Part 5

When supper-time came, the hen was put on the table, but when the apprentice saw that both the head and the liver were missing he was very angry, quarrelled with the old woman and went home. The old woman followed him and wheedled, but he still insisted: “You bring your children, take their liver out and brains, and give them me for supper; otherwise I will have nothing to do with you.”

So the old woman put her children to bed, called the cook and bade him take them whilst they were asleep into the wood, there kill them and extract their liver and their brains and get them ready for supper. The cook took the children into the slumbrous forest, stopped, and made ready to whet the knife.

The boys woke up and asked, “Why are you sharpening the knife?”

“Because your mother has bidden me take out your liver and brains and cook them.”

“Oh, grandfather, little dove, do not slay us; we will give you all the gold you desire, only pity us and let us free.” So the younger brother filled his skirt with gold, and the cook was contented with this and he set them free.

So the boys went forth into the forest and he turned back. Fortunately for him a bitch came his way, so he took her two puppies, took their livers and brains, roasted them and gave them for supper. The apprentice was very pleased with the dish, swallowed it all, and became neither a king nor a king’s son, but simply a fool.

The boys went out of the wood on the broad road, and went whither their eyes gazed—maybe far, maybe short, they went. Soon the road divided into two, and a column stood there, and on the column it was written:

“WHO GOES TO THE RIGHT SHALL RECEIVE A KINGDOM, WHO GOES TO THE LEFT SHALL RECEIVE MUCH OF EVIL AND OF GRIEF, BUT HE SHALL MARRY A FAIR PRINCESS.”

So the brothers considered this inscription, and decided to go in different directions; the elder went to the right and the younger to the left.

The elder went on and on, and soon came to an unknown capital city. He also saw a mass of people, only they were all mourning and sad. So he begged shelter of a poor old widow. “Will you protect,” he said, “a foreigner from the dark night?”

“I should be very glad to have you,” she said, “but I cannot put you anywhere, I am so closely packed.”

“Do let me in, _bábushka_; I am such a simple youth, just as you are; you can find me some small space, some kind of nook for the night.”

So the old woman admitted him, and they began to speak.

“Why, _bábushka_,” the stranger asked, “is there such a throng in the city, why are rooms so dear, and why are the people all mourning and melancholy?”

“Well, our king has just died, and the _boyárs_ have sent the town-crier out to announce that old and young are to assemble, and each of them is to have a candle, and with the candles they are to go into the cathedral, and whosesoever’s candle lights of itself is to be king.”

So in the morning the boy got up, washed, prayed to God, said the grace for the bread and salt and the soft bed which his hostess had given him, and went into the cathedral. When he got there, if you had been there three years you could not have counted all those people. And he took a candle in his hand, and it lit up at once. So they all burst upon him and began to blow out his candle, to damp it, but the flame lit all the brighter. There was no help for it: they acknowledged him as their king, and dressed him in golden apparel and led him to the palace.

But the younger brother, who had turned to the left, heard that there was a fair princess in a certain kingdom who was indescribably lovely. But she was very grudging, and she announced in all countries that she would only marry the man who could feed her army for three whole years; yet every one had to try his luck. So the boy went there, and he went on his way, went on the broad road. And he spat into his little bag, and spat it full of pure gold. Well, it may be long, it may be short, it may be near, it may be far, but he at last reached the fair princess, and he said he would accomplish her task. He had no need to ask for gold, he simply had to spit and there it was. For three years he maintained the princess’s army, gave it food and drink and dress.

So the time came for a jolly feast and for the wedding. But the princess was still full of wiles. She asked herself and she sought to know whence God had sent him such enormous wealth. So she invited him to be her guest, received him, honoured him. And the doughty youth fell sick, and he vomited up the liver of the hen, and the Tsarévna swallowed it. From that day gold fell from her lips, and she would not have her bridegroom with her. “What shall I do with this ignoramus?” she asked her _boyárs_, and she asked her generals. “He has had the idiotic idea of wanting to marry me.”

