Part 14

Then Sadko, not to be outdone, boasted of his wealth, and swore to buy up all the wares of the shops of Novgorod, both good and bad, day after day, until there should not be any more for sale in all that city of busy traders. And upon his oath he named a great wager of countless treasure.

The next day he sent his servants to the markets of Novgorod, who bought up all the wares, both good and bad. On the second day the markets were full again, but Sadko sent his servants, who bought up all the wares, both good and bad. On the third day he found the markets full of precious merchandise from Moscow, and felt a merchant's pride in the enterprise of his city; and he made a pause while he went home, sat down in his own chamber and softly played upon his harp of maple-wood, which seemed to speak the golden tones of wisdom.

"If you buy all these goods from Moscow," it seemed to whisper, "others will flow into Novgorod the Great from far away across the sea; and even Sadko the Rich Guest cannot buy all the treasures of the whole white world. Sadko is rich but Novgorod the Great is still richer. Yield your wager and venture forth upon the merchant path of lake and river and broad grey sea where the Water Tsar will be your friend."

Then Sadko yielded his wager, which was an enormous sum of gold, and built a great fleet of thirty-three red ships with sails of fair white linen. The prows of these scarlet vessels were in the likeness of fearful dragons, whose eyes were precious jacinths, whose brows were Siberian sables and whose ears were the dark-brown skins of Siberian foxes. Soon these ships were filled with the rich wares of Novgorod, and Sadko sailed away to Lake Ladoga and thence into the Neva and through that river to the deep-blue sea. At the ports upon the shore he sold his wares, making great gain and filling many casks of forty buckets with red gold, white silver, and fair seed pearls. Then they sailed away with Sadko in the Falcon ship which was ever foremost and the finest in all that scarlet fleet.

But suddenly the blue sea turned to grey and the ships, now almost black in the shadow, halted and stood still. The waves rose like mountains, the sails flapped, the ships began to rock while men whispered of Whirlwind the Whistler and said that surely Ivan the son of Golden Tress had not killed him.

Then Sadko, the Rich Guest, shouted from his ship:

"Ho, there, my brave mariners! I hear the voice of the mighty Water Tsar, to whom we have paid no tribute. Cast into the waters a cask of red gold." And they did so, but still the dark-red ships rocked, the waves beat, the sails tore, and the hearts of the mariners longed for Novgorod the Great.

Again Sadko the Rich Guest shouted from his ship:

"Ho there, my brave mariners! A cask of red gold is but a small gift for the Water Tsar. Cast into the waves a cask of fine seed pearls." And they did so, but still the dark-red ships rocked, the waves beat, the sails tore, and the hearts of the mariners longed for Novgorod the Great.

Once again Sadko the Rich Guest shouted from his ship:

"Ho, there, my brave mariners! It is plain that the Water Tsar asks the tribute of a living man. Make therefore slips of alder-wood and let each man write his name upon his own lot and cast them all into the dark-grey sea, and the lots of all who are to see their homes once again shall float. But that man among us whose lot sinketh shall be cast into the sea." Then the command of Sadko was obeyed, but Sadko's lot was a bunch of hop flowers. And all the lots swam like ducks, but the bunch of hop flowers sank like a stone.

Yet again Sadko the Rich Guest shouted from his ship: "Those lots were not just. Make other lots of willow-wood and try again." Then the command of Sadko was obeyed, but Sadko's lot was a piece of blue steel from Damascus, wondrously wrought and heavy in weight. And all the lots swam like wild ducks, but the piece of blue steel sank like a stone.

Then Sadko said, "It is plain that the Water Tsar asks for Sadko himself." So he told his servants to fetch him his massive inkstand, his swan-quill pen, and his paper, and they did so. Whereupon Sadko seated himself in his folding chair at his table of oak and began to apportion his goods. He gave much to God's churches, much for the improvement of choir singing, much to the poor, and much to his young wife, and the remainder of his goods he divided among his faithful mariners.

