The poor man again went to the forest for wood and chopped half a cartful, and then night came. He remained in the woods, intending to return home in the morning with a full cart. He wondered where he would spend the night. The forest was deserted, and teeming with wild beasts; if he lay beside his horse, they might devour him. He went deeper into the thicket and climbed into a big pine tree. At night seven robbers came there and said: “Open, open, little gate!” At once a little gate leading underground opened; the robbers carried in their loot, and when all was hidden, said: “Close, close, little gate!” The gate closed, and the robbers left to get more loot. The peasant saw all this. When everything around him was quiet, he climbed down from the tree, thinking, “Let me try—maybe the gate will open for me too.” He had no sooner said, “Open, open, little gate,” than it opened. He entered the cave and saw piles of gold, silver, and all sorts of other valuable objects lying around. The poor man rejoiced, and at daybreak began to drag away the bags of money; he threw away his wood, loaded his cart with silver and gold, and hastened home.
His wife went out to meet him. “Oh, little husband, I nearly died of grief, worrying about you! I thought that a tree had crushed you or that wild beasts had devoured you.” But the peasant said happily: “Cheer up, my wife! God gave me luck. I found a treasure; help me to carry these bags.” After the bags were carried in, he went to his rich brother, told him about everything, and invited him to accompany him on another trip to the cave. The brother agreed; they went together to the woods, found the pine tree, and cried: “Open, open, little gate!” And the little gate opened. They set about dragging out bags of money; the poor brother filled his cart and was satisfied, but the rich brother could not tear himself away. “Well, little brother,” he said, “you go home, I shall soon follow you.” “Very well! But don’t forget to say: ‘Close, close, little gate!’ ” “I won’t.” The poor man left, but the rich man could not get enough of the treasure; it was impossible to take everything at once, and to leave it was a pity. Night overtook him in the same place. The robbers arrived, found him in the cave, and cut off his head. They removed their bags from the cart, put the slain man in it, lashed the horse, and set it loose. The horse ran out of the woods and brought him home. The robber chieftain chided the robber who had killed the rich brother. “Why did you kill him prematurely? You should have asked him first where he lived, for much of our goods is missing and probably he stole it! How can we find it now?” The chieftain’s assistant said: “Let the man who killed him look for him!”
Shortly afterward, the murderer began to scout for the gold. He came to the poor man’s little store; he bought a thing or two, noticed that the storekeeper was dejected, and asked him: “Why are you so sad?” He answered: “I had an elder brother, but misfortune came; someone killed him. The day before yesterday his horse brought him home with his head cut off, and he was buried today.” The robber saw that he was on the right track and, pretending to be very sorry, began to investigate. Upon learning that the slain man had left a widow, he asked: “Has his widow at least a roof over her head?” “Oh, yes, she has a big house.” “Where? Show it to me.” The peasant showed him his brother’s house; the robber took some red paint and marked the door. “What are you doing that for?” the peasant asked him. He answered: “I want to help the widow, and I have made that sign in order to find her house more easily.” “Eh, brother, my sister-in-law needs no help; thank God, she has enough of everything.” “And where do you live?” “Here is my hut!” The robber made the same sign on his door too. “And what is that for?” “I like you very much,” said the robber. “The next time I come here, I will stop at your house to spend the night; believe me, brother, you will profit by it.” The robber returned to his band, related all that had happened, and they decided to rob and kill everyone in the houses of the two brothers and recover their gold.
Meanwhile the poor man came home and said: “I have just made the acquaintance of a young fellow who smeared my door with paint and said that he would stop in my house to spend the night whenever he was in this village. He is so kind-hearted! How sorry he was for my brother, how he wanted to help my sister-in-law!” His wife and son listened in silence, but his adopted daughter said to him: “My father, didn’t you make a mistake? Perhaps the same robbers who killed my uncle have now discovered that their gold is missing and are trying to find us. Now they may come and rob us, and you won’t escape death.” The peasant was frightened. “That is quite possible! After all, I never saw the man before. What a misfortune! What shall we do?” His daughter said: “Take some paint and smear the same signs on all the doors in the neighborhood.” The peasant did this. When the robbers came they could not find anything; they went back and thrashed their scout for not having made the signs properly. Finally they decided that they had been outwitted by a clever person, and after a while prepared seven barrels; they put a robber in each of them, except one that they filled with oil.
