Part 4

"Which of you wants my help, you, oh Mightiest Dragon, or you, Vitazko, the Victorious?"

"Help me!" the dragon roared.

"Then what will you give me?"

"As much gold as you want."

"Nay, raven," Vitazko shouted, "help me and I will give you all the dragon's horses that are grazing over yonder in the meadow."

"Very well, Vitazko," the raven croaked. "I'll help you. What shall I do?"

"Cool me when I'm hot," Vitazko said, "when the dragon breathes on me his fiery breath."

They grappled again and the dragon plunged Vitazko into the ground up to his ankles. Twisting the ring on his right hand and thinking of St. Nedyelka, Vitazko gripped the dragon around the waist and plunged him into the earth up to his knees.

Then they paused for breath and the raven which had dipped its wings in a fountain sat on Vitazko's head and shook down drops of cool water on his heated face.

Then Vitazko twisted the ring on his left hand, thought of the beautiful princess, and closed with the dragon again. This time with a mighty effort he gripped the dragon as if he were a stake of wood and drove him into the ground up to his very shoulders. Then quickly drawing Nedyelka's sword, he cut off the dragon's head.

At once the lovely princess came running and herself plucked two of the Golden Apples and gave them to Vitazko. She thanked him prettily for rescuing her and she said to him:

"You have saved me, Vitazko, from this fierce monster and now I am yours if you want me."

"I do want you, dear princess," Vitazko said, "and, if I could, I'd go with you at once to your father to ask you in marriage. But I cannot. I must hurry home to my sick mother. If you love me, wait for me a year and a day and I'll surely return."

The princess made him this promise and they parted.

Remembering the raven, Vitazko rode over to the meadow and slaughtered the dragon's horses. Then rising on Tatosh he flew home on the wind to St. Nedyelka.

"Well, son, how did things go?" the old woman asked.

"Gloriously!" Vitazko answered, showing her the Golden Apples. "But if the princess hadn't given me a second ring I might have been vanquished."

"Take home the Golden Apples to your mother," Nedyelka said, "and this time ride Tatosh to the castle."

So Vitazko mounted Tatosh again and flew to the castle.

Sharkan and his mother were making merry together when they saw him coming.

"Here he comes again!" the mother cried. "What shall I do? What shall I do?"

But Sharkan could think of nothing further to suggest. So without a word he hurried to the tenth chamber where he hid himself and the woman had to meet Vitazko as best she could.

She laid herself on the bed feigning still to be sick and when Vitazko appeared she greeted him most affectionately.

"My dear son, back again? And safe and sound? Thank God!"

Then when he gave her the Golden Apples she jumped up from the bed, pretending that the mere sight of them had cured her.

"Ah, my dear son!" she cried, petting him and caressing him as she used to when he was a child. "What a hero you are!"

She prepared food and feasted him royally and Vitazko ate and was very happy that his mother was herself again.

When he could eat no more she took a strong woolen cord and, as if in play, she said to him:

"Lie down, my son, and let me bind you with this cord as once I bound your father. Let me see if you are as strong as he was and able to break the cord."

Vitazko smiled and lay down and allowed his mother to bind him with the woolen cord. Then he stretched his muscles and burst the cord asunder.

"Ah, you are strong!" his mother said. "But come, let me try again with a thin silken cord."

Suspecting nothing, Vitazko allowed his mother to bind him hand and foot with a thin silken cord. Then when he stretched his muscles, the cord cut into his flesh. So he lay there, helpless as an infant.

"Sharkan! Sharkan!" the mother called.

The dragon rushed in with a sword, cut off Vitazko's head, and hacked his body into small pieces. He picked out Vitazko's heart and hung it by a string from a beam in the ceiling.

Then the woman gathered together the pieces of her son's body, tied them in a bundle, and fastened the bundle on Tatosh who was still waiting below in the courtyard.

"You carried him when he was alive," she said. "Take him now that he's dead--I don't care where."

Tatosh rose on the wind and flew home to St. Nedyelka.

The old wise woman who knew already what had happened was waiting for him. She took the pieces of the body from the bundle and washed them in the Water of Death. Then she arranged them piece by piece as they should be and they grew together until the wounds disappeared and there were not even any scars left. After that she sprinkled the body with the Water of Life and, lo, life returned to Vitazko and he stood up, well and healthy.

