Part 20

“Ho, _bátyushka_, have you seen a shepherd with a little lamb passing by?”

“No, good people, I have not. I have been working for forty years in this church; not one bird has flown by, not one beast has rambled by.”

So the hunt went back and reached home.

“Your Imperial Majesty, we could not find the shepherd with the little lamb: the only thing we saw on the road was a church and an old man as pope.”

“Why did you not break down the church and capture the pope? That was themselves!” the Sea Tsar exclaimed, and he himself leapt out to hunt after Iván Tsarévich and Vasilísa the Wise.

So they went far, and again Vasilísa the Wise said, “Iván Tsarévich, put your ear to the ground; can you hear any hunt?”

Then the Tsarévich leapt down, put his ear to the grey earth, and said, “I hear the talk of people and the thunder of horses’ hooves faster than before.”

“This is the Sea Tsar himself who is galloping.”

So Vasilísa the Wise turned the horses into a mere, Iván Tsarévich into a drake, and herself into a duck. The Sea Tsar came up to the lake and he instantly guessed who were the duck and the drake, so he struck the grey earth and turned into an eagle. The eagle wanted to smite them to death, and it might well have been; but, as soon as ever he struck at the drake, it dived into the water, and whenever he struck at the duck the duck dived into the water, and whatever he might do was all in vain.

So the Sea Tsar galloped back to his own kingdom under the seas, and Vasilísa the Wise with Iván Tsarévich waited a while and then returned to Sacred Russia. It may-be long, it may-be short, at last they came into the thrice-ninth realm. When they arrived home his father and mother were overjoyed to see Iván Tsarévich, for they had given him up as lost. And they made a great feast and celebrated the marriage.

I was there, I drank mead and wine: it flowed up to my beard, but it never entered my mouth.

THE ANIMALS’ WINTER QUARTERS

Once an Ox was wandering in the wood, and a Ram met him. “Where are you going, Ram?” asked the Ox.

“I am seeking summer in winter,” answered the Ram.

“Come with me.”

So they went together. And they met a Pig.

“Where are you going, Pig?” asked the Ox.

“I am seeking summer in winter.”

“Come with us.”

So they all went together. And they then met a Goose.

“Where are you going, Goose?” said the Bull.

“I am seeking summer in winter,” said the Goose.

“Well, come with us.”

So the Goose came with them. So they went on, and they met a Cock.

“Where are you going, Cock?” asked the Bull.

“I am seeking summer in winter.”

“Then come with us,” said the Bull again.

So they went on their road and way, and began speaking amongst each other. “What shall we do, brothers and comrades? the cold time is approaching: how shall we have warmth?”

So the Ox said, “We will build an _izbá_,[42] and we shall not freeze during the winter.”

Then the Ram said: “My _shúba_ is very warm; I will pass the winter in this fashion.”

Then the Pig said, “I do not mind any frost whatsoever: I will burrow into the ground and do without any _izbá_.”[43]

Then the Goose said, “I will sit in the middle of this spruce, lie on one wing, and cover myself over with the other, and the cold cannot touch me. That is how I shall pass the winter.”

Then the Cock said, “I shall do the same.”

Then the Ox saw he could not do any good: every man must do as he likes. “Well,” he said, “as you wish. _I_ am going to build an _izbá_.”[43]

So he built himself an _izbá_,[43] and he lived in it.

Then the cold time came, and earth began to feel the frosts. And the Ram, who could not help himself, came to the Bull and said, “Brother, let me in.”

“No, Ram, you have a warm _shúba_; that is how you are going to pass the winter! I shall not let you in.”

“But if you do not let me in, I shall run up and will dislodge the joists of the _izbá_,[43] and you will feel much colder.”

So the Bull thought, and on second thoughts said, “Very well, I will let you in. Otherwise I might freeze.” And he let the Ram in.

Soon the Pig felt frozen, and came to the Bull and said, “Brother, let me in.”

“No, Pig, I will not let you in. You need only burrow down in the ground: that is how you are going to pass the winter!”

“But if you will not let me in, with my snout I will drill all of your uprights and will knock your _izbá_[43] down.”

Well, there was no help for it, and the Bull had to let Piggy in.

Then the Goose and the Cock came to the Bull and said, “Brother, we want to come in and warm ourselves.”

“No, I will not let you in: both of you have two wings. One of them you put under you, and the other you put over you: that is how you pass the winter.”

“But if you do not let us in,” said the Goose, “I will pluck away all the moss from the walls, and you will be much colder!”

“What! won’t you let me in?” said the Cock. “I will fly on to the garret and I will scatter all the earth from the roof, and you will be much colder.”

Well, the Bull was beaten, and he was forced to admit the Goose and the Cock. In the warm hut the Cock crowed and began singing merry songs.