The former scout took these barrels straight to the poor brother’s house; he arrived at sunset and asked whether he could stay overnight. The poor brother welcomed him as a friend. The daughter went to the yard and began to inspect the barrels; she opened one, and found oil; she tried to open another, but could not; she put her ear to it and heard someone stirring and breathing inside. “Ah,” she thought, “that’s an evil ruse!” She came into the house and said: “Father, we must treat our guest; I will make a fire in the stove and prepare something for supper.” “Very well,” the poor man said. The daughter made a fire in the stove and while cooking supper, she boiled water and poured it into the barrels, thus scalding the six robbers to death. Her father and his guest ate supper, and the daughter sat in the back room waiting to see what would happen next. When the hosts went to bed, the guest went out into the yard and whistled. No one answered; he approached the barrels, and steam came out of them. The robber guessed what had happened, harnessed his horses, and left with the barrels.
The daughter closed the door, went to rouse her family, and told them what she had done. Her father said: “Well, little daughter, you have saved our lives, now be my son’s lawful wife.” There was a gay feast and a wedding. The young bride kept telling her father that he should sell his old house and buy a new one, for she was very much afraid of the robbers, who might return sooner or later. And her fears came true. After some time, the same robber who had come with the barrels disguised himself as an officer, came to the peasant’s house, and asked whether he could spend the night. He was admitted. No one guessed anything, but the young bride recognized him and said: “Father, this is the same robber who came before.” “No, my daughter, it is not.” She did not answer; but when bedtime came, she put a sharp ax beside her and stayed awake all night watching. In the middle of the night the pretended officer rose, took his saber, and was about to cut off her husband’s head. She did not lose her presence of mind, but swung her ax and cut off his right hand; then she swung again and cut off his head. Her father now realized that his daughter was really very wise; he followed her advice, sold his old house, and bought himself a hostelry. He moved to his new residence and began to prosper and increase his trade.
His neighbors, the same who had given him money and later sued him in court, stopped at his hostelry. “Hey, how do you happen to be here?” “This is my house, I bought it recently.” “It’s a magnificent house! Apparently you are in money. Why don’t you pay your debts?” The host bowed and said: “Thank God! The Lord has been good to me, I found a treasure, and I am ready to pay you even threefold.” “Very well, brother. Let us now celebrate the housewarming!” “You are welcome.” So they had a good time.
And near the house there was a beautiful garden. “May we look at your garden?” “With pleasure, gentlemen—I will accompany you.” They walked and walked in the garden and in a remote corner found a tubful of ashes. When the host saw it he gasped: “Gentlemen, this is the same tub that my wife sold.” “Let us see whether the money is not i
n the ashes.” They shook the tub and found the money. Then the neighbors believed that the peasant had told them the truth. “Let us examine the trees in the woods,” they said. “The raven who snatched the cap must have built a nest in it.” They walked and walked, saw a nest, pulled it down with hooks, and there was the cap! They threw out the nest and found the money. The host paid his debt to his neighbors and began to live in prosperity and happiness.
THE MAYORESS
ONCE THERE WAS an ambitious woman. When her husband came home from the village council she asked him: “What did the council deliberate about?” “We did not deliberate about anything; we gathered to elect a new mayor.” “And whom did you elect?” “For the time being, no one.” “Elect me, then,” said the woman. And so the husband went to the council (his wife was a bad one and he wanted to teach her a lesson) and reported this to the elders; they immediately elected her mayoress. So she began to rule and judge; she drank wine with the peasants, and took bribes.
The time came for collecting the poll tax. The mayoress was unable to collect it on time. A Cossack came and asked for the mayor, but the woman upon hearing that he had arrived ran home to hide. “Where shall I hide?” she asked her husband. “Dear little husband, tie me up in a bag and put me over there with the bags of grain!” There were about five bags of spring seed in the room. The peasant tied up the mayoress and put her among the bags. The Cossack came and he said: “Oho, the mayor has hidden himself!” And he began to lash the bag with his whip. The woman roared at the top of her lungs: “Oh, little father, I don’t want to be mayoress, I don’t want to be mayoress!” The Cossack gave her a good thrashing and left, and thereafter the woman no longer wanted to be mayoress, and obeyed her husband.
IVAN THE SIMPLETON
IN A CERTAIN LAND, in a certain kingdom, there lived an old man and his old wife. They had three sons, of whom the third was called Ivan the Simpleton. The first two sons were married, but Ivan the Simpleton was a bachelor. The first two were busy: they managed the house, plowed, and sowed, but the third did nothing at all. One day the old father and his daughters-in-law sent Ivan to finish plowing a few rods of land. The young boy came to the field, harnessed his horse, drove once or twice over the field with his plow, and saw countless swarms of mosquitoes and midges. He grabbed a whip, lashed one side of his horse, and killed a host of these bugs; he lashed the other side of his horse and killed forty gadflies. He thought to himself: “Here with one stroke I have killed forty mighty knights and a countless host of lesser warriors!” He gathered them all together, put them in a pile, and covered them with horse dung; he did not continue plowing, but unharnessed his horse and drove home. Upon his return he said to his sisters-in-law and his mother: “Give me a piece of thick cloth and a saddle, and you, father, give me the rusty saber that hangs on the wall. I am not a real peasant, I have no land!”
His family laughed at him, and to mock him gave him a cracked clod instead of a saddle; our fellow attached girths to it and laid it across a wretched mare. Instead of a piece of thick cloth, his mother gave him a ragged old dress of hers; he took this, sharpened his father’s saber, made ready for his journey, and left. He came to a crossroads, and since he knew how to write a little, he wrote on the guidepost: “Let the mighty Ilya Muromets and Fyodor Lyzhnikov come to such and such a kingdom to see the strong and mighty hero who in one stroke killed forty mighty knights and an unnumbered host of lesser warriors, and covered them all with a stone.”
Soon after him, Ilya Muromets came to the same crossroads and read the inscription on the post. “Ha!” he said. “A strong and mighty hero has passed by here; it is not meet to disobey him.” He rode on and overtook Vaniukha, and while he was still at a distance, doffed his cap and saluted him: “Good day, strong and mighty hero!” Vaniukha did not doff his cap, and said: “Good day, Iliukha!” They rode together. After a short time Fyodor Lyzhnikov came to the same post, read the inscription, and decided that he too should heed the summons—after all, Ilya Muromets had heeded it! So he rode in the same direction; while he was still at a distance he doffed his cap and said: “Good day, strong and mighty hero!” But Vaniukha did not doff his cap, and said: “Good day, Fediunka!”
All three of them rode together; they came to a certain kingdom, and stopped in the royal meadows. The heroes pitched their tents, and Vaniukha spread his old dress; the two heroes tied their steeds with silken ropes, but Vaniukha broke a twig from a tree, twisted it, and tied his mare with it. And so they settled themselves. From his castle the king saw that strangers were foraging in his meadows and at once sent one of his familiars to find out who they were. He came to the meadows, approached Ilya Muromets, and asked him what manner of men they were and why they thus trampled the king’s meadows without permission. Ilya Muromets answered: “It is not for me to answer! Ask our chief, the strong and mighty hero.”
The envoy approached Vaniukha, who began to shout at him before he could utter a word: “Get away while you still can, and tell the king that in his meadows there is a strong and mighty hero who in one stroke killed forty mighty knights and an unnumbered host of lesser warriors and covered them with a stone—and that Ilya Muromets and Fyodor Lyzhnikov are with him, and that he demands the king’s daughter in marriage!” The envoy conveyed this message to the king. The king consulted the annals: Ilya Muromets and Fyodor Lyzhnikov were mentioned there, but the third one, who in one stroke had killed forty knights, was not. Then the king ordered his army to gather, seize the three knights, and bring them before him. But this was no easy task! When Vaniukha saw the army approaching he cried: “Ilyukha, drive away this rabble!” And he himself lay down, stretched out, and watched the scene like an owl.
