Part 21

When Nikíta had done this feat, he demanded no reward for it, but went home and went on tanning.

THE SINGING-TREE AND THE SPEAKING-BIRD

Once upon a time there was a very inquisitive King who spent all his time eavesdropping at the window. There was also a merchant, who had three daughters, and one day they were talking to their father, and one said: “If only the King’s bread-bearer would marry me!” The second one said: “If only the King’s valet would cast his eyes upon me!” But the third said: “I want the King himself: I would bear him two sons and one daughter.”

Now the King was listening to all this conversation; and after a few days he did exactly as they had wished: the eldest married the King’s bread-bearer, the middle one the King’s valet, but the youngest married the King himself.

The King married very happily, and after some time his Queen was about to bear him a child. He was sending for the midwife of the town, but the elder sisters asked him why he should; they would act as midwives. As soon as the Queen had born him a son, the midwives took him away and told the King his wife had born a pup; and they put the new-born babe into a box and threw it into a big pond in the King’s garden.

At this the King was very angry, and wanted to have his wife blown to bits at the cannon’s mouth; but—it so happened—some other princes were on a visit, and persuaded him to forgive a first offence. So the King pardoned her for the nonce, and gave her a second chance.

One year went by, and the Queen bore him another son, and the sisters again took it away, and told him she had born a kitten. The King was angry at first, this time he was sore enraged, and was agog to punish his wife, but once more he was won over.

So he gave her a third chance. This time the Queen bore a very beautiful daughter, and the sisters took it and told the King she had born an unheard-of monster. Oh! there were no bounds to his fury now; he ordered the hangman in and bade him hang his wife on the spot; but once more some visiting princes overruled him and said: “Would it not be better to put an oratory up near the church and put her into it, and let every one who goes to Mass spit into her eyes?” So he did; but, so far from being spat upon by every passer-by, every one brought her fine loaves and pasties.

But, when her three children had been thrown into the pond in the King’s garden, they were not drowned, for the King’s gardener took them home and brought them up. They were fine children; you could _see_ them growing up, not by years, but months, not by days, but by hours. The King’s sons shot up, youths no men could imagine, guess, or draw, or paint; and the Tsarévna was such a beauty! Almost terribly beautiful! One day, when they were older, they asked the gardener to let them build themselves a little home behind the town. The gardener consented, and they erected a big, splendid house, and led a merry life in it. The brothers used to go hunting hares, and one day they went off and left their sister alone at home.

A visitor knocked at the door: the sister opened the door and saw an old hag, who said: “You have a pretty little place here; three things are lacking.”

“What are they? I always thought we had everything!”

The hag replied: “You still need the Talking-Bird, the Singing-Tree, and the Water of Life.”

And then the sister was left all alone once more; when her brothers came home, she said: “Brothers, we lack nothing save three things.”

“What are they?”

“We haven’t a Talking-Bird, a Singing-Tree, and the Water of Life!”

The elder brother said: “Sister, give me your blessing, and I’ll go and discover you these marvels. If I die, or am killed, you will know by this knife dripping blood. There it is, stuck into the wall.”

So he went, and wandered away, far, far away into the forest. At last he came to a gigantic oak-tree; and on the tree there was an old man sitting, whom he asked how he was to procure the “Talking-Bird, a Singing-Tree, and the Water of Life.”

The old man replied: “Possible it is, but not easy; many go, but few return.”

But the young man persisted and left the old man. The old man gave him a rolling-pin, and told him to let it roll on in front of him, and follow wherever it went. The pin rolled on, and after it walked the Prince: it rolled up to a steep hill, and was lost. Then the Prince went up the hill, went half-way up; and, as he went along, he heard a voice: “Hold him, seize him, grip him!” He looked round and was turned into stone.

That very same hour blood began to drip from the knife in the cottage, and the sister told the younger brother that the elder was dead.

So he answered: “Now I will go, sister mine, and capture the Talking-Bird, the Singing-Tree, and the Water of Life!”

So she blessed him, and he went on and on for very many weary miles, and met the old man on the tree, who gave him another rolling-pin: and the pin rolled up to the mountain; and both were lost, pin and Prince!

The sister waited for many years, but he never came back, and she thought he, too, must have died. So she set out to find the Talking-Bird, Singing-Tree, and Water of Life. She arrived at last at that same oak-tree, saw the old man sitting on it, greeted him, and shaved his head and brows, as she brought scissors and a mirror with her.