So the _boyárs_ said he must be hung, and the generals said he must be shot. But the Tsarévna had a better idea—that he ought to be sent to hell.

So the doughty youth escaped and once more set forth on his road. And he had only one thought in his mind, how he should make himself wise and revenge himself on the Tsarévna for her unkind jest. So he went on and went on, and he came into the dreamy wood, and he looked and he saw three men fighting with their fists.

“What are you fighting about?”

“We have three finds in the road, and we cannot divide them; every one wants them for himself.”

“What are the finds? what are you contending for?”

“Look, this is a barrel: you only have to knock it, and a soldier leaps out of its mouth. This is a flying carpet: wherever you think it will take you. And this is a whip: strike a maiden and say ‘You have been a maiden, now become a mare,’ and she will become a mare at once.”

“These are valuable gifts, and they are hard to divide. But this is the way out: I will send an arrow in this direction, and you all run after it; he who reaches it first shall have the barrel, and the second shall have the flying carpet, and the third shall have the whip.”

“Very well; shoot the dart.”

So the youth sent out the arrow very far. The three darted after it and ran, and they never looked up. But the doughty youth took the barrel and the whip, sat upon the flying carpet, waved it one end, and he rose higher than the forest that stood there, lower than the clouds above, and he flew whither he would.

So he went back to the forbidden lands of the fair princess, began beating the barrel, and an enormous army came out; infantry, cavalry and artillery, with cannon and with powder waggons. And the mighty host rolled on and rolled on. The doughty youth asked for a horse, mounted it, and went up to his army and commanded it. The drums beat out and the trumpets sounded, and the army went at a pace. Then the Tsarévna saw from her rooms and was very much frightened, and sent her _boyárs_ and generals to ask for peace. The good youth bade these ambassadors be seized, had them cruelly and savagely punished and sent them back to the Tsarévna, who was to come herself and ask for a reconciliation.

Well, there was no help for it: so the Tsarévna herself got out of her carriage, recognised him and swooned. But he took the whip, struck her on the back: “You are a maiden, now become a mare!” And the Tsarévna turned into a mare. He bridled and rode her, and went to the kingdom of his elder brother. He galloped at a full pace, put both spurs into her back and used a scourge of three iron rods, and the army followed him, an unbelievable host. It may be long, it may be short, at last they came to the boundary, and the doughty youth stopped, collected his army into the barrel, and went to the capital. He went straight to the royal palace, and the king himself saw him and looked at the mare and began to wonder: “What is this great hero approaching? I have never seen such a fine mare in all my life.” So he sent his generals to trade for that horse.

“No, what an envious king you have!” said the youth. “It would evidently be out of the question in your city to come here with a young wife; if you are so greedy for a mare, you would certainly take away my wife.”

Then he went to the palace and said, “Hail, brother!”

“Oh, I never knew you!”

So they set to kissing each other.

“What sort of barrel have you?”

“That is for drinking. How should I journey forth on the road otherwise?”

“And the carpet?”

“Sit down and you will find out.”

So they sat on the flying carpet, and the younger brother shook it at the corner and they flew higher than the forest, lower than the wandering cloud, straight back to their own country. So they flew back, took a room with their father, and as to who they were they never told their father and mother. So they then thought they would give a feast to all the christened world. They assembled all the people in countless hosts, and for three whole days they gave food and drink to all without requital, without any charge. And afterwards every one began saying had any one a tale of wonder to tell; let him start. But no one would say: “We, it is said, are strange folk, but——”

“Well, I will tell you a story,” said the younger brother; “only do not talk until the end. Whoever interrupts three times is to be ruthlessly punished.” So they all agreed.

And he began to tell how the two old folks had lived together, how they had had a hen which laid jewels, and how the mother had made friends with the apprentice. “What a lie!” interrupted the mistress. But the son went on with his tale. And he narrated how they had twisted the hen’s neck, and the mother again interrupted. At last the story went up to the point when the old woman wished to take away the children, and again she would not stand it: “It is untrue!” she said. “Could ever such a thing happen? Could ever a mother wish to be torn from her children?”