"Ah," he said, rubbing his eyes, "I've been asleep, haven't I?"

"Yes," Nedyelka said, "and but for me you would never have wakened. How do you feel, my son?"

"All right," Vitazko said, "except a little strange as if I had no heart."

"You have none," Nedyelka told him. "Your heart hangs by a string from a crossbeam in the castle."

She told him what had befallen him, how his mother had betrayed him and how Sharkan had cut him to pieces.

Vitazko listened but he could feel neither surprise nor grief nor anger nor anything, for how could he feel since he had no heart?

"You need your heart, my son," Nedyelka said. "You must go after it."

She disguised him as an old village piper and give him a pair of bagpipes.

"Go to the castle," she told him, "and play on these pipes. When they offer to reward you, ask for the heart that hangs by a string from the ceiling."

So Vitazko took the bagpipes and went to the castle. He played under the castle windows and his mother looked out and beckoned him in.

He went inside and played and Sharkan and his mother danced to his music. They danced and danced until they could dance no longer.

Then they gave the old piper food and drink and offered him golden money.

But Vitazko said:

"Nay, what use has an old man for gold?"

"What then can I give you?" the woman asked.

Vitazko looked slowly about the chamber as an old man would.

"Give me that heart," he said, "that hangs from the ceiling. That's all I want."

So they gave him the heart and Vitazko thanked them and departed.

He carried the heart to Nedyelka who washed it at once in the Water of Death and the Water of Life. Then she placed it in the bill of the bird, Pelikan, and Pelikan, reaching its long thin neck down Vitazko's throat, put the heart in its proper place. The heart began to beat and instantly Vitazko could again feel joy and pain and grief and happiness.

"Now can you feel?" Nedyelka asked.

"Yes," Vitazko said. "Now, thank God, I can feel again!"

"Pelikan," Nedyelka said, "for this service you shall be freed.... As for you, my son, you must go back to the castle once more and inflict a just punishment. I shall change you into a pigeon. Fly to the castle and there, when you wish to be yourself again, think of me."

So Vitazko took the form of a pigeon and flying to the castle alighted on the window-sill.

Inside the castle chamber he saw his mother fondling Sharkan.

"See!" she cried. "A pigeon is on the window-sill. Quick! Get your crossbow and shoot it!"

But before the dragon could move, Vitazko stood in the chamber.

He seized a sword and with one mighty blow cut off the dragon's head.

"And you--you wicked, faithless mother!" he cried. "What am I to do to you!"

His mother fell on her knees and begged for mercy.

"Never fear," Vitazko said. "I won't harm you. Let God judge between us."

He took his mother by the hand and led her down into the courtyard. Then he lifted the sword and said:

"Now, mother, I shall throw this sword in the air and may God judge between us which of us has been faithless to the other."

The sword flashed in the air and fell, striking straight to the heart of the guilty mother and killing her.

Vitazko buried her in the courtyard and then returned to St. Nedyelka. He thanked the old woman for all she had done for him and then, picking up his beech-tree club, he started out to find his beautiful princess.

She had long since returned to her father and many princes and heroes had come seeking her in marriage. She had put them all off, saying she would wed no one for a year and a day.

Then before the year was up Vitazko appeared and she led him at once to her father and said:

"This man will I marry, this and none other, for he it was that rescued me from the dragon."

A great wedding feast was spread and all the country rejoiced that their lovely princess was getting for a husband Vitazko, the Victorious.

FIVE NURSERY TALES

I. KURATKO THE TERRIBLE II. SMOLICHECK III. BUDULINEK IV. THE DEAR LITTLE HEN V. THE DISOBEDIENT ROOSTER

KURATKO THE TERRIBLE

THE STORY OF AN UNGRATEFUL CHICK

KURATKO THE TERRIBLE

There was once an old couple who had no children.

"If only we had a chick or a child of our own!" Grandmother used to say. "Think how we could pet it and take care of it!"

But Grandfather always answered:

"Not at all! We are very well off as we are."

At last the old black hen in the barnyard hatched out a chick. Grandmother was delighted.

"See, Grandpa," she said, "now we have a chick of our own!"

But Grandfather shook his head doubtfully.

"I don't like the looks of that chick. There's something strange about it."

