“I am called Little Ilija, sir,” said he; “my father is Ivan, and I was born in the town of Murom, near to Katatscharowa.”

The prince next asked him by what road he had come.

“From Murom I rode to Tschernigof, and there I slew a great host of pagans and saved the city. From that place I came here. I have taken prisoner the famous Robber Nightingale, and I have brought him here bound to my stirrup.”

Then the prince grew angry, and said—

“Why do you try to deceive me?”

However, he sent two knights, Alescha Popowitsch and Dobrinja Nikititsch, to see if it was as Ilija said; and when they told the prince that it was true, he was pleased, gave the young man some drink, and desired to hear the robber’s whistle. Ilija, the Muromer, therefore wrapped up the prince and the princess under his cloak, lined with sable, put them under his arm, and then told the Robber Nightingale to blow his whistle gently. He blew, however, so loud that he deafened all the knights and they fell on the floor, and Ilija, the Muromer, was so enraged that he killed him there and then.

Ilija became very friendly with Dobrinja Nikititsch, and, saddling their good horses, they rode away together, and travelled for three months without meeting with any adversary. Then they came up with a cripple. His beggar’s cloak weighed fifty pounds, his hat nine pounds, and his crutch was six feet long. Ilija, the Muromer, rode up to him and began to try his courage, but the cripple addressing him said—

“Ah! Ilija, the Muromer, do you not know me? Do you not remember how we learnt lessons in the same school? Will you fall on me, a poor cripple? Do you know that there is great distress in the famous town of Kiev? A powerful infidel knight, a godless idolater, has come there. His head is as big as a beer-barrel, his eyebrows are a span apart, and his shoulders are six feet across. He eats an ox at a meal, and drinks a cask of beer at a time. The Prince is sore troubled at your absence.”

Then Ilija, the Muromer, put on the cripple’s cloak and rode off to Kiev. He went to the palace, and cried with all his might—

“Ho, there! Prince of Kiev, give the cripple an alms.”

When the Prince heard him, he said—

“Come into my palace. I will give you something to eat and drink, and some money for your journey.”

Then Ilija went into the palace and sat down near the stove, and there also sat the pagan knight calling for food to be brought. The servants brought him an ox, roasted whole, and he ate it up, bones and all. Then he called for something to drink, and twenty-seven men brought him a barrel of beer. The knight took it in his hands and lifted it up. Then Ilija, the Muromer, said—

“My father once had a gluttonous mare, which ate so much that it burst.”

The infidel was angry, and said—

“What do you mean, you wretched cripple? You are no equal for me. I could set you on the palm of my right hand and squeeze you dry with my left. You once had a real hero in your country, Ilija, the Muromer; I should like to have a fight with him.”

“Here he is,” cried Ilija, taking off his hat, and striking the pagan a blow on the head, not very hard, but so strong as to send the head through the wall of the palace. Ilija then took up the body and cast it into the yard. So the prince gave Ilija a royal reward, and kept him at his court as the first and the bravest of his knights.

THE BAD-TEMPERED WIFE.

THERE was once upon a time a poor fellow who was troubled with a wife, with whom he lived on the worst terms imaginable. She paid not the slightest attention to what he told her, but was always contrary. If he told her to get up early, she was sure to lie in bed later than ever, or perhaps even for three days at a time. If he asked her to make some cakes, she would say—

“Cakes, you villain! What do you want with cakes? Do you think you deserve them?”

“All right,” the man would say; “don’t make them, then.”

Then off would go his wife, make three times as many cakes as could be eaten, and plumping them down before her husband—

“Eat,” she would cry—“eat, you gluttonous fellow! They must be finished up.”

The man spent most of his time disputing with her; but his wife used to wear him out and get the better in the end.

One day, wearied by his wife’s jangle, and utterly dispirited, he went off to the wood to look for some berries. As he went on he came at last to a wild currant-bush, and looking at it he saw beside it a deep hole. He looked down, but could discover no bottom to it.

“Dear me!” said he, “I wish my wife were down there! What is the use of living as I do in continual misery? I will see if I can get her down the hole.”

Off he went home. There he found his wife.

“Wife,” said he, “I want you to keep out of the wood. Don’t go looking about there for berries.”

“You want me!” said she. “Indeed, I shall go where I please.”

“Well,” said the man, “I have found a currant-bush there, and I want to keep the currants. Don’t eat them.”