“Obviously, it is possible. Look at us, mother; we are your children.”

Then the whole story came out, and the father bade his wife be chopped up into bits. He tied the apprentice to the tail of horses, and the horses broke in every direction and scattered his bones over the fields. “Let the dog die a dog’s death!” said the old man. And he gave all his property to the poor and went to live in his elder son’s kingdom.

But the younger son smote his mare with the back of his hand and said, “You are a mare; now become a maiden!” So the mare turned into the fair Tsarévna. They made peace, became friends and wedded. It was a magnificent wedding.

I was there, I drank mead and it flowed up to my beard, but none came into my mouth.

MARK THE RICH

In a country, in a kingdom far away, once upon a time there lived a merchant, Mark the Rich; and, what with all his estates and revenues, you couldn’t count them. He lived, and was merry, and never suffered the poor man to come to his door, so ungracious was he.

One day he had a dream: “Make ready, Mark the Rich, and wait. God Himself will be thy Guest!” In the morning Mark got up, called his wife, and bade her make a banquet. He covered all of his courtyard with scarlet velvet and golden brocade, and at every side-path he posted journeymen and servants to keep out all the hunger-brothers and scare them outside. Then Mark the Rich came, and sat awaiting the Lord. The hours went by, and never a guest. And then the poor heard that there was a great feast at the house of Mark the Rich. They all gathered round for the hallowed gifts; but the journeymen and servants drove them all away. But one poor beggar, bent with age, and all in rags, went up to the door of Mark the Rich. And as Mark the Rich saw him from the window, he cried out in a fierce voice: “Hi, you sluggards and louts! Eyes and no eyes? Look at the beast that is traipsing up and down our courtyard: get rid of him.”

And all the servants scampered up, laid hold of the poor old fellow, and rushed him out the back way. One good old woman saw him, and said: “Come to me, you poor old beggar; I will feed and rest you.” She took him in, fed him, gave him to drink, and laid him to sleep; and thus Mark the Rich had never found the Lord for whom he was waiting.

At midnight the lady had a dream, and heard some one knock at the window and ask: “Old and righteous man, are you sleeping here to-night?” “Yes,” said the old man. “In a village near by a poor peasant has had a son; how will you reward him?” The poor man said: “He shall be lord of all the domains of Mark the Rich!” Next day the poor old man left his hostess and went forth to roam. The old peasant woman went to Mark the Rich and told him of her dream.

Mark went to the peasant and asked for the baby. “Give him to me—I will adopt him; he shall grow up; I will teach him well; and when I die he shall have all my wealth.” This was what he said, but his thoughts were quite different. He took the little boy, went home, and threw him into a snow-drift. “Lie there and freeze; that’s the way to become master of Mark’s wealth!” But that same night hunters, passing by, hunting for hares, found the boy, took him home, and brought him up.

Many years passed by, and much water flowed in the river, and one day Mark the Rich went out with those huntsmen, saw the young boy, heard his story, and spoke about him, and knew it was the same he had cast forth.

So Mark the Rich asked the youth to go home and take a letter to his wife; but in that letter he bade her poison the boy like a dog. The poor foundling set out on his road; when on his way, he met a poor man with nothing on but a shirt; but this beggar was Christ Himself. He stopped the wayfarer, took the letter, and held it for one minute, and the letter was changed in all it said. The wife of Mark the Rich was to receive the bearer with all honour, and marry him to her daughter. It was said, and it was done.

Mark the Rich returned home; and was very wroth at seeing his new son-in-law, and said: “In the evening go to my distillery and look after the work”; whilst he secretly told the men to hunt him into the burning cauldron as soon as ever he appeared. So the boy made ready to go to the distillery; but a sudden sickness befell him, and he had to go back home. Mark the Rich waited his time, and went to see what had become of his son-in-law, and tumbled into his own distillers’ clutches, into the burning cauldron!

