Part 10

They came to the realm of the neighbouring Tsar and went straight into his preserves; here they let their horses out to graze, and laid themselves down to rest beneath their tent. The neighbouring Tsar sent out against them a hundred horsemen of his guard, and bade them drive away the strangers from his preserves. Ilia Muromets and Alesha Popovich said to Thomas, "Wilt thou go against them, or wilt thou send us?"--"What, forsooth! do you think I'd soil my hands by going against such muck! No; go thou, Ilia Muromets, and show thy prowess." So Ilia Muromets sat him on his heroic steed, charged the Tsar's horsemen, swooped down upon them like a bright falcon on a flock of doves, smote them, and cut them all down to the very last one. At this the Tsar was still more wroth, collected all of his host that was in the town, both horse and foot, and bade his captains drive the wandering strangers out of his preserves without ceremony. The Tsar's army advanced on the preserves, blew with their trumpets, and columns of dust arose in their path. Ilia Muromets and Alesha Popovich came to Thomas and said to him, "Wilt thou go thyself against the foe, or wilt thou send one of us?" But Thomas, who was lying on his side, did not so much as turn him round, but said to the heroes, "The idea of my coming to blows with this rabble!--the idea of my soiling my heroic hands with the like of them! No! Go thou, Alesha Popovich, and show them our style of fighting, and I'll look on and see if thy valour be of the right sort." Alesha rushed like a whirlwind upon the Tsar's host, his armour rattled like thunder, he waved his mace from afar, and shouted with a voice more piercing than the clang of clarions, "I will slay and smash all of you without mercy!" He flew upon the host and began crushing it. The captains saw that every one took to his heels before him, and there was no way of stopping them, so they blew a retreat with the trumpets, retired towards the town, and came themselves with an apology to Alesha, and said: "Tell us now, strong and potent hero, by what name we must call thee, and tell us thy father's name that we may honour it. What tribute must we give thee that thou mayst trouble us no more, and leave our realm in peace?"--"'Tis not to me you must give tribute!" answered Alesha; "I am but a subordinate. I do what I am bidden by my elder brother, the famous hero Thomas Berennikov. You must reckon with him. He will spare you if he pleases, but if he does not please, he will level your whole kingdom with the ground." The Tsar heard these words, and sent Tommy rich gifts and an honourable embassy of distinguished persons, and bade them say: "We beg the famous hero Thomas Berennikov to come and visit us, to dwell in our royal court, and help us to war against the Khan of China. If, O hero, thou dost succeed in smiting utterly the countless Chinese host, then I will give thee my own daughter, and after my death thou shalt have the whole realm." But Tommy put on a long face and said, "What's that? Well, well, I don't mind! I suppose I may as well consent to that." Then he mounted his hack, commanded his heroic younger brethren to ride behind him, and went as a guest to the neighbouring Tsar.

Tommy had not yet thoroughly succeeded in testing the quality of the Tsar's kitchen, he had not yet thoroughly rested from his labours, when there came a threatening embassy from the Khan of China, demanding that the whole kingdom should acknowledge him as its liege lord, and that the Tsar should send him his only daughter. "Tell your Khan," replied the Tsar, "that I fear him no longer; I now have a firm support, a sure defence, the famous hero Thomas Berennikov, who can slay eight at one blow of his sword, and of the lesser fry without number. If life is not pleasant to your Khan and your Chinese brethren, come to my empire, and you shall have cause to remember Thomas Berennikov." In two days a countless Chinese host surrounded the city of the Tsar, and the Chinese Khan sent to say, "I have here an unconquerable hero, the like of whom the world knows not; send out against him thy Thomas. If thy champion prevails I'll submit and pay thee a tribute from my whole Khanate; but if mine prevails, thou must give me thy daughter, and pay me a tribute from thy whole kingdom." So now it was the turn of Thomas Berennikov to show his prowess! And his heroic younger brothers, Ilia Muromets and Alesha Popovich, said to him: "Mighty and potent hero, our elder brother, how wilt thou fight against this Chinaman without armour? Take our martial armour, choose the best of our heroic horses!" Thomas Berennikov answered thus: "How then? Must I hide myself in armour from this shaven pate? Why, I could finish off this Chinaman with one hand quite easily! Why, you yourselves when you first saw me said, 'Tis plain that we must not look at the horse, but at the warrior!" But Thomas thought to himself: "I'm in a pretty pickle now! Well, let the Chinaman kill me if he likes--I'll not be put to shame over the business anyhow!" Then they brought him his hack: he mounted it in peasant style, struck it with his bunch of twigs, and went into the open plain at a gentle amble.