“Look,” she said, “what a change it makes in you!” He looked into the mirror: “Yes,” he said; “I am quite a fine man now. I’ve sat here thirty years: never a soul cut my hair, you guessed my need.”

Then she asked him: “Grandfather, how can I get the Talking-Bird, the Singing-Tree, and the Water of Life?”

He answered: “How can you get them? Cleverer folk than you have been after them, and they have all been lost.”

But she persisted: “Please tell me!”

So he gave her another rolling-pin, and told her to follow it: she would hear cries of “Catch her: scotch her,” but she must not look round, for fear of being turned into stone. “At the top you will see a well and the Talking-Bird. As you come back, you will see lofty stones standing upright; sprinkle them all with the Water of Life.”

So on she went: the pin rolled on, far or near, long or short, it reached a steep mountain; and the girl climbed up and heard cries: “Where are you going? We shall kill you! We shall eat you up!”

But still she went on and on, reached the summit, and there she found a well and the Talking-Bird. She took it and asked it: “Tell me how to get the Singing-Tree and the Water of Life.”

The Bird replied: “Go straight by this path.”

She did, and came upon the Singing-Tree, and in it all sorts of birds were singing. She broke off a sprig, pulled up a water-lily, and put some of the Water of Life into the cup of the flower, and turned back homewards.

As she clomb downhill, she saw boulders standing upright, and sprinkled them with the Water of Life; and her brothers jumped up alive and said: “Oh, what a long sleep we have had!”

“Yes, my brothers, but for me you would have slept on for ever. And look here; I have got you the Talking-Bird, the Singing-Tree, and the Water of Life!”

The brothers were overjoyed, went home and planted the Singing-Tree in the garden; it overspread the whole garden, and all kinds of birds began singing.

One day they were out hunting and the King met them by chance. He fell in love with the gay huntsmen, and invited them home. They said they would ask their sister, and come at once if she consented.

So they went back home. The sister met them and greeted them, and the brothers said: “Please, sister, may we go and dine with the King? He has asked us in.”

She said “Yes,” and they went. At the banquet, the King gave them the place of honour, and they begged he would honour them with a visit. Some days later the King went. They gave him a rich spread, and showed him the Singing-Tree and the Talking-Bird.

He was amazed and said: “I am the King, and have nothing as good!”

Then the King looked at them and said: “Who is your father?”

They said: “We do not know.” But the Talking-Bird broke in and said: “They are your children.”

Then the King looked at the maiden and wanted to marry her. Again the Talking-Bird said: “You may not; she is your daughter.”

The King then saw how matters stood; was overjoyed; took them to live with him for ever. As to the two evil sisters, he had them shot; but his wife he released from the chapel, and took her to himself again, and they lived merrily on for many years of happiness.

AT THE BEHEST OF THE PIKE

Once there lived a poor peasant; and, however much he might toil and moil, he got nothing out of it. “Oh,” he thought to himself, “mine is a sorry lot; I spend all my days on my fields; and then, when I look, I am starving, whilst my neighbour is lying all day long on his back, and then he has a big estate and all the profits swim into his pockets. Evidently I have not pleased God. I will get up in the morning and pray until evening, and perhaps the Lord may have mercy on me.”

So he began to pray to God, and went hungry for days on days; and he still went on praying.

At last Easter Day came, and the bells rang for Mass. So the poor peasant thought, “All good folks are getting ready to break the fast, and I have not a crust of bread. Well, if I bring water, I can sip it like soup.” So he took a small can, went to the well, and as soon as he dipped it into the water a big pike fell into it. Then the peasant was very glad. “Here is something for supper; I will cook it and make fish soup of it, and shall have a fine supper.”

Then the pike said to him in a human voice: “Let me go free, good man, go free. I will make you happy; whatever your soul may desire you shall possess. You need only say:

At the pike’s good pleasure, By God’s good measure—

let this or that appear! and you will get it at once.”

So the peasant put the pike back into the water, went to his hut, sat down at the table and said:

“At the pike’s good pleasure, By God’s good measure—

let the table be covered and my dinner ready.”

Then from somewhere or other all sorts of dishes and drinks appeared on the table, enough to please a Tsar, and a Tsar would not have been ashamed of it. So the poor man crossed himself, said “Glory be to Thee, O Lord! now I can break the fast.” So he went to the church, attended Matins and Mass, turned back and again broke his fast, ate and drank as well, went outside the door and sat at the counter.