BY COMMAND OF THE PRINCE DANIEL

Once upon a time there was an aged queen who had a son and a daughter, who were fine, sturdy children. But there was also an evil witch who could not bear them, and she began to lay plots how she might contrive their overthrow.

So she went to the old Queen and said: “Dear Gossip, I am giving you a ring. Put it on your son’s hand, and he will then be rich and generous: only he must marry the maiden whom this ring fits.”

The mother believed her and was extremely glad, and at her death bade her son marry only the woman whom the ring fitted.

Time went by and the boy grew up: he became a man and looked at all the maidens. Very many of them he liked, only as soon as he put the ring on their finger it was either too broad or too narrow. So he travelled from village to village and from town to town, and searched out all the fair damsels, but he could not find his chosen one, and returned home in a reflective mood.

“What’s the matter, brother?” his sister asked him. So he told her of his trouble, explained his sorrow. “What a wonderful ring you have!” said the sister. “Let me try it on.” She tried it on her finger, and the ring was firmly fixed as if it had been soldered on, as though it had been made for her.

“Oh, sister! you are my chosen bride, and you must be my wife.”

“What a horrible idea, brother! That would be a sin.”

But the brother would not listen to a word she said. He danced for joy and told her to make ready for the wedding. She wept bitter tears, went in front of the house, and sat on the threshold and let her tears flow.

Two old beggars came up, and she gave them to eat and to drink. They asked what her trouble was, and she needs must tell the two. “Now, weep no more, but do what we say. Make up four dolls and put them in the four corners of the room. After your brother calls you in for the betrothal, go; and if he calls you into the bridal chamber, ask for time, trust in God, and follow our advice.” And the beggars departed.

The brother and sister were betrothed, and he went into the room and cried out, “Sister mine, come in!”

“I will come in in a moment, brother; I am only taking off my earrings.”

And the dolls in the four corners began to sing:

Coo-Coo—Prince Danílo Coo-Coo—Govorílo Coo-Coo—’Tis a brother Coo-Coo—Weds his sister: Coo-Coo—Earth must split asunder Cooo—And the sister lie hid under.

Then the earth rose up and slowly swallowed the sister.

And the brother cried out again, “Sister mine, come in to the feather-bed!”

“In a minute, brother. I am undoing my girdle.”

Then the dolls began to sing:

Coo-Coo—Prince Danílo Coo-Coo—Govorílo Coo-Coo—’Tis a brother Coo-Coo—Weds his sister: Coo-Coo—Earth must split asunder; Cooo—And the sister lie hid under.

Only she had vanished now, all but her head. And the brother cried out again: “Come into the feather-bed.”

“In a minute, brother; I am taking off my shoes.”

And the dolls went on cooing, and she vanished under the earth.

And the brother kept crying, and crying, and crying. And when she never returned, he became angry and ran out to fetch her. He could see nothing but the dolls, which kept singing. So he knocked off their heads and threw them into the stove.

The sister went farther under the earth, and she saw a little hut standing on cocks’ feet and turning round. “Hut!” she cried out, “Stand as you should with your back to the wood.”

So the hut stopped and the doors opened, and a fair maiden looked out. She was knitting a cloth with gold and silver thread. She greeted the guest friendlily and kindly, but sighed and said, “Oh, my darling, my sister! Oh, I am so glad to see you. I shall be so glad to look after you and to care for you as long as my mother is not here. But as soon as she flies in, woe to you and me, for she is a witch.”

When she heard this the maiden was frightened, but could not fly anywhere. So she sat down and began helping the other maiden at her work. So they chattered along; and soon, at the right time before the mother came, the fair maiden turned her guest into a needle, stuck her into the besom and put it on one side. But scarcely had this been done, when Bába Yagá came in.

“Now, my fair daughter, my little child, tell me at once, why does the room smell so of Russian bones?”

“Mother, there have been strange men journeying past who wanted a drink of water.”

“Why did you not keep them?”

“They were too old, mother; much too tough a snack for your teeth.”

“Henceforth, entice them all into the house and never let them go. I must now get about again and look out for other booty.”