Having done this in due order he wept and said to those about him:

"Ho, my brave mariners! Place an oaken plank upon the heaving dark-grey sea upon which I shall journey; and fill a bowl with red gold, another with white silver and a third with fine seed pearls and place them upon the plank." After that Sadko took in his right hand an iron image of a saint of God, and in his left hand his harp of maple-wood. He wore a mantle of rich sables over all, and he stepped upon the oaken plank and was borne away upon the waves while the dark-red ships sped on and flew as if they had been ravens over the field of the slain.

Now as his strange raft floated turbulently upon the surface of the water, Sadko at first was greatly terrified, but after a while he fell into a gentle sleep, and when he awoke he was in the crystal kingdom of the Water Tsar. He looked about him and saw the red sun burning though it gave no heat, and he saw also before him a palace of white stone in which sat the Water Tsar with a head like a heap of yellow hay.

"Welcome, Sadko, the Rich Guest of Novgorod," he said. "You have long sailed upon the waters, but have paid no tribute to the Water Tsar. I have sent for you that you may solve this riddle which is a matter of dispute between me and my Tsaritza. Which is now of greatest worth in Russia, gold or silver or damascened steel?"

"Gold and silver are of great worth in Russia," said Sadko, "but damascened steel is of great value also. For without gold and silver a man may contrive to live, but without the ore of iron no man can live at ease."

"What do you hold in your right hand and in your left?" asked the Water Tsar.

"In my right hand is a holy image," replied Sadko, "and in my left my harp of maple-wood."

"I am told," said the Water Tsar, whose memory must, of course, have been washed quite clean each day by living in the sea, "that you are, in spite of your trading, a master player upon the harp. Play for me upon your harp of maple-wood."

Sadko at once commenced to finger his harp, and forgetting all his trading and golden prosperity--perhaps the water washed his memory clean also--he played such music as the sea fairies with the pink conch shells could not surpass. Then he struck up a merry dance-tune, and at once the Tsar rose from his throne and began to jump about, beating time with the skirts of his royal robe and swinging his mantle of white fleece round him like an encircling cloud, while above all gleamed his hair as yellow as a bunch of hay. At the sound a troop of lovely sea fairies, clad in transparent garments of the most beautiful colours, joined in a choral dance, while strange sea creatures squatted and leapt about the oozy floor of the ocean sea.

But the merriment at the bottom of the Water Tsar's kingdom made sad havoc at the top. For the upper waters of the sea were churned into yeasty foam, heaving into great billows, breaking ships asunder, drowning many mariners, and swallowing up rich stores of merchandise. For three hours did Sadko play, and then the quiet-eyed Water Tsaritza said to him in a compelling voice:

"Break thy harp of maple-wood, Sadko the Rich Guest, for though the Water Tsar makes merry in his palace below, in the upper borders of his realm there is trouble enough and to spare."

All at once Sadko stopped playing, broke his harp and snapped its golden strings, and when the Water Tsar commanded him to play for two hours more, he told him boldly that the instrument was broken.

"But I have sea-smiths here," said His Watery Majesty, "who can mend a broken pearl, so that it would be an easy thing for them to restore a harp-string."

"All the sea-smiths of your ocean realm," said Sadko, "could not revive music that is lost. That can only be done in Holy Russia, when the maker of the music comes once more to his own home."

"Talk not of land kingdoms," said the Tsar, whirling round Sadko in the hope of regaining the step which he had lost, but finding it impossible to dance without music. "Stay with me and wed some beautiful sea-maiden. Take your choice from the maids in the train of my queen."

Seeing that he was in the power of the Water Tsar, Sadko promised to do so, and asked the advice of the quiet-eyed Water Tsaritza, who gave it in her own compelling voice, so that Sadko felt that it was a command. "Do not choose," she said, "any sea-maid from the first three hundred which the Tsar will marshal before you, but let them pass by in all their beauty. Do not choose from the second three hundred, but let them pass in all their loveliness. But from the third three hundred choose the Princess who shall come last of all, and who is smaller and blacker than all the rest. But when you have chosen her do not kiss her, for if you do, you shall never more dwell in Holy Russia, nor see the fair white world and the round and ruddy sun."