Just about then the Princess had an idea that she would go abroad in the streets, and she went with her attendants and maids of honour, and for the sake of the holy festival went to give alms to the poor; she gave to them all but forgot the poor peasant. Then he said to himself:

“At the pike’s good pleasure, Of God’s good treasure—

let the Tsarévna bear a child.” And at the word that very instant the Tsarévna became pregnant, and in ten months she bore a son.

Then the Tsar began to ask her, “Do acknowledge with whom you have been guilty.”

Then the Tsarévna wept and swore in every way that she had been guilty with nobody. “I do not know myself,” she said, “why the Lord has chastised me.”

The Tsar asked, but found nothing out.

Soon a boy was born who grew not by days but by hours; and at the end of a week he could already talk. So the Tsar summoned all the _boyárs_ and the senators from every part of the kingdom to show them the youth, but none of them acknowledged that he was the father.

“No,” the boy answered, “none of them is my father.”

Then the Tsar bade the maids of honour and attendants take him up to every courtyard, through all the streets, and to show him to all manner of people. So the attendants and maids of honour took the youth through all the courtyards, through all the streets they went. But the boy said nothing.

At last they came to the poor peasant’s hut. As soon as the boy saw that peasant, he at once stretched out his little hands and said “_Tyátya, Tyátya!_” Then they told the Emperor of this, and they summoned the poor man into the palace, and the Tsar began to inquire of him, “Acknowledge on oath, is this your boy?”

“No, he is God’s son.”

Then the Tsar was angry and married the poor man to the Princess, and after the wedding he set them both with the child in a big tub, smeared it with tar, and sent it out into the open sea. So the tub sailed on the open sea, and the boisterous winds carried and bore it to a distant shore. When the poor man heard that the water no longer moved under them, he said:

“At the pike’s good pleasure, At God’s good measure—

let the barrel rest on a dry spot.”

So the barrel turned round and got on to a dry spot, and they went on, following their eyes. And they went on and on, on and on, and they had nothing to eat or drink. The Princess was utterly exhausted and had pined away to a shadow, and she could hardly stand on her legs.

“Now,” said the poor man, “do you know what hunger and thirst are?”

“Yes, I do,” said the Princess.

“Well, this is what the poor have to endure. Yet you would not give me alms on Easter Day.” Then the poor man said:

“At the pike’s good pleasure, Of God’s good treasure—

let there be here a rich palace, the finest in all the world, with gardens and ponds and all sorts of pavilions.”

As soon as he had spoken a rich palace appeared; faithful henchmen ran out of it and carried them in their hands, led them into the white stone rooms, and they sat down at the oaken tables with chequered linen on them. It was marvellously decorated, was this palace. On the table everything was ready, wine and sweets and made dishes. The poor man and the Tsarévna ate and drank at their will, rested them, and went for a walk into the garden.

“Everything is beautiful here,” said the Princess; “the only thing still lacking is to see the birds upon our ponds.”

“Wait, you shall have birds as well,” answered the poor man, and he said at once:

“At the pike’s good pleasure, At God’s good measure—

let twelve ducks and one drake swim on the pond, and let them have one feather of gold and another of silver, and let the drake have a diamond tuft on his forehead!” And lo and behold, on the water there were twelve ducks and one drake swimming; one feather was of gold and one feather was of silver, and the drake had a diamond tuft on his forehead.

So there the Princess and her husband lived without grief or moil, and their son grew up a big lad and began to feel in himself a giant’s strength. And he asked leave of his father and mother to go out into the white world and to seek himself a bride. They gave him leave to go, and said, “Go, my son.”

So he saddled his knightly horse and set out on his road and way. And as he journeyed on he met an old woman who said, “Hail, Russian prince, where do you wish to go?”

“I am going, _bábushka_,[49] to seek a bride, but I do not know where I am to find her.”

“Stay, I will tell you, my child. Do you go beyond the ocean into the thrice-tenth kingdom; there there is a king’s daughter so fair, that, if you go through all the world, you will never find any one more beautiful.”

So the good youth thanked the woman, went to the seashore, hired a boat, and sailed to the thrice-tenth land. He sailed, maybe far, maybe near, maybe long, maybe short—the tale is soon told but the deed is not soon done—and he at last arrived at that kingdom, and appeared before the king of it, and asked for his daughter’s hand in marriage.

Then the King said to him, “You are not the only suitor for my daughter; there is another suitor, a mighty knight. If I refuse him he will destroy all of my kingdom.”

“But, if you decline my offer, I will ravage your kingdom.”

“What will you?—you had better measure your strength with him: to whichever of you conquers I will give my daughter.”