But Grandmother wouldn't listen. To her the chick seemed everything it should be. She called it Kuratko and petted it and pampered it as though it were an only child.

Kuratko grew apace and soon he developed an awful appetite.

"Cockadoodledoo!" he shouted at all hours of the day. "I'm hungry! Give me something to eat!"

"You mustn't feed that chick so much!" Grandfather grumbled. "He's eating us out of house and home."

But Grandmother wouldn't listen. She fed Kuratko and fed him until sure enough there came a day when there was nothing left for herself and the old man.

That was a nice how-do-you-do! Grandmother sat working at her spinning-wheel trying to forget that she was hungry, and Grandfather sat on his stool nearby too cross to speak to her.

And then, quite as though nothing were the matter, Kuratko strutted into the room, flapped his wings, and crowed:

"Cockadoodledo! I'm hungry! Give me something to eat!"

"Not another blessed thing will I ever feed you, you greedy chick!" Grandfather shouted.

"Cockadoodledo!" Kuratko answered. "Then I'll just eat you!"

With that he made one peck at Grandfather and swallowed him down, stool and all!

"Oh, Kuratko!" Grandmother cried. "Where's Grandpa?"

"Cockadoodledo!" Kuratko remarked. "I'm still hungry. I think I'll eat you!"

And with that he made one peck at Grandmother and swallowed her down, spinning-wheel and all!

Then that terrible chick went strutting down the road, crowing merrily!

He met a washerwoman at work over her wash-tub.

"Good gracious, Kuratko!" the woman cried. "What a great big crop you've got!"

"Cockadoodledo!" Kuratko said. "I should think my crop was big for haven't I just eaten Grandmother, spinning-wheel and all, and Grandfather, stool and all? But I'm still hungry, so now I'm going to eat you!"

Before the poor woman knew what was happening, Kuratko made one peck at her and swallowed her down, wash-tub and all!

Then he strutted on down the road, crowing merrily.

Presently he came to a company of soldiers.

"Good gracious, Kuratko!" the soldiers cried. "What a great big crop you've got!"

"Cockadoodledo!" Kuratko replied. "I should think my crop was big, for haven't I just eaten a washerwoman, tub and all, Grandmother, spinning-wheel and all, and Grandfather, stool and all? But I'm still hungry, so now I'm going to eat you!"

Before the soldiers knew what was happening, Kuratko pecked at them and swallowed them down, bayonets and all, one after another, like so many grains of wheat!

Then that terrible chick went on strutting down the road, crowing merrily.

Soon he met Kotsor, the cat. Kotsor, the cat, blinked his eyes and worked his whiskers in surprise.

"Good gracious, Kuratko, what a great big crop you've got!"

"Cockadoodledo!" Kuratko said. "I should think my crop was big, for haven't I just eaten a company of soldiers, bayonets and all; a washerwoman, tub and all; Grandmother, spinning-wheel and all; and Grandfather, stool and all? But I'm still hungry, so now I'm going to eat you!"

Before Kotsor, the cat, knew what was happening, Kuratko made one peck at him and swallowed him down.

But Kotsor, the cat, was not a person to submit tamely to such an indignity. The moment he found himself inside Kuratko he unsheathed his claws and began to scratch and to tear. He worked until he had torn a great hole in Kuratko's crop. At that Kuratko, the Terrible Chick, when he tried again to crow, toppled over dead!

Then Kotsor, the cat, jumped out of Kuratko's crop; after him the company of soldiers marched out; and after them the washerwoman with her tub, Grandmother with her spinning-wheel, and Grandfather with his stool. And they all went about their business.

Kotsor, the cat, followed Grandmother and Grandfather home and begged them to give him Kuratko for his dinner.

"You may have him for all of me," Grandfather said. "But ask Grandmother. He was her little pet, not mine."

"Indeed you may have him," Grandmother said. "I see now Grandfather was right. Kuratko was certainly an ungrateful chick and I never want to hear his name again."

So Kotsor, the cat, had a wonderful dinner and to this day when he remembers it he licks his chops and combs his whiskers.

SMOLICHECK

THE STORY OF A LITTLE BOY WHO OPENED THE DOOR

SMOLICHECK

Once upon a time there was a little boy named Smolicheck. He lived in a little house in the woods with a deer whose name was Golden Antlers.