Therefore Sadko allowed the first three hundred maidens to pass him by in all their beauty; and he let the second three hundred pass him by in all their loveliness; but from the third three hundred he chose the Princess who came last of all, and who was smaller and blacker than all the rest. But when he chose her he did not kiss her, for he longed once more to dwell in Holy Russia, to see the fair white world and the round and ruddy sun.

At the wedding feast the Water Tsar made a great banquet, after which Sadko lay down and fell into a heavy sleep; and when he awoke he found himself on the steep banks of a river near Novgorod. He sat up, rubbing his eyes, and saw far away on the Volkof river his fleet of bright-red ships with their sails of fair white linen on the decks of which his men were standing thoughtful, thinking of Sadko in the depths of the deep-blue sea. But when they saw their master standing upon the steep bank, they rubbed their eyes in astonishment. Then they hailed him, and took him on board with great rejoicing. He carried with him a broken harp, and lo, as he entered his palace and saw his young wife again the harp-strings were suddenly restored to all their strength and flexibility, and the body of maple-wood rang as sound as the great bell of St. Sophia.

Thenceforth Sadko sailed no more upon seas, either blue or grey, but lived at home in Novgorod the Great, and delighted all with the golden tones of his harp of maple-wood.

The stove was growing cold, the black-browed maiden rose to her feet, and stretching herself to ease her limbs stooped tenderly to wrap the great mantle of sables more closely about the widow mother of Vasily the Turbulent, who murmured gently but not complainingly, "Yet Sadko came home again."

"We thank you for your tale, maiden," said the brave bodyguard of Vasily. Then they went to their rest; and on the next day they sought out the men of Novgorod, and the Sea Trader told them of new routes for rich merchandise which their turbulent lord had opened out for their enrichment; and they equipped the brave bodyguard with more scarlet ships to go out again upon those routes and win more glory for Novgorod the Great.

As for Vasily, they made a great image of him, and set it up in their market, telling all men how his valour had earned for him the praise of all his townsmen.

But the black-browed maiden smiled with upturned scarlet lip when she saw it, and shrugged her white shoulders as she turned away to wait upon the mother of Vasily the Turbulent.

NIKITA THE FOOTLESS AND THE TERRIBLE TSAR

In a certain kingdom of Holy Russia there reigned a ruler so fierce that he was known as the Terrible Tsar, and the way in which he won his title was this. One day he frowned such an angry frown at his body-servant, who had brought him diamond shoes instead of those set with fine seed pearls, that the man ran out of the room in great terror; and he told the chambermaid, who told the butler, who told the cook, who told the soldiers of the guard, who told the generals, who told the people that their master was indeed the Terrible Tsar. So this ruler became the terror of all the neighbouring princes; and when he heard of his reputation he took great care not to lose it for it proved very useful to him.

By-and-by the Terrible Tsar made up his mind to marry, and he wrote a proclamation in golden ink on a large piece of crimson velvet, and sent a herald into every town and village to read the announcement, which was to this effect--that whoever should find for him a bride who was ruddier than the sun, fairer than the moon, and whiter than snow should be given a reward so great that he would be forced to spend most of his time in computing its value. This was a prize worth trying for, and before long the people of all the cities with their suburbs and towns with their villages, as well as the goose-herds, swan-herds, cow-herds, and keepers of downy ducks on the open steppe, were wagging their heads over the matter and counting up enormous numbers upon their finger-tips.

Now not far from the Tsar's palace there was a large brewery, and when the workers in this place met together to eat their food they began to talk of the matter which was exercising the minds of the people throughout the kingdom. "Well, my brothers," said a certain man among them, who was known as Nikita Koltoma, "I am quite certain of this. No one can find such a bride as the Terrible Tsar desires without my help; and if I promise to find her, found she shall be, though whether the Tsar enjoys his good fortune when he finds her is another matter."

"You are a fool and a boaster," said the other workmen. "How can one of us do such a great deed as this? Why all the bravest heroes of Holy Russia will attempt it, and even they have small chance of success. Let us go back to make more beer. Why, Nikita, you could not do it in a dream, to say nothing of your waking hours."

"Well, brothers," said Nikita firmly and cheerfully, "say what it may please you to say; but I have faith in myself, and if any man can find the bride I can do so."

"Hush, Nikita," said the others in warning voices. "Have you not heard how terrible our Tsar really is? Why if he hears of your boasting he will surely put you to death."

"Not so," said Nikita quite cheerfully, "he will not put me to death. He will give me much money, and some day, indeed, he may make me his first minister."

The workmen looked at him in dismay and terror, for over the wall they saw the head of one of the Tsar's soldiers, and they could tell quite plainly from the tilt of his headgear that the man had heard all the boastful speeches of Nikita. Before long a strong guard came to take the boaster away to the Tsar's palace. "That is the last of him," said one of the workmen as the poor fellow was marched off. And so it was, at least as far as the brewery was concerned.

For the Terrible Tsar received Nikita with great delight. "Are you the man," he asked, "who boasted that you could find me a bride ruddier than the sun, fairer than the moon, and whiter than snow?"

"I am, Your Majesty," said Nikita firmly.

"That is well," said the Terrible Tsar. "If you can do this, I will give you such and such a reward and make you first minister. But if, after boasting, you cannot do it, I will cut off your head."

"I am honoured by Your Majesty's august commands," said Nikita; "but I beg of you that you will first give orders that I should be given a holiday for a month."

The Terrible Tsar consented to this, and ordered his steward to give Nikita a paper commanding all keepers of inns and eating-houses to place before him food and drink of their best without stint and without charge. Then Nikita went out, and for three complete weeks he enjoyed himself as he had never done before. Meanwhile the Terrible Tsar waited patiently, and when Nikita presented himself at the palace he scarcely knew him he was so well favoured, so vigorous, and so cheerful and confident of success. To him even the Terrible Tsar seemed to have lost his terror.

"May it please Your Majesty," said Nikita, "to choose for me twelve brave youths exactly the same in height, in breadth, in the colour of their hair and the pitch of their voice; and let your workmen make thirteen tents of fair white linen embroidered with gold." In a very short space of time the youths and the tents were ready, and Nikita said to his royal employer:

"Now Great Tsar, prepare yourself, and we will go to find a bride ruddier than the sun, fairer than the moon, and whiter than snow."

Without further delay they saddled their good steeds and packed the white linen tents on horseback. Then after saying a prayer in the cathedral they gave the rein to their chargers. So fast they rode that it was only a pillar of dust on the open plain and they were gone. For three days they travelled onward, and then they came to a smith's forge.

"Go ahead now," said Nikita, "and may good go with you. I will go into this forge to smoke a pipe with the blacksmiths." Then he went in and found fifteen smiths making the anvils ring.

"Good-day to you, brothers," he bellowed, and at the sound of his great voice they ceased their hammering and returned his greeting with proper courtesy.

"Make me a staff of wrought iron," he said, "of five hundred pounds in weight."

"We are willing enough to make such a staff," said the master smith, "but who will turn the iron? Five hundred pounds is no light weight even for a hero."

"Beat away, my merry men," said Nikita, "and I will turn the iron." So they beat away and Nikita turned the iron; and when the staff was ready Nikita took it out into the open field. There he threw it skyward to a height of ninety feet and let it fall into his hand. As he grasped it with his heroic strength, it bent and broke. Then Nikita went back to the forge, paid the men for their work, threw the broken pieces of rod away, and rode off with a pleased look upon his face. Before long he caught up again with his companions, and they rode onward for three days longer, when once more they came to a forge in the open field.

"Go ahead again," said Nikita, "and may good go with you. I will go into this forge to smoke a pipe with the blacksmiths." Then he went in and found twenty-five smiths making the anvils ring.

"Good-day to you, brothers," he bellowed, and at the sound of his great voice they ceased their hammering and returned his greeting with proper courtesy.

"Make me a staff of wrought iron," he said, "of a thousand pounds in weight."

"We are willing enough," said the master smith, "to make such a staff, but who will turn the iron?"

"Beat away, my merry men," said Nikita, "and I will turn the iron." So they beat away and Nikita turned the iron; and when the staff was ready, Nikita took it out into the open field. There he threw it skyward to a height of one hundred and fifty feet and let it fall into his hand. As he grasped it with his heroic strength, it bent and broke. Then Nikita went back to the forge, paid the men for their work, threw the broken pieces of the rod away, and rode off with a pleased look upon his face. Before long he caught up again with his companions, and they rode onward for three days longer, whence once more they came to a forge in the open field.

"Go ahead a third time," said Nikita, "and may good go with you. I will go into this forge to smoke a pipe with the blacksmiths."

Within the third forge he found fifty blacksmiths tormenting an old man whom they had stretched out upon a large anvil. Ten of these great fellows were holding him by the beard with pincers and the forty were pounding him on his body with hammers.

"Have mercy, have mercy, good brothers," the old man was screaming. "Leave some life in me to allow me to show how sorry I am."

"Good-day to you all," roared Nikita above the din.

"Good-day to you, brother," replied the blacksmiths, pausing in their work.

"Why do you use this old man in such a cruel manner?" asked Nikita.

"Because he owes each one of us a rouble," was the answer, "and he will not pay. Why should he not be beaten?"

"It is a great deal to suffer for fifty roubles," said Nikita. "Here is the money. Let the old fellow go in peace."

"Very good, brother," said the blacksmiths. "We do not care who pays the money so long as we get it somewhere, somehow." Then they let the old man free, and as soon as they stood aside from the anvil he vanished from their sight.

Nikita rubbed his eyes and looked round in blank amazement. "Why, where is the old man?" he asked.

"Oh," replied one of the blacksmiths, "you may look for him in vain now. He is a wizard, and can wriggle out of anything."

Nikita laughed, and then ordered the blacksmiths to make him a staff of iron weighing two thousand pounds. When it was ready he went out into the field and threw it upward to a height of three hundred feet. The staff fell into his outstretched hand, which never shook, and remained there firmly held.

"This will do," said Nikita. Thereupon he paid the men for their work, and rode off quickly after his companions. But as he rode onward he heard some one behind him lustily calling out his name, and turning in his saddle he saw the old man running quickly after him.

"Thanks, thanks, many thanks and more thanks again for your help," said the old man. "For thirty years I lay upon that anvil and was tortured by those fifty fiends. Now will you accept a present from me in return? Here is a wonderful cap for you. When you put it on your head no man will be able to see you, for it is a cap of darkness." Nikita thanked the old man warmly, took the cap, and once more galloped on after his companions, whom he overtook after a short space of time. By-and-by they came to a castle which was surrounded by a stout iron paling through which there was no gateway.

"Well," said the Terrible Tsar, "what shall we do now? It is very plain, Nikita, that the people of this castle do not intend that any one should enter."

"Why not?" asked Nikita. "That is surely a small difficulty--with all due respect to Your Majesty. Now, boys, tear down the paling and let us through." So the good fellows got down from their horses and began to tug and push at the railings with all their heroic strength; but they could not make them budge an inch.

"Oh, brothers," said Nikita. "I find I am a deep-sea captain of a crew of river sailors. What I wish to have done I must do for myself. No matter; after all it was I myself who promised to find for the Terrible Tsar a bride who is ruddier than the sun, fairer than the moon, and whiter than snow." Nikita leapt from his horse, put his heroic hand to the paling and a full length of it lay upon the ground. Through the opening thus made the company rode boldly forward. On the green lawn before the great door of the castle they quietly set up their white gold-embroidered tents, ate a good meal, and then, lying down, slept soundly. But Nikita did not enter one of the tents. He took three old mats, made a little shelter for himself, and lay down on the cold hard ground; and Nikita did not sleep, but waited watchfully for what might turn out.

Now when morning dawned, Yelena the Haughty Beauty woke with a sigh and looked out through the lattice-window of her room which was decked with ruddy gold, white silver, and fine seed pearls. There she saw upon the lawn the thirteen white tents of the Terrible Tsar, and in front of them all a small shelter made of old mats, from which a pair of very sharp eyes were looking out.