Now the Fox heard the Cock singing merry songs, and thought he would like to make such a dainty acquaintance, only he did not know how to.

So the Fox bethought himself of his wiles, and ran up to the Bear and the Wolf and said, “Now, my dear kinsmen, I have found food for all of us: a Bull for you, Mr. Bear, a Ram for you, Mr. Wolf, and a Cock for myself.”

“What a capital fellow you are, Mr. Fox!” said the Bear and the Wolf. “We shall never be oblivious of your services: let us kill and eat them.”

So the Fox led them up to the little _izbá_.[44] When they reached the hut, the Bear said to the Wolf: “You go first.”

But the Wolf said, “That would be altogether wrong—you must go first.”

So then the Bear and the Wolf said to the Fox, “You must go first.”

As the Fox went in, the Bull gored him with his horns to the wall, and the Ram sat on his flanks, and the Pig tore him to atoms, whilst the Goose flew on to him and picked out his eyes. But the Cock went and flew up to the girder and crowed, “Do come in, oh do, do, do!”

“Why is the Fox such a long time at work with the Cock?” said the Wolf: “Unlock the door, Mikháylo Ivánovich,[45] and I will come in.”

“Very well, come in!” So the Bull opened the door and the Wolf leapt into the _izbá_.[46]

As the Wolf went in the Bull gored him to the wall with his horns, the Ram sat on his sides and the Pig tore him to atoms, while the Goose flew on to him and picked out his eyes. The Cock flew up to the girders and began shouting, “Come along here, come along here!”

But the Bear got tired of waiting so long: “What a long job he is making of that Ram!” he thought. “I must go in.” So he also went into the hut, and the Bull gave him the same royal welcome.

He burst out by sheer force and galloped away at full speed, and never once looked round.

THE STORY OF THE BRAVE AND DOUGHTY KNIGHT ILYÁ MÚROMETS AND THE NIGHTINGALE ROBBER

Once in the famous city of Múrom[47] in the village of Karachárovo, a peasant lived who was called Iván Timoféyevich; he had one beloved son, Ilyá Múromets. And he sat down in a house as a stay-at-home for thirty years, and after the thirty years had gone by he began to walk on his feet mightily, and he gained great strength. Then he made himself the trappings of war and a lance of steel, and got himself a good steed, a knightly horse; he then went up to his mother and father and asked their blessing. “Ye, my masters, my mother and father, let me go into the famous city of Kíev, to pray to God and to do homage to our prince at Kíev.”

The mother and father gave him their blessing, and made him swear a mighty oath, and they enjoined a mighty service upon him. And they spake in this wise: “Do you go straight to the city of Kíev, straight to the city of Chernígov, and on your journeying do no one any hurt, spill no Christian blood vainly.”

Ilyá Múromets took the blessing of his father and mother, prayed to God, bade farewell to his father and mother, and set forth on his way and road. And he journeyed far in the dark woods, and lighted on a camp of robbers. Those robbers saw Ilyá Múromets, and were envious in their robber-like hearts for his knightly horse, and began to speak amongst themselves how they might take that horse; for steeds so fine were not seen in those parts, and now some unknown man was passing by on one. So they set on Ilyá Múromets, ten at once and then by twenties. And Ilyá Múromets stopped his knightly horse, took a tempered dart and set it on his strong bow. He let the tempered dart fall on the earth, and it tore into the earth fifty feet.

And seeing this, the robbers were afraid, and collected in a circle, fell on their knees and prayed him, “Master, our father, youth mighty of prowess, we are guilty in thine eyes; and, for this our guilt, as it pleaseth thee, inflict on us a fine as much as is fit, whether it be coloured clothes or droves of horses.”

Ilyá smiled at them and said: “I need no garments, but, if ye wish to enjoy your life, henceforth take no more hazards.”

And he went on his road to the famous city of Kíev. And Ilyá Múromets set out on the road; when he came under the walls of the city of Sébezh he saw three Tsarévichi from foreign parts, who had a host of thirty thousand men; they wished to capture the city of Sébezh and to take the Tsar of Sébezh prisoner. So Ilyá Múromets set out after the three Tsarévichi, and he pursued them down to the seashore and slew all the rest of the army, but captured the Tsarévichi alive and returned to the city of Sébezh, and the citizens saw him and gave news of this to their Tsar.