Every day when Golden Antlers went out he told Smolicheck to lock the door after him and on no account to open it no matter who knocked.

"If you disobey me," Golden Antlers said, "something awful may happen."

"I won't open the door," Smolicheck always promised. "I won't open it until you come home."

Now one day there was a knock on the door.

"Oh!" Smolicheck thought to himself, "I wonder who that is!" and he called out:

"Who's there?"

From the outside sweet voices answered:

_"Smolicheck, Smolicheck, please open the door Just a wee little crack of two fingers--no more! We'll reach in our cold little hands to get warm, Then leave without doing you the least bit of harm! So open, Smolicheck, please open the door!"_

But Smolicheck didn't think he ought to open the door because he remembered what Golden Antlers had told him. Golden Antlers was very kind but he spanked Smolicheck when Smolicheck was disobedient. And Smolicheck didn't want to get a spanking. So he put his hands over his ears to shut out the sound of the sweet voices and that time he didn't open the door.

"You're a good boy," Golden Antlers said in the evening when he came home. "Those must have been the wicked little wood maidens. If you had opened the door they would have carried you off to their cave and then what would you have done!"

So Smolicheck was very happy to think he had obeyed Golden Antlers and he said he would never open the door to strangers, no, never!

The next day after Golden Antlers had gone out and Smolicheck was left alone, again there came a knocking on the door, and when Smolicheck called out: "Who's there?" voices sweeter than before answered:

_"Smolicheck, Smolicheck, please open the door Just a wee little crack of two fingers--no more! We'll reach in our cold little hands to get warm, Then leave without doing you the least bit of harm! So open, Smolicheck, please open the door!"_

Smolicheck said, no, he couldn't open the door. He thought to himself that he would like to have one peep at the wood maidens just to see what they looked like. But he mustn't open the door even a crack, no, he mustn't!

The little wood maidens kept on begging him and shivering and shaking and telling him how cold they were, until Smolicheck felt very sorry for them.

"I don't think it would matter," he said to himself, "if I opened the door just a weeny teeny bit."

So he opened the door just a tiny crack. Instantly two little white fingers popped in, and then two more and two more and two more, and then little white hands, and then little white arms, and then, before Smolicheck knew what was happening, a whole bevy of little wood maidens were in the room! They danced around Smolicheck and they howled and they yelled and they took hold of him and dragged him out of the house and away towards the woods!

Smolicheck was dreadfully frightened and he screamed out with all his might:

_"Oh, dear Golden Antlers, wherever you are In valley or mountain or pasture afar, Come quick! Don't delay! The wicked wood maidens are dragging away Your little Smolicheck! Come quick! Don't delay!"_

This time by good luck the deer was not far away. When he heard Smolicheck's cry, he bounded up, drove the little wood maidens off, and carried Smolicheck home on his antlers.

When they got home he put Smolicheck across his knee and gave him something--you know what!--to make him remember not to disobey next time. Smolicheck cried and he said he never, never, never would open the door again no matter how sweetly the wood maidens begged.

For some days no one came to the door. Then again one afternoon there was a knocking and sweet voices called out:

_"Smolicheck, Smolicheck, please open the door Just a wee little crack of two fingers--no more! We'll reach in our cold little hands to get warm, Then leave without doing you the least bit of harm! So open, Smolicheck, please open the door!"_

But Smolicheck pretended he didn't hear. Then when the little wood maidens began to shake and to shiver and to cry with the cold and to beg him to open the door just a little crack so that they could warm their hands, he said to them:

"No, I won't open the door, not even a teeny weeny crack, because if I do you'll push in as you did before and catch me and drag me off!"

The wicked little wood maidens said:

"Oh no, Smolicheck, we wouldn't do that! We'd never think of such a thing! And besides, if we did take you with us, you'd have a much better time with us than you have here, shut up in a little house all alone, while Golden Antlers is off having a good time by himself. We'd give you pretty toys and we'd play with you and you'd be very happy."

Just think: Smolicheck listened to them until he believed what they said! Then he opened the door a little crack and instantly all those naughty little wood maidens pushed into the room, seized Smolicheck, and dragged him off.