The Chinese Khan had armed his champion like a fortress; he clothed him in armour twelve puds (480 lbs.) in weight, taught him the use of every weapon, put in his hands a battle-axe eighty pounds in weight, and said to him just before he set out, "Mark me, and recollect my words! When a Russian hero cannot prevail by force, he will overcome by cunning, so lest thou should get the worst of it, take care and do everything the Russian hero does." So the champions went out against each other into the open field, and Thomas saw the Chinese hero advancing against him, as big as a mountain, with his head like a beer-cask, and covered with armour like a tortoise in its shell, so that he was scarcely able to move. So Tommy had recourse to artifice. He got off his horse and sat down on a stone and began to sharpen his scythe. The Chinese hero when he saw that, got off his horse immediately, fastened it to a tree, and began to whet his axe against a stone also. When Thomas had finished sharpening his scythe, he marched up to the Chinaman and said to him, "We two are mighty and potent heroes, we have come out against each other in mortal combat; but before we pitch into each other we ought to show each other proper respect, and salute one another after the custom of the country." And he saluted the Chinaman with a low, a very low bow. "Oh, oh!" thought the Chinaman, "here's some piece of trickery, I know. I'll bow yet lower." And he bowed himself to the very ground. But before he could raise himself up again in his heavy armour, Thomas rushed at him, tickled him once or twice in the neck, and so cut his throat through for him. Then he leaped upon the heroic horse of the Chinaman, scrambled on the top of it somehow, flourished his birch of twigs, tried to grasp the reins, and quite forgot that the horse was tied to a tree. But the good horse, as soon as he felt a rider on his back, tugged and pulled till he tore the tree up by the roots, and off he set at full gallop towards the Chinese host, dragging after him the big tree as if it had been a mere feather. Thomas Berennikov was terribly frightened, and began bawling, "Help, help!" But the Chinese host feared him more than a snowstorm, and it seemed to them as if he were crying to them, "Run, run!" so they took to their heels without once looking back. But the heroic horse plunged into the midst of them, trampled them beneath its feet, and the huge tree-trunk scattered them in all directions. Wherever it plunged it left a wide road behind it.

The Chinese swore that they would never fight with Thomas again, and this resolution was lucky for Thomas. He returned to the town on his own hack, and they were all amazed at his strength, valour, and success. "What dost thou require of me?" said the Tsar to Thomas, "one half of my golden treasures and my daughter into the bargain, or one half of my glorious kingdom?" "Well, I'll take half your kingdom if you like, but I wouldn't turn up my nose either at your daughter with half your golden treasure for a dowry. And look now, when I get married, don't forget to invite to the wedding my younger brothers, Ilia Muromets and Alesha Popovich!"

And Thomas married the thrice-lovely Tsarevna, and they celebrated the wedding so gloriously that the heads of all the guests ached for more than two weeks afterwards. I too was there, and I drank mead and ale and got rich gifts, and so my tale is told.

THE WHITE DUCK.

A powerful and mighty Prince married a thrice-lovely Princess, and he had not yet had time to look upon her, he had not yet had time to speak to her, he had not yet had time to listen to her, when he was obliged to depart from her on a far journey, and leave his young wife in the hands of strangers. The Princess wept much, and the consolations of the Prince were also many, and he advised her not to leave her lofty terem, [43] not to have anything to do with bad people, not to listen to evil tongues, and not to consort with strange women. All this the Princess promised to do. The Prince departed, and she shut herself up in her own room. There she sat, and never went out.

Whether it was after a long time or after a short time matters not, but one day she was sitting by her little window, bathed in tears, when a woman passed by the window. In appearance she was simple and kindly, and she leaned her elbows on her crutch, rested her chin on her hands, and said to the Princess in a wheedling, caressing voice: "How's this, darling little Princess, thou art for ever fretting? Prythee come now out of thy terem and have a peep at God's fair world, or come down into thy little garden among the sweet green things and drive away thy woe!" For a long time the Princess refused, she did not even care to listen to the woman's words, but, at last, she thought, "There can be no harm in going into the garden, crossing the brook is another matter." But she did not know that this woman was a witch, and had come to ruin her because she envied her her bliss. So the Princess went with her into the garden, and listened to her cunning, wheedling words. And in the garden from beneath the mountain trickled a stream of crystalline water. "What dost thou say now," said the woman, "the day is very hot, the sun is burning with all its might, but this darling little stream is so cold, so refreshing, and hark how it babbles--why should we not have a bath here?" "Ah, no, no! I won't," said the Princess; but she thought to herself, "But why not? There can be no harm in having a bath!" So she slipped off her little sarafan, [44] and bounded into the water, and no sooner had she bathed than the witch struck her on the shoulder and said, "Swim about now as a white duck!" But the witch immediately dressed herself in the Princess's robes, tired and painted herself, and sat in place of the Princess in the terem to await the Prince. And as soon as the little dog began to bark and the little bell fell a-tinkling, she rushed out to meet him, threw herself upon his neck, and kissed and fondled him. The Prince was so overjoyed that he was the first to stretch out his arms towards her, and never noticed that it was not his wife, but an evil witch who stood before him.

Meanwhile the poor duck, dwelling in the bright stream, laid eggs and hatched its young; two were fair, but the third was still-born, and her babies grew up into little children. She brought them up, and they began to walk along the stream, and catch gold-fish, and collect bits of rags, and sew them coats, and run up the banks, and look at the meadows. But the mother said: "Oh! don't go there, my children. There dwells the evil witch. She ruined me, and she will ruin you!" But the children didn't listen to their mother, and one day they played in the grass, and the next day they ran after ants, and went further and further, and so got into the Prince's courtyard. The witch knew them by instinct, and ground her teeth for rage; but she made herself so nice, called the little children into the out-house, gave them a good feed, and a good drink, and made them lie down to sleep, and bade her people light a fire in the courtyard, and put a kettle on it, and sharpen their knives. The two brothers went to sleep, but the still-born one whom the mother had bade the others carry in their bosom that he might not catch cold, the still-born one did not sleep at all, but listened and saw everything. In the night the witch came to their door and said: "Are you asleep, little children, or not?" Then the still-born one answered instead of his brothers: "We do not dream in dreams, but think in our thoughts that you want to cut up the whole lot of us!--the pyres of maple-branches are blazing, the kettles are seething, and the knives of steel are sharpening."--"They are not asleep," said the witch, and she went away from the door, walked about and walked about, and then went to the door again: "Are you asleep, children, or are you not?" And the still-born again screeched from beneath the pillow instead of his brethren: "We do not dream in dreams, but think in our thoughts that you want to cut up the whole lot of us; the pyres of maple-branches are blazing, the kettles are seething, and the knives of steel are sharpening." "How is it that it is always one and the same voice?" thought the witch; "I'll just have a peep." She opened the door very, very softly, looked in, and saw both the brothers sleeping soundly. Then she killed the pair of them.

In the morning the white duck began seeking and calling her children, but her darling children did not come to her calling. Her heart had a foreboding of evil. She shuddered and flew off to the Prince's courtyard. In the Prince's courtyard, as white as little white kerchiefs, as cold as little cold split fish, lay the brothers all in a row. She flew down, threw herself upon them, fluttered her little wings, flew round and round her little ones, and cried with a mother's voice:

"Kra, kra, my darling loveys! Kra, kra, my little doveys! I brought you up in woe and fears, I nourished you with grief and tears, Dark night it brought no sleep to me, No food was sweet because of ye."

And the Prince heard the lament, called the witch to him, and said: "Wife, hast thou heard this thing, this thing unheard of?"--"Thou dost only fancy it! Hi! my serving-men, drive me this duck out of the courtyard!" They began driving her out, but she flew round and round, and again said to her children:

"Kra, kra, my darling loveys! Kra, kra, my little doveys! The old, old witch your bane hath been, The old, old witch, that cruel snake, That cruel snake that lurks unseen; Your father from you she did take, Your father dear, my husband true; Us in the running stream she threw. She changed us into ducks so white, And prospers as if wrong were right!"

The Prince felt that there was something wrong here, and he cried: "Bring me that white duck hither!" They all hastened to fulfil his command, but the white duck flew round in a circle, and none could catch her. At last the Prince himself went out on the balcony, and she flew upon his hands, and fell at his feet. The Prince took her carefully by her little wing, and said: "White birch-tree stand behind me, and fair damsel stand before me!" Then the white duck turned into her former shape of thrice-lovely Princess, taught them how to get a little bladder of living and speaking water in a magpie's nest, sprinkled her children with the living water, and they shuddered; then she sprinkled them with the speaking water, and they began to speak. And the Prince suddenly saw himself surrounded by his family all alive and well, and they all lived together, and lived happily, and chose good and avoided evil.

But the witch, by the Prince's command, was fastened to the tail of a horse and dragged away over the open steppe. The fowls of the air picked her flesh, and the wild winds of heaven scattered her bones, and there remained not a trace or a memorial of her behind.

THE TALE OF LITTLE FOOL IVAN.

Far, far away, in a certain kingdom, in a certain Empire, stood a city, and in this city reigned Tsar Gorokh, [45] and the Tsaritsa Morkovya. [46] They had many wise Boyars, rich Princes, strong and mighty heroes, and of the common run of warriors 100,000 at least. All manner of people dwelt in this city, worshipful, well-bearded merchants, cunning open-handed sharpers, German mechanics, Swedish beauties, drunken Russians; and in the suburbs beyond the town dwelt peasants who tilled the earth, sowed corn, ground it into meal, took it to the bazaar, and drank away their hard earnings.

In one of these suburbs stood an old hut, and in this hut dwelt an old man with his three sons, Pakhom, Thomas, and Ivan. The old man was not only sage, he was cunning, and whenever he chanced to come across the Devil, he would have a chat with him, make him drunk, and worm many and great secrets out of him, and then would go away and do such wonders that his neighbours called him a wizard and a magician, while others honoured him as a shrewd fellow who knew a thing or two. The old man certainly did great wonders. If any one were being consumed by the flames of hopeless love, he had only to pay his respects to the wizard and the old man would give him some sort of little root which would draw the fickle fair one at once. If anything were lost he would manage to get it back from the thief, however it might be hidden, by means of charmed water and a fishing-net.

But wise as the old man was, he could not persuade his sons to walk in his footsteps. Two of them were great gad-abroads, not because they were wise, but because they were thorough feather-brains; they never knew when to run forward or when to hold back. And they married and had children. The third son was not married, but the old man did not trouble about him, because his third son was a fool, quite a natural in fact, who couldn't count up to three, but could only eat and drink and sleep and lie on the stove. What was the good of bothering about a fellow like that?--he can manage to jog along of his own accord much better than a man of sense. And besides, Ivan was so mild and gentle that butter would not melt in his mouth. If you asked him for his girdle, he would give you his kaftan [47] also; if you took away his gloves, he would beg you to accept his cap into the bargain; therefore they all liked Ivan and called him dear little Ivan, or dear little fool; in short he was a fool from his birth, but very lovable for all that.

So our old man lived and lived with his sons till the hour came when he was to die. Then the old man called to him his three sons and said to them: "My dear children, my mortal hour has come, and you must fulfil my wish; each of you must come with me into my tomb and there pass a night with me; thou first, Thomas; then thou, Pakhom; and thou third, dear little fool Ivan." The two elders, like sensible people, promised to obey his words, but the fool promised nothing, but only scratched his head.

The old man died. They buried him. They ate pancakes and honey-cakes, they drank well, and on the first night it was for his eldest son Thomas to go into his tomb. Whether it was laziness or fear I know not, but he said to little fool Ivan: "To-morrow I have to get up early to grind corn; go thou instead of me into our father's tomb."--"All right!" answered little fool Ivan, who took a crust of bread, went to the tomb, lay down, and began to snore. So it struck midnight, the tomb began to move, the wind blew, the midnight owl hooted, the tombstone rolled off, and the old man came out of his tomb and said: "Who's there?"--"I," answered little fool Ivan.--"Good!" answered the old man; "my dear son, I'll reward thee for obeying me!" Scarcely had he said these words when the cocks crew and the old man fell back into the tomb. Little fool Ivan went home and threw himself on the top of the stove, and his brother asked him: "Well, what happened?"--"Nothing at all!" said he; "I slept the whole night through, only I am very hungry, and want something to eat."

The next night it was the turn of Pakhom, the second son, to go to the tomb of his father. He fell a-thinking and a-thinking, and at last he said to little fool Ivan: "I must get up very early to-morrow morning to go to market; go thou instead of me to my father's tomb."--"All right!" replied little fool Ivan, who took a cake and some cabbage-soup, went to the tomb, and lay down to sleep. Midnight approached--the tomb began to shake, the tempest began to howl, a flock of ravens flew round and round it, the stone fell from the grave, the old man got out of the tomb and asked: "Who's there?"--"I," answered little fool Ivan.--"Good, my beloved son!" replied the old man, "I'll not forget thee because thou hast not disobeyed me!" Scarcely had he uttered these words when the cocks began to crow, and the old man fell back in his tomb. Little fool Ivan awoke, made himself snug on his stove, and his brother asked him: "Well, what happened?"--"Nothing at all!" answered little Ivan. On the third night the brothers said to little fool Ivan: "Now 'tis thy turn to go to our father's tomb. A father's wish must be fulfilled."--"By all means!" answered little fool Ivan, who took a fritter, put on his blouse, and went to the tomb. And at midnight the gravestone was torn from the tomb, and the old man came out and asked: "Who's there?"--"I," said little fool Ivan. "Good, my obedient son," answered the old man, "not in vain hast thou obeyed my will--thou shalt have a reward for thy faithful service!" And then he shouted with a monstrous voice and sang with a nightingale's piping voice: "Hi! thou! sivka-burka, vyeshchy kaurka [48]! Stand before me like the leaf before the grass!" And it seemed to little fool Ivan as if a horse were running, the earth trembled beneath it, its eyes burned like fire, clouds of smoke poured out of its ears; it ran up, stood still as though it had taken root in the ground, and said with a human voice: "What dost thou require?" The old man got into one of its ears, cooled himself, washed himself, dressed himself finely, and came out of the other ear so young and handsome that there's no guessing or imagining it, for no pen can write nor tale can tell the like of it. "There, my dear son," said he, "thou hast my valiant steed; and thou, O horse! my good steed, serve him as thou hast served me!" He had scarcely uttered these words when the crowing cocks of the village flapped their wings and sang their morning song, the magician sank back into his grave, and the grass grew over it. Little fool Ivan went home step by step; he got home, stretched himself in his old corner, and snored till the walls trembled. "What is it?" asked his brothers, but he never answered a word, but only waved his hand.