When he arrived at the city of Chernígov, under the walls of the city of Chernígov there was a Saracen host too many to count besieging the city of Chernígov: they were going to sack it and to set God’s churches aflame, and to take captive the Prince, the Duke of Chernígov. And at that mighty host and fray, Ilyá Múromets was afraid, but he placed himself at the will of the Saviour, and thought how he would sacrifice his head for the Christian faith. Then Ilyá Múromets began to lay low the Saracen host with his lance of steel, and he routed all of the pagan host and took the Tsarévich of the Saracens captive and led him into the city of Chernígov. As he entered, all the citizens of the city of Chernígov met him and gave him honour, and the Prince and Duke of Chernígov himself came out to receive the doughty youth with honour and to give thanks to the Lord God for sending such unexpected succour to the city and not letting them all perish helplessly before the mighty Saracen host. They received him into their palace and they gave him a great feast, and set him on his way.

Ilyá Múromets went to the city of Kíev straight from Chernígov on the road by the village of Kutúzovo, which the Nightingale Robber had been oppressing for thirty years, not letting any man pass, whether on horseback or on foot, and assailing them not with any weapon, but only with his robber’s whistle. Ilyá Múromets rode into the open field and saw the scattered bones of knights and warriors. He rode over them and arrived at the Bryánski woods,[48] the miry swamp, to the hazel-tree bridges, and to the Smoródina river. The Nightingale Robber heard his end approaching, and felt a foreboding of a terrible ill; and before Ilyá Múromets had advanced twenty versts, he whistled with his powerful robber’s whistle. But the valorous heart of Ilyá was not afraid, and before ever he had advanced ten versts more the Nightingale Robber whistled more terribly than before, and the horse of Ilyá Múromets stumbled at the sound.

At last Ilyá arrived at the nest, which was spread above twelve oaks, and the Nightingale Robber was sitting in the nest, saw the white Russian knight approaching, and began to whistle with all of his might, essaying to smite Ilyá Múromets to death. Ilyá Múromets took out his strong bow, put a tempered dart to it, and shot it at the nest of the Nightingale Robber; it fell into his right eye and went beyond. And the Robber-Nightingale fell down from his nest like a sheaf of oats. Ilyá Múromets took the Robber-Nightingale, tied him strongly to his steel stirrup and rode to the famous city of Kíev.

On his way he passed the palace of the Nightingale Robber, and as soon as he came up to the Robber’s palace the windows were opened and out of these windows the Nightingale Robber’s three daughters were looking. The youngest daughter saw him, and cried out to her sisters: “Here is our father coming back with booty: he is bringing us a man tied to his steel stirrup.”

But the elder sister looked out and cried bitterly: “That is not our father; some unknown man is coming along and is dragging our father after him.”

Then they cried out to their husbands, “Masters, do ye go and meet that man and slay him for the slaying of our father, lest our name be disgraced.”

Then their husbands, mighty warriors, set out to face the white Russian knight. They had good horses, sharp lances, and they wished to hoist Ilyá aloft on their lances.

The Nightingale Robber saw them, and said, “My beloved sons, do not dishonour nor take such a bold knight, and so all receive your death from him; it would be better to ask his forgiveness in humbleness and to ask him into my house to have a goblet of green wine.”

So at the invitation of the sons-in-law Ilyá returned home and received no evil of them.

The eldest daughter raised an iron storm-board of chains for him to stumble against; but Ilyá saw her on the gates, struck at her with his lance, and he smote her to death.

When Ilyá arrived at the city of Kíev, he went straight to the Prince’s courtyard, entered the white stone palace, prayed to God and did homage to the Prince.

The Prince of Kíev asked him, “Say, doughty youth, how do they call thee? Of what city art thou?”

And Ilyá Múromets returned answer: “My lord, they call me Ílyushka, and by my father’s name Ivánov; I live in the city of Múrom in the village of Karachárovo.”

Then the Prince asked him, “By what road didst thou come?”

“From Múrom by the city of Chernígov, and under the walls of Chernígov I routed a Saracen host too many to count, and I relieved the city of Chernígov. And from there I went straight and I took the mighty Nightingale Robber alive and dragged him along at my steel stirrup.”

Then the Prince was angry and said, “Why art thou telling such tales?”

When the knights Alyósha Popóvich and Dobrýnya Nikítich heard this, they dashed out to look, and assured the Prince that this was really so.

Then the Prince bade a goblet of green wine be given to the doughty youth. The Prince, however, wished to hear the whistle of the Robber-Nightingale. Ilyá Múromets put the Prince and Princess into a sable _shúba_, seized them under the arm, called in the Nightingale Robber and bade him whistle like a nightingale with only half his whistle; but the Nightingale Robber whistled with all his robber’s whistle, and he deafened all of the knights, so that they fell to the ground, and as a punishment for this was slain by Ilyá Múromets.

Ilyá Múromets swore blood brotherhood with Dobrýnya Nikítich, then they saddled their good horses and rode forth on the open fields; and they journeyed on for about three months and found no opponent worthy of their steel: they had only gone in the open field. Then they met a passer-by, a beggar singing psalms. His shirt weighed fifteen _pud_, and his hat ten _pud_, and his stick was ten _sazhéns_ long. Ilyá Múromets set on him with his horse, and was going to try his mighty strength on him.

Then the passing beggar saw Ilyá Múromets and said: “Hail, Ilyá Múromets! Do you recollect? I learned my letters with you in the same school, and now you are setting your horse on me, who am only a beggar, as though I were an enemy, and you do not know that a very great misfortune has befallen the city of Kíev. The infidel knight, the mighty man, the dishonourable Ídolishche, has arrived. His head is as big as a beer cauldron, and his shoulders a _sazhén_ broad. There is a span length between his brows, and between his ears there is a tempered dart. And he eats an ox at a time and he drinks a cask at a time. The Prince of Kíev is very aggrieved with you that you have left him in such straits.”

So Ilyá Múromets changed into the beggar’s dress and rode straight back to the palace of the Prince, and cried out in a knightly voice: “Hail to thee, Prince of Kíev! give me, a wandering beggar, alms.”

And the Prince saw him and spoke in this wise: “Come into my palace, beggar. I will give you food and drink and will give you gold on your way.”

So the beggar went into the palace and stood at the stove and looked round.

Ídolishche asked to eat, so they brought him an entire roasted ox and he ate it to the bones; then Ídolishche asked for drink, so they brought him a cauldron of beer; and twenty men had to bring it in. And he held it up to his ears and drank it all through.

Ilyá Múromets said, “My father had a gluttonous mare; it guzzled until its breath failed.”

Ídolishche could not stand this affront, and said, “Hail, wandering beggar! Do you dare me? I could take you in my hands; if it had been Ilyá Múromets I would even have braved him.”

“Well,” said Ilyá Múromets, “that is the kind of man he was!” And he took off his cap and struck him lightly on the head, and he nearly knocked through the walls of the palace, took Ídolishche’s trunk and flung it out. And in return the Prince honoured Ilyá Múromets, praised him highly, and placed him amongst the mighty knights of his court.

NIKÍTA THE TANNER

One day, somewhere near Kíev, a dragon appeared, who demanded heavy tribute from the people. He demanded every time to eat a fair maiden: and at last the turn came to the Tsarévna, the princess. But the dragon would not eat her, she was too beautiful. He dragged her into his den and made her his wife. When he flew out on business, he used to pile logs of wood in front of the den to prevent the Tsarévna escaping. But the Tsarévna had a little dog that had followed her all the way from home. When she wrote a letter to her father and mother she used to tie it to the neck of her little dog, which would run all the way home and bring an answer back. One day her parents wrote to her: “Try to discover any one who is stronger than the dragon.” The Tsarévna got every day on more intimate terms with her dragon in order to discover who was stronger. At last he owned that Nikíta, the tanner at Kíev, was the stronger. So the Tsarévna at once wrote to her father: “Look for Nikíta, the tanner at Kíev, and send him on to me to deliver me from my imprisonment.”

So the Tsar looked for Nikíta, and went to him himself to beg him to release the land from the cruelty of the dragon and redeem the princess.

Just then Nikíta was tanning skins. He was just enfolding twelve hides in his hands. But when he saw the Tsar come to see him, his hands so trembled for fear that he rent the twelve hides. But, however much the Tsar and the Tsarítsa asked him, he would not set out against the dragon. Then the Tsar assembled five thousand children, who were to mollify the tanner with their bitter tears. The little ones came to Nikíta and begged him to go and fight the dragon. And when he saw them weep, Nikíta the tanner himself almost felt the tears flowing. He took thirty _puds_ of hemp, tarred it, and swathed himself in it in order that the dragon might find him a hard morsel, and then set out. But the dragon locked himself up in his den and would not come to view.

“Come with me into the open field, otherwise I will shatter your den to pieces!” said the tanner, and began clattering at the doors.

Then the dragon, seeing his doom approach, came out into the open. Nikíta the tanner fought the grisly worm some time, maybe long, maybe short, and at last got him under.

Then the dragon besought Nikíta the tanner: “Do not beat me to death. Stronger than us two there is nothing in the white world. Let us divide the earth. You may live on the one half and I on the other.”

“Very well!” said Nikíta, “only we must delimit frontiers.”

So the tanner took the plough, which weighed three hundred _puds_, and harnessed to it the dragon, and drew the harrow all the way from Kíev to the Caspian Sea.

“Now we have divided the entire earth,” said the dragon.

“Yes, we have divided the earth, but not the sea; we must also divide the sea, otherwise you would say I was taking your share of the water.” So they then set out into the middle of the sea, and there Nikíta slew the dragon and drowned him.

The trench may still be seen: it is two fathoms deep. They plough all round it; but never touch the bottom: those who do not know whence came this trench call it a battlement.