“Very well; summon all the Tsars and Tsarévichi, all the Kings and Korolévichi, to see us wage an honourable holmgang to win your daughter.”

So then hunters were sent out to all cities, and one year had not gone by before from all the neighbouring parts all the Tsars and Tsarévichi, all the Kings and Korolévichi came together, as also the Tsar who had put his own daughter into the barrel and sent her out into the sea.

On the day appointed all the knights made ready for a bloody holmgang. They fought and fought, and the earth groaned at their blows, the forests bowed down and the rivers rose in waves. The Tsarévna’s son first overcame his opponent and cut off his turbulent head.

Then all the royal _boyárs_ ran up, took the doughty youth into their hands and led him into the palace. Next day he was married to the Korolévna. And after they had feasted at the wedding he set about inviting all the Tsars and Tsarévichi, the Kings and the Korolévichi as his guests to his father and mother. So they all came together, and they got their ships ready and sailed on the sea. The Tsarévna with her husband received her guests with honour, and they began to celebrate banquets and to be joyous. The Tsars and the Tsarévichi, the Kings and the Korolévichi, gazed at the palace and the gardens and wondered. They had never seen such wealth. Then some of them wondered when they saw the ducks and drakes, every one of them worth half a kingdom.

So the guests were fed and bethought themselves of going home, but before ever they had got to the haven, swift hunters precursed them, saying, “Our master bids you turn back again; he wishes to hold secret counsel with you.”

So the Tsars and Tsarévichi, the Kings and Korolévichi, were turning back, when the master came to meet them and said: “Oh ye good folk, one of my ducks has gone: has any one of you taken it?”

“Why are you making a vain quest?” the Tsars and Tsarévichi, the Kings and Korolévichi answered; “this would be an unguestly act. Search us all over. If you find the duck on any one of us do with him what you will; if you do not, let your own head pay for it.”

“I will,” said the master. And he placed them all in a row and searched them; and, as soon as he had come to the father of the Tsarévna, he said quietly:

“At the pike’s good pleasure, At God’s good measure—

under the lappet of the kaftan of this Tsar, let the duck be found.” So he went and lifted his kaftan and found the duck tied to the lappet; one feather was of gold, one was of silver.

Then all the Tsars and Tsarévichi, Kings and Korolévichi cried out fiercely, “Ho! ho! ho! what a deed! are Tsars turning into thieves?”

Then the Tsarévna’s father swore by everything holy that as to thieving there had never been such an idea in his head. And he had no idea how the duck had come to him.

“That is a fine tale; it was found on you; you must be guilty.”

Then the Tsarévna came out, burst upon her father, and acknowledged that she was his daughter whom he had given away to the poor peasant in marriage and had put into a barrel. “_Bátyushka_,”[50] she said, “you would not then believe my words, and now you have acknowledged yourself that it is possible to be guilty without guilt.”

And she told him how it had all arisen. And after that they began to live, and lived all together and lived all for good and forgot bygones.

THE JOURNEY TO JERUSALEM

An archimandrite one day got up for matins; and, whilst laving his hands, saw an unclean spirit in the Holy Water, seized him and crossed him.

The devil besought him: “Let me go, Father, I will do you any service I can; I will, I will!”

So the Archimandrite said: “Will you take me to Jerusalem between High Mass and matins?”

The Archimandrite released him, and after matins was transported to Jerusalem, and was back in time for High Mass. Then inquiries were set going how this might be, and every one was astonished how he could get to Jerusalem and back so fast. They asked him about it, and he told them the story.

VAZÚZA AND VÓLGA

The Vólga and the Vazúza had a long argument whether who was the wiser and the stronger and the more honourable of the two. They contended and quarrelled, and could not decide it. So they resolved at last: “Let us both go to sleep at the same time, and the one which wakes up earlier and first reaches the Khvalýnsk Sea is wiser and stronger and the more honourable.”

So the Vólga went to sleep, and so did the Vazúza.

But at night the Vazúza got up quietly and ran away from the Vólga; she took the next nearest way and flowed off.

When the Vólga woke up she went neither hurriedly nor lagging, but in an ordinary fashion. At Zubtsov she overtook the Vazúza, and looked so threatening that the Vazúza was frightened, and owned she was the younger daughter, and begged the Vólga to take her in her arms into the Sea of Khvalýnsk.

And, to this day, the Vazúza wakes up in the spring before the Vólga, and wakes the Vólga up out of her winter sleep.

THE ENCHANTED TSARÉVICH