As soon as ever she had gone, the maidens set to work again knitting, talking and laughing.

Then the witch came into the room once more. She sniffed about the house, and said, “Daughter, my sweet daughter, my darling, tell me at once, why does it so smell of Russian bones?”

“Old men who were just passing by who wanted to warm their hands. I did my best to keep them, but they would not stay.”

So the witch was angry, scolded her daughter, and flew away. In the meantime her unknown guest was sitting in the besom.

The maidens once more set to work, sewed, laughed, and thought how they might escape the evil witch. This time they forgot how the hours were flying by, and suddenly the witch stood in front of them.

“Darling, tell me, where have the Russian bones crept away?”

“Here, my mother; a fair maiden is waiting for you.”

“Daughter mine, darling, heat the oven quickly; make it very hot.”

So the maiden looked up and was frightened to death. For Bába Yagá with the wooden legs stood in front of her, and to the ceiling rose her nose. So the mother and daughter carried firewood in, logs of oak and maple; made the oven ready till the flames shot up merrily.

Then the witch took her broad shovel and said in a friendly voice: “Go and sit on my shovel, fair child.”

So the maiden obeyed, and the Bába Yagá was going to shove her into the oven. But the girl stuck her feet against the wall of the hearth.

“Will you sit still, girl?”

But it was not any good. Bába Yagá could not put the maiden into the oven. So she became angry, thrust her back and said, “You are simply wasting time! Just look at me and see how it is done.” Down she sat on the shovel with her legs nicely trussed together. So the maidens instantly put her into the oven, shut the oven door, and slammed her in; took their knitting with them, and their comb and brush, and ran away.

They ran hard away, but when they turned round there was Bába Yagá running after them. She had set herself free. “Hoo, Hoo, Hoo! there run the two!” So the maidens, in their need, threw the brush away, and a thick, dense coppice arose which she could not break through. So she stretched out her claws, scratched herself a way through, and again ran after them. Whither should the two poor girls flee? They flung their comb behind them, and a dark, murky oak forest grew up, so thick, no fly could ever have flown its way through. Then the witch whetted her teeth and set to work. And she went on tearing up one tree after another by the roots, and she made herself a way, and again set out after them, and almost caught them up.

Now the girls had no strength left to run, so they threw the cloth behind them, and a broad sea stretched out, deep, wide and fiery. The old woman rose up, wanted to fly over it, but fell into the fire and was burned to death.

The poor maidens, poor homeless doves! did not know whither to go. They sat down in order to rest, and a man came and asked them who they were. He told his master that two little birds had fluttered on to his estate; two fairest damsels similar in form and shape, eye for eye and line for line. One was his sister, but which was it? He could not guess. So the master went to both of them. One was the sister—which? The servant had not lied; he did not know them, and she was angry with him and did not say.

“What shall I do?” asked the master.

“Master, I will pour blood into an ewe-skin, put that under my armpit and talk to the maiden. In the meantime I will go by and will stab you in the side with my knife; then blood will flow; then your sister will betray herself who she is.”

“Very well!”

As soon as it was said it was done. The servant stabbed his master in the side, and the blood poured forth, and he fell down.

Then his sister flung herself over him and cried out, “Oh, my brother! my darling!”

Then the brother jumped up again healthy and well. He embraced his sister, gave her a proper husband, and he married her friend, for the ring fitted her just as well. So they all lived splendidly and happily.

THE THOUGHTLESS WORD

Once upon a time an old man lived in a village with his wife, and they were very poor: they had only one son. And when he grew up, the mother said to her husband: “It is full time that we secured a wife for our son.”

“Well, go and see if you can bargain for a wife.”

The old woman went to her neighbour and asked him if her son could marry his daughter. But the neighbour said, “No!” And she went to the next peasant, who also declined the honour. And she searched the whole village, and not a single soul would hear a single word of it. When she came back she said: “Goodman, I fear our son is born under an unlucky star!”

“Why?”

“I went through the whole village, and there is nobody who will give me his daughter.”