They told him they would kill him if he cried for help, but nevertheless Smolicheck called out with all his might:

_"Oh, dear Golden Antlers, wherever you are In valley or mountain or pasture afar, Come quick! Don't delay! The wicked wood maidens are dragging away Your little Smolicheck! Come quick! Don't delay!"_

But this time Golden Antlers was far away and didn't hear him. So no one came to help Smolicheck and the wood maidens carried him off to their cave.

There, instead of playing with him, they tormented him and teased him and made faces at him. But they did give him all he wanted to eat. In fact they stuffed him with food, especially sweets. Then every day they would pinch him and say to each other:

"Sister, do you think he's fat enough yet to roast?"

Imagine poor Smolicheck's feelings when he found they were fattening him on sweets because they expected to roast him and eat him!

Finally one day after they had been stuffing him for a long time they cut his little finger with a knife to see how fat it was.

"Yum, yum!" the wicked little wood maidens cried. "He's fat enough! Today we can roast him!"

So they took off his clothes and laid him in a kneading trough and prepared him for the oven.

Smolicheck was so frightened that he just screamed and screamed, but the louder he screamed the more the little wood maidens laughed and clapped their hands.

Just as they were pushing him into the oven, Smolicheck roared out:

_"Oh, dear Golden Antlers, wherever you are In valley or mountain or pasture afar, Come quick! Don't delay! The wicked wood maidens are roasting today Your little Smolicheck! Come quick! Don't delay!"_

Suddenly there was the sound of crashing branches and, before the wood maidens knew what was happening, Golden Antlers came bounding into the cave. He tossed Smolicheck upon his antlers and off he sped as swift as the wind.

When they got home, he laid Smolicheck across his knee and gave him something--you know what! And Smolicheck cried and said he was sorry he had been disobedient. And he said he would never, never, never again open the door.

And this time he never did!

BUDULINEK

THE STORY OF ANOTHER LITTLE BOY WHO OPENED THE DOOR

BUDULINEK

There was once a little boy named Budulinek. He lived with his old Granny in a cottage near a forest.

Granny went out to work every day. In the morning when she went away she always said:

"There, Budulinek, there's your dinner on the table and mind, you mustn't open the door no matter who knocks!"

One morning Granny said:

"Now, Budulinek, today I'm leaving you some soup for your dinner. Eat it when dinner time comes. And remember what I always say: don't open the door no matter who knocks."

She went away and pretty soon Lishka, the sly old mother fox, came and knocked on the door.

"Budulinek!" she called. "You know me! Open the door! Please!"

Budulinek called back:

"No, I mustn't open the door."

But Lishka, the sly old mother fox, kept on knocking.

"Listen, Budulinek," she said: "if you open the door, do you know what I'll do? I'll give you a ride on my tail!"

Now Budulinek thought to himself:

"Oh, that would be fun to ride on the tail of Lishka, the fox!"

So Budulinek forgot all about what Granny said to him every day and opened the door.

Lishka, the sly old thing, came into the room and what do you think she did? Do you think she gave Budulinek a ride on her tail? Well, she didn't. She just went over to the table and gobbled up the bowl of soup that Granny had put there for Budulinek's dinner and then she ran away.

When dinner time came Budulinek hadn't anything to eat.

In the evening when Granny came home, she said:

"Budulinek, did you open the door and let any one in?"

Budulinek was crying because he was so hungry, and he said:

"Yes, I let in Lishka, the old mother fox, and she ate up all my dinner, too!"

Granny said:

"Now, Budulinek, you see what happens when you open the door and let some one in. Another time remember what Granny says and don't open the door."

The next morning Granny cooked some porridge for Budulinek's dinner and said:

"Now, Budulinek, here's some porridge for your dinner. Remember: while I'm gone you must not open the door no matter who knocks."

Granny was no sooner out of sight than Lishka came again and knocked on the door.

"Oh, Budulinek!" she called. "Open the door and let me in!"

But Budulinek said:

"No, I won't open the door!"

"Oh, now, Budulinek, please open the door!" Lishka begged. "You know me! Do you know what I'll do if you open the door? I'll give you a ride on my tail! Truly I will!"

Budulinek thought to himself:

"This time maybe she will give me a ride on her tail."

So he opened the door.

Lishka came into the room, gobbled up Budulinek's porridge, and ran away without giving him any ride at all.

When dinner time came Budulinek hadn't anything to eat.

In the evening when Granny came home she said: