Russian Fairy Tales (Pantheon Fairy Tale and Folklore Library)

by Afanas'Ev, Aleksandr

  The dragon flew to the princess. Upon seeing the laborer he gnashed his teeth and said: “Why have you come here?” “For the same purpose as you,” said the laborer, and remained sitting where he was, cracking nuts. The dragon saw that he could accomplish nothing by force, so he came over to the laborer and asked for some nuts; the laborer gave him the iron ones. The dragon tried to crack them with his teeth and then spat them out: “Brother, your nuts are no good. Let us play a game of cards instead.” “With pleasure, but for what stakes?” They agreed that he who lost would get a thrashing. They began to play and the dragon lost. The laborer took his hammer and gave the dragon such a thrashing that he was almost stunned. “Now,” said the dragon, “let us play for our skins; whoever loses will have his skin torn off.” The laborer lost; the dragon tore one oxhide off him. “Let us play another game,” the dragon said. This time the dragon lost; the laborer immediately plunged his iron claws into the dragon’s skin and tore it off. The dragon died on the spot.

  When the king heard of this he was overjoyed and married his daughter to the laborer. But the princess grew tired of living with a simple peasant; she ordered him to be taken to the woods and slain there. Her servants seized him, led him to the woods, but pitied him and did not kill him. The laborer wandered through the woods weeping. He met three men who were engaged in a dispute. The moment they came up to him they began to implore him: “Please, good man, settle our dispute. We have found a pair of boots that walk, a flying carpet, and a magic tablecloth. How shall we divide them?” “This way: whoever climbs up that oak first shall have them all.” They foolishly consented and rushed to the tree. As soon as they had climbed up the laborer donned the walking boots, sat on the flying carpet, took the magic tablecloth, and said: “I want to be near the king’s city.”

  And in a trice he was there. He pitched a tent, ordered his tablecloth to spread a dinner, and invited the king and his daughter to visit him. They came to him but they did not recognize him. He feasted them, gave them meat and drink, then led the princess to the flying carpet, quietly took the tablecloth, pushed the princess onto the carpet, and ordered it to fly into a dark forest. In the forest the laborer told the princess who he was; she began to caress and cajole him, and succeeded in beguiling him. As soon as he fell asleep, the princess seized the magic tablecloth, sat on the flying carpet, and was gone.

  The laborer awoke and saw that the princess, the flying carpet, and the magic tablecloth were gone; only his walking boots remained. He wandered and wandered through the woods; he felt hungry, spied two apple trees, plucked an apple from one of them, and began to eat it. He ate one apple and a horn grew on his head; he ate another apple and another horn grew on his head. He tried the apples of the other tree; at once his horns vanished and he turned into a handsome youth. He filled his pocket with apples from both trees and went to the king’s city. He walked by the palace and saw a scullery maid, one of the princess’ servants, who was very ugly. “Don’t you want an apple, little dove?” She took one and ate it, and turned into such a beauty as no tongue can tell of nor pen describe. The scullery maid went to the princess and the princess gasped. “Buy some for me,” she said, “buy them without fail!” The maid went out and bought some; but when the princess ate of them, horns grew on her head.

  Next day the laborer came to the princess and told her that he could turn her back into a beauty. She implored him to do so. He told her to go into the bath chamber; there he undressed her and belabored her so severely with iron rods that he was sure that she would remember it for a long time. Then he told her that he was her lawful husband. The princess repented, gave him back his flying carpet and his magic tablecloth, and the laborer gave her some of the good apples to eat. And they began to live happily and to prosper.

  THE ARMLESS MAIDEN

  IN A CERTAIN KINGDOM, not in our land, there lived a wealthy merchant; he had two children, a son and a daughter. The father and mother died. The brother said to the sister: “Let us leave this town, little sister; I will rent a shop and trade, and find lodgings for you; we will live together.” They went to another province. When they came there, the brother inscribed himself in the merchant’s guild, and rented a shop of woven cloths. The brother decided to marry and took a sorceress to wife. One day he went to trade in his shop and said to his sister: “Keep order in the house, sister.” The wife felt offended because he said this to his sister. To revenge herself she broke all the furniture and when her husband came back she met him and said: “See what a sister you have; she has broken all the furniture in the house.” “Too bad, but we can get some new things,” said the husband.

  The next day when leaving for his shop he said farewell to his wife and his sister and said to his sister: “Please, little sister, see to it that everything in the house is kept as well as possible.” The wife bided her time, went to the stables, and cut off the head of her husband’s favorite horse with a saber. She awaited him on the porch. “See what a sister you have,” she said. “She has cut off the head of your favorite horse.” “Ah, let the dogs eat what is theirs,” answered the husband.

  On the third day the husband again went to his shop, said farewell, and said to his sister: “Please look after my wife, so that she does not hurt herself or the baby, if by chance she gives birth to one.” When the wife gave birth to her child, she cut off his head. When her husband came home he found her sitting and lamenting over her baby. “See what a sister you have! No sooner had I given birth to my baby than she cut off his head with a saber.” The husband did not say anything; he wept bitter tears and turned away.

  Night came. At the stroke of midnight he rose and said: “Little sister, make ready; we are going to mass.” She said: “My beloved brother, I do not think it is a holiday today.” “Yes, my sister, it is a holiday; let us go.” “It is still too early to go, brother,” she said. “No,” he answered, “young maidens always take a long time to get ready.” The sister began to dress; she was very slow and reluctant. Her brother said: “Hurry, sister, get dressed.” “Please,” she said, “it is still early, brother.” “No, little sister, it is not early, it is high time to be gone.”

  When the sister was ready they sat in a carriage and set out for mass. They drove for a long time or a short time. Finally they came to a wood. The sister said: “What wood is this?” He answered: “This is the hedge around the church.” The carriage caught in a bush. The brother said: “Get out, little sister, disentangle the carriage.” “Ah, my beloved brother, I cannot do that, I will dirty my dress.” “I will buy you a new dress, sister, a better one than this.” She got down from the carriage, began to disentangle it, and her brother cut off her arms to the elbows, struck his horse with the whip, and drove away.

  The little sister was left alone; she burst into tears and began to walk in the woods. She walked and walked, a long time or a short time; she was all scratched, but could not find a path leading out of the woods. Finally, after several years, she found a path. She came to a market town and stood beneath the window of the wealthiest merchant to beg for alms. This merchant had a son, an only one, who was the apple of his father’s eye. He fell in love with the beggar woman and said: “Dear father and mother, marry me.” “To whom shall we marry you?” “To this beggar woman.” “Ah, my dear child, do not the merchants of our town have lovely daughters?” “Please marry me to her,” he said. “If you do not, I will do something to myself.” They were distressed, because he was their only son, their life’s treasure. They gathered all the merchants and clerics and asked them to judge the matter: should they marry their son to the beggar woman or not? The priest said: “Such must be his fate, and God gives your son his sanction to marry the beggar woman.”

  So the son lived with her for a year and then another year. At the end of that time he went to another province, where her brother had his shop. When taking his leave he said: “Dear father and mother, do not abandon my wife; as soon as she gives birth to a child, write to me that very hour.
” Two or three months after the son left, his wife gave birth to a child; his arms were golden up to the elbows, his sides were studded with stars, there was a bright moon on his forehead and a radiant sun near his heart. The grandparents were overjoyed and at once wrote their beloved son a letter. They dispatched an old man with this note in all haste. Meanwhile the wicked sister-in-law had learned about all this and invited the old messenger into her house: “Come in, little father,” she said, “and take a rest.” “No, I have no time, I am bringing an urgent message.” “Come in, little father, take a rest, have something to eat.”

  She sat him down to dinner, took his bag, found the letter in it, read it, tore it into little pieces, and wrote another letter instead: “Your wife,” it said, “has given birth to a half dog and half bear that she conceived with beasts in the woods.” The old messenger came to the merchant’s son and handed him the letter; he read it and burst into tears. He wrote in answer, asking that his son be not molested till he returned. “When I come back,” he said, “I will see what kind of baby it is.” The sorceress again invited the old messenger into her house. “Come in, sit down, take a rest,” she said. Again she charmed him with talk, stole the letter he carried, read it, tore it up, and instead ordered that her sister-in-law be driven out the moment the letter was received. The old messenger brought this letter; the father and mother read it and were grieved. “Why does he cause us so much trouble?” they said. “We married him to the girl, and now he does not want his wife!” They pitied not so much the wife as the babe. So they gave their blessing to her and the babe, tied the babe to her breast, and sent her away.

  She went, shedding bitter tears. She walked, for a long time or a short time, all in the open field, and there was no wood or village anywhere. She came to a dale and was very thirsty. She looked to the right and saw a well. She wanted to drink from it but was afraid to stoop, lest she drop her baby. Then she fancied that the water came closer. She stooped to drink and her baby fell into the well. She began to walk around the well, weeping, and wondering how to get her child out of the well. An old man came up to her and said: “Why are you weeping, you slave of God?” “How can I help weeping? I stooped over the well to drink water and my baby fell into it.” “Bend down and take him out.” “No, little father, I cannot; I have no hands, only stumps.” “Do as I tell you. Take your baby.” She went to the well, stretched out her arms, and God helped, for suddenly she had her hands, all whole. She bent down, pulled her baby out, and began to give thanks to God, bowing to all four sides.

  She said her prayers, went on farther, and came to the house where her brother and husband were staying, and asked for shelter. Her husband said: “Brother, let the beggar woman in; beggar women can tell stories and recount real happenings.” The wicked sister-in-law said: “We have no room for visitors, we are overcrowded.” “Please, brother, let her come; there is nothing I like better than to hear beggar women tell tales.” They let her in. She sat on the stove with her baby. Her husband said: “Now, little dove, tell us a tale—any kind of story.”

  She said: “I do not know any tales or stories, but I can tell the truth. Listen, here is a true happening that I can recount to you.” And she began: “In a certain kingdom, not in our land, lived a wealthy merchant; he had two children, a son and a daughter. The father and mother died. The brother said to the sister: ‘Let us leave this town, little sister.’ And they came to another province. The brother inscribed himself in the merchant’s guild and took a shop of woven cloth. He decided to marry and took a sorceress to wife.” At this point the sister-in-law muttered: “Why does she bore us with her stories, that hag?” But the husband said: “Go on, go on, little mother, I love such stories more than anything!”

  “And so,” the beggar woman went on, “the brother went to trade in his shop and said to his sister: ‘Keep order in the house, sister.’ The wife felt offended because he had said this to his sister and out of spite broke all the furniture.” And then she went on to tell how her brother took her to mass and cut off her hands, how she gave birth to a baby, how her sister-in-law lured the old messenger—and again the sister-in-law interrupted her, crying: “What gibberish she is telling!” But the husband said: “Brother, order your wife to keep quiet; it is a wonderful story, is it not?”

  She came to the point when her husband wrote to his parents ordering that the baby be left in peace until his return, and the sister-in-law mumbled: “What nonsense!” Then she reached the point when she came to their house as a beggar woman, and the sister-in-law mumbled: “What is this old bitch gibbering about!” And the husband said: “Brother, order her to keep quiet; why does she interrupt all the time?” Finally she came to the point in the story when she was let in and began to tell the truth instead of a story. And then she pointed at them and said: “This is my husband, this is my brother, and this is my sister-in-law.”

  Then her husband jumped up to her on the stove and said: “Now, my dear, show me the baby. Let me see whether my father and mother wrote me the truth.” They took the baby, removed its swaddling clothes—and the whole room was illumined! “So it is true that she did not tell us just a tale; here is my wife, and here is my son—golden up to the elbows—his sides studded with stars, a bright moon on his forehead, and a radiant sun near his heart!”

  The brother took the best mare from his stable, tied his wife to its tail, and let it run in the open field. The mare dragged her on the ground until she brought back only her braid; the rest was strewn on the field. Then they harnessed three horses and went home to the young husband’s father and mother; they began to live happily and to prosper. I was there and drank mead and wine; it ran down my mustache, but did not go into my mouth.

  FROLKA STAY-AT-HOME

  THERE WAS ONCE a king who had three daughters, and such beauties they were as no tongue can tell of nor pen describe. Their garden was big and beautiful and they liked to walk there at night. A dragon from the Black Sea took to visiting this garden. One night the king’s daughters tarried in the garden, for they could not tear their eyes away from the flowers; suddenly the dragon appeared and carried them off on his fiery wings. The king waited and waited but his daughters did not come back. He sent his maidservants to look for them in the garden, but all in vain; the maidservants could not find the princesses. The next morning the king proclaimed a state of emergency and a great multitude of people gathered. The king said: “Whoever finds my daughters, to him I shall give as much money as he wants.”

  Three men agreed to undertake this task—a soldier who was a drunkard, Frolka Stay-at-Home, and Erema; and they set out to look for the princesses. They walked and walked till they came to a deep forest. As soon as they entered it they were overwhelmed by drowsiness. Frolka Stay-at-Home drew a snuffbox out of his pocket, tapped on it, opened it, shoved a pinch of tobacco into his nose, and cried: “Eh, brothers, let us not sleep, let us not rest, let us keep going.” So they went on; they walked and walked and finally came to an enormous house, and in that house was a five-headed dragon. For a long time they knocked at the gate, but no one answered. Then Frolka Stay-at-Home pushed the soldier and Erema away and said: “Let me try, brothers!” He snuffed up some tobacco and gave such a knock at the gate that he smashed it.

  They entered the yard, sat in a circle, and were about to eat whatever they had. Then a maiden of great beauty came out of the house and said: “Little doves, why have you come here? A very wicked dragon lives here, who will devour you. You are lucky that he happens to be away.” Frolka answered her: “It is we who shall devour him.” He had no sooner said these words than the dragon came flying and roared: “Who has ruined my kingdom? Do I have enemies in the world? I have only one enemy, but his bones won’t even be brought here by a raven.” “A raven won’t bring me,” said Frolka, “but a good horse did.” The dragon upon hearing this said: “Have you come for peaceful purposes or to fight?” “I have not come for peaceful purposes,” said Frolka, “but to fight.”

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bsp; They moved apart, faced each other, and clashed, and in one stroke Frolka cut off all the five heads of the dragon. Then he put them under a stone and buried the body in the ground. The maiden was overjoyed and said to the three brave men: “My little doves, take me with you.” “But who are you?” they asked. She said that she was the king’s eldest daughter; Frolka told her what task he had undertaken, and they were both glad. The princess invited them into the house, gave them meat and drink, and begged them to rescue her sisters. Frolka said: “We were sent for them too!” The princess told them where her sisters were. “My next sister is even worse off than I was,” she said. “She is living with a seven-headed dragon.” “Never mind,” said Frolka, “we shall get the better of him too; it may be somewhat harder to deal with a twelve-headed dragon.” They said farewell and went on.

  Finally they came to the abode of the second sister. The house where she was locked up was enormous and all around it there was a high iron fence. They approached it and looked for the gate; finally they found it. Frolka banged upon the gate with all his strength and it opened; they entered the yard and, as they had done before, sat down to eat. Suddenly the seven-headed dragon came flying. “I smell Russian breath here,” he said. “Bah, it is you, Frolka, who have come here! What for?” “I know what for,” answered Frolka. He began to fight with the dragon and in one stroke cut off all seven of his heads, put them under a stone, and buried the body in the ground. Then they entered the house; they passed through one room, a second, and a third, and in the fourth they found the king’s second daughter sitting on a sofa. When they told her why and how they had come there, she brightened, offered them food and drink, and begged them to rescue her youngest sister from the twelve-headed dragon. Frolka said: “Of course, that is what we were sent for. But there is fear in my heart. Well, perhaps God will help me! Give us each another cup!”