At his command Ilya Muromets jumped on his steed, galloped forward, and did not so much smite with his hands as trample with his steed; he knocked down the whole army, leaving only a few messengers to inform the king of what had happened. Upon hearing the news of the disaster, the king assembled even greater forces and sent them to seize the three knights. Ivan the Simpleton cried: “Fediunka, drive away this scum!” Fyodor jumped on his steed and knocked them all down, leaving only a few messengers.
What could the king do? He was in sore straits; the three knights had defeated his army. He began to cudgel his brains, and recalled that in his kingdom there lived a strong hero, Dobrynya. He sent him a letter, asking him to come to the royal meadows and conquer the three knights. Dobrynya came; the king received him on his third-story balcony, and Dobrynya on horseback was level with the king on the balcony—so mighty was he! He saluted the king and they spoke together. Then he went to the king’s meadows. Ilya Muromets and Fyodor Lyzhnikov saw Dobrynya riding toward them, became frightened, jumped on their steeds, and made away. But Vaniukha had no time to run away, for while he got his mare ready, Dobrynya approached him and began to laugh at the sight of this vaunted hero—he was so short and so thin! Dobrynya bent his head down level with Vaniukha’s face and stared at him in amusement. Vaniukha did not lose his presence of mind; he drew out his saber and cut off Dobrynya’s head.
The king saw this and was frightened. “Oh,” he said, “the knight has slain Dobrynya. Now we are indeed in trouble! Go quickly, call the hero to my palace.” Such a brilliant delegation came to fetch Vaniukha that, Lord save us, the very best carriages and people of the highest rank were there. They seated him in a coach and brought him before the king. The king received him hospitably and gave him his daughter in marriage; they celebrated their wedding, and are still alive to this very day and chewing bread.
I was at their wedding and drank mead; it ran down my mustache but did not go into my mouth. I asked for a cap, and received a slap; I was given a robe, and on my way home a titmouse flew over me cackling: “Flowing robe!” I thought she was saying, “Throw away the robe,” and threw it away. This is not the tale, but a flourish, for fun. The tale itself has not begun!
FATHER NICHOLAS AND THE THIEF
IN A CERTAIN TOWN there lived
a thief who caused much sorrow. One day he happened to rob a wealthy man; the theft was discovered and men were sent in pursuit of the thief. He ran for a long time through the woods, but in front of these woods there was an open steppe that extended for at least ten versts. When the thief reached the edge of the woods, he stopped and wondered what to do next. If he ran over the steppe, he would be caught at once, for there everything could be seen from a distance of two versts; and he heard his pursuers coming closer. Then he began to pray: “Lord, forgive my sinful soul; hide me, Father Nicholas, and I will set a ten kopek candle before your image.”
Suddenly out of nowhere an aged man appeared and asked the thief: “What did you just say?” The thief answered: “I said: ‘Father Nicholas, hide me in this wilderness.’ And I promised to put a candle before his image.” And he confessed his sin to the old man, who said: “Creep into this piece of carrion.” For a piece of carrion was lying nearby. The thief had no other choice than to creep into the carrion, for he did not want to be caught. He crept in, and that very minute the old man became invisible. He was Father Nicholas himself.
Now the pursuers came nearer; the men rode out on the steppe, rode for half a verst, and, seeing nothing, turned back. Meanwhile the thief lay in the carrion, hardly able to breathe, so foul was the smell. When his pursuers left, he crept out and saw the same old man standing near by, gathering wax. The thief approached him and thanked him for his rescue. Then the old man asked again: “What did you promise Father Nicholas when you sought refuge?” The thief answered: “I promised to buy him a ten kopek candle.” “Well, just as you were stifled lying in that carrion, so Father Nicholas would be stifled by your candle.” And the old man admonished him: “Never pray to the Lord and his saints to help you in evil deeds; for the Lord does not bless evil deeds. Now heed my words, and tell others never to pray to God for help in evil deeds!” Having said this, he vanished from sight.
Russian Fairy Tales (Pantheon Fairy Tale and Folklore Library) Page 13