“Won’t I?” said his wife. “I will eat them all. You shall not have a single one.”

The man went out, and his wife came after him to find the currant-bush. On they went till the man came to the place where the bush was, when his wife, hurrying past him, got to it first.

“Now don’t you come near,” said she. “I warn you to stand off.”

On she went; all at once her husband heard a crack and a crash. He looked about, but could not see his wife. Sure enough, she had fallen down the hole.

The man returned home rejoicing at the success of his plan. For some days he lived in peace. Then he became curious to know where his wife had really gone to. So he got a very long cord, and set off with it to the forest. He came to the currant-bush and found the hole, and, letting down one end of his cord, tried to touch the bottom. The cord went down and down—the hole seemed to have no bottom at all. Then the man drew the cord up. As he pulled out the last piece of it, he fell back astounded, for there, clinging to it, was a little devil. After the first surprise, the man was about to lay his hands on the imp in order to throw him down the hole again; but it addressed him in a pitiful tone, saying—

“My good man, I beseech you do not throw me down the hole again. No tongue can tell what I have suffered there. A few days since there came a woman amongst us, and she has led us such a time of it that our lives are not worth living. Let me stay aboveground, and I will reward you for it.”

The peasant, when he heard the imp’s tale, felt sorry for him, and had not the heart to send him back again. So he let him go where he would.

No sooner was the imp at liberty than he began to torment the wives and daughters of the wealthy folk, entering into them, and making them so whimsical and sick that they seemed beside themselves. While they were in this condition the peasant would present himself as a physician and undertake to cure the afflicted persons. As soon as he was called in, before he had almost stepped across the threshold of the house in which the sick person lay, the imp would scuttle away as fast as he could, the patient recovered, and the whole place rang with the marvellous cure effected by the doctor. So they went on for some time. The peasant was now rich. Money and all good things were heaped upon him by the relations of those whom he restored to health.

One day the imp said to him—

“My man, I have had enough of this kind of thing. I am now going to take possession of a rich man’s daughter. Don’t you come to heal her, for I warn you that if you do so I will tear you to pieces.”

Away he went. The daughter was possessed, and was so beside herself that no one dare venture near her. Away sent her relations for the wonderful doctor. The peasant, however, was unwilling to take the case in hand. He would not come. At last the folk sent their servants to bring him to the house by force, declaring that if he refused to come they would kill him.

The man did not know what to do; at last he thought he saw his way out of the difficulty.

In the road running beside the house he collected a number of coachmen, grooms, and others, and ordered them to run up and down, smacking their whips and crying as loudly as they could—

“That wretched woman has come again! that wretched woman has come again!”

When the hubbub was at its full height the peasant went into the house.

“What!” cried the imp. “You have come, have you? Well then, now, I will make you repent it.”

“My dear friend,” said the man, “it is true I have come, but I came to do you a service. I came to tell you that that miserable woman has come back again.”

“What!” cried the imp.

He leaped to the window, looked out, and listened. When he saw the confusion, and heard the cries—“That wretched woman has come again! that wretched woman has come again!” he turned to the peasant, and said to him, in a tone full of anxiety and mournfulness—

“What shall I do? Where can I hide from her?”

“I don’t know,” said the man, “but I should say the hole would be the safest place. She will hardly search there a second time for you.”

Away went the imp at full speed, and, coming to the hole, down he went headlong. He was never seen again. The girl was completely cured when he left her, and was as happy as ever, and her parents heaped rewards on the wonderful physician.

The bad-tempered woman, too, never made her appearance again, so it seems as if she would remain down the pit for ever.

IVASHKA WITH THE BEAR’S EAR.

ONCE upon a time there lived in a certain kingdom a moujik. He was married, and his wife bore him a child—a boy—who had the ear of a bear, so he was named Ivashka with the Bear’s Ear. Ivashka used to go and play with the children of his neighbours, but his manner was rather rough, for if he took hold of a child by the hand he would give it such a wrench that the hand would come off, and if he took hold of a child by the head, the head would come off too. Such play was not agreeable to the parents of the children, and they came to Ivashka’s father and told him that he must see that his son did not come out to play with their children, or that he did them no hurt. The man promised to do what he could. He found, however, that Ivashka paid no heed to him, so in the end he turned him out of doors, saying—

“Be off where you will, for I want you no longer; you shall come no more into my house, for if you do you will get me into trouble.”

So Ivashka with the Bear’s Ear set off on his travels. He went on for a long time, and at last came to a great forest. There he found a man hewing wood.

“Friend,” said Ivashka to him, “what are you called?”

“I am called Dubunia,” said the man.

“Well,” said Ivashka, “let us be friends.”

After some talk they became very friendly, and the man went on with Ivashka. They travelled for some time, and at length they came to a high rock, where they found a man hewing stone.

“Heaven bless you, good fellow!” said Ivashka; “what are you called?”

“Gorunia,” replied the man.

“Well,” said Ivashka, “let us be friends.”

After some talk the man became very friendly with Ivashka and his companion, and agreed to go on with them in their travels. On they went. At last they came to a river, on the bank of which they found a man with very long moustaches, with which he was fishing in the water.

“Heaven bless you!” said Ivashka and his companions. “May you have good luck.”

“Thanks, my brothers,” said the man.

“What are you called?” asked Ivashka.

“Usunia,” said he.

“Well,” said Ivashka, “let us be friends.”

So, after some talk, the man agreed to join Ivashka and his companions.

The four went on, and at length they came to a forest, near to which they found a hut. Now the hut stood on a fowl’s legs, and kept turning round and round.

“Hut, hut,” cried Ivashka, “stand still with your back to the forest and your front towards us!”

The hut at once did what they told it, and the four travellers going in commenced to plan how they should live. They were very hungry, so they went into the forest, caught some game, and ate it.

The next day Dubunia stayed at home while the others went into the forest to look for game. He cooked the dinner, and waited for his companions to come back. They did not come, so Dubunia washed his head and sat combing his hair, and who should come into the hut but Baba Yaja. She came riding in an iron mortar, which she drove on with a pestle, and with her tongue she wiped out the marks the mortar made as it passed over the ground. As she came into the cabin—

“Ho, ho!” cried she, “I smell Russian flesh.”

Then she turned to Dubunia and said—

“What do you do here?”

Without waiting for his reply, Baba Yaja laid on him with her pestle, and beat him until he hardly had any life left in him. Then she ate the dinner he had got ready for his companions, got into her mortar, and rode off. Dubunia lay for some time on the ground. Then he got up, tied up his head with a handkerchief, and sat down, groaning, till his companions came home.

“Where is the dinner?” said they.

“I have been ill,” answered Dubunia, “and have been too unwell to get it ready.”

The next day Gorunia was left to keep the hut and get the dinner ready. He cooked the food, and waited for his friends to come back, when, all of a sudden, who should come in but Baba Yaja.

“Ho, ho!” said she, “I smell Russian flesh. What are you doing here?” she asked, turning to Gorunia.

Without giving him time to reply she commenced to beat him with the pestle. Then she ate up all the food he had ready, got into the mortar, and rode away. When his friends came home Gorunia told them what had happened.

On the third day Usunia stayed at home, and Baba Yaja made her appearance again, and treated him as she had his companions.

At length it was Ivashka’s turn to keep house. His comrades went out to hunt in the wood, and Ivashka got the dinner ready. Looking about the hut he found in it a jar of honey. Then Ivashka took an axe and split open one of the posts of the hut, and putting a piece of wood in at the top he kept the crack open. Then he took the honey and poured it all over the post and in the chink. After that he got three iron rods, and then he sat down to await Baba Yaja’s coming. He did not wait long, for she came riding to the hut in her mortar.

“Ho, ho!” cried she, as she entered, “I smell Russian flesh. What do you here?” said she, turning to Ivashka.

Just then, however, she smelt the honey, and, going to the post, she commenced to lick it with her long tongue. She licked all the honey off the outside, and then put her tongue in the crack, to get the honey out that was there. Then Ivashka suddenly pulled out the piece of wood that held the post asunder, and Baba Yaja’s tongue being held fast, she could not get away. She screamed and struggled, but could not free herself, and Ivashka, taking his three iron rods, commenced to beat her with all his strength. He beat her till he was tired; and then, as she begged him to have mercy on her, and promised that if he would let her go she would never trouble him more, he set her free.

“Stop there,” said he, putting her in a corner of the cabin. So he sat down and waited for his companions to come home. Towards evening they came, and how much were they surprised to find that Ivashka had the food cooked and ready for them! When they had eaten he told them how he had served Baba Yaja, and how he had beaten her and put her in the corner of the hut. When they went to look for her, however, she was nowhere to be seen. While they examined the place to find how she could have escaped, they discovered a large stone in the ground. Lifting it up they found there was a deep pit below. They wished very much to know what was in this place, but none durst go down, till Ivashka said he would go. So they made a rope and let him down.

“Wait for me,” said Ivashka; “but if I do not come back at the end of a week, know then that you will see me no more. When I want to come up I will pull the rope.” So he took leave of his companions, and they let him down. When he arrived at the bottom of the pit he found himself in a strange country. He went on for some time until he came to a hut, and, going in, he found three girls who sat sewing with gold thread.

“What do you want?” said they, when they saw Ivashka with the Bear’s Ear. “What has brought you here? Baba Yaja, our mother, lives here, and if she sees you she will certainly kill you. We will, however, tell you how you may save your life if you will take us to the upper world.”

Ivashka promised to do what they asked.

“When our mother comes in,” said they, “she will run at you and attack you. When you have fought for a time she will leave you and go to the cellar. There are two jars full of water: the one is white and the other is blue. The white jar contains the water of weakness, and the blue jar the water of strength. If you drink the water in the blue jar you are saved.”

The girls had scarcely finished speaking when Baba Yaja was heard coming to the hut. She came riding in the iron mortar, which she drove along with the pestle, while, with her tongue, she swept out the mark made by the mortar as it passed over the ground.

“Ho, ho!” said she, “I smell Russian flesh. Why do you come here?” she went on, turning to Ivashka with the Bear’s Ear. “What do you want?”

With that she rushed upon him, and they fought together until they were so tired that they fell to the ground. Then Baba Yaja, getting up, ran to the cellar for the water, and Ivashka went after her. Baba Yaja, in her hurry, took up the white jar and drank the water, and Ivashka drank that in the blue jar. Then they began to fight again. At length Ivashka got the better of her, and taking her pestle he beat her with it till she begged him to have mercy on her. Still Ivashka would not stop till she promised him she would never do him any injury, and would leave that place as soon as he released her. So he let her go.

Ivashka went to the three daughters and told them to get ready and go with him to the world above. Then he went to the rope, and, calling to his companions, got them to let down a large basket. He told the eldest daughter to get into it, and then, on Ivashka’s pulling the rope, his companions drew the basket up. They were very much astonished when they found a beautiful girl in the basket instead of Ivashka, but she told them all that had occurred, and they let the basket down again. So the second and the third daughters were drawn up. Then they let down the basket again, and Ivashka filled it with gold and silver and fine clothes, which he had found in Baba Yaja’s hut. When the men commenced to draw the basket up they wondered why it was so heavy, and they thought that Baba Yaja herself must be in it. So they cut the rope and let the basket and all the things fall down to the bottom, and left Ivashka down below.

For a long time he wandered about seeking his way to the upper world. At length he found an iron door in the rock, and on opening it and looking in he saw a long passage. So he went on and on till at last he came out in the upper world. Then he went to seek his friends. When he came to them he found that they had given him up as dead, and had married the three daughters of Baba Yaja.

“Why did you leave me at the bottom of the pit?” asked Ivashka; “and who was it that cut the rope?”

They told him that Usunia had done it, and Ivashka was so angry that he killed him on the spot. So Ivashka married Usunia’s wife, and he and his companions lived together for many years in great happiness.

THE PLAGUE.

A RUSSIAN peasant sat out in the field. The sun was shining fiercely. In the distance the man saw something coming to him. It came nearer, and then he saw it was a woman. She was clad in a large cloak, and strode along with great strides. The man felt much afraid, and would have run away, but the phantom held him with its bare arms.

“Do you know the Plague?” said she. “I am it. Take me on your shoulders and carry me through all Russia. Miss no village or town, for I must go everywhere. For yourself fear nothing. You shall live in the midst of death.”

She wrapt her long arms round the neck of the fearful peasant. The man went on, and was astonished to find that he felt no weight. He turned his head, and saw that the Plague was on his back.

He first took her to a town, and when they came there, there was joy in all the streets, dancing, music, and jollity. The peasant went on and stood in the market-place, and the woman shook her cloak. Soon the dance, joy, and merriment ceased. Wherever the man looked he saw terror. People carried coffins, the bells tolled, the burial-ground was full; there was at length no room for more to be buried in it.

Then the people brought the dead to the market-place and left them there, having no place